Authors: Bertrice Small
Darling Jasmine (39 page)
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?”
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.”
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
19
T
hey 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.
hey 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.
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.
To her shock he slapped her. “I will have no defiance from you, madame!” he said. “You are here to learn obedience, and you will not leave this poor place until you do.” He yanked her into the small house.
Once inside, however, he undid the cord binding the gag and pulled the rag from her mouth.
“Bastard!”
Jasmine managed to gasp. “You have almost choked me with that thing!”
“Bastard!”
Jasmine managed to gasp. “You have almost choked me with that thing!”
Piers St. Denis slapped her again. “Thank me for my generosity in removing it, you bitch, or I'll stuff it back in your mouth again!” he snarled at her. “Only that I long to hear the sound of your voice once more overrules my common sense, but if you continue to speak to me with such disrespect, you will be gagged until you learn to speak to me with a gentle tongue.” His hand fastened itself into her dark hair, and he forced her face up to his. “Do you understand me, Jasmine?”
“You are hurting me, my lord,” she replied through gritted teeth.
“Do you understand?”
he repeated.
he repeated.
“Aye, I understand,” she told him, forcing her anger back. He was, she realized, perfectly capable of killing her.
“Good,” he almost purred, and then he passed his hand over her heaving bosom. “I want you naked,” he told her. “I have never seen you as nature fashioned you, and I am most anxious to do so, my sweet.”
She shuddered with revulsion at his words, but he mistook her gesture for fear, and was very pleased. “What do you think to gain by this, my lord?” she asked him. “You have violated the king's trust, and he will certainly see you chastened for it.”
Piers St. Denis laughed. “Nay, he will forgive me. Old king fool always forgives me, for he loves me, you see. I am never chastened for my wrongs. I never have been. When we were children it was Kipp who was always beaten for my sins. Since I loved my brother, our father thought I would be better behaved if it was Kipp who was punished and not me, but I enjoyed it when Father laid the birch on Kipp's rump. Once I even beat my brother myself just to see how it felt, and it felt powerful, my sweet. I never was allowed to beat the king, of course, but he did let me scold him now and then. He would weep at my words when I would upbraid him. I believe that secretly the king longs to be mastered as I will master you, my sweet.” He fondled her again, and, when she attempted to pull away from him, his hand in her hair tightened and he pinched one of her nipples hard.
She winced, crying out in pain, and to her disgust he smiled.
“Have you ever been strapped?” he asked her. “The Scots have a lovely instrument called a tawse. It is a piece of leather about six inches in width, and one end of it is divided into half-inch fingers four to six inches in length each knotted several times. Laid expertly across the bottom it brings a fine pink sheen to the buttocks and a warmth to the skin such as you have never experienced. In my tender care you will become quite familiar with the tawse. You will learn to enjoy the heat and the pain it gives you.” He put his face next to hers. “Open your mouth for me, Jasmine, and receive my tongue,” he commanded her.
She spat at him fiercely.
The marquis of Hartsfield's face darkened with his displeasure for a brief moment as he wiped her spittle from his cheek, then he smiled slowly. “You are going to give me much pleasure,” he told her. “You will not yield to me easily, and that is to the good.” He pinched her nipple again cruelly until she finally was forced to cry out in protest.
Jasmine had attempted to control her temper, but this was just too much. “You fool!” she hissed at him. “Do you really believe that you can bully me into some sort of a submission to you? And if you think the king will forgive you for what you have convinced yourself is a mere peccadillo, you are very much mistaken. My husband and my stepfather both are related to King James by blood ties. The king is a Scot for all he is now England's king, too. Blood ties, I have learned, are of paramount importance to the Scots. Release me while you have the opportunity, my lord, and then flee for your very life! If the king does not catch you, and execute you, my husband and his family will hunt you into the ground and kill you where they find you!”
His answer was to wrap his arms about her skirts, and lift her up to where a hook had been screwed into the cottage's ceiling beam. There he hung her by the ropes fastened about her wrists to the hook. Her feet were but two or three inches off the floor, but she was quite helpless. “There,” he said. “Now we may begin, my sweet.” Grasping at one of her feet he pulled the leather shoe from it, ducking the other foot, which kicked out at him, then grabbing it and yanking the shoe from it as well. Taking up the length of rope that had kept the gag in place, St. Denis lashed her ankles together so she could not harm him. “Why are you garbed like a peasant?” he asked her.
“I have been at the games given by Lord Bruce across the Forth,” she said. “Even noblewomen dress like this at the games, you ignoramus!”
“How convenient for me,” he mocked her. “Your simple clothing makes it easier for me to strip you.” Reaching up, he undid the tapes holding her skirt, and then those that fastened her petticoats. Pulling them off, he tossed them onto the single chair within the cottage. Walking around her, he viewed the graceful line of her back and the round curve of her buttocks. His hand smoothed the bow of her flesh, fondling it lightly. His heart was hammering in his excitement as he feasted his eyes on the creamy expanse. He could almost hear the satisfying smack of the tawse as the thick leather met soft skin. Piers St. Denis smiled wolfishly to himself and licked his lips.
Walking back before her, he knelt and removed the garters from each of her legs. Then he slowly rolled the dark knit stocking down her right leg, slipping the wool underneath the light bonds about her ankles. He then followed suit with the stockings on her left leg. Loosening her leg bonds, he retied but one leg, fastening it to a small nail in the nearby wall, leaving a single leg free. His hands moved up that leg, squeezing lightly, feeling it. His breath was harsh.
Jasmine had the sensation that her skin was crawling as his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh. It was all she could do to keep from crying out with her revulsion and distaste. She did not, however, because she knew he would take it as a cry of fear, and he wanted her to be afraid. God! How he reminded her of her half brother, Salim, with his soft hands and his softer voice; but she was no longer a bedazzled and confused child of thirteen.
“Do you like this?” he asked her, his fingers tickling at her nether lips provocatively.
“You are disgusting,” she answered him coldly.
“Your aversion but excites me further,” he told her, and he loosened his clothing, for his manhood was straining against it almost painfully. Then, standing, he reached out to rip open her blouse and her chemise, baring her bosom to his hot eyes. He filled his hands with her soft flesh, almost whimpering in his excitement. “Dear God, you are so beautiful!” he groaned. “I can scarce contain myself, and that has never before happened to me, my sweet. You are indeed a rare prize, and you belong to me!”
“I belong to no one, you loathsome, pathetic creature!” she told him. “I am James Leslie's wife, but not his possession, any more than he is my possession.”
“I will kill your husband,” Piers St. Denis said, his hands crushing her breasts in his excitement. “How can you deny me, my sweet?” He drew a fully engorged manhood from his clothing for her to see. “But look at what the simple thought of possessing you has done to me?”
She laughed scornfully at him. “You are no better than a mere and untried boy,” she told him. “You will spill your seed upon the ground before you will slop it in me,
my lord.”
And she laughed again, despite her great discomfort as she hung just above the floor.
my lord.”
And she laughed again, despite her great discomfort as she hung just above the floor.
“Don't say that!” he almost shrieked at her. “You do not know me! I will fuck you until you are insensible before I lose my juices, you proud bitch!” Then he slapped her once again.
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