Authors: Bertrice Small
Darling Jasmine (24 page)
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.”
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 scrambled 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.”
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.
“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.”
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!”
“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!”
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!”
Piers St. Denis was astounded by the rebuke, and but angered further, and yet the queen had played into his hands if she had known it. “If not me, madame,” he said, “then perhaps it is the earl of Bartram who shall have the lad. I have, myself, heard him importune the king over the boy's custody.” He looked again at Jasmine. “Lord Stokes believes you unchaste, madame. He says a woman of mixed blood should not be allowed to raise a Christian prince's son, no matter which side of the blanket he was born on. He even questions your heritage, for were you not born to your father when your mother was yet wed to the earl of BrocCairn, Lady Lindley? That would make you a bastard, too, wouldn't it?”
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