“Are you always like this?” he groused.
“Like what?”
“Impossible! Totally, utterly impossible!” he roared.
“There is no need to shout, my lord,” she told him. “I do not think it is particularly good for you. There is a little vein right there”—her finger reached out, and touched the side of his head—“that is throbbing fiercely. I must teach you a little trick one of my aunts taught me when I was a child that will help you to calm yourself. You sit perfectly still and clear your mind of all thoughts, then just breath deeply in and blow the breath out. It is excellent for calming one’s nerves. I used it myself on occasion.”
He could feel the vein she touched beating a tattoo on the side of his head. There were but two ways to stop it and calm himself. He would either have to strangle her where she stood—and the thought at this very moment was deliciously tempting—or he would have to kiss her. He chose the latter.
Sweeping her into his arms his mouth found hers in a hard kiss. He crushed her against him, feeling her bosom, certainly fuller than it had been several years back before she had borne her children, push against him. He expected her to struggle, to give some expression of outrage. Instead Jasmine’s lips softened against him, and she seemed to melt into his embrace, returning his harshness with a tender, sweet softness. He had meant to conquer her, but instead found himself the vanquished. He was astounded as he released his fierce hold on her, not just a little chagrined.
She stood straight, looking up at him, although if the truth had been known Jasmine’s legs were as weak as a jelly. “ ’Twas either kiss or kill, was it not, my lord?” she taunted him wickedly.
He nodded, and, unable to think of any clever retort, said, “There was a time when you called me Jemmie, madame, and not always my lord. Do you think we can regain that place again?”
“You will never tame me, nor I you, Jemmie,” she replied in answer. “ ’Twill be a terrible match, I fear.” But Jasmine was smiling.
“Aye,” he agreed, “it will, but there is no help for it. I am the king’s loyal man and must obey. Still, a man might have a worse wife than you will be, darling Jasmine. As you are so fond of reminding me, you are rich, beautiful, royal, and clever,” he gently teased.
“I have always been a good wife,” she responded primly. “You will learn if you do not thwart me, I shall be loyal and bring no shame to your name, Jemmie Leslie.”
“In other words, if I give you your own way, we will have no difficulties,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Exactly!” Jasmine answered him brightly. “How fortunate I am to be marrying so perceptive a man.”
Chapter 5
The weather turned again, and the early-spring rains came. James Leslie and Jasmine Lindley kept mostly to the château, where they played cards and chess, and talked. Although they had been acquainted with each other, neither really knew the other. Skye had been correct in leaving them alone. When the children had been gone some ten days, the earl suggested that on the next day there was no rain they ride over the Archambault to visit Jasmine’s relations and see how the youngsters were getting on with their cousins.
Jasmine flushed at the suggestion.
“What is the matter?” he asked her.
She laughed weakly. “I had almost forgotten about my children,” Jasmine admitted, embarrassed. “It has been so lovely here with you, Jemmie, that I have come close to forgetting my responsibilities.”
“You are the best of mothers,” he reassured her. “No one would fault you for enjoying your time away from the children. When we return home to England we shall spend as little time at court as is possible that we may spend most of our time with our family.”
“Will we live in Scotland?” she asked him. “My mother transplanted well there, but has always insisted upon her English summers as she is wont to call them. Is Glenkirk beautiful, Jemmie?”
“Very beautiful,” he said, “but we will only live there part of the year, Jasmine. Perhaps the autumn and winter months. Autumn is the best time in Scotland. The summers we will spend at Queen’s Malvern, and Henry must go to Cadby then. In the spring we shall go to court so that James is not offended. I have overseen his empire’s foreign trade for several years now, but I wish to resign that post now that we are to be wed. My own family has been heavily involved in trading for many, many years with our bankers, the Kira family. I do not know if your grandmother would consider it, but a merger of my interests with the O’Malley-Small trading company could profit us as all. That is something she and I must discuss.”
Jasmine nodded. “It seems a sensible solution to all our domiciles, but I hope we shall not have to stay too long at court.”
“Only to the extent it benefit us,” he responded sagely. “We have the children to consider. Charlie is a duke, and Henry a marquis. Their sisters are heiresses, and will be prime on the marriage market one day.” He reached out and took her hand in his, lifting it to kiss the inside of her wrist and her palm. “And we have our bairns to consider as well, darling Jasmine. Perhaps another earl, and a brother and sister or two?” He nibbled on her fingers seductively.
Jasmine colored becomingly. Of course there had to be children of this marriage, but until this moment she hadn’t really thought a great deal about it. How long had it been since she had made love to a man? Her youngest child was two and a half years of age, and it had been several months before his birth when she and Henry Stuart had ceased their intimacies. It was almost three years, she realized, amazed. She had grown used to life without a man. Without a man in her bed. Did she even remember how to play that game? The fire in the fireplace crackled and snapped, the flames dappling the walls with shadow, while outside the rain beat a light tattoo upon the windowpanes.
James Leslie saw the confusion passing over her features and realized the opportunity presenting itself to him. To his surprise, however, Jasmine pulled her hand away from him, distress written all over her beautiful face. Shaking her head at him, she ran from the hall. So, he thought, she had felt it too. She wasn’t being coy, he realized, for Jasmine Lindley was a woman of experience; yet she felt a certain shyness with him that was astonishing given the passionate lover he recalled on that one wonderful night that they had shared those several years back.
He wondered if he should follow her and thought better of the idea. He considered if she had taken a lover while here in France and discarded the notion. The only lover Jasmine Lindley had ever allowed in her bed other than himself, and her husbands, had been Prince Henry Stuart. Then in a burst of clarity he saw the problem. Of course! It had to be! There had been no man in her bed since the prince. He laughed softly to himself. Jasmine, who disliked being at any sort of disadvantage, felt awkward about making love again. He was tempted to go to her and reassure her, but he knew that would be a mistake. He would have to court Jasmine as he had never courted any woman. He had not really courted Isabelle, for they had been promised in childhood, and it was a given that they would marry. It had not been necessary to court his late wife, and there had been none since her death he chose to court and marry.
It was an interesting concept, courting a woman, but court her he would have to in order to gain her trust and win his way into her bed, into her heart. What could he do that would please her? She lacked for nothing. James Leslie realized that he had absolutely no idea about how to court a woman who had everything. Had she been a simple lass, he would have wooed her with jewelry and other finery. She knew he liked her children, so there was no ingress there. What was he to do? And then he realized that he would have to seek advice from Madame Skye. He laughed aloud at the thought. Take advice from that beautiful and devious old woman? Aye! He would, for she knew Jasmine best, and was, if her reputation was to be believed, the most skilled and clever woman where the arts of love were concerned.
James Leslie poured himself another large goblet of red wine and settled himself by the fireplace, sipping the liquid nectar slowly. To
morrow they would go to Archambault, and he knew that Jasmine would devote her time there to her children. He, however, would seek counsel from Madame Skye on how to win her granddaughter, and win Jasmine he would.
In the morning she behaved as if everything was exactly the same between them as it had been the day before. She came to the highboard dressed for riding, in green wool breeches, high leather boots, a cambric shirt, and her doeskin jerkin with the silver-and-horn buttons. She ate heartily, which both amused and delighted him. He liked a woman who enjoyed her food and did not toy daintily with her plate. His mother was such a woman. Jasmine never drank wine in the early morning. Her servants brought her a blue-and-white porcelain dish, pouring into it a fragrant hot liquid which she always drank with relish.
Curious, he asked her, “What is it you drink, Jasmine?”
“It is called tea,” she told him. “Would you like to taste it, Jemmie? Adali, bring another saucer for the earl.” She smiled at him. “We brew it with hot water, using the leaves of the tea plant. It is native to India. The leaves are cured or dried before use. It is a very pleasing drink. My mother and my aunts frequently put cloves or cardamom in the tea to add additional flavor to it.”
Jasmine’s steward placed a deep saucer before him and poured some of the tea into it from a pitcher. “This is black tea, my lord,” he said. “The Chinese grow a green variety.”
“It is more delicate,” Jasmine said. “Our Indian tea is a most hearty brew. Taste it, Jemmie!”
He sipped at the hot liquid, finding the taste pleasant, but not particularly stimulating or exciting as wine, ale, or cider.
“I am thinking of suggesting to grandmother that we import tea into England,” Jasmine told him. “The Dutch have been doing it for the past six years although they do not know how to market it and have not had a great success with it.”
“The Dutch are excellent merchants,” he replied.
“Indeed they are,” she agreed, “but they still do not know how to sell tea. Tea is not spices or cloth that can be easily hawked to any housewife in the market. Tea must first be sold to the rich and the powerful. Only when they have taken it to their bosoms and made it a drink of the exclusive will the masses seek to have it.”
Her analysis of the situation surprised him. He had always known that Jasmine was an intelligent woman, but he had put that particular brand of intelligence down to female common sense, but she was beyond that obviously. “You may be right, Jasmine,” he said slowly. “Aye, I can see where having tea drunk by a select few would eventually make it modish, and very desirable to the general population.”
She arose from the highboard. “We’ll talk to Grandmama about it,” she said. “Come, Jemmie, and let us be off. I have not seen my darlings in almost two weeks, and I am eager to be with them!”
They took the direct road to Archambault, arriving quickly, and Jasmine was out of her saddle almost immediately, sweeping her children, who were awaiting her upon the steps of the great château, into her all-encompassing embrace. On the top step Madame Skye stood with a distinguished gentleman the earl rightly guessed to be the comte de Cher. Alexandre de Saville shook James Leslie’s hand and bade him welcome. The earl then kissed Madame Skye upon her pale cheeks.
“So, James Leslie,” the old lady said, tucking her hand into his arm as they entered the château, “have you made any progress with my granddaughter?”
“We will wed on the fifteenth day of June,” he replied.
“Ah, good! I am glad you have managed to bring Jasmine around to a more sensible frame of mind in this matter,” Skye replied.
They entered an elegant salon, and he saw at once that they were alone.
“I need your advice, madame,” the earl said, “and as we have privacy for the moment, perhaps it is the time to seek it.”
She raised an elegant eyebrow. “You seek my advice? How interesting,” Skye said, a small smile playing with the corners of her mouth. “Then, sirrah, you have decided that I am not your enemy?”
He chuckled. “I think you are a devious, wicked lady, madame, but I still need your advice; and no, I do not believe we are enemies, nor have we ever been.”
They sat upon an upholstered settle, and he took her hand in his. “I believe that Jasmine has become shy in things of an intimate nature, Madame Skye. She is not comfortable once matters pass a certain point. It is not in her nature, I believe, to be cold.”
“Hmmmmmmm,” Skye said.
“I considered other reasons for her reluctance, but the only one I believe true is the fact she has not known a man since some time before wee Charlie’s birth. I think she may feel at a disadvantage.”
“God’s boots!” Skye answered him. “What is the matter with the girl? You are handsome, and well made, and she has shared your bed on one occasion and not found you displeasing.”
“We are being pushed into doing our duty,” the earl replied. “I think I need to court her, Madame Skye, but how does one go about courting a woman with everything? What can I do, or say, or give her that she has not heard or received? My first wife and I were promised as bairns. I did not court Isabelle, but then we were both very young and used to one another. Our families had agreed to our marriage, and that was the way it was done in Scotland at that time.”
Skye nodded. Now here was a small tangle that needed unknotting. She had not considered that Jasmine, once become sensible, would behave like a sheltered virgin, and her a woman with four children! It was simply ridiculous! “I will speak with my granddaughter,” she said.
“Nay, madame, I beg you do not!” the earl implored her. “She would be mortified to learn that I knew her secret. Just instruct me in how to please her so that she will lose her shyness with me, and matters may progress naturally.”
“God’s blood!” Skye swore passionately. “What is the matter with you young men of today? In my day the men were bold! They swept a woman off her feet and into their arms without their permission. None of my daughters were like me, but this one granddaughter is. You will gain your goal with her by being audacious and gallant, and not by pussyfooting around.”
“But Madame Skye . . .” he attempted to interrupt her.
“There are no buts where love is concerned, James Leslie,” she told him sternly. “Do you know that Jasmine’s grandfather seduced me the first time he met me? Like Jasmine I was mourning a loss and had been without a man, but Adam wanted me, and he took me.” Her gaze softened with the memory. “I should have seen that he was the man for me then and there, but I outlived two more husbands before he realized that his first manly and fearless approach to me had been the way to my heart. We were fortunate, and in those days it seemed as if time went on forever.” She was silent a moment, then sighed gustily before looking at him again. “Seize your opportunity, dammit! Give my granddaughter a taste of passion again. You cannot help but overcome her outrage with it.” She chuckled wickedly. “I envy the girl, my lord, I do.”
He raised the hand he had been gently holding to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you,” he said.
She nodded, her Kerry blue eyes twinkling, yet wise. Then she said, “I believe that you and Jasmine should be together alone for a few more weeks, James Leslie. What would you think if I took the children on to visit Paris, and from there home to Queen’s Malvern, where we will await you? It is already mid-March, and if I am to prepare for a wedding and notify the family, I cannot linger much longer in France. The children yet prove a distraction to their mother, so perhaps it is better they travel with their great-grandmother?”
“I tend to agree, madame,” the earl said, restraining the chortle that threatened to burst forth from his throat. He had known that the old lady would not allow Jasmine’s bairns to return to Belle Fleurs, but he had not been certain exactly how she would manage this feat. Madame Skye was absolutely brilliant in her tactics. “I will hire a goodly force of the comte’s men to escort you first to Paris, then on to the coast. The roads are not all that safe
, as you know, particularly now with another war threatening to break out.”
“Aye, that is wise,” Skye agreed. “I know Alexandre will be more than happy to give you the loan of some men-at-arms.”
The door to the salon burst open, and Jasmine, looking agitated, entered the room. “What is this that Henry tells me, grandmama? That you are taking the children to Paris? I will not allow it!”
“Darling girl, do not be foolish,” her grandmother soothed her. “Aye, we are off to Paris in a few days’ time, and from there to England, where we will begin making preparations for your wedding, and notifying the family of your return. In the meantime, you and Lord Leslie will have more time to work out any little difficulties between you, and to know one another better. You are quite fortunate to have me relieve you of your responsibilities, even temporarily, Jasmine.”
Jasmine glared at the earl. “And you agree with this plan?”
He considered placating her, but remembering Madame Skye’s words he said, “Aye, I do, my dear. I realize that I am being selfish, but I very much want you to myself for the time being.”
“Oh?” Her cheeks pinked slightly.
“You know that I adore your bairns, Jasmine, but ’tis I am marrying, and not the wee ones,” he murmured, catching at her hand, and kissing it longingly. “This time alone is precious, and I will have it, my darling Jasmine!” As I will have you. The words were unspoken, but distinctly implied, and understood between them.
“So,” Skye said briskly, “it is settled. Run back to the children and enjoy your day with them, darling girl. I must keep your betrothed with me a moment or two more to discuss certain arrangements about the wedding regarding his family.”
Bemused Jasmine exited the salon.
“What arrangements?” he questioned her when the younger woman was gone.
Darling Jasmine Page 8
