Darling Jasmine

by Bertrice Small

  Racing ahead of Adali, they dashed into the library, where their mother and the earl were awaiting them. “Papa! Papa!” they squealed, flinging themselves at him simultaneously. Laughing, the earl bent down, and gathered them into his embrace. “So, my wee trio of rascals, you are glad to see me, are you?” he said with a broad smile. “Well, I’ve missed you, too!”

  “We’ve been to court, Papa!” Henry said. “Charlie-boy led us in, and the king greeted us personally. He looks so sad, but I like him. And I bowed, just like you taught me!”

  “And the girls curtsied beautifully,” Jasmine said, making certain that her daughters did not feel left out.

  “Did you bring us a present from Scotland, Papa?” India asked.

  “Papa was on the king’s business, greedy one,” Henry said. “There is no time for presents when a man is on king’s business.”

  “Oh?” The earl feigned surprise. “Then you do not want the gift I have brought you, Henry?”

  “You really brought us gifts?” Henry Lindley’s face was all boyish excitement. “What did you bring us?”

  “A fine dirk for you, Henry, and silver thistle necklaces for my lasses,” the earl said, producing the items from his pocket.

  “Nothing for me?” Jasmine teased him.

  “I will give you your gift in private later,” James Leslie said, his green-gold eyes meeting her turquoise ones. Then he carefully fastened a thistle necklace first about India’s neck, and then Fortune’s. “See, lassies, each thistle has a tiny amethyst for a flower head.”

  “I will keep my necklace always,” Fortune said adoringly as she looked up at the man who was to be her father.

  He gave her a little hug and kissed her cheek gently.

  “You chose well,” India noted. “I like jewelry, Papa.”

  “Most ladies do, I have found,” he replied, giving her a hug and a kiss, too. His eye then went to Henry Lindley, who was delightedly examining the small silver dagger with the carved bone handle.

  The boy looked up. “ ’Tis a fine weapon, sir,” he said slowly. “Will you show me how to use it? And you won’t forget my fencing lessons?”

  “We shall begin them when we reach Queen’s Malvern,” the earl said. “And this winter, when we are at Glenkirk, you shall have lessons every day except Sunday, Henry.”

  “Come along now, children,” Adali said. “Your papa has ridden far and is tired. He wants a bath, his supper, and his bed. Bid your parents a good evening.” He shepherded them from the library.

  “How good you are to them,” Jasmine said. “It makes me love you all the more, Jemmie Leslie. I shall give you fine sons, for you are a man who obviously loves children.”

  “I have a painted ball for Charlie-boy I found in a street stall in Edinburgh,” he responded. Then, reaching out, he pulled her into his lap as he sat down by the fire. “I missed you,” he told her simply, “and I agree that there is really no need for us to come to London again. Will you truly be happy if you don’t, Jasmine? I love you so deeply that the very thought of your unhappiness gives me pain, my wild lassie.” He nuzzled the top of her dark head.

  Safe. The word popped unbidden into her head. She was safe at last, Jasmine realized. But then she had been safe with Rowan until his life had been snuffed out by a madman. She had lost two husbands to violence, and a young lover to an unnecessary and premature death. Surely this time it would be all right. Had not her own grandmother lost five husbands before she married Adam de Marisco? It would be all right. “You stink of horses, and now so do I,” she said, sliding from his lap. “Adali certainly must have your bath ready, or at least being prepared.”

  “I don’t have to go back to Lynmouth House then?” he teased.

  “I will never be separated from you again, Jemmie Leslie,” she told him and, taking him by the hand, led him upstairs to her own apartments, where the large old iron-bound oak tub had been set up before the fire in the dayroom. “I shall maid you, sir,” she told him, and began pulling his boots off, then his damp, knit woolen stockings.

  “And I you,” he replied, seating her and drawing her shoes from her narrow, high-arched feet.

  Jasmine stood and removed his doublet and his shirt. He removed her bodice and her chemise, pulling her against him for a brief moment to feel the softness of her breasts against his darkly furred chest. Drawing away reluctantly, Jasmine unbuttoned his breeches and slid them over his narrow hips, past his shapely calves to his ankles. He stepped from the garment and kicked it away. Then he undid the tapes of her skirt first and the several petticoats she wore beneath it, lifting her from them when they puddled about her ankles. Naked now but for her stockings, Jasmine pulled his drawers off, and he kicked them too across the chamber. Kneeling, he slipped her garters down her legs, then rolled her silk stockings off, sliding them from her feet as she lifted each one in turn.

  He pressed his face against her smooth belly, his breathing very ragged. Then, standing, he took her face between his two hands, and said, “I can’t wait, darling Jasmine. I must take the edge off my appetite for you. It has been the longest month of my life!”

  “Mine also,” she told him, reaching out to caress him. He was rock hard and practically throbbing with his desire. Jasmine drew him down to the floor between the fireplace and the tub. Lying upon her back, she opened herself to him in sweet invitation, reaching out to draw him into her embrace.

  With a groan he pushed himself into her, finding to his delight that she was hot, and wet, and very, very welcoming. “Ahhh, God!” he moaned thickly as his manhood slid deep, and she wrapped her legs about him, encouraging him onward. His hunger for her seemed to increase rather than ease as they found the passionate rhythm of love together.

  Jasmine sighed deeply as the thick column of flesh delved into the deepest recesses of her very being. She took her pleasure of him shamelessly; the walls of her sheath tightening and releasing him, causing him to cry out with unabashed delight as she gave back every bit as much as she took. Her fingers dug strongly into the muscles of his back, her nails lightly raking him.

  “It’s too much,” he half sobbed, and exploded his tribute within her, but Jasmine was with him, already soaring and utterly replete with her own satisfaction as their lips met in a scorching kiss.

  They lay side by side afterward upon the carpet, the fire cracking practically atop them, fingers entwined. Speaking in soft voices, they both agreed that they were utterly shameless, then they laughed together, happy and perfectly pleased with themselves.

  “Now we really do need a bath,” Jasmine murmured. Her thighs were smeared with his love juices, which had been extremely copious. If it had ever occurred to her that James Leslie might have been unfaithful to her while he was away, that thought was quickly dispelled by the evidence of her eyes and the abundance of his creamy passion.

  He somehow managed to get to his feet, drawing her up with him. “I have never had such desire for a woman as I do for you, darling Jasmine,” he told her candidly. “I am not even certain being your husband will rid me of my hunger for you.”

  Jasmine climbed into the tub and beckoned him to join her. “You flatter me, Jemmie Leslie,” she said. “I am just a woman.”

  The earl of Glenkirk laughed. “You will never be just a woman, my darling Jasmine,” he told her. “Now, madame, wash my back like a good wife should, and afterward I shall reward you for your efforts.”

  Jasmine giggled. “I am not your wife yet, my lord. I should far prefer to be rewarded like a good mistress would. Mistresses, I am told, have more fun than wives.”

  “Not in my house,” he riposted wickedly.

  Adali entered the apartment in the company of Rohana and Toramalli. He bore a silver basin of perfumed water, and an armful of small white linen cloths, which he took into the bedchamber. The maidservants carried trays of food, which they placed upon a rectangular table.

  “Ohhh,” Jasmine sniffed. “That smells delicious. What have you brought us?” She s
crambled from the tub to be dried by Rohana.

  “Cook has sent up a variety of foods, m’lady,” Rohana told her, toweling Jasmine, then powdering her. “She thought m’lord would enjoy a hearty supper as he had ridden far today according to Fergus More, who is in the kitchens eating now.” She helped Jasmine into a cream-colored chamber robe. Then she moved on to help Toramalli who was drying a slightly embarrassed Lord Leslie, who could not quite get used to being attended at his bath by pretty women.

  Jasmine began lifting the lids upon the dishes. There was a dish of cold, raw oysters in cracked ice, and seawater; a thick rich stew of rabbit in a winey brown gravy with scallions, sliced carrots, and new peas; a roasted capon; a medium-sized trout, steamed in white wine, and set upon a bed of cress; a small ham; a bowl of new lettuce from the kitchen garden; fresh bread warm from the oven; a crock of sweet butter; a quarter wheel of Brie already runny upon its silver platter; and, finally, a bowl of tiny new strawberries with a pitcher of clotted Devon cream. She hummed approval. “Tell Mrs. Davis her menu is well appreciated, Adali,” Jasmine said.

  “Will you want me to serve?” he inquired politely.

  “Yes,” she surprised him. “Send for the footmen to empty the tub, and have it put away. Then we will eat.”

  The servingmen came, each carrying two buckets, and the tub was quickly emptied, then stored away, the drain in its side being carefully replaced. Rohana and Toramalli set up the table before the dayroom fire, and Adali quickly served his master and his mistress both food and wine. He then withdrew with the women. James Leslie ate with a good appetite, as did Jasmine. She filled his goblet several times with wine, and soon between the heat of the fire, the excellent meal, and the long day’s ride, he began to nod.

  “Come,” she said to him, rising. “You need to sleep, my dear lord,” and she led him to the bedchamber where he fell into bed, asleep almost before his head touched the pillows. With an indulgent smile Jasmine banked the fire, tucked the coverlet about him, and climbed into the bed next to James Leslie, snuggling against him even as his arm instinctively reached out to enfold her in his embrace.

  When the earl of Glenkirk awoke, it was already past sunrise, and Jasmine was dressed. Adali handed him a saucer of steaming tea, and, to his great surprise, he found it most refreshing. As Jasmine’s servant helped him to dress, Jasmine chattered at him happily.

  “We must go to court this morning and bid the king and queen farewell, Jemmie. Then, tomorrow, we can begin our journey to Queen’s Malvern. The servants are already packing, and I am taking the staff home with us since I will never again return to London. Grandmama will find places for them, I know, and I will not leave them here after all their years of faithful service to the family. Greenwood House will be closed up. Perhaps I shall even sell it as it will be mine one day.”

  “If you sell it,” the earl observed, “then your family, who do like to come up to London, will have no place to stay, Jasmine.”

  “Let them stay at Lynmouth House,” she responded.

  “Would you wish your Aunt Willow on your Uncle Robin?” he teased her. “What if they both needed to be in town at the same time?”

  She thought a moment, then laughed. “Oh, very well, Jemmie, but I’m closing the house, and if someone needs to use it, let them open it, and pay the cost. I’m only leaving the gatekeeper and his wife, to look after it, and see the park is maintained. Now, hurry, and dress, my lord!”

  “I’m hungry again,” he complained. “I will go nowhere, madame, until I have been fed again.”

  “Toramalli, find some food for Lord Leslie,” Jasmine ordered; and when it came, she ate with every bit as good an appetite as he did.

  Their carriage drew up before the door of Greenwood House, and the earl of Glenkirk and Jasmine rode the distance to Whitehall. They were dressed richly but conservatively. The earl in dark green silk breeches, cream and gold showing through the slashes on his doublet. Jasmine in a gown of apple green and gold brocade with a creamy wide lace collar; a necklace of topaz and gold about her throat.

  The king’s face lit up with pleasure as they entered the hall. “Jemmie!” he called to them. “Yer back safe, I see.”

  The earl of Glenkirk bowed low to the king as Jasmine curtsied.

  “I am, my liege, and happy to tell you that Scotland eagerly awaits a visit from James Stuart,” James Leslie said. “Now, Your Majesty, I come to take my leave of you, and Her Majesty. I have a wedding to attend in several days, and must return to Queen’s Malvern before the old countess of Lundy sends out a search party for me.”

  The king nodded. “Lady Lindley hae made quite clear to us that her choice of a husband is ye, Jemmie, and nae other. Is that nae so, madame?” His amber eyes were twinkling.

  “Yes, my liege,” Jasmine said meekly.

  “Hah!” The king barked. “Ye were nae so mild-mannered, and humble just a day or more back when ye said it, and broke puir Piers St. Denis’s heart, madame. Now I must find him a prize to equal ye, and I dinna know what I hae to offer the puir laddie.”

  “It is true,” the earl of Glenkirk interposed before Jasmine might say anything to get herself in trouble, “that my bride is a jewel beyond price; nonetheless anything Your Majesty would choose for the marquis of Hartsfield would surely more than equal Jasmine’s hand, coming as it will from Your Majesty.”

  The faintest smile touched the king’s lips at James Leslie’s words. He knew when he was being cajoled, and yet the earl’s words, so publicly spoken, would force his darling Piers to accept whatever James Stuart offered him to assuage his disappointment over Jasmine. He nodded at the earl, murmuring, “Nicely done, Jemmie. I’ll miss ye.” Then he continued for the consumption of his court. “We will be sorry to see ye both go, but we understand that ye must leave us.”

  “We are both Your Majesty’s loyal servants, and will come should you need us,” the earl of Glenkirk promised the king.

  “Aye, aye!” The king arose. “Come wi me, Jemmie Leslie. I want a more detailed report from ye in private.” He looked at Jasmine. “ ’Twill gie ye time, madame, to say yer good-byes to yer friends, eh?”

  Jasmine curtsied again. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said.

  “I will return for you when I am done,” the earl told Jasmine. “Try and stay out of trouble, darling Jasmine, while I am with His Majesty, eh?” He blew her a kiss with his fingertips and followed after the king, who was making his way from the hall.

  The queen had overheard, and laughed softly. “He knows you well, doesn’t he, my dear? I think you should have a very interesting marriage if you can survive each other.”

  “I shall miss Your Majesty,” she said quietly. “You are the only friend I have at court to say good-bye to, madame.”

  “What? Am I not your friend?” George Villiers demanded, pretending to be greatly aggrieved. He stood in the space between both the king’s throne, and the queen’s throne.

  Now it was Jasmine’s turn to laugh. “Oh, Steenie, of course you are my friend, too. I would have enjoyed watching you climb to great heights, but if I promise sometimes to write to you, will you write me back and tell me of all your triumphs?” She gave him her hand. “Once, I am told, my Uncle Conn was called the handsomest man at court. I believe, sir, that you now possess his mantle. He was not, however, as circumspect as I suspect you are. The queen had to marry him off to keep him out of trouble.”

  George Villiers took the elegant hand offered him, noting as he did the beautiful rings upon her fingers, each worth, he would wager, a king’s ransom. He kissed the slender hand, then said, “You may trust that I am your friend, madame, and if you are kind enough to take the time to write to me, I shall most certainly correspond with you, telling you all the lovely gossip you will miss by running off to live in the country. Will you really spend winters in Scotland?”

  She nodded. “Aye.”

  “Do you like rain and mist?” he wondered aloud.

  “Why?” she asked.
<
br />   “Because, I am told, there is much mist in Scotland, and it does rain a great deal. Is that not so, Majesty?” He turned to the queen.

  Queen Anne nodded. “You get used to it,” she said.

  “What a charming scene,” a voice next to them suddenly sneered.

  Jasmine, recognizing the marquis of Hartsfield, did not bother to turn about. Her eyes, however, filled with anger.

  “Good day to you, Your Majesty,” Piers St. Denis said, pointedly ignoring George Villiers.

  “Good day, my lord,” the queen responded politely, but she wondered what he wanted. Probably to cause some trouble, she thought. He really was a bad loser.

  “And where has your lover gone, madame?” The voice was cutting.

  “My lord is with the king, although that should be no business of yours, my lord,” Jasmine responded, still not bothering to look at him.

  “Undoubtedly the king is telling him that your little bastard is to be given away to be raised by someone more suitable than yourself,” the marquis said cuttingly. “I, myself, have asked for the child, and would make him an excellent guardian, madame, for I should raise him here at court with his grandparents, and his uncle to influence him, and to be about him. Not remove him into the wilds of Scotland, where he will undoubtedly grow up like a barbarian and not a prince’s son.”

  Jasmine grew pale, and she finally turned about to look into Piers St. Denis’s handsome face. “Suitable? You consider yourself fit to raise my son? You? A man who cannot, I have been informed, obtain pleasure from a woman unless you abuse her? I would kill you, or anyone else who attempted to remove my son, or any of my children from my care!” Jasmine snarled. “You, my lord, are not fit to raise any child!”

  The marquis of Hartsfield had flushed when she had publicly revealed what he considered his secret vice, but before he could retaliate, the queen’s voice spoke with certain knowledge.

  “Jasmine, my dear, do not listen to him. The king is not giving any of your children to Piers St. Denis. He is more than well aware of the marquis’s foibles and frailties.” She put a hand out to comfort the younger woman. Then she turned an angry eye on the marquis. “Sir, you overstep your position!”