Darling Jasmine

by Bertrice Small

  The servant answered looking askance at the disheveled Maggie. “Yes?” he said loftily.

  Maggie pushed past him. “Master Adam! Master Adam!” she called urgently, and Adam and Fiona Leslie came forth from the library. “ ’Tis my mistress,” Maggie gasped, her breath coming in desperate gasps. “She’s been taken!” and Maggie began to cry.

  Fiona took the girl by the arm, and drew her into the library. Adam poured a small whiskey and shoved it at the servant.

  “Drink it, lassie. Ye canna hae a fit of hysterics now. Drink it down and tell us what hae happened,” he said.

  Maggie coughed and sputtered, but she managed to get the potent amber liquid down. She stood silent for a moment as if gathering her strength, then, taking a deep breath, said, “We went to Master Kira’s, and when we were coming out this man with a strange accent, he was nae a Scot, even a Sassenach like these southerners are, said my mistress was under arrest, and his men put her on her horse and rode away. They dinna see me, for I was behind her, and then Master Kira pulled me back into the building and let me out the back to come and tell my master, but ’tis a long walk to Glenkirk House from here, and ye were nearer, and I need a horse for mine was left behind, and Master Kira said he would hae it back to us by nightfall, but I need one now!” She stopped as if to catch her breath.

  “God’s foot!” Adam Leslie swore. “ ’Tis that damned Englishman, and why the hell dinna we know he was back in Edinburgh?”

  Maggie began to cry in earnest now, tears streaming down her face, her sobs loud and most pitiful to hear.

  “Cease yer caterwauling, lassie!” Adam Leslie roared. “I need to think, damnit.”

  “Ye need to get Jemmie,” Fiona said, and she put her arms about the weeping Maggie. “There, there, lassie. Ye did absolutely the right thing coming here first.” She turned back to her husband. “Adam, dammit! Get on yer horse, and find the earl!”

  James Leslie thought his head would explode so great was his anger when he learned that his wife had been taken by Piers St. Denis. Still, he forced himself to remain calm, mainly with the help of Adali, who laced the earl’s tea with whiskey and made him quiet himself as he drank it.

  “Breathe slowly, my lord, as I have taught you,” Adali said. “Anger will but create a confusion inside your mind. You must not allow your wrath to produce chaos within your thoughts. We are dealing with a madman who is both clever and, to my great surprise, resourceful.”

  James Leslie nodded and drank the hot tea.

  “What blather is this?” Adam Leslie demanded impatiently. “We need to gather up our men and find the bastard, so we may slaughter him for his incredible presumption in laying hands on a countess of Glenkirk!”

  “Nay,” the earl said quietly. “We need to outfox this madman, Uncle, before he can harm Jasmine. I have lost one wife to insanity, and I will not lose another.”

  “Where could the marquis have taken my lady?” Adali asked.

  “If he still hae that damned warrant, he may hae gone to the castle. We’re in luck if he hae, for I know the governor. He’s a sensible man and will nae act hastily unless he is entirely certain of himself,” Adam Leslie said. “I’ll go up the hill, but ye are to remain here. That warrant has both yer names, laddie. Why the hell hasn’t our messenger returned from England? He should be here by now!”

  Adam Leslie went “up the hill,” as he had so colorfully put it to his nephew, to Edinburgh Castle. There he sought out his friend, Robert Chrighton, who was currently the castle governor, but the governor had not seen Piers St. Denis since the spring. He was shocked by Adam’s tale.

  “He did hae a warrant as I recall,” the governor said.

  “A forgery,” Adam Leslie said bluntly. “His half brother admitted it to the steward at Glenkirk before he deserted the marquis. Ye know the king’s signature, Robbie.”

  “Time hae past since Jamie was here,” the governor said. “He hae grown older, and his hand may nae be as steady.”

  “So,” Adam Leslie said triumphantly, “ye were suspicious!”

  “The seal was genuine,” the governor hastily told his guest.

  “But the signature was nae! Dinna fret, Robbie. We sent a messenger down into England to tell the king what was happening. He’ll be back soon wi the truth. If St. Denis brings the countess of Glenkirk to the castle, ye’ll send word, will ye nae?”

  “Aye, and I’ll keep her ladyship comfortable, and safe.”

  “Ye’ll gie her back!” Adam said sharply.

  “I canna until this matter of the warrant is straightened out, Adam,” his friend said.

  Before Adam Leslie might protest, however, there was a knock upon the governor’s door, and a servant entered to announce, “The earl of BrocCairn and Viscount Villiers, my lord.”

  “God’s boot!” Adam Leslie chortled. “Here is yer answer in the nick of time, Robbie. BrocCairn, ’tis good to see ye. Do ye hae some paper wi ye saying this Englishman is a liar and a traitor? He hae just this day snatched Jasmine from the streets of the town.”

  “Jesu, I am glad Velvet isn’t here to learn that,” Alexander Gordon said. “My lord governor, Adam Leslie, may I present Viscount George Villiers, who carries a warrant from the king himself for the arrest of the marquis of Hartsfield. The forgery that Hartsfield carries attempting to cause harm to the Leslies of Glenkirk is not valid, and never has been, my lord governor.”

  George Villiers handed the rolled parchment to Robert Chrighton. “You will find a personal message from His Majesty as well within the roll, my lord,” he said bowing.

  Adam Leslie was staring at George Villiers in amazement. Never before had he seen such a beautiful young man. He was tall, and very manly in appearance, with his flashing dark eyes and wavy chestnut hair. His clothing was the height of fashion, and certainly did not have the look of a man who had ridden hard. It was unwrinkled, and every bow and furbelow was in place. “So yer the king’s new love of whom we hae heard,” he said frankly.

  George Villiers burst out laughing. “I am most fortunate to have His Majesty’s favor and affection,” he told the craggy Highlander.

  “His great-great-grandfather liked the laddies, too,” Adam Leslie said matter-of-factly. “Can ye use a sword, laddie?”

  “I can,” Villiers replied, and then he said mischievously, “His Majesty’s great-great-grandfather must have liked the ladies equally as well, else His Majesty not be here today.”

  “Aye, he did, just like our Jamie,” Adam replied, not in the least nonplussed by the angelic-looking Englishman.

  “Where is Jasmine?” the earl of BrocCairn asked.

  “We dinna know,” Adam replied. “I came up the hill because I thought he might hae brought her here wi his forged warrant, but Robbie says he hae nae seen the bastard since the spring.”

  “Where is Glenkirk?” BrocCairn demanded.

  “At his house,” Adam said. “I didna want him out where this Englishman might catch him as he did Jasmine.”

  “This is a crown matter now, Sir Robert,” Alexander Gordon said. “Ye must send out men to seek the countess of Glenkirk, who hae been kidnapped by this man. He is treacherous, but the felons wi him will quickly gie way to yer authority. We can waste nae time. This man is dangerous.”

  “I imagine,” said George Villiers, “that he did not bring Jasmine here to the castle for fear the truth is out by now. I do not think he expected it would take him almost a year to run her to ground. He could not take the chance that Sir Robert had received word from the king that St. Denis is on a mission of revenge, and not on royal business. Lord Gordon is correct when he states that the marquis of Hartsfield is dangerous. We have only recently learned from his half brother that he personally murdered Lord Stokes.”

  “God’s blood!” Adam Leslie swore.

  “He will seek to leave Edinburgh,” Lord Gordon said. “We must learn in which direction he hae gone as he will have Jasmine wi him.”

  “How do we do that?” Villiers
asked.

  “First we will return to Kira, the banker’s residence, in Goldsmith Alley. He will tell us what he can, and we will speak wi his neighbors to learn if they saw anything. Someone will hae seen something,” Lord Gordon replied. “It was broad daylight.” He turned to Adam Leslie. “When we hae seen Kira ye will go back to Glenkirk House and tell my son-in-law what we are doing. We will go to him immediately when we hae learned anything. Then we will follow this St. Denis, and we will nae cease until we hae regained our Jasmine.” He turned again. “Sir Robert, ye will gie us men to aid us in this search?”

  “Aye,” the governor said slowly, wondering what it would cost him to send out his men. Part of his living was made from what he could save from the subsidy allocated the royal treasury for Edinburgh Castle.

  “The king shall know of your eager cooperation, my lord,” Viscount Villiers said with a charming smile. His own instinct had told him the direction of the castle governor’s thoughts. “I shall personally inform him of your generous aid.” He bowed to Sir Robert with a flourish.

  The three men withdrew from the governor’s privy chamber, and Adam Leslie said with his characteristic bluntness, “Yer nae such a silly puppy as ye look, sir, are ye?”

  “Nay, sir, I am not,” George Villiers replied with a small grin. Then he asked the older Scotsman, “Are you always so frank, sir?”

  “ ’Tis the only way I know to be,” Adam answered him candidly.

  George Villiers shook his head. “In a way I envy you, sir,” he told Adam, “but you would never succeed at court with such an attitude.”

  “That cesspit?” Adam said scornfully. “Never! I hae enough of the king’s court when Jamie was here in Scotland. When he hurried himself south with such undisguised enthusiasm, I watched as the hand and arse kissing, ambitious members of my race dashed after him in their eagerness to share his good fortune. It is said that many were younger sons, and but sought their fortune, but I was a younger son. I hae a fine wife, a small house in Edinburgh, and Glenkirk Castle will always be my home in the Highlands. I am nae a rich man, but what I hae is more than enough, for I am here in my homeland. I was born a Scot, and I will die one, my fine young lordling. Nay. I am nae a courtier, but each man must choose his own path through life. This is mine.”

  The trio departed Edinburgh Castle and rode down the High Street to Goldsmith Alley. David Kira was awaiting them. He ushered them into his library, and George Villiers was surprised at the richness of the interior of what seemed from the exterior to be a poor man’s house.

  “I have been expecting ye,” the banker said quietly. Then, “A serving girl saw the entire thing from the upstairs window. There were eight men with the lord. They rode back out onto the High Street with the countess, but she could not see from her vantage point in which direction they turned. The lord, however, was leading her ladyship’s horse, and they had tied her hands to the pommel of the saddle so she could not escape them, but also so no bystander would notice that she was captive. It was cleverly done.”

  “Why did she nae cry out?” Adam Leslie wondered aloud.

  “Because, Master Leslie, a small silk handkerchief was stuffed into her mouth, and tied with a bit of cord. Then they covered her head with her shawl so it would not be noticed,” David Kira said.

  “Thank ye, Master Kira,” Lord Gordon said, rising with his companions. “We’ll ask out on the High Street to see if anyone noticed this party of men and a woman.”

  Out on the High Street they eventually discovered a beggar who had indeed seen nine men and a woman. “Took the Leith Road, my good lords,” he said, his grimy hand outstretched.

  The earl of BrocCairn dropped a silver piece into the upturned palm. “Dinna drink it all,” he advised, before riding on with his fellow travelers. He turned to Adam Leslie. “Go to Glenkirk House now and tell Jemmie we’re on the Leith Road. Tell Sir Robert as well. Villiers and I will continue on to the port, although why the hell he is headed there, I’ll never know.”

  “Probably because it is the one place you wouldn’t think to look for him,” Viscount Villiers opined to Lord Gordon, as Adam Leslie turned back toward Glenkirk House. “He did not trust to go to Sir Robert, for he suspects the game is up. There is no place in Scotland where he will be safe with a kidnapped countess of Glenkirk. Most men in his position would head for the borders with Jasmine. He, however, is not most men. He will try and get on a ship for England, thereby avoiding anyone in pursuit, or so he thinks.” George Villiers chuckled. “He’ll have some time attempting to force Jasmine upon a vessel, if indeed he can do it at all.”

  Alexander Gordon chortled. “Aye, she’s like her mother, and hae a verra hot temper; although Velvet claims her temper is more like Jasmine’s father’s, the Mughal’s. I’m afraid Piers St. Denis hae bitten off far more than he can chew, which he’ll shortly discover to his dismay.”

  And, laughing, the two men continued on down the short distance that separated Edinburgh from its port town of Leith.

  Chapter 19

  They had taken her completely unawares as she had stepped forth into Goldsmith Alley from David Kira’s house. A small cloth was stuffed into her mouth before she might scream or utter any sort of protest. A narrow string was tied about her head to prevent her from spitting out the gag. They boosted her onto her mount so quickly and lashed her hands to the pommel of the saddle that there was simply no opportunity to fight them. Her shawl was drawn down over her head and she was led away.

  Jasmine knew instantly who her captor was, and if it had been possible to wreak havoc upon him, she would have gladly done so. She had been very careful as they were gagging and binding her not to glance back at Master Kira’s house. Maggie had been but a step behind her, but a quick surreptitious peep at the door from which she had just exited revealed that Maggie was no longer there. Clever girl, Jasmine thought, relieved. If they had both been captured, who would there be to tell Jemmie? But Maggie would have to hurry, or the trail would be lost!

  They had ridden out onto the High Street. After a few moments they turned onto another road. Leith, the signpost had said, Jasmine noted. Leith? Of course! It was the port for Edinburgh, but where in the name of heaven was he taking her from Leith? Back to England? It couldn’t be England. By now Piers St. Denis’s deception was well-known at court, and the king would have put a stop to it. Where then? None of her questions would be answered until they stopped, and she got this damned gag out of her mouth. She pushed at it with her tongue. It wasn’t lodged too tightly, but her mouth was becoming exceedingly dry. Jasmine concentrated on her breathing in an attempt to calm herself. She wasn’t so much afraid as she was angry.

  They had not traveled a great way down the Leith Road when they came to an inn and stopped. It was a rather disreputable-looking place. Jasmine could hear the drunken shouts from within the building. The men accompanying them dismounted, stretching and scratching. Tying their rather scruffy mounts to a hitching post, they looked to the marquis.

  “We leave you here,” he said. “I give you your horses. Do what you will with them.”

  “And our silver?” a tall ruffian demanded. “Ye promised us silver, too, for our services, m’lord. We ain’t letting ye and the lady go wi’out our silver,” he finished menacingly.

  Piers St. Denis pulled a bag from his doublet, and tossed it scornfully to the man. “Here,” he said with a sneer.

  “It ain’t enough!” the man complained, weighing it in his palm. “Ye’ve shorted us, Englishman. Why should we expect any less from one of old King Jamie’s pretty boys?” He moved forward threateningly.

  The marquis of Hartsfield’s hand slid to his sword. Yanking it from its scabbard, he moved his horse slightly forward and ran the man through. As his victim pitched headfirst to the ground, he withdrew the sword from the surprised man’s chest, wiped it on his victim’s clothing, and returned it to its place. “Does anyone else wish to debate the point with me?” he demanded coldly. Then, turning his horse,
he departed the inn yard, leading Jasmine’s mount behind him, as the seven remaining ruffians flung themselves on the dead man, grasping for the money pouch and arguing over the disposition of his horse.

  “Ummm! Mmmmm!” Jasmine noised to get his attention.

  He turned back to her, smiling. “Would you like me to remove the gag from your mouth, my sweet?” he asked her solicitously.

  She nodded eagerly.

  “Do you promise me that you will not scream, cry out, or make any attempt to attract the attentions of anyone?”

  Again she nodded. “Mmmmm! Mmmmmm!”

  “No,” he said coldly. “This is your first lesson in obedience, my sweet. I do not like recalcitrant women. With me as your master you will finally learn your place. You really should have chosen me, Jasmine. Now I must punish you and James Leslie for the public insult you have done me. I could have you both hanged, you know, for I possess a royal warrant, but first I shall use you to draw the earl of Glenkirk to me. Tonight you shall write a letter telling him that you have made a mistake and that you wish to be with me. How he will suffer. He will, of course, come for you to see if it is true. Then I shall kill him, and you will belong to me forever! I told you that you would be mine one day, and you will.” His bright blue eyes glittered with his words.

  He is totally mad, Jasmine thought. Completely and utterly insane, which made him even more dangerous, she considered. She must take the first opportunity to flee him. Certainly Jemmie knew by now what had happened to her, but how could he possibly know where to look for her? He couldn’t, and therefore it was up to her to escape Piers St. Denis, the marquis of Hartsfield, before he killed them both. She could smell the sea as they approached the port, but he did not go into the town. Instead, he turned off on an almost invisible dirt path that led up a small hillock. At the top was what appeared to be a deserted cottage. It was there that he stopped, dismounting from his own horse and lifting her down off her own mount. Below them was Leith, and beyond the Firth of Forth and the sea. He pulled her by her bonds into the cottage, even as she resisted him now, digging her heels into the earth, and struggling.