Suddenly he was afraid. It was a feeling alien to him, but he experienced it now. If he lost Jasmine his life would be empty. In spite of the enmity between them, she was his woman, and he could not bear the thought that he could bring harm to her. Above all other feelings she aroused in him was the need to protect and cherish her.
Estelle calmed a little when she saw the sobering effect her words were having on de Burgh. She would drive home her point while she had him at a disadvantage. “I watched my only child hemorrhage to death because she was too small to give birth. When I look at the size of you and imagine how big the child will be you have planted in her, I nearly run mad!”
“Estelle, what I have done can be undone.” he said firmly, “with your skills.”
She sighed with relief that he would be willing to let her get rid of the child. “Then we are in agreement that I will administer an abortificant to safeguard Jasmine’s life. But if she conceives by you so easily it will happen again and again. You must find others who will drain your lust. I’m sure every woman at Mountain Ash between the age of fifteen and fifty would be eager for your attentions.”
Inwardly Falcon recoiled, yet through the day the seeds that Estelle planted began to take root. His spirits were lower than they had been in years as it was brought home to him that he could never have legitimate children. He had coveted Jasmine from the moment he saw her riding the unicorn. He had suffered through an endless seven-month wait to get her. He had been triumphant when he snatched her from Chester and married her, feeling invincible, almost godlike. But now his emotions had sobered and his thoughts were dark and depressing. He would do whatever was necessary to keep Jasmine from harm, but he could not let himself even think of his child, which would never draw breath.
His men found him difficult and moody and gave him a wide berth. Falcon withdrew early to the privacy of his own chamber, preferring solitude over the company of others.
Jasmine had kept to her room all day, contemplating the changes in her life the baby would make. Now that Estelle was at Mountain Ash the small knot of apprehension had been replaced by joy. She couldn’t really believe her own good fortune. All her life she had been told that she could never be a wife and mother, and now she was about to be both. She thought she would probably have a little girl, like herself, to love and cherish forever, but suppose, just suppose by some miracle she could have a boy. A son who would grow up to be a mirror image of Falcon de Burgh … handsome, strong, a valiant knight.
Whatever she had, she decided she would be the best mother there had ever been. She had not been a successful wife, not yet, but by the love of St. Jude she would be a successful mother. De Burgh didn’t know yet. What would his reaction be when she informed him? She wanted to see the light in his eyes turn to green fire as his pulses pounded hotly with the fierce wondrous knowledge that there, below her heart, she carried his child.
She quietly turned back the thick carpet and crouched down to look through the crack in the floor to his room below. She could see his dark head engrossed in books that lay on the table before him. Immediately she surmised they were secret doctrine he studied, which gave him his incredible powers. Her hand caressed her belly. Wed only a month and already he had planted the first of the de Burgh dynasty. The corners of her mouth went up at her secret thoughts. Should she go down now and tell him?
She heard him utter a foul oath as a knock came upon the door. He carefully locked away his books before he answered. She heard him say angrily, “What do you want?”
Then her joy was wiped away as she heard the unmistakable female voice say, “Estelle sent me.”
She sat back upon her heels and flung the carpet back into place. Estelle? My God, didn’t her grandmother know this woman was his whore? She closed her eyes as the wave of jealousy washed over her. She should be the one down there with him. She should be the one who would lie beside him in his great bed with the knowledge of his child held warmly between them. She hated the physical act of sex, but she liked to be kissed and embraced. She loved to feel the heat that came from his body, the scent of him in her nostrils gave her pleasure. His strength lent her a feeling of absolute security, and she enjoyed their quick, barbed exchanges of parry and thrust when they pitted their wits against each other.
Yet she knew these things were not enough for a man. Not a virile stallion like Falcon de Burgh at any rate. Perhaps Estelle thought she was helping Jasmine by encouraging Morganna to seek his bed, but it hurt … oh, God, how it hurt!
Falcon was angered to have his solitude disturbed. His mood had been foul all day and it hadn’t improved with nightfall. Morganna stood upon the threshold with a tempting flagon of amber liquid in her hands, and this was the only reason he let her pass into the room. “Did Estelle provide the potion?” he said with contempt.
Morganna was unsure of his meaning but ran her tongue around her lips seductively and replied, “I need no potion to make a man receptive to my charms.” Nevertheless, she poured him a goblet of the strong Welsh liquor and brought it to him cupped in her long brown fingers.
He took it from her, drained it, and held out the goblet to be refilled, then he took it to the fireplace and leaned on the mantel to drink with his back to her. His black mood did not daunt her, in fact she welcomed it. If he needed to drown his sorrows, she could manipulate him, seduce him with the lure of her flesh. This was the only way she could get him to center his attention on her for a short time. If she was shrewd enough she could manipulate a careless moment into a permanent hold on him.
When Falcon remembered her presence he turned and saw her lying on the bed. Her feet and legs were bare, her skirt hiked up to give him an unimpeded view of her thighs. He walked to the bed and sat on its edge.
“You are troubled,” she said. “I’m a good listener.”
His mocking laugh rang out. “I have no desire to talk. Talk is the last thing I need.”
Morganna went up on her knees and rested her hands upon the wide shoulders so that her face was close to his. Her tongue shot out to lick him and she said huskily, “Whatever it is you need … take! All you ever have to do is ask. I will be anything, do anything you ask.”
His hands reached out roughly to her breasts. She moaned and fell back onto the bed, drawing him with her. Her long brown fingers reached out to play about his groin, now swollen with need. His mouth took hers savagely, then when he lifted his mouth from her she urged, “Fill me, Falcon, fill me with your seed. I want to give you a child.”
He tore his mouth from her and flung himself from the bed. He threw back his head and laughed a hollow, mocking laugh. Fate was such a cruel bitch. The one thing you wanted above all other things you could never have, but everything else was laid out like a feast. All he need do was take it.
Estelle brought Jasmine’s breakfast and stayed to feed and play with the young mountain lion, who by now was growing quite sleek. “I see you’ve had the good sense to cage Feather and Quill.”
Jasmine ignored her words. “Surely you realize that Morganna woman is de Burgh’s whore? Why did you send her to him last night?” she demanded.
“So she would drain his lust, of course. Would you rather he used you?” Estelle asked bluntly.
“Of course not, but I don’t want him bedding her in the chamber beneath mine. ’T is a disgusting situation and one I shall not tolerate.”
“You had best tread softly, Jasmine. I think it would be a mistake to insist that he choose between you. The girl serves a valuable purpose, which enables him to leave you in peace. Eat your breakfast, child, you have far more important things to worry about than a Welsh slut.”
Jasmine threw back the covers and reached for her white velvet bedgown after Estelle left. Habits of a lifetime were hard to break, and she always bathed and brushed her hair before she could eat. Then she sat down to nibble on the delicious bread and honey and freshly churned butter from the dairy. She hugged her knees to her and decided it was time to become domesticat
ed. She would start with this delicious butter and learn the whole process, but first she would find out about the secret books and papers de Burgh kept locked away so safely.
She absently picked up her goblet of mead and pulled back the carpet with her other hand. If the room below was empty she would go down now. She lifted the goblet to her lips to drink, but her nose detected a peculiar scent. The mead contained the pungent odor of the juice of pennyroyal. Pennyroyal was drunk to induce abortion! As the thought struck her, she clearly heard Estelle in the chamber below say “It is done. I have given her the decoction as we agreed.”
Jasmine was stunned. She had learned of so many things through this hole in the floor of which she had been totally in ignorance. Her husband and her grandmother had actually entered into a conspiracy to rid her of her child! She felt a wave of anger build in her heart and sweep up to her brain. She picked up her white velvet skirts and ran down the stone stairs that led to de Burgh’s chamber. There she flung open the door to confront them. Both looked guilty.
“God damn you both to Hell!” she cried. “How dare you both take it upon yourselves to decide the course of my life for me?” she panted. She flung at Estelle, “How could you tell him? Did it not occur to you that this was something private, almost sacred, between husband and wife?”
“Your mother died in childbirth … you will do the same,” Estelle said firmly.
“No! I am not my mother, and anyway do you not realize my child means more to me than life?”
Falcon could not take his eyes from her. She was magnificent. “Without even consulting me you give me an abortificant to drink!” Jasmine continued. “It is a damned good thing I am familiar with plants and their properties.”
“I only did what was best for you,” Estelle protested.
“I am Lady de Burgh, mistress of Mountain Ash. Must I remind you that you are merely a guest here?”
“Jasmine, are you really willing to risk your life to give me a child?” asked Falcon, hope mixed with admiration in his eyes.
“This child is mine, and may God strike any dead who try to harm it.” Her eyes flashed their anger. “Thank God for one of the bonuses of carrying a child. Custom demands that you keep from my bed for the next few months.”
His jaw tightened slightly, but it was a small price for him to pay if she was willing to go on with the pregnancy. “You have my word I will not bother you, my lady,” Falcon said sincerely.
“It may interest you to know that there is a great hole in my floor through which I heard you both conspiring against me.” She turned her accusing eyes on Falcon. “Before you again commit adultery with that slut who writhes and pants after you, I suggest you mend the hole in your ceiling!”
“I have not committed adultery, Jasmine,” he said with narrowed eyes. “At least, not yet.”
She was almost certain he was lying. The girl was like a bitch in heat with him, how could he have refused the use of her body? “Suppose I ask her?” she suggested.
He shrugged. “Perhaps by that time it will be a done thing,” he drawled.
She shrugged her beautiful shoulders as if she did not care. He wanted to take hold of those shoulders and crush her to his will. He wanted to shake from her a confession that she was mad with jealousy over Morganna … that she was falling in love with him … that she was filled with joy to be carrying his child. Instead he bowed formally. “Is that all, madame?”
“No, it is not,” she said with a serene little smile. “I am going to become absolute mistress of Mountain Ash. My word will be law from now on. I am taking full charge of the household and the servants. The rest I leave to you, sir.” She waved an imperious hand. “Estelle, Big Meg, and my husband won’t like the idea that their delicate little Jasmine has grown up, but Estelle, Big Meg, and my husband can go to Hell.” Her voice and her smile were as sweet as wild honey.
Chapter 32
William Marshal and Salisbury, John’s brother, were closeted with the king at Gloucester. Hugh de Burgh, the king’s newly appointed justiciar, chose not to join them. He had always played the role of Devil’s advocate and he did it well. Among them the three men intended to manipulate, coerce, or shame John into more acceptable behavior.
The encounter was not going well. King John was in a seething, almost uncontrollable rage. He was the king and could do anything he pleased. He had waited years for the crown, coveting it when his father wore it and jealously obsessed by it when his brother Richard held it and sat on the throne for ten long years.
Being king was supposed to mean absolute power, yet first his barons, then the church, and now his own chosen ministers and his brother were turning against him.
“I think I deserve an explanation of why you gave my daughter Jasmine to Chester when I had contracted her to de Burgh,” said Salisbury, coming straight to the point.
“William, that wasn’t my doing. It was some scheme of the queen’s to amuse the court. I was told it was to be a mock wedding, a jest, an entertainment. I saw no harm in the little playlet.”
William clearly saw through him and briefly wondered how much Chester had paid him. At least they had succeeded in getting John on the defensive.
“No harm has been done,” John insisted. “She is safely wed to de Burgh, so I don’t know why you are badgering me about it!”
“I’ll tell you the harm, John: Other than a personal affront to me, you have succeeded in driving away the strongest flank of our army. A call to arms of your northern barons failed dismally. De Burgh was the best captain you ever had or could hope to have in the future. He’s the best! His knights are trained better … his men-at-arms are loyal, fierce fighters, with more guts than a slaughterhouse. His Welsh bowmen, his English broadswordsmen, even his mercenaries are better trained than all others. What good is he to us holed up in Wales?”
John waved an arm indicating he could fix things in a trice. “When spring comes I will lure him back into the fold. The de Burghs are loyal Plantagenet men. His anger will have a chance to cool over the long winter months. There is no discord between de Burgh and me.”
Salisbury sighed. There was no point in reminding John of the bad blood that existed between de Burgh and Chester, one of the few other barons still loyal to the crown. Bad blood that would never have been stirred up but for John and his insatiable appetite for money and women.
William Marshal’s round with John succeeded in roiling his rage until it was almost out of control. “John, you must put an end to this trouble with the church. Splendor of God, man, don’t you realize the seriousness of being excommunicated by the Pope?”
“I’ll not be dictated to by that asshole! I am the King of England! I am the head of the church in England, not the bloody Pope! Do you realize the church has more wealth than the crown?” John’s face was a dangerous hue of purple.
“Do you not realize that wealth can be used against you?” thundered William Marshal. “Louis of France must be laughing with glee at this rift between England and the Pope. He has taken most of Normandy, Anjou, Maine, and Poitou. Now he will be eyeing England, and he’ll have the Pope on his side.”
“You don’t need to tell me they are thick as thieves. Mayhap you’re in it with them. I note your dominions in France to the far south are still in your possession!” screamed John.
William Marshal’s mouth tightened. “I will forget you said that, John. You know I paid dearly to hold my French possessions with the blood of my men. You must end this quarrel with the church by accepting Stephen Langton as Archbishop of Canterbury or the Pope will lay England under ah interdict!”
“If the asshole does that I will seize possession of the bishops who obey the interdict and banish them from the kingdom!”
“Oppressing the churchmen is not the answer, John. Be guided in this by me. The Pope has the power to declare you deposed from the throne, to absolve the English people from their allegiance to you and entrust the King of France with the carrying out of these decrees,” W
illiam Marshal pointed out.
Salisbury joined in the fray. “Such a threat would mean little if you were strong and popular in your own country, but you are rapidly losing the respect and love of all classes of your people.”
John was raving now as he threatened, “I will bring foreign mercenaries into England to overpower any resistance to my actions. I will compel the barons to put their sons into my hands as pledges for their own good behavior. I will use the courts and the exchequer to plunder the clergy legally.”
Salisbury said bluntly, “That won’t be enough to pay for mercenaries. You’ll have to make taxes and scutages heavier and collect them more frequently, and how popular do you think that will make you?”
“Christ Almighty, was a king ever so beset? You are all against me! Where’s Hubert, he’ll support me, if nobody else will.”
“Hubert is too much of a yes man. He tells you what you want to hear to keep you pacified. William Marshal and I know it is time you faced the truth and took a good hard look at yourself,” Salisbury said, totally ignoring the flecks of foam that were on his brother’s lips.
William Marshal’s face grew ever more stern. “We are not finished, John. There is still the matter of your morals to be dealt with. It has come to my ears that you abducted yet another young female, but this time with fatal results.”
“’T is nothing but vicious gossip!” cried John, smashing his fist into the table. “Women literally throw themselves at kings. You cannot deny they are lined up out there to warm my bed. I am a normal, healthy man, I like women! Christ Almighty, you’d have something to complain about if I was buggering my pages like my brother Richard did for years. He had a warm relationship with the church too … he screwed the Bishop of Fecamp for years. That proud prelate and others I could name were his special favorites!”
William Marshal had such strict morals, he turned white about the mouth to hear of Richard’s pederasty.
The Falcon and the Flower Page 33
