Читать книгу Darling Jasmine - Bertrice Small - Страница 8

Chapter 2

James Leslie had left London with his servant, Fergus More, almost immediately. They had embarked from Dover as the earl of Lynmouth had suggested and were waiting upon the docks when Cardiff Rose put into Calais. Standing in the shadows they watched as the vessel was made fast, its gangway run up, the unloading done. Skye’s great traveling coach had made the short journey lashed to the deck of the ship. Now it was carefully rolled off onto the land to the doors of a large warehouse. Immediately the doors were opened and sturdy horses brought forth to be harnessed to the vehicle. The activity in and about the coach held little interest for the earl of Glenkirk once it had begun. He watched the gangway, and eventually Madame Skye came forth, the captain of her ship escorting her to her coach, her servants following.

But only when she was settled in the conveyance, and her two coachmen up on their box, did the earl say quietly to his companion, “Time to mount up, Fergus. We dare not lose the old lady.”

“There’s only one way off the docks, my lord,” Fergus replied. “Best we wait for her at the entry. Ye don’t want anyone seeing us following her, and there’s too many of her people here.”

James Leslie nodded, and the two men discreetly led their mounts from the shadows and off the docks. Shortly afterward the coach rolled onto the street of the town, and the earl began his secret pursuit. From Calais they followed the road to Amiens, and then on to Paris. James Leslie was surprised at how intrepid a traveler his quarry was, considering her age. She lingered but a night at any inn, even in Paris, where he almost lost her, for she did not overnight at a public place, but rather at the home of one of her late husband’s relations. Taking the chance that she would not depart before her usual hour the following day, he found a nearby inn where he and Fergus might get a hot meal and a bed.

“You was right,” Fergus said the next morning as they again picked up the chase.

“She’s no fool,” the earl replied. “She’s anxious to get there, but she knows she needs her rest, and so do her horses. There’s no real need for haste although she’s certainly not dallying.”

From Paris to Fontainebleau to Montargis to Orléans to Blois.

“She is headed for Archambault,” the earl said.

“We’ve been there before, and yer lady ain’t been there,” Fergus More noted. “Ye don’t think the old lady knows she’s being followed?”

“We’ve been too careful,” James Leslie decided aloud.

But they passed by the gates to Archambault, and through the château’s village. Finally, several miles from Archambault, the coach turned off on a narrow side road. James Leslie drew his horse to a stop. A light drizzle was falling, as it had been for the past few days. Silently he signaled with his hand for Fergus More to move forward carefully, so that their mounts were close together.

“This road can only go one place,” he said softly. “To some sort of dwelling. We will wait and give Madame Skye time to reach her destination.” He drew his cloak about him. It was damnably chilly.

“I saw a small inn back in the village,” Fergus said hopefully.

The earl of Glenkirk shook his head. “Nay, I want no word of foreign strangers reaching this place until I have learned what is at the end of this little road. We’ll wait here.”

Fergus sighed.

They waited, and after a half an hour the earl deemed it safe for them to move down the narrow track. Several minutes later they rounded a bend, and before them was a small lake. Artfully set upon the shore so that it was surrounded by water on three sides was an exquisite little château. Built of flattened, rough-hewn blocks of reddish gray schist, the château had four polygonal towers crowned with dark slate roofs resembling witches’ caps, one at each corner of the building. Access could only be gained through a tall, well-fortified chatelet, which was flanked by rounded corbeled towers that rose on each side of the entry arch. The earl stopped, enchanted by the beauty before him. He could see a garden on the fourth side of the chateau with low stone walls keeping out the forest that lay beyond. Even in deepest winter it was absolutely lovely.

“M’lord?” Fergus More spoke low.

James Leslie signaled silently for them to move forward. The horses’ hooves echoed as they crossed the drawbridge and entered the courtyard, where the great traveling coach was now being unloaded. The servants looked curiously at the two travelers, but two stablelads hurried forward to take their horses, and the earl entered the building, his man behind him.

“Jesu!” Thistlewood, coming out of the stables where he and his assistant had been seeing to their own horses, said. “That looks like the earl of Glenkirk!”

“I thought we was being followed once or twice,” said his companion, then staggered with the blow the coachman gave him.

“Ye daft lad! Why did ye not say something to me then?”

“I wasn’t certain of it,” the younger man replied, rubbing his head. “It wasn’t until we left Paris, and this is a strange country.”

Thistlewood shook his head wearily. Well, it wasn’t his business anyway. His old mistress would take care of any trouble that came their way. She always had, and age hadn’t slowed her down like it had the rest of them, he thought ruefully. “Let’s go to the kitchens and get something warm to drink and some food,” he told his assistant.

Adali saw James Leslie first as he stood in the hallway of the château directing the servants with the luggage. His smooth face indicated immediate surprise, which he quickly masked, but not before the earl had seen it.

James Leslie smiled wolfishly. “Tell your mistress I am here, Adali,” he ordered the man. “Wait! On second thought take me to your lady. I cannot take the chance that she will evaporate before I have even seen her.”

“Follow me, my lord,” Jasmine’s most trusted servant said.

The château had a small hall, to which Adali led the earl and his servant. It was a warm and cheerful room. Madame Skye was seated in a high-backed chair by one of the fireplaces, her boots by her side, a silver goblet in her hand, her stockinged feet to the blaze. Next to her Jasmine sat upon a stool, looking almost girlish, although she was now twenty-five, and the mother of four children. She was wearing her dark hair in a manner he could not remember seeing before. It was braided into a thick plait and twined with red ribbon. His gaze softened a moment, but then hardened with his resolve.

“The earl of Glenkirk, my princess,” Adali said clearly.

Jasmine, dowager marchioness of Westleigh, jumped to her feet, turning to face him.

“You!” she spat angrily.

“Aye, madame, ’tis I,” James Leslie said with understatement. “You have led me a fine chase, but ’tis over now.”

“Get out of my house!” Jasmine shouted at him. “You have absolutely no jurisdiction over me. This is France, not England!”

“I beg to differ, madame. The king of England ordered our marriage two years ago, and the king currently treats with King Louis in the matter of a marriage between Prince Charles and the king’s sister.”

“King James seeks a Spanish match with the infanta, Doña Maria,” Jasmine snapped. “Even here in my backwater I know that!”

“Would you like to argue the point with me, madame?” Glenkirk said. “You are the wife chosen for me by King James, and you will wed with me, madame. Remember, I am your children’s guardian.”

“You are Charles Frederick Stuart’s guardian,” Jasmine replied, “although I do not know why the king felt he needed a guardian at all.”

“Nay, madame, I am guardian of all your children now,” the earl said with devastating effect. “Your foolish and unruly behavior convinced the king that you were not fit to guide your bairns. I hold the future of not just Charles Frederick Stuart in my hands, but that of young Westleigh, Lady India, and Lady Fortune Lindley as well.”

“You bastard!” Jasmine said furiously.

“Nay, madame,” he replied mockingly. “My parents were betrothed for some months, and wed at least ten minutes before my birth.”

Jasmine turned to her grandmother. “Madame, how could you bring him here? Is this why you have come? I shall never forgive you!”

“I did not bring him, my dearest girl,” Skye said quietly.

“I followed your grandmother from the moment she arrived in Calais,” the earl said.

“Robin?” Skye asked him.

He nodded. “He suspected you would not wait until spring,” James Leslie said. “He sent two servants to follow Captain O’Flaherty’s carriage, certain he would not go home but to Harwich instead.”

Skye nodded, a small smile upon her lips. “Robert Southwood is indeed my son.” She chuckled. “And he has his father’s guile.”

“If you did not bring him here to Belle Fleurs, Grandmama, then why have you come?” Jasmine inquired.

“Your grandfather is dead,” came the immediate reply.

Jasmine gasped, and her eyes immediately filled with tears that flowed down her smooth cheeks. “Oh, Grandpapa,” she half whispered. Then she turned on the earl of Glenkirk. “This is all your fault!” she cried. “If you had not hounded me from England, I should have had these last few months with him! Now, I shall never see him again, and it is all because of you, James Leslie! I hate you! I hate you!”

“Nay, madame,” he said in icy tones. “Whatever you have lost is your fault, not mine. You did not have to disobey the king and run from me almost two years ago. A marriage was arranged between us. I loved you. I was willing to give you all the time you needed to mourn Prince Henry Stuart’s death. I was not dragging you by force to the altar, Jasmine. You, however, took it upon yourself to gather up your children, and in direct defiance of King James’s order, decamp from England. I knew you were in France. Three times I came, but I could not find you, for your relations hid you well. Now, however, the game is up. We will return to England, where you will wed me in a large and public ceremony, standing before that same court who have found such amusement in the April Fool you made of me those many months back.”

“I will not!” she said angrily.

“Oh, but you will, madame,” he answered her.

“I am a royal Mughal princess . . .” she began.

“Who cannot return home to India,” he cut her off. “You have lived in Europe for ten years, Jasmine. You are an English gentlewoman now, and no longer an imperial Mughal. Your grandmother must have a few days’ rest, then we shall begin the return journey to England. Do not attempt to escape me again, my darling Jasmine. Cadby needs its young master, and would you keep Rowan Lindley’s son from his inheritance? And what of your daughters? I’ll wager you have let them run with the peasants’ children. None of them, I am certain, has begun any learning. They are English nobility, and you would do well to remember it!”

“I will kill you before I allow you control over my children,” Jasmine snarled at him.

“Be silent, both of you!” Skye’s voice suddenly cut into the conversation. “Adali, get Lord Leslie some wine, and then take his man to the kitchen for food. What is your name, Scotsman?”

“Fergus More, yer ladyship.”

“Go with Adali, Fergus More. Your master is safe with me,” Skye told him, and then, turning back to Jasmine, said, “I came to tell you of Adam’s death, my darling girl, but I also came to tell you that it was time to resolve your difficulties with Glenkirk. Past time. While it was outrageous of the king to insist upon this match, I am beginning to believe it is a good idea. You cannot remain here at Belle Fleurs, isolated, and alone but for the children, and your servants. It is not good for you, and it is certainly not good for my great-grandchildren. Jemmie Leslie is right. Henry Lindley is the marquis of Westleigh as his father before him was. He is almost seven now, and I will wager his French is better than his English. He must go home to Cadby and learn to be its master, and an Englishman again. India will be eight next month, and Fortune is five. Do any of them know their letters? Or how to write? And what of the king’s grandson, little Charles Frederick Stuart. He is the most royal of all your children, but what will his fate be if he does not return to England where he can gain his grandfather, the king’s, favor? You must think of the children, Jasmine.”

The younger woman gnawed at her lower lip, vexed. She knew her grandmother was correct, yet she struggled against herself. Glancing at James Leslie from beneath her wet lashes, she decided that he was still a very handsome man, but at this particular moment he looked very stern. It was a look she could not remember seeing on his face before.

“Just once,” she said, “I should like the freedom to pick my own husband.” Grumbling she continued. “My father chose Jamal Khan, and you and Grandfather chose Rowan Lindley. When do I get to choose?”

“Were you unhappy with either of your husbands, Jasmine?” Skye questioned her granddaughter.

“No,” Jasmine admitted, “but you got to choose your husbands!”

“Dom O’Flaherty, my first husband, may he rot in hell, was my father’s choice. Willow’s father rescued me from slavery in Algiers and married me. Niall Burke was chosen for me by my uncle, the bishop, and we were wed by proxy without my knowledge. Fabron de Beaumont was the old queen’s selection. Only Geoffrey Southwood and your grandfather were my decisions, Jasmine.”

“And they were your happiest marriages,” her granddaughter said. “I do not believe I will have six husbands, Grandmama. I want to make my own selection this time. I won’t be coerced dammit!”

“Madame,” the earl of Glenkirk said quietly, “you have no options but to obey your king as do I. To disobey is treason, as you well know, but should you choose such a dangerous option be advised that I shall return to England in several days’ time with my four charges, the infant duke of Lundy, the marquis of Westleigh, and the ladies India and Fortune Lindley. If you wish to remain mother to your children, you will accompany us. If you do not, I shall see that you never see them again, for you shall be banned from King James’s realm forever.”

Jasmine’s unusual turquoise-colored eyes widened with shock. “You bastard!” she hissed. “You would do that to me?”

He looked at her dispassionately. “I thought we had settled the matter of my birth, madame, and yes, I will obey the king.”

She flung her goblet at his head, but ducking it he reached up to grasp her wrist in a firm hold. Slowly he forced her arm down, and back behind her, drawing her against him. Then, bending, he kissed her a fierce kiss, his lips hard, the embrace a clear declaration of war between them. Jasmine struggled, but could not break his hold on her, but when he released her a moment later, she reared back and slapped him with all her might. Then, turning about, she ran from the hall.

“Is it that you hate her or love her?” Skye asked him, curious.

James Leslie shook his dark head. “Once I loved her to distraction. When I arrived here today I thought I hated her. Now I don’t know what I feel for her, Madame Skye. Why does she resist her fate so strongly?”

“Surely you have known since you first met her, my lord, that Jasmine is very proud, and absolutely determined to have her way in life,” Skye answered him. “We both know that the king meant well for her when he ordered your marriage, and indeed it is an ideal solution for Jasmine. Even I am now willing to admit to it. You are an excellent candidate for her hand, as you are in high favor with King James, and you have your own wealth.”

“I am astounded by this turn of events, madame,” the earl of Glenkirk replied. “You were, if I am not mistaken, highly involved in Jasmine’s departure from England almost two years ago.”

“Indeed I was,” Skye admitted, not one bit abashed. “But I only meant for her to have a little bit of time to compose herself and come to terms with her fate. Unfortunately the months became a year, and I swear to you that I meant to bring her home, but somehow I did not get around to it. I have a very large family, my lord, and they always seem to need one thing or another from me.” She gave him a weak smile, and shrugged her elegant shoulders. “I am not as young as I once was. I regret I did not take action soon in this particular matter. Jasmine has, I fear, become quite independent of us all.”

“Does she love her bairns enough to follow them?” he wondered.

“Whatever happens, my lord, do not weaken in your resolve,” she told him. “I will help you to the best of my ability.”

“You have not answered my question, madame,” he replied.

“She loves her children, yes. Jasmine is a devoted mother,” Skye replied, “but I will have all I can do to keep her from acting rashly again, my lord. In this endeavor, however, I will have the help of her servants. That trio have been with her since birth. They are used to all her moods and crochets. Her steward, Adali, has been a surrogate father to her. He will act in her best interest, and the two maidservants will follow suit. As for you, James Leslie, you would be well advised to loosen your curb rein a trifle. High-strung thoroughbred mares do not respond well to it, or to the whip. As a woman who raises horses I possess expert knowledge, and you would do well to take advantage of my expertise in this matter.” She struggled to her feet, thinking to herself that while she felt no older, and her mind still seemed to operate in relatively good order, her bones were old, and the rainy, dank weather was not helping at all. “Are you hungry, my lord? Surely you must be after traveling all day. I envy you your horses. That damned coach is a trial to ride in anymore, I can tell you.”

He chuckled and, taking her arm, led her to the highboard, where the servants were even now setting out the evening meal. She had not bothered to put her boots back on, and walked in her stockinged feet. She lost none of her dignity for it, he thought. Adali appeared and settled the old woman in her chair.

“Where is your mistress?” the earl asked him.

“She has locked herself in her bedchamber and is swearing quite colorfully in at least three languages, my lord,” came the calm reply. “Rohana and Toramalli are in her apartment. They will see she does not leave Belles Fleurs without your lordship.”

“And the children?” He had seen neither hide nor hair of them since his arrival. “Where are the bairns, Adali?”

“In the nursery, my lord. Would you like to see them now or after you have eaten. They are already abed, however.”

“Madame Skye and I will see them on the morrow, Adali,” James Leslie replied.

“Shall I see a tray is taken up to my lady?” Adali asked.

“No,” came the answer. “If your lady wishes to eat, then she must join us here at the highboard. She is not ill. Go and tell her we would welcome her company.”

“Very good, my lord,” Adali responded, his smooth light tan face bland as a pudding. He could but imagine what his mistress was going to say to such an invitation, but he was strangely comforted by the earl’s firmness. Over the last months his lady had become more and more intractable and mulish. She had allowed her offspring to run wild. The three older ones spoke a mixture of Pidgin French and English to each other, and French to the servants. Jasmine had practically neglected them in her grief over Prince Henry’s death. She lavished all of her attention upon his son, who turned two the previous September, and the lad was in danger of becoming very spoiled. It would be good for his lady to have a man in the house again, in her bed again. Now all they had to do was convince her of that fact.

He found his mistress now out of her bedchamber and directing her two maidservants in packing her trunks.

“We’ll be gone before either he or my grandmother awaken in the morning, Adali,” she said. “Is there something you can put in the wine tonight to assure them a sound sleep?”

Adali signaled the two maidservants to cease their activity. “You would leave your children, my lady?” he said quietly.

“Of course not!” she cried. “The children will come with us. Why would you think I would leave the children?”

“In your determination to have your own way, my princess, you would deliberately disobey the king of England and rob your four children of their inheritance? Such irrational behavior reminds me of your brother, Salim, now the Grande Mughal Jahangir,” Adali said. His brown eyes surveyed her calmly. As a boy he had resembled his Indian mother. Now, a man in his late middle years, he favored his French father.

Jasmine was surprised by his words. Adali had been with her her entire life, and she thought of him as her best friend. Her anger diffused, she said, “Surely you do not suggest that I wed with the earl of Glenkirk?”

“He is a good match for you, my princess. A wealthy man who stands in high favor with King James. He is attractive, and you have already had the benefit of a night in his bed those many years ago. I do not seem to recall you considered him a poor lover then. He likes your children, and wants sons of his own. What more is there, my princess? Women of your high caste do not wed on whim, and without a powerful husband you can do nothing but sit and wait for death to come.”

“Violent death has claimed both of my husbands, Adali,” Jasmine responded. “And death reached out to claim Prince Henry, unexpectedly and in his prime. The earl of Glenkirk would do well to reconsider before wedding with such a woman as I. Perhaps my brother has cursed me from afar. Besides, James Leslie has no love for me any longer. He marries me to please the king and for no other reason. Indeed from the look in his eye I would say he hates me, Adali.”

“Then you should have no great feeling of loss if he dies violently as did Jamal Khan and Rowan Lindley,” Adali reasoned with her, “and you will have obeyed the king, thus regaining his favor for yourself and your children. If your brother has indeed cursed you, my princess, and the men you give your heart to die, then surely Lord Leslie will feel the sting of the Mughal’s malediction, too. It is an ideal way to rid yourself of your enemy, is it not?”

“You do not believe for a moment that I am cursed, do you, Adali?” Jasmine said irritably. “You are all against me now, even my grandmother. She will help the earl, which is why I must flee tonight else I shall never have another opportunity.”

“Again you put your self-interest before that of your children,” Adali scolded her roundly. “You have been alone too long, my princess. You must come back into the world again, and the children with you. I will not help you to run this time, and neither will Rohana or Toramalli. Besides, my daughter, where can you go if you leave Belle Fleurs? King James’s lands will be forbidden, so you cannot go to England, Scotland, or your Irish estates. You have only managed to hide here in France with the aid of your relations; but when Madame Skye tells them ‘Nay,’ then France will be closed to you, too. Besides, there is already war in this land over religion. Soon it will not be safe at all. Where else is there for you? We both know you cannot return to India and your brother. There is no place for you except by your husband’s side, my princess.” The eunuch was firm of tone, and his look told Jasmine that for the first time in her life she had no other options but those very unpalatable ones presented to her. “Shall I tell his lordship you will be joining them at the highboard, my princess?” Adali gently pressed her.

She wanted to say no, but she was hungry. The idea of sneaking down into her own kitchens to steal food was intolerable. Besides, why should he drive her from her own table? James Leslie was arrogant beyond any man she had ever met, but God’s nightshirt, he would not keep her from her supper. “I must change my gown,” Jasmine said in regal Mughal tones. “Please tell my grandmother that I shall join her shortly.” Dismissing Adali, she turned to her maidservants.

Adali restrained his delight that his mistress had decided to act in a reasonable fashion. It was, he knew, a temporary measure until Jasmine could come up with some other scheme to avoid doing her duty, but they would defuse that problem when it reared its head. Reentering the hall, he said, “My mistress will join you momentarily. She is changing her gown, my lord.”

“Well done, Adali!” Skye complimented him. “Was she packing?”

The steward laughed. “Aye, madame, she was, but as I pointed out to her, she has no other place to hide. Her place is by her husband’s side now not just for her own standing, but for the children’s as well.” Adali bowed, then began directing the serving of the evening meal.

James Leslie watched him with a speculative gaze.

“He is loyal to her first and foremost,” Skye said quietly in answer to the unspoken question, “but he serves her best interests even when she disagrees with him. Treat her well, and he will be your most valuable ally, my lord. Remember, a powerful king trusted him.”

The earl nodded, and then he saw her enter the hall. For a moment he almost forgot his anger, for she was every bit as beautiful as he had remembered her. Gowned in burgundy velvet, her black hair now dressed in the familiar chignon, she made her way to the table. James Leslie rose, bowing, kissing her hand, seating her by his side. Jasmine acknowledged him but briefly.

“How lovely you look, my darling girl,” Skye said. “The picture of fashion, I vow.”

“Have fashions not changed that much then these months?” Jasmine said lightly. “What a shame. I was anticipating having your Bonnie make me a brand new wardrobe, grandmama.”

“You shall have whatever your heart desires, madame,” the earl said. “As my bride you are entitled to a bridal wardrobe. My pockets are deep as you well know.”

“If I wish new garments, my lord,” Jasmine said in scathing tones, “I am more than able to pay for them. I am far wealthier than you are, sir. We had best discuss this now. The king may order us to wed, but until I agree to do so there will be no marriage between us. First there must be the legalities. While I will give you a reasonable dowry, my lord, the bulk of my wealth remains mine. Until you agree to that, you will not have me to wife.” There, she thought, that will set his proud Scots heart back a pace.

“Of course, darling Jasmine,” the earl said smoothly. “Your wealth remains your own. My own mother, and I am certain yours, too, had such arrangements in their marriage contracts. I would suggest we do it immediately, but I am not certain a contract drawn by a French advocate would be considered legitimate in England. I think, therefore, we must wait until we return to England.”

“Until the papers are drawn to my satisfaction, and signed, my lord, there will be no formality between you and me,” Jasmine replied.

“Naturally, madame,” he returned.

Skye speared a haunch of rabbit and gnawed on it vigorously as she listened to her granddaughter and the earl of Glenkirk battle back and forth. James Leslie had obviously taken her advice, and was going gently with Jasmine, but Jasmine was not making it easy on the man. Why she has decided he is her enemy, I do not know, the matriarch thought to herself. If I were twenty years younger I should be tempted to cast a lure for him myself were I a single woman. Reaching across them, she tore herself off a piece of bread from the loaf.

“I mean it, James Leslie,” Jasmine snapped.

“I am well aware of it, madame,” he answered, his voice testy now.

“Then we might as well leave tomorrow for England,” she decided.

“Nay, madame, we will leave Belle Fleurs in a week’s time. Your grandmother needs the rest, having departed her own home almost immediately following your grandfather’s demise. And, I believe it advisable that you and I become reacquainted on neutral ground.”

“Indeed, sir? What is it you do not know about me that you need to know? I am beautiful. I am wealthy. I am royal. I have had two husbands, and a princely lover. I am the mother of four children, and I pleased you in bed those many years back. Is there more?”

“Aye,” he answered her coldly, “you are all you say, madame, but I am curious to learn if beneath the prideful and cruel bitch you seem to have become, there is a vestige left of the charming woman I once knew, darling Jasmine.”

Skye choked on her wine, gasping and coughing at his words.

“Why you arrogant Scots bastard,” Jasmine said angrily. “How dare you speak to me in such a fashion?” She was flushed with her ire.

“Nay, madame, the question is, how dare you speak to me with such disdain? I am to be your husband.”

“When we return to England I shall petition the king to change his mind,” Jasmine told him.

“And I shall implore him not to change his mind. He won’t, you know. You will just irritate him if you try,” James Leslie said. “The king doesn’t like anyone, particularly a woman, impugning his divine right as the monarch. He has made a decision, and will not be denied. This is not about you, or about me, Jasmine. It is about the king’s firstborn grandchild, young Charles Frederick Stuart. The lad may have been born on the wrong side of the blanket, but the blanket is a royal one. Stuarts do not abandon their responsibilities.”

“I do not need a husband to raise my children,” Jasmine snapped.

“Nonetheless, the king has commanded that you have one,” the earl rejoined. “At least the king knows I am honest and will not use his grandson for my own ends, as others might.”

“Supercilious cad!” she sneered at him.

“Vicious vixen!” he snarled back.

“Beast!”

“Bitch!”

“Cease!” Startled they both looked to Skye, whose face was stern. “You are bickering like two spoiled children,” she said. “You will stop it this instant!” Turning to Jasmine she continued. “The king has ordered you to marry this man. He is handsome, rich enough not to see you only for your fortune and as respectable as any widow might wish. And I approve of him. In this family that carries more weight than James Stuart’s majesty. Therefore, you will marry the earl of Glenkirk, my darling girl. I wish the choice could be yours, but alas, it cannot under the circumstances. As for you, James Leslie . . .” She fixed her gaze upon him. “You will treat my granddaughter with dignity and respect when she is your wife. I hope you will come to love each other, for that is the best kind of marriage to make, but if you cannot, at least you will honor each other, and the Leslie name.” She rose from her place at the highboard. “Now, I am an old woman, and I am exhausted with my travels. Adali!” Skye called to her granddaughter’s steward. “Take me to my bedchamber before I expire with weariness!” She took his arm and walked from the hall with not another word to them.

James Leslie picked up his goblet and sipped the wine thoughtfully. “If you would like,” he said quietly, “we could stay in France until the spring, renewing our acquaintance, madame. The sea is chancy at this time of year. We were fortunate in our recent crossing from England.” His tone was almost conciliatory toward her.

“It might be better,” Jasmine considered. “It would give the children a chance to know you, my lord; and I do not like the way my grandmother looks. Grandfather’s death must have been a terrible shock to her. Then to leave Queen’s Malvern to come to me at such a dreadful time of year for traveling. Perhaps in May?” she suggested.

“I thought April the first,” he said softly.

“You cannot be serious,” Jasmine said, remembering how she had tricked him almost two years back into leaving her alone until April first when, she had promised him, she would then set their wedding date. Instead, he had arrived at Queen’s Malvern on that date to find she had departed with her children, and he had no idea to where.

“Be grateful, madame, that I do not fix our wedding date for that day,” he replied somberly.

She was suddenly cold. “Do you hate me that much, my lord?” The sudden realization of his black mood assailed her. What had she done in running away from James Leslie? She had only wanted a little more time to herself. To mourn her sweet prince, and yet the king was so adamant that she marry the earl of Glenkirk. Still, had not he said he would give her more time? But how was she to understand that then?

“I do not know what I feel for you, madame,” she heard him say to her. “Once I was overwhelmed by your beauty and your passion. I thought I loved you. Your arrogance, however, has made me see you in a new light. I am not certain if I can ever love you, but we must learn to get along for the sake of your children, and the children we will have together. Our home must be, I insist, a place of peace.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could contain them. “We will have no children, James Leslie, except that they come from a love between us. I am not some finely bred mare to whom you have been brought to stud. I will wed you, and I will never bring shame to your name. I will manage your household, and stand by your side in all things, but I will have no child of yours unless it comes of our love.”

“How very noble of you, madame,” he replied scornfully. “You bore Westleigh three children, and yet your family arranged the marriage to keep you from the consequences of your wanton behavior. Did you truly love Rowan Lindley?”

“Aye, I did!” Then Jasmine laughed bitterly. “My wanton behavior, as you call it, resulted from your lust to possess me, my lord. I remember that Twelfth Night quite well. ’Twas you who approached me, and aye, I agreed to allow you to seduce me, for bereft of our mates we were both in need of comforting. Had not my stepsister, Sybilla, discovered us, and raised such a fuss, none would have been the wiser. You and I might have forgotten the entire incident, and gone our separate ways, as we did anyhow.”

Reaching over, he grabbed her wrist in a hard grasp. “I would never have forgotten that chance encounter, madame!” he told her fiercely. “You were the most beautiful and the most exciting woman I had ever known; but I shall also not forget that you held me up to ridicule before the entire court by running off two years ago. Do you think, madame, that because you were born a royal Mughal princess that your pride is greater or more sensitive than mine? What do you really know of me, Jasmine?”

“Nothing,” she admitted, gently loosening his grip on her arm.

“Well, I shall tell you,” he said. “Long ago in the reign of King Malcolm and his saintly Queen Margaret, my ancestor, Angus Leslie, the laird of Glenkirk, wed with the queen’s sister, Christina. The sisters were the daughters of the heir to England’s king; but he died before King Edward, and it was their brother who was then to be king but that Harold Godwinson usurped his right, and then William the Norman conquered the land. The mother of these sisters was Agatha, a princess of Hungary. My great-grandfather, Charles Leslie, was born Karim, a prince of the Ottoman Empire. His father was Sultan Selim, his brother, Sultan Suleiman. My great-great-grandmother, Janet Leslie, was Sultan Selim’s favorite wife. I have as much, if not more, royal blood in my veins, Jasmine Lindley, as you do.”

She was astounded by his revelations, but she would not be moved. “Then we are indeed well matched even if none but us knows it, James Leslie,” said Jasmine, rising from her place at the highboard. “The hour grows late, my lord,” she said. “I will escort you to your chamber.”

He followed her from the hall, noting the stiff line of her backbone as they went, wondering what further mischief she was plotting. Could he trust the old countess of Lundy now? Or was she merely lulling him into a false sense of security in order that Jasmine might escape him once again. Devious the old woman might be, he considered, but he had never heard it said that she was anything other than honest. He had to trust her. There was no option other than remaining awake all night watching, and for how long could he do that? Had he been a fool to allow Jasmine more time before their marriage? Was his desire for revenge overwhelming his common sense? Should he call the priest in on the morrow and marry her immediately, thereby putting an end to her headstrong foolishness? Then he shook his head at his own thoughts. Marriage, or no, if Jasmine de Marisco Lindley wanted to leave him again, she most certainly would. He had but two choices. Locking her away or winning back her friendship.

“You will find your servant awaiting you,” Jasmine said as she stopped before an oak door. “Good night, my lord.”

He took her hand up and kissed it. “Good night, madame,” the earl of Glenkirk replied, then, turning, he entered the chamber.

Jasmine snatched her hand back and, whirling about, hurried off down the corridor. She could actually feel the imprint of his mouth upon her skin, and it was most discomfiting. This man she must wed, this man with whom she had spent an incredible night of passion almost ten years ago, was in reality a stranger to her. They had met again briefly at King James’s court, but it was not an association she had encouraged. He was a dark-spirited man whom she did not in the least understand. She was even a little afraid of him, but she would never reveal that to anyone, least of all James Leslie. He was, she realized, a man she could not cajole or manipulate. He was as hard as flint.

She had offended him. Embarrassed him. Defied him. Yet he would obey the king and marry her in spite of it all. Jasmine shivered. This was a dangerous man, and unless she could find a way to soften him, her life would not be pleasant. Jasmine entered her own bedchamber, where her servants were waiting for her. Her grandmother would know what to do. On the morrow she would speak with that dear old lady, and Skye would guide her actions so she might find James Leslie’s weakness, and touch his heart. If indeed he even had a heart.