Authors: Bertrice Small
Darling Jasmine (29 page)
“Ohh, Jemmie,” she responded, “you fill me, heart and soul, to overflowing with your love for me. I love you, too. I would have to be the worst bitch created not to love in return the man who loves me so, but your love is so overwhelming that I wonder if I am worthy of it. How happy I am to carry a child created of such love!”
In response he picked her up and laid her upon their bed, coming down next to her, to cradle her in his arms. “Thank you,” he said simply, and then he kissed her again. His lips, tender at first, became more demanding as their passions rose. He loosened the ribbons on her gown, sliding his hand beneath the sensuous fabric to fondle her breasts. She moaned as his fingers brushed her sensitive nipples and, laying her upon her back, lowered his head to suckle upon them.
The touch of his lips upon her susceptible flesh was almost too much to bear. She shivered with pleasure as her nipples tingled almost painfully with the exacting pressure of his mouth drawing so strongly upon them. She caressed his dark hair, fingers twining about the thick tendrils, and here and there she saw a wisp of silver among the ebony. Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply when he removed himself from her breasts. His big hands drew her nightgown from her and stroked her still slim body. Bending, he kissed her belly, sending shivers of excitement down her spine.
“I want to feel you against me,” she said softly.
In response, Jemmie pulled his own nightshirt off and drew her back into his arms so that their bodies touched, transferring the warmth between them. Jasmine reached out with her hand to stroke his manroot, petting him with a delicate touch. He was warm and firm beneath her hand. “Make love to me, my Jemmie,” she purred at him.
“I don't want to hurt you,” he fretted.
In response Jasmine slipped from his embrace and quickly mounted him, letting his solid length slide deeply into her. “We do not have to deny ourselves the pleasure of each other's bodies quite yet, Jemmie, my dearest lover. If we are careful we may have several months of delight. I know what to do, and as I have had more experience in this than you, you must follow my lead. Rowan and I never denied ourselves when I carried his children.” She rotated her hips gently into his groin, and he groaned with enjoyment. Reaching up with his hands, he fondled her breasts, watching her through half-closed eyes as she moved upon him. “Does this please you, my lord?” she teased him.
“Witch!” He squeezed the tender flesh of her bosom.
“Ummmmmm,” she murmured. God's boots! She was going to peak. He would have no joy of his own, but then she felt his love juices burst forth within her, and she fell sobbing with relief upon his chest.
“Ahhhhhhh!” he groaned. “You are delicious, madame.” They lay entwined for a time, and then he pulled himself up, settling the pillows beneath him. Drawing her into his embrace between his legs, his hands reached out to cup her faintly rounded belly.
The warmth of his hands was incredible. He was cradling their unborn child between his big hands. God, how safe she felt! How comforted the baby must be with his father's hands protecting him so tenderly. Jasmine fell asleep, enfolded by her husband's great love; and even more certain now than she had been earlier in the day, that she had at last come home. She would no longer have to run, or be a wanderer upon the face of this earth.
Glenkirk was home. For now. Forever!
Glenkirk was home. For now. Forever!
Chapter
14
14
B
y midmorning of the following day the earl of Glenkirk's family was pouring into the castle to meet Jasmine. His paternal uncles, James the Master of Hay, and his wife, Ailis; Adam and his wife, Fiona; Michael of Leslie Brae with his Isabelle. The old earl of Sithean came with his women. And, of course, James Leslie's siblings. His sister, Bess, and her husband, Henry Gordon. His two brothers, Colin, the Master of Greyhaven with his wife, Euphemia Hay; and Robert of Briarmere Moor, who was married to Euphemia's sister, Flora. Jemmie's sister, Amanda, was married to the earl of Sithean's heir; and his sister, Morag, was the wife of young Malcom Gordon. They surrounded the earl of Glenkirk, hugging him, and covering him with happy kisses.
y midmorning of the following day the earl of Glenkirk's family was pouring into the castle to meet Jasmine. His paternal uncles, James the Master of Hay, and his wife, Ailis; Adam and his wife, Fiona; Michael of Leslie Brae with his Isabelle. The old earl of Sithean came with his women. And, of course, James Leslie's siblings. His sister, Bess, and her husband, Henry Gordon. His two brothers, Colin, the Master of Greyhaven with his wife, Euphemia Hay; and Robert of Briarmere Moor, who was married to Euphemia's sister, Flora. Jemmie's sister, Amanda, was married to the earl of Sithean's heir; and his sister, Morag, was the wife of young Malcom Gordon. They surrounded the earl of Glenkirk, hugging him, and covering him with happy kisses.
Finally, Fiona Leslie cried, “Enough! Enough! We all know our Jemmie. We hae come to see his bride. Come forward, Jasmine Leslie!” And when Jasmine stood before her, she looked her over with a critical eye, and then smiled broadly. “Welcome to Glenkirk, madame.” Looking at her nephew, she said, “Yer mother would be pleased, and yer choice . . .”
“Fiona!”
her husband warned.
her husband warned.
Fiona Leslie glared at her husband. “I was only going to say Jemmie's choice appeared to be as fine a one as his mother made all those years ago.” Then she smiled sweetly.
There was relieved laughter. Fiona Leslie had been her sister-in-law's best friend when they had grown up although their earlier relationship had been a rocky one. She was an outspoken woman, and they all knew she had thought Isabelle Gordon a sweet ninny; but since the unfortunate girl's brother was married to Jemmie's sister, no criticism of her would be tolerated publicly.
“I'm glad that I meet with your approval, madame,” Jasmine replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously at Fiona, whom she immediately liked. Despite the difference in their ages, they were going to be friends.
“Ye'd meet with Cat's approval, and that's more important. Yer already breeding, I'm told,” Fiona said. “Well, ye hae plenty of family about when the bairn is born. Is yer mother back from England yet?”
Jasmine shook her head. “Not yet. She stayed later this year because she thought Grandmama might be lonely now that my grandfather is gone, but I am sure Grandmama wants nothing more than to send Mama back to Dun Broc as quickly as possible so she may have some peace.”
“Hah!” Fiona chuckled. “Yer grandmama sounds like a woman after my own heart. Yer mother's a good woman, however, and means well.”
“Who is yer mother?” Bess Gordon asked.
“Why 'tis the countess of BrocCairn,” Fiona said impatiently to her niece. “Do ye know nothing, Bess?”
“Well, Jemmie hae been in England, and I didna know,” Bess said spiritedly. She turned to Jasmine. “No one tells me anything!”
Adali and Will Todd were passing wine to the assembled guests. “I have not had time yet to staff the castle,” Jasmine explained.
“Ohh, I hope ye'll bring it back to the way it was when Patrick and Cat and our parents held sway here, James Leslie,” the Master of Hay said wistfully.
“Aye!” Fiona enthused. “ 'Twas so grand then, Jasmine.” She looked to her brothers-in-law, her nieces, and her nephews. “Ye'll hae to help Jasmine wi all of this. She canna be overtaxed as she now carries the next earl of Glenkirk wi'in her belly.”
“I'm no weakling,” Jasmine protested. “I have four children already, and they are quite strong and healthy.”
“Aye, ye've four bairns, but not one of them is a Leslie of Glenkirk,” Fiona said.
“Aunt, give over,” Jemmie interposed. “My wife is not the family's broodmare. We're having a child, and lass or laddie, it will be welcome to Glenkirk, but that is not why I married my darling Jasmine. I wed her because I love her, and I have for many years now. I am grateful that she accepted me as her husband. Now let us all celebrate being together again,” the earl of Glenkirk concluded.
“Aye! Aye!” their guests chorused.
Then suddenly there was an uproar toward the rear of the Great Hall. Turning to look, they saw two small boys engaged in a bout of fisticuffs, rolling about on the floor and howling wildly.
“ 'Tis Connor!” Morag Gordon said, aghast.
“And Henry!” Jasmine cried, looking to her husband.
The earl of Glenkirk stepped forward and forcibly separated his stepson and his nephew, a hand holding tightly to the collar of each boy, who squirmed and struggled in his grip. “What is going on?” Jemmie Leslie demanded of the two miscreants.
“He said I were a savage and talked funny,” Connor Gordon declared, glowering at his rival.
“You said I was a sissy!” Henry Lindley defended himself. “I was escorting my sisters into the hall, Papa, when we were accosted by this boy. He insulted India and Fortune.”
“What, exactly, did he say, Henry, that you felt it necessary to give battle? By the way, this is my nephew, Connor Gordon.”
“He said,” Henry declared in a clear voice, “ âLook at the wee sissy wi the skinny, yellow-eyed wench and the carrot-topped lassie.' So I hit the little snot-nosed savage. I'll not have my sisters maligned!” He glared furiously at his antagonist, his turquoise eyes blazing.
“Connor,” the earl said, “do you know who I am?”
“Aye, m'lord,” the boy answered.
“This is my stepson, Henry Lindley, the marquis of Westleigh; and his sisters, Lady India and Lady Fortune. You will apologize to your new cousins for your bad manners.” He released his hold on the boy.
Connor Gordon brushed his clothing off and bowed quite nicely. “I hope ye will accept my apologies, Lady India and Lady Fortune. I hae ne'er seen a lass wi yellow eyes before.”
“My eyes are golden like my father's,” India said grandly.
“And my hair is red-gold, not carrot-colored,” Fortune piped up.
Jemmie Leslie loosed his hold on Henry. “Now, gentlemen, shake hands,” he commanded the boys. “We are a family, and I will have no squabbling amongst us. Do you both understand?”
The two nodded, Connor holding out a somewhat grimy paw to Henry Lindley, who took it and shook it.
“I hae a pony,” Connor said. “Do ye?”
“Aye,” Henry answered, suspiciously. “Why?”
“We could ride together,” Connor replied. How old are ye?”
“Six and a half,” was the reply.
“God's nightshirt!” Connor Gordon said. “I'm eight, and yer every bit as big as me, ye are! And ye weren't afraid! Yer nae a sissy at all, but a braw laddie despite yer English!”
Henry Lindley looked up at his stepfather. “What's
braw?”
he said, suspiciously.
braw?”
he said, suspiciously.
“He's complimenting you, Henry. Braw means brave,” the earl said.
“Gie us one like that, lassie,” the old earl of Sithean said, thumping his cane on the floor. “English or nae, he's a fine laddie.”
“Run along and play, you two,” Jemmie instructed the two boys. Then, taking India and Fortune by the hand, he led them over to meet his aunts and his sisters, all of whom made a great fuss over the little girls, admiring their beauty, and their intelligence.
“Mama's going to have another baby,” Fortune confided to Fiona.
“I know,” Fiona replied, smiling at the child. Fiona was childless among all the Leslie women, except for a bastard son born many years earlier when she was wed to her first husband. The baby had been put out to fosterage immediately after his birth. He had lived to age three, then died of a fever one winter. It had been a hard birth, and Fiona could not bear children ever again. Knowing it, Adam Leslie had still married her, for he loved her. “Ye hae hair the color of my great-grandmam,” she told Fortune. “She was a verra great lady.” She playfully tweaked one of Fortune's curls.
“Mama says I'm a hoyden,” Fortune replied.
“So am I,” Fiona told the little girl with a wink, and made an immediate friend.
The meal was a simple one, for Jasmine had not yet had time to hire servants, and Will Todd, along with Adali, had done the cooking.
“Dinna fear,” Adam Leslie said. “The word is already out that the earl is back, and ye'll hae servants aplenty by week's end. Those that were here before, and are nae too old to work will come, and those who are too old will send their kinfolk to obtain the positions.”
His words were prophetic, and within a few days the castle was fully staffed once more. Will Todd remained to aid Adali for the present, helping him to choose the proper people.
“I'll stay the winter,” Will Todd said. “The castle is a snug place in the winter, but come the spring I'll be off to my wee cottage wi its pretty stream, and the salmon just asking to be caught.” He grinned at Adali. “They already respect ye, which is guid considering yer a foreigner. Ye'll hae nae trouble wi them.”
Within days the castle was clean again; the floors swept; the rugs and the tapestries brought from storage to be laid upon the floor and hung upon the walls. The chimneys were cleaned and drew flawlessly. The windows were washed, and sparkled in the beautiful autumn weather. The furniture lost its lackluster look and glowed with polishing. Silver appeared upon the sideboards; scented potpourri filled beautiful porcelain bowls that Adali had found in a storage area in the west tower of the castle. Firewood was stacked by the fireplaces. Crystal decanters of wine sat upon the sideboards in all the rooms. Flowers, a mixture of domesticated and wild, were everywhere throughout the living areas of the castle. Even a schedule had been set for meals, which were now served on time each day.
One of the last remaining monks from Glenkirk Abbey came to tutor the children. Once a well-known house of learning, the abbey had fallen upon hard times. The old faith was practiced secretly or discreetly throughout Scotland. The Presbyterians and the Anglicans now held sway. Religious houses were barely tolerated if at all. At Glenkirk, however, the Leslies, while members of the new religions, practiced tolerance where the abbey and its inhabitants were concerned. The last abbot had been one of their cousins. Now but a scant dozen monks remained, the majority elderly, and three in their middle years. Once there had been a school at the abbey. It no longer existed for lack of students. The monks were pleased to send one of their own to teach the earl's stepchildren.
Jasmine, who had been educated by a priest, told Adali, “See that the abbey is sent a deer to hang in their larder; and since Will Todd enjoys his fishing, have him do some for the monks. And send bread when we bake at least once a week, and a wheel of cheese, and a basket each of apples and pears.”
He nodded. “Brother Duncan will be pleased.”
The autumn deepened, and the trees began to turn on the bens, which Jasmine learned was the Scots for mountains. The red oaks mingled with the golden aspen and birch and the deep green of the pines. Red whortleberry, hazel, bog myrtle, and holly with their rose, yellow, shiny green leaves and bright red berries brightened the woodlands. There was heather in bloom on the hillsides. The nights had become cool and crisp, and never had Jasmine seen such stars in the sky as she saw from the battlements of Glenkirk Castle. Her husband had not lied when he said that autumn was the most beautiful time of year in Scotland.
Jasmine's mother and stepfather and half brothers returned in mid-October from England. The countess of BrocCairn brought rather disturbing news. The king, it seemed, had sent to the earl and countess of Glenkirk to invite them to his Christmas court. “I wasn't there when the messenger came,” Velvet Gordon told her daughter. “We were over at Blackthorne Hall, saying good-bye to Deirdre and John.”
“How strange,” the earl of Glenkirk remarked. “Jamie knew we intended returning north in late summer.”
“Grandmama will have taken care of it,” Jasmine said confidently.
And indeed Skye O'Malley de Marisco, who had hoped for a little peace and quiet now that she had seen Jasmine safely remarried and her youngest daughter and her family returned to Scotland, found herself in the midst of a situation worthy of her younger days. She had sent the king's messenger back to Winchester, the royal autumn residence, with a note to the king saying that her granddaughter and her husband had already returned to Scotland for the autumn and winter months. Her surprise was great, therefore, when several weeks later the most beautiful young man she had seen since her third husband, Geoffrey Southwood, appeared upon her doorstep and was ushered into her library where she sat reading by her fire. She arose as he came forward.
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