Читать книгу Darling Jasmine - Bertrice Small - Страница 11

Chapter 5

The weather turned again, and the early-spring rains came. James Leslie and Jasmine Lindley kept mostly to the château, where they played cards and chess, and talked. Although they had been acquainted with each other, neither really knew the other. Skye had been correct in leaving them alone. When the children had been gone some ten days, the earl suggested that on the next day there was no rain they ride over the Archambault to visit Jasmine’s relations and see how the youngsters were getting on with their cousins.

Jasmine flushed at the suggestion.

“What is the matter?” he asked her.

She laughed weakly. “I had almost forgotten about my children,” Jasmine admitted, embarrassed. “It has been so lovely here with you, Jemmie, that I have come close to forgetting my responsibilities.”

“You are the best of mothers,” he reassured her. “No one would fault you for enjoying your time away from the children. When we return home to England we shall spend as little time at court as is possible that we may spend most of our time with our family.”

“Will we live in Scotland?” she asked him. “My mother transplanted well there, but has always insisted upon her English summers as she is wont to call them. Is Glenkirk beautiful, Jemmie?”

“Very beautiful,” he said, “but we will only live there part of the year, Jasmine. Perhaps the autumn and winter months. Autumn is the best time in Scotland. The summers we will spend at Queen’s Malvern, and Henry must go to Cadby then. In the spring we shall go to court so that James is not offended. I have overseen his empire’s foreign trade for several years now, but I wish to resign that post now that we are to be wed. My own family has been heavily involved in trading for many, many years with our bankers, the Kira family. I do not know if your grandmother would consider it, but a merger of my interests with the O’Malley-Small trading company could profit us as all. That is something she and I must discuss.”

Jasmine nodded. “It seems a sensible solution to all our domiciles, but I hope we shall not have to stay too long at court.”

“Only to the extent it benefit us,” he responded sagely. “We have the children to consider. Charlie is a duke, and Henry a marquis. Their sisters are heiresses, and will be prime on the marriage market one day.” He reached out and took her hand in his, lifting it to kiss the inside of her wrist and her palm. “And we have our bairns to consider as well, darling Jasmine. Perhaps another earl, and a brother and sister or two?” He nibbled on her fingers seductively.

Jasmine colored becomingly. Of course there had to be children of this marriage, but until this moment she hadn’t really thought a great deal about it. How long had it been since she had made love to a man? Her youngest child was two and a half years of age, and it had been several months before his birth when she and Henry Stuart had ceased their intimacies. It was almost three years, she realized, amazed. She had grown used to life without a man. Without a man in her bed. Did she even remember how to play that game? The fire in the fireplace crackled and snapped, the flames dappling the walls with shadow, while outside the rain beat a light tattoo upon the windowpanes.

James Leslie saw the confusion passing over her features and realized the opportunity presenting itself to him. To his surprise, however, Jasmine pulled her hand away from him, distress written all over her beautiful face. Shaking her head at him, she ran from the hall. So, he thought, she had felt it too. She wasn’t being coy, he realized, for Jasmine Lindley was a woman of experience; yet she felt a certain shyness with him that was astonishing given the passionate lover he recalled on that one wonderful night that they had shared those several years back.

He wondered if he should follow her and thought better of the idea. He considered if she had taken a lover while here in France and discarded the notion. The only lover Jasmine Lindley had ever allowed in her bed other than himself, and her husbands, had been Prince Henry Stuart. Then in a burst of clarity he saw the problem. Of course! It had to be! There had been no man in her bed since the prince. He laughed softly to himself. Jasmine, who disliked being at any sort of disadvantage, felt awkward about making love again. He was tempted to go to her and reassure her, but he knew that would be a mistake. He would have to court Jasmine as he had never courted any woman. He had not really courted Isabelle, for they had been promised in childhood, and it was a given that they would marry. It had not been necessary to court his late wife, and there had been none since her death he chose to court and marry.

It was an interesting concept, courting a woman, but court her he would have to in order to gain her trust and win his way into her bed, into her heart. What could he do that would please her? She lacked for nothing. James Leslie realized that he had absolutely no idea about how to court a woman who had everything. Had she been a simple lass, he would have wooed her with jewelry and other finery. She knew he liked her children, so there was no ingress there. What was he to do? And then he realized that he would have to seek advice from Madame Skye. He laughed aloud at the thought. Take advice from that beautiful and devious old woman? Aye! He would, for she knew Jasmine best, and was, if her reputation was to be believed, the most skilled and clever woman where the arts of love were concerned.

James Leslie poured himself another large goblet of red wine and settled himself by the fireplace, sipping the liquid nectar slowly. Tomorrow they would go to Archambault, and he knew that Jasmine would devote her time there to her children. He, however, would seek counsel from Madame Skye on how to win her granddaughter, and win Jasmine he would.

In the morning she behaved as if everything was exactly the same between them as it had been the day before. She came to the highboard dressed for riding, in green wool breeches, high leather boots, a cambric shirt, and her doeskin jerkin with the silver-and-horn buttons. She ate heartily, which both amused and delighted him. He liked a woman who enjoyed her food and did not toy daintily with her plate. His mother was such a woman. Jasmine never drank wine in the early morning. Her servants brought her a blue-and-white porcelain dish, pouring into it a fragrant hot liquid which she always drank with relish.

Curious, he asked her, “What is it you drink, Jasmine?”

“It is called tea,” she told him. “Would you like to taste it, Jemmie? Adali, bring another saucer for the earl.” She smiled at him. “We brew it with hot water, using the leaves of the tea plant. It is native to India. The leaves are cured or dried before use. It is a very pleasing drink. My mother and my aunts frequently put cloves or cardamom in the tea to add additional flavor to it.”

Jasmine’s steward placed a deep saucer before him and poured some of the tea into it from a pitcher. “This is black tea, my lord,” he said. “The Chinese grow a green variety.”

“It is more delicate,” Jasmine said. “Our Indian tea is a most hearty brew. Taste it, Jemmie!”

He sipped at the hot liquid, finding the taste pleasant, but not particularly stimulating or exciting as wine, ale, or cider.

“I am thinking of suggesting to grandmother that we import tea into England,” Jasmine told him. “The Dutch have been doing it for the past six years although they do not know how to market it and have not had a great success with it.”

“The Dutch are excellent merchants,” he replied.

“Indeed they are,” she agreed, “but they still do not know how to sell tea. Tea is not spices or cloth that can be easily hawked to any housewife in the market. Tea must first be sold to the rich and the powerful. Only when they have taken it to their bosoms and made it a drink of the exclusive will the masses seek to have it.”

Her analysis of the situation surprised him. He had always known that Jasmine was an intelligent woman, but he had put that particular brand of intelligence down to female common sense, but she was beyond that obviously. “You may be right, Jasmine,” he said slowly. “Aye, I can see where having tea drunk by a select few would eventually make it modish, and very desirable to the general population.”

She arose from the highboard. “We’ll talk to Grandmama about it,” she said. “Come, Jemmie, and let us be off. I have not seen my darlings in almost two weeks, and I am eager to be with them!”

They took the direct road to Archambault, arriving quickly, and Jasmine was out of her saddle almost immediately, sweeping her children, who were awaiting her upon the steps of the great château, into her all-encompassing embrace. On the top step Madame Skye stood with a distinguished gentleman the earl rightly guessed to be the comte de Cher. Alexandre de Saville shook James Leslie’s hand and bade him welcome. The earl then kissed Madame Skye upon her pale cheeks.

“So, James Leslie,” the old lady said, tucking her hand into his arm as they entered the château, “have you made any progress with my granddaughter?”

“We will wed on the fifteenth day of June,” he replied.

“Ah, good! I am glad you have managed to bring Jasmine around to a more sensible frame of mind in this matter,” Skye replied.

They entered an elegant salon, and he saw at once that they were alone.

“I need your advice, madame,” the earl said, “and as we have privacy for the moment, perhaps it is the time to seek it.”

She raised an elegant eyebrow. “You seek my advice? How interesting,” Skye said, a small smile playing with the corners of her mouth. “Then, sirrah, you have decided that I am not your enemy?”

He chuckled. “I think you are a devious, wicked lady, madame, but I still need your advice; and no, I do not believe we are enemies, nor have we ever been.”

They sat upon an upholstered settle, and he took her hand in his. “I believe that Jasmine has become shy in things of an intimate nature, Madame Skye. She is not comfortable once matters pass a certain point. It is not in her nature, I believe, to be cold.”

“Hmmmmmmm,” Skye said.

“I considered other reasons for her reluctance, but the only one I believe true is the fact she has not known a man since some time before wee Charlie’s birth. I think she may feel at a disadvantage.”

“God’s boots!” Skye answered him. “What is the matter with the girl? You are handsome, and well made, and she has shared your bed on one occasion and not found you displeasing.”

“We are being pushed into doing our duty,” the earl replied. “I think I need to court her, Madame Skye, but how does one go about courting a woman with everything? What can I do, or say, or give her that she has not heard or received? My first wife and I were promised as bairns. I did not court Isabelle, but then we were both very young and used to one another. Our families had agreed to our marriage, and that was the way it was done in Scotland at that time.”

Skye nodded. Now here was a small tangle that needed unknotting. She had not considered that Jasmine, once become sensible, would behave like a sheltered virgin, and her a woman with four children! It was simply ridiculous! “I will speak with my granddaughter,” she said.

“Nay, madame, I beg you do not!” the earl implored her. “She would be mortified to learn that I knew her secret. Just instruct me in how to please her so that she will lose her shyness with me, and matters may progress naturally.”

“God’s blood!” Skye swore passionately. “What is the matter with you young men of today? In my day the men were bold! They swept a woman off her feet and into their arms without their permission. None of my daughters were like me, but this one granddaughter is. You will gain your goal with her by being audacious and gallant, and not by pussyfooting around.”

“But Madame Skye . . .” he attempted to interrupt her.

“There are no buts where love is concerned, James Leslie,” she told him sternly. “Do you know that Jasmine’s grandfather seduced me the first time he met me? Like Jasmine I was mourning a loss and had been without a man, but Adam wanted me, and he took me.” Her gaze softened with the memory. “I should have seen that he was the man for me then and there, but I outlived two more husbands before he realized that his first manly and fearless approach to me had been the way to my heart. We were fortunate, and in those days it seemed as if time went on forever.” She was silent a moment, then sighed gustily before looking at him again. “Seize your opportunity, dammit! Give my granddaughter a taste of passion again. You cannot help but overcome her outrage with it.” She chuckled wickedly. “I envy the girl, my lord, I do.”

He raised the hand he had been gently holding to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you,” he said.

She nodded, her Kerry blue eyes twinkling, yet wise. Then she said, “I believe that you and Jasmine should be together alone for a few more weeks, James Leslie. What would you think if I took the children on to visit Paris, and from there home to Queen’s Malvern, where we will await you? It is already mid-March, and if I am to prepare for a wedding and notify the family, I cannot linger much longer in France. The children yet prove a distraction to their mother, so perhaps it is better they travel with their great-grandmother?”

“I tend to agree, madame,” the earl said, restraining the chortle that threatened to burst forth from his throat. He had known that the old lady would not allow Jasmine’s bairns to return to Belle Fleurs, but he had not been certain exactly how she would manage this feat. Madame Skye was absolutely brilliant in her tactics. “I will hire a goodly force of the comte’s men to escort you first to Paris, then on to the coast. The roads are not all that safe, as you know, particularly now with another war threatening to break out.”

“Aye, that is wise,” Skye agreed. “I know Alexandre will be more than happy to give you the loan of some men-at-arms.”

The door to the salon burst open, and Jasmine, looking agitated, entered the room. “What is this that Henry tells me, grandmama? That you are taking the children to Paris? I will not allow it!”

“Darling girl, do not be foolish,” her grandmother soothed her. “Aye, we are off to Paris in a few days’ time, and from there to England, where we will begin making preparations for your wedding, and notifying the family of your return. In the meantime, you and Lord Leslie will have more time to work out any little difficulties between you, and to know one another better. You are quite fortunate to have me relieve you of your responsibilities, even temporarily, Jasmine.”

Jasmine glared at the earl. “And you agree with this plan?”

He considered placating her, but remembering Madame Skye’s words he said, “Aye, I do, my dear. I realize that I am being selfish, but I very much want you to myself for the time being.”

“Oh?” Her cheeks pinked slightly.

“You know that I adore your bairns, Jasmine, but ’tis I am marrying, and not the wee ones,” he murmured, catching at her hand, and kissing it longingly. “This time alone is precious, and I will have it, my darling Jasmine!” As I will have you. The words were unspoken, but distinctly implied, and understood between them.

“So,” Skye said briskly, “it is settled. Run back to the children and enjoy your day with them, darling girl. I must keep your betrothed with me a moment or two more to discuss certain arrangements about the wedding regarding his family.”

Bemused Jasmine exited the salon.

“What arrangements?” he questioned her when the younger woman was gone.

Skye laughed. “There are none,” she chuckled. “I just wanted Jasmine to consider what had happened without further distractions. ’Twas nicely done, my lord. You were forceful, yet loving. Continue on in that manner, and you will gain your objectives.”

Eventually, he joined Jasmine and the children, all of whom were delighted to see him, and rushed at him, crying, “Papa! Papa!” He shook young Henry’s hand and kissed the others warmly. The four youngsters were in excellent health and obviously having a wonderful time with their de Saville cousins.

“We’re going home to England soon,” Henry said.

“I know,” the earl answered him. “Your mother and I will come shortly afterward, and be married at Queen’s Malvern on the fifteenth day of June. Will you stand by my side as my witness, Henry?”

The boy marquis of Westleigh nodded enthusiastically. “Aye, Papa, I will, and gladly!” Then he sobered a bit. “Do you mind that we call you Papa? I know you are not yet wed to our mother, but . . .”

“I am pleased and honored that you would accept me in such a capacity, Henry,” James Leslie answered.

“Will you teach me to use a sword properly?” Henry asked.

“We will begin this summer,” the earl promised him.

The rest of the day sped by. They partook of a lavish meal with the comte de Cher and his wife, Helene. The comte’s heir, Phillippe, his wife Marie-Claire, and the comte’s two daughters, Gaby and Antoinette and their families were also there to meet the earl of Glenkirk.

“We know your cousins, the Leslie de Peyracs,” Gaby said. “There is the possibility of a match between our two families.”

“May it prove advantageous for both sides,” the earl murmured politely. “My mother’s uncle is, of course, long gone, but I am not particularly fond of his widow, the ancient dowager, Adele. She rules the roost, or so I am told.”

Gaby nodded. “I know the old witch well, but ’tis one of her great-granddaughters who is to wed our middle son. They will live here in the Loire with us, and not at Château Petite.”

The conversation continued on in such a vein. The comparison of families, local gossip, and curiosity as to when the wedding between Jasmine and the earl would take place. The de Savilles were filled with regret that it would not be celebrated at Belle Fleurs, but they understood, and wished the couple well. Finally their departure could be delayed no longer. Jasmine appeared close to tears.

“Do not distress the bairns, sweeting,” the earl said softly.

“You are always telling me not to weep over my children,” she snapped at him, but her melancholy was already gone.

“Let me know when you intend arriving,” Skye said cheerfully. “ ’Twill be good to have you home again. Remember, your mother and your brothers will be arriving May first. How delighted my Velvet will be to see her grandchildren at long last!”

“I cannot help but think that you and Jemmie have somehow manipulated me, Grandmama,” Jasmine muttered darkly.

“Why, darling girl, what a dreadful thought,” Skye protested. “I am doing you a great favor. If you think it is easy for a woman of my years, yet in deepest mourning, to travel with four active children, then keep them and bring them yourself!”

“You would swoon if I agreed to such a thing,” Jasmine teased her grandmother. “Nay, I do appreciate your kindness, but I will miss them.” She hugged the older woman warmly.

“Get on with you, you clever vixen,” her grandmother said. “I will see you in England, and do not dally too long with that delicious man you are to marry, although I should not blame you if you sampled a few of the honeymoon delights while still here in France. Spring is coming, Jasmine, and the sap is rising in all living things!”

She and the earl laughed at Skye’s parting remark as they rode back to Belle Fleurs. “Can you imagine her in her youth?” Jasmine said.

“The thought is absolutely terrifying,” he replied, grinning. Then, “Are you game for some chess this evening, madame?”

“After I have bathed,” she said. “Do you not tire of being beaten, Jemmie?” She giggled mischievously and, kicking her mare into a canter, let him chase her back home. This time, however, he did not stop until his horse had reached the inner courtyard of the château, beating her by several lengths.

“Your stallion’s legs are much longer than my mare’s,” she complained prettily. “Just wait until I have my great beast back under me. Only then will we be evenly matched.”

“I already think us evenly matched,” he said, lifting her down from her horse. Then he kissed her in a slow and leisurely fashion, letting his lips taste her mouth with outrageous sensuality. “You do not have to wait to return to England, Jasmine, to have this great beast beneath you,” he murmured softly, nuzzling at a strand of hair that had come loose in their ride. His big hands remained still, molding her slender waist between his fingers.

Was she breathing? Aye, she was breathing, but barely. His hands were burning through the soft tanned deerskin of her jerkin, through the cambric of her shirt. His mouth on hers had been startling, but when he pushed at her hair with the tip of his nose her head had swum tipsily. She reached out to put her hands upon his shoulders, steadying herself against his bulk. “I think you go too quickly with me, Jemmie,” she whispered breathlessly.

“And I think you go too slowly with me, Jasmine,” he quickly countered. “We are neither of us children and know the path we are taking.” A slow smile lit his features, crinkling the corners of his green eyes. “Let us make a wager on the outcome of tonight’s chess match between us. Are you game?”

She nodded. His hands felt so strong on her flesh. “What hazard do you propose, sir?” She suddenly had the most incredible urge to be naked before him. And have him naked before her. What madness was this? She struggled to put the wicked images invading her mind aside.

“If I win,” he said softly, “I will enter your bed this very night, my darling Jasmine.” His gaze engaged hers.

“And if you lose?” she asked low.

“The stake is yours to choose,” he replied.

“You will not enter my bed until we are wed.” The words were out of her mouth before she even had time seriously to consider them. Why on earth had she said them, she wondered, feeling a sense of loss as his hands fell away from her waist. Did she really want to hold him off until the middle of June? It was too late to recant.

He chuckled. “Done, madame!” he said, leading her into the château. “I look forward to our match—and to after the match.”

“For so mediocre a player you are overconfident, Jemmie,” she said sharply. His attitude was mightily irritating.

“I do not intend losing tonight, Jasmine,” he answered her. “The prize is too tempting and delectable a one to forfeit.”

She pulled from his grasp and ran up the staircase to her bedchamber, ordering her servants to prepare her bath as she entered her quarters. Rohana and Toramalli hurried to do her bidding.

“You are disturbed,” Adali noted. “What has upset you, mistress?”

“I have agreed to a chess match with Lord Leslie, and we have made a wager to make our game more interesting. I think I have been foolish, Adali, for I am not certain if I want to win.”

The eunuch chuckled as he helped her to divest herself of her garments. “Tell me,” he said, and then burst into laughter when she had finished. “Ahh, my princess, once long ago, when your father sought to bed your mother for the first time, he played a game of chess with her. It was in the royal city of Fatehpur-Sikri. Together your parents stood on a balcony. The courtyard below them was a chessboard of black-and-white marble squares. The pieces were live slaves, naked but for the jewels they wore, except, of course, the king and queen pieces, who were magnificently garbed and bejeweled.”

“Did my mother win?” Jasmine asked Adali.

He shook his head. “Nay, she did not. The wager between them, however, was but a kiss. It was several nights later before your father gained his objective, and then only through the aid of the pillow book that Jodh Bai gave your mother.”

Now it was Jasmine’s turn to chuckle. “So history is about to repeat itself, Adali,” she said.

“Are you certain you wish to lie with him now, my princess? I have seen your reluctance to accept this man.”

“I must wed him, Adali,” she replied, “and I find that I do like him. He loves the children, and they love him, and he would have me give him sons. The wedding date is set, and I suddenly find I do not wish to postpone the inevitable. When we were speaking just now in the courtyard, I had the most disturbing thoughts regarding James Leslie. I believe it is time to end my celibacy, Adali.”

“You will have to be very clever, my princess,” the trusted servant responded. “If Lord Leslie believes for one moment that you have allowed him to win the match, he will be most offended.”

Jasmine smiled as he helped her into her waiting tub. “My father was the best chess player in all of India,” she reminded Adali, “and he never once knew that I let myself lose more often than not, did he?”

Adali grinned. “Nay, my princess, the Mughal never knew that the student surpassed the master. You were adroit in your duplicity.”

“I have not forgotten those skills,” she assured him.

He left her to set up the chessboard in the hall.

Rohana and Toramalli bathed their mistress carefully, having been party to her conversation with Adali. Afterward, wrapped in a towel and seated by her fire, Jasmine thought drowsy thoughts as Rohana slowly brushed her long black hair, drawing the perfumed brush through the silken swath until it gleamed. She yawned. It had been a long day, and she suddenly realized she was tired. “Give me some wine before I collapse,” she said to Toramalli. “The bath has rendered me weak.”

“What will you wear?” Toramalli asked her as she brought her mistress the requested goblet of wine.

“A chamber robe, I think,” came the reply.

The servingwoman nodded and, choosing a silk garment in a rich plum color, brought it to her mistress, who stood up and let her towel fall, holding out her arms to don the robe. It had long flowing sleeves and closed with a small gold frog just below Jasmine’s breasts. Rohana then tied back her mistress’s hair with a silver ribbon. Plum-and-silver silk slippers completed Lady Lindley’s ensemble.

Finishing the wine which had revived her, Jasmine instructed her servants to prepare the bed with fresh linens. “The lovely lavender-scented ones we just obtained from the convent nearby,” she said. Then she departed the bedchamber for the hall, where she found him awaiting her. She stared at his clothing. “A kilt?” she queried him.

“A Scotsman always wears his kilt into battle, Jasmine, and so I am prepared to go to war with you this evening over the chessboard.”

His shirt was open at the neck. She could see the dark hair upon his chest. Her eyes strayed to his long, sturdy legs, which were covered in dark hair. His knees were shapely and rounded. Forcing her eyes away from his form Jasmine tried to quiet her thoughts. She was suddenly behaving like a bitch in heat. She felt both hot and cold at the same time. What had her grandmother said about spring, and sap rising? “You are, as usual, my lord, overconfident,” she murmured with what she hoped was unconcerned disdain.

The laugh that rumbled forth from his broad chest was openly knowing. “I have the strongest desire,” he told her, “to kiss that little mole of yours, darling Jasmine,” and, before she could evade him, he did just that, pressing his mouth against the teasing little beauty mark nature had placed between her left nostril and her upper lip.

“You are too bold, sirrah!” she scolded him, pushing away. “Come, and let us begin our game.” She seated herself in the tapestry-backed chair by the hall fire, motioning him to the seat opposite her. “You may begin,” she told him.

He calmly moved a pawn in a familiar and quite typical opening move. Then his eyes met hers.

“ ’Tis hardly a challenging beginning,” she mocked him, but her own move was quite similar to his.

The play now began in earnest. Jasmine kept up a taunting verbal assault as she played. Her tone was overbearing and overweening. She played hard, and he had not the slightest inkling that she was leading him carefully so that he could shortly capture her queen and win the match between them. She made a move, and then swore softly, reaching out to correct the apparently foolish maneuver, but he stopped her with his hand, shaking his head.

“But I did not mean it,” she objected strongly. “I was distracted. Surely you will not hold me to such a play, Jemmie? ’Tis not fair!”

“You removed your hand from the piece,” he said quietly.

“But I did not mean to, sir! I was distracted,” she cried.

“If our positions were reversed, Jasmine, would you allow me to replay the move?” he demanded of her.

Her small white teeth worried her lower lip, and she did not answer him.

James Leslie reached out and, taking the black onyx piece belonging to him, silently completed the winning move, palming her ivory queen gravely. Jasmine leapt to her feet and, turning, attempted to make her escape. He was quicker, however, and his hard arm wrapped itself about her slender waist, drawing her back against him. “Nay, madame, you cannot go until you have paid your forfeit,” he said softly, and his other hand firmly cupped one of her breasts. His warm breath in her ear sent a shiver up her spine. “Ya-sameen,” he murmured the name she had been given at birth, “how I long to possess you again. I have never forgotten that night we shared so long, long ago.” His thumb rubbed her nipple until it was stiff, and tingling.

“The servants . . .” she protested.

“Are too well trained by your Adali to enter the hall unless called,” he told her even as he pushed the chess table aside with his big stockinged foot and drew her down upon the thick sheepskin rug before the fire. His elegant fingers fumbled a moment with the golden frog closure of her gown, finally releasing it so the plum-colored silk fell away, revealing her naked form to him. He stared at her, almost awed.

“How is it that after four bairns you still have the figure of an exciting young girl?” he wondered aloud. His fingertips caressed the generous swell of her bosom.

“I do not,” came her soft reply. “My belly is no longer flat, and my breasts are much fuller than the last time we found ourselves in this situation. I have the body of a woman, Jemmie Leslie.”

“To my eye you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he assured her. His dark head bent to press a kiss upon her left breast. “I like your sweet titties,” he said.

“You cannot continue to have me at such a disadvantage,” she told him, her fingers unlacing his shirt, her hands pushing it from his shoulders. It fell about his waist. “What does a Scotsman wear beneath his kilt, Jemmie Leslie?” she teased him provocatively.

With a grin he stood, loosening the garment so that both it and his shirt fell about his ankles. “Only the badge of his manhood, madame,” he answered her, stepping away from the discarded clothing.

“Take your stockings off,” she ordered him. “I’ll not make love to a man with a bare bottom and stockings on his feet.” She kicked her slippers off as she spoke.

Chuckling, he complied with her request, finally joining her upon the sheepskin. “Do you remember the last time?” he asked her.

A small smile touched Jasmine’s lips. “Aye,” she said. “It was after my uncle’s Twelfth Night gala. We seduced each other, and Sibby caught us and raised such a ruckus. My stepfather wanted us to wed to save my reputation. Poor Alec, caught between his two girls. One who wanted you desperately, or so Sybilla thought.”

“And one who refused to wed me,” he reminded her. “You said you would not be forced to the altar.” He smiled at her wryly. “Yet now you are, and with the same man you refused those years back. I fell in love with you then. Did you know it?”

Jasmine shook her head. “Nay,” she admitted, “I did not.”

Bending, he brushed her lips with his. “Well, I did, my darling Jasmine. I fell in love with you then, but when I finally gathered up my courage to go to your grandparents, you were to wed with Rowan Lindley. I was too late. A laggard in love. That is why I cannot let you go now, Jasmine. I will never let you go again!”

“How fierce you sound,” she told him, her hand stroking his handsome face. “Am I to have no say in this matter, Jemmie Leslie?”

“Only if you swear to belong to me forever,” he replied, catching her hand in his, kissing each knuckle upon it, then turning it over to kiss her palm ardently. “Swear!” he growled at her.

In response Jasmine laughed softly. “Not yet, I think,” she replied. “If I allow you to become too certain of me, Jemmie, then you will grow careless in your affections and actions toward me. Better I keep you dangling. At least until we plight our troth come summer.” She retrieved her hand with a seductive smile.

“You are a bitch,” he said, half-amused, half-angry.

“Aye,” she drawled slowly. He lay by her, half-raised upon an elbow, looking into her fair face. Drawing his head down, she kissed him a deep, sweet kiss. “Would you have me be some simpering fool of a woman, my lord? Best you know what you are getting. Perhaps you will even change your mind and ask the king for release from this match.”

“Nay, madame,” he told her, looking into her turquoise-colored eyes. “I am no easier than you are. We are well matched, I believe.” His head dipped, and, taking a nipple in his mouth, he began to suckle upon her while his hand kneaded her other breast.

The first strong tug on her flesh sent a frisson of pleasurable sensation through her body. It had been so long since she had been with a man that it almost seemed as if it were the first time. Jasmine drew in a deep breath and exhaled it, feeling the tingle all the way to her toes. Her fingers threaded themselves in his dark hair, pressing into his scalp. “Ummmmmmmm,” she sighed, enjoying his attentions. The last time they had made love, the only time they had made love, she amended to herself, James Leslie had ended a period of celibacy in her life that began with the murder of her first husband, Prince Jamal Khan. Now he was ending another love drought for her. She wondered if her pleasure in him came from the cessation of her passionless state, or if he would indeed prove to be an excellent lover.

Releasing her nipple, the earl of Glenkirk began to lick at Jasmine’s perfumed flesh. He encircled the nipples with his tongue, rousing them into tight little nibs. He laved the flesh between her two breasts, and then across her torso, blowing softly upon the glistening wetness he left behind. The natural fragrance of her body began to mix with the scent of her bath oil and but contributed to his arousal. He could feel her fingers digging into his head as her own sensual appetites were stirred and awakened.

Raising himself up, he kissed her mouth, feeling her lips soften and yield beneath his. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, demanding he caress it with his own. Their kisses melted one into another until there was no longer a beginning or an end. She loosed his hair, and her hands slid away from his head, caressing the graceful curve of his neck, feeling the prickles of sensation she encouraged in him beneath her fingertips. His broad, furred chest pressed down into the soft swell of her bosom. He groaned as Jasmine smoothed her hands down his long back, then cupped his hard buttocks for a brief moment.

He was hard and ready then, but she held him off. Repositioning herself just slightly, she reached down and began to caress him with such a delicate yet tantalizing touch that he almost spilled his seed, so filled with boiling lust was he at that moment. He groaned.

“Patience, my lord,” she cautioned him. “A woman’s passion is not so quickly raised as is a man’s.”

In response he pushed her hands away, for any more fondlings of his sensitive weapon, and he would be ruined. Rolling onto his side he squeezed her Venus mont gently, smiling, pleased, as she gasped with surprise. A single finger insinuated itself between the fleshy folds that hid her little pleasure pearl from public view. He found the jewel and began subtly to taunt the tiny nub until she was writhing.

My God, Jasmine thought in her last moment of clarity, he certainly takes instruction well. Explosion after explosion of sensation rolled over her burning body. She ached with both pleasure and hunger for more pleasure. Before she might peak, however, he stopped, and before she might protest, he pushed two fingers into her throbbing passage, going deep, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as his hand moved to awaken her further. “Please!” The word exploded from her tightly constricted throat.

He withdrew his hand from her, and, swinging over Jasmine’s eager body, he drove himself into the wet hot receptacle she offered him. The walls of her sheath enclosed themselves about his throbbing member, pulsing all around him in their ardor. He felt her legs wrapping themselves about his torso even as he sank deeper into her scalding flesh. “Ohh, wanton!” he groaned into the silken tangle of her black hair.

It had been so long! Jasmine could feel her heart pounding in her ears. He filled her full with his fierce passion, thrusting and withdrawing, thrusting and withdrawing until her head was spinning wildly. She pushed her hand into her mouth to stifle the cries that threatened to burst forth from her throat, but seeing it he tore the hand away, and her song of pleasure rang throughout the hall. “Jemmie! Jemmie! Oh God! Yes! Ohhhhhh!” She shuddered as she tumbled from her peak and down into the warm darkness of repletion.

He flooded her with his tribute, groaning with his satisfaction, as his lust burst, then finally drained away. Sprawled half-atop her, he breathed deeply the fragrance of her dark hair until he was finally able to raise himself and roll off her entirely. Reaching for her hand, he said, “Madame, you surpass my memories of you. I am mad for you, Jasmine! Tell me at least that you gained some measure of delight.”

She laughed weakly. “My lord, I believe we have found something upon which we may agree. The passion between us bodes well for a happy marriage of sorts, I think.”

“But there must be more between us, Jasmine,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she agreed, “but is this not a good beginning?”

“So you are willing now to do your duty as the king has ordered?” he teased her gently, nibbling upon her fingers.

“There, my lord, is another thing we have in common. We are both dutiful, and know our obligations to the crown and to our families,” she replied. She pulled her hand from his, and then, grasping his hand, began sensuously to suck upon his fingers, one at a time, her eyes engaging his. Her mouth turning up in a small smile.

“Is there anything else, madame?” he murmured. Jesu! The wench was a witch. She had already drained him so deeply he thought little left of himself, yet her mouth, now tantalizing his fingers, was arousing him once more. He could already feel a stirring in his loins.

“We both like children and the simple life,” she said.

“Aye,” he agreed, “but they are your children, not mine.”

“A situation easily remedied,” Jasmine promised him. She released his hand and, standing, drew her chamber robe lightly about her. “Come, Jemmie Leslie. My bed will be warmer and more comfortable than this place before the fire. Now that I am of a mind to do my duty, you will find me very willing, my lord.” Turning, she walked from the hall, pausing only a moment at the entry to beckon him to follow her.

The earl of Glenkirk rose, wrapped his kilt about himself and, gathering up the rest of his garments, trailed after her, a bemused smile upon his face.