The Falcon and the Flower (17 page)

“Why do you run from me?” he demanded, closing the gap between them in three strides.

“Because I fear you. Because you struck me before and would do so again if the whim took you. Because I’m smaller, weaker, softer. Because I have no weapons, no strength, and cannot defend myself in any way against you!”

At her words his heart softened, yet he was disgusted with himself that he had failed to properly teach her a
lesson. He said almost contemptuously, “You’re too delicate to beat and too fragile to fuck! I’d have to restrain myself too much.” He slammed from the room and though she was relieved, she was also very stung by his contempt and angry that once again he had had the last word.

King John would rule from London, and that is where the royal court would reside. People were flocking there from every corner of England, and Jasmine was deep in preparation for her journey. She was going with her father’s blessing and Falcon’s grudging permission, and she needed a sumptuous new wardrobe as befitted the niece of the king. Naturally Estelle would accompany her, and the older woman was having new clothes of her own fitted. Although she would never have admitted such a thing, the new garments were a source of pleasure. Estelle was also distilling a large supply of potions and electuaries. She compounded medicines and simples and gathered roots, seeds, flowers, leaves, and barks to take with her to London.

Jasmine had come to the stillroom for some rose petals, lavender, and cloves to pack between the layers of her new dresses. She was still tender from Falcon’s spanking and could still feel the impression of his hand against her bare flesh. Her grandmother said, “Tomorrow is the twenty-first day of June, the summer solstice. We must go to Stonehenge. Every year I have gone alone, but this year I will let you have the life-giving magical power. When the first summer sunlight shines upon you through
the great arch of Stonehenge, you will be surrounded and protected by the great white light of the universe for one whole year.”

Falcon de Burgh passed by the stillroom window and heard Jasmine’s silvery laughter. He heard her say, “If we ride out, we are sure to be followed. Why don’t we take the little boat on the Avon to gather cattails and waterlilies? None will suspect us of going to Stonehenge.”

On the spot he decided that he would take the time to be at Stonehenge before them. He hoped that Jasmine was not involved in live sacrifice. The practice went against his nature and was most distasteful to him.

It was still dark when Falcon de Burgh tethered his horse in a copse at least a mile from Stonehenge. His long legs carried him to the ancient Druid circle before the first light of dawn, and on impulse he scaled the side of one craggy rock and lay down atop the flat stone arch. The sun was just climbing above the horizon when he spotted the two women. His high vantage point allowed him to watch them walk all the way from the river.

Estelle wore a strange garment decorated on the front with the four elements of the natural kingdom—human, animal, vegetable, and mineral—and upon the back with the four elements—earth, air, fire, and water.

Jasmine wore a loose robe embroidered with sunflowers. The sunrise was a spectacular one, bathing everything in a light of pure gold. Falcon watched as Dame Winwood positioned Jasmine in what seemed to be an exact and predetermined spot, then to his amazement Estelle stepped away and took Jasmine’s garment from her.

Jasmine stood naked, motionless, waiting for the Divine Power. Falcon was entranced. She was the most beautiful vision he had ever beheld. His gaze was riveted where her thighs joined her belly. Just above the pubic area on either side of the curls of her mons venus were two identical small, black beauty marks. They were symmetrical
and had a mesmerizing effect, for whenever his eyes lifted to devour the rest of her, they were pulled back irresistibly to the intimate triangle. He knew such beauty spots were sometimes called witches’ marks and Jasmine had not one, but two.

Suddenly the rays of the sun shone through the arch of the Druid stones, bathing her with an unearthly, ethereal luminescence. Her hair, falling to her hips, looked like pure molten gold that was somehow on fire.

He heard Estelle’s voice chanting.

“Harness the power—a golden opportunity—bright with promise. The sun is the most important life-sustaining element on earth, bringing growth, attainment, success, joy, and happiness.”

To Falcon’s eyes, Jasmine glowed with a light-filled essence that made the air about her take on a sheen. She was bathed in sunlight so that her own aura and that of the sun were joined. Then the sun moved higher in the sky, and immediately Estelle pulled Jasmine away and wrapped her in the sunflower robe before she could be touched by the stone’s great shadow.

Falcon lay atop the great slab long after they had departed. Jasmine was different from all other women. Special, pure, angelic, perfect. He dreamed of her almost every night and fantasized about her every day. She triggered sensations in his body and mind. Between her legs was like a flower blossom; making love to her would be like penetrating the lotus and discovering precious jade. The anticipation of waiting for her carried an unbearable tension. He was constantly in a state of physical arousal these days. Everything that subtly reminded him of her sent desire flaming through him. A scent, a voice, a thought. His bed had never been so empty, and yet the very feel of the sheets upon his body was like an aphrodisiac. Somehow, he knew that with her, sex would be magic; sex would be supreme power.

It was the longest day of the year, and after dinner Falcon asked Jasmine if she would walk with him in the gardens. She had known, of course, that before she departed for London he would insist upon being alone with her. She anticipated that his masculinity would force him to lay down prescribed rules of behavior for her to follow during their long absence from each other. Jasmine was determined to keep her temper under control. She would be amenable to his suggestions, silver-tongued in her answers to him, and try to look poignantly regretful that they were parting. Once she was in London, of course, she would do exactly as she pleased.

Twilight lingered long in the garden at Salisbury. The shadows gathered under the trees, the swallows swooped low to catch the last insects before dark, and the fragrance of the night-scented stocks stole to them from the borders at the edge of the lawn. Her nearness affected him physically, as it always did, and he crushed down the urge to lay her in the cool grass.

They stopped walking and faced each other. There were a million things he wanted to say to her, a thousand love words he wished to murmur, a hundred kisses he longed to steal, a dozen places he yearned to touch, but in the end he said, “Court is a worldly place, Jasmine. Don’t let its evil touch you. It pleases me that you have known no men.” He reached out and took a tendril of her hair between his finger and thumb and quivered at the silky, sensual feel of it. He cupped her face with his hands and dipped his head to brush her soft pink mouth with his lips.

She fought the urge to stiffen and resist him, and after his persuasive mouth had possessed hers for a full minute she managed to melt against him, reasoning that it could not hurt to thaw toward him a little in face of the long
spell of freedom she would be able to enjoy after that night.

He lifted his mouth from hers but held her captive against his heart. His scarred thumbs brushed the lovely curve of her cheeks. The magic of the garden enfolded them in a perfumed paradise. He breathed, “Ah, Jasmine, you are fairer than any flower that blooms here tonight. You beg to be plucked, but should any hand but mine reach out to take so fair a blossom, I hope you would tear it to shreds with a multitude of thorns.” He took both her hands into his and, lifting them to his mouth, dropped a kiss upon each dainty wrist. Then his arms encircled her in a captive embrace.

She could feel the heat of his hands on her back through the material of her gown and for a fleeting moment imagined his hands on her bare flesh, beneath her back, as he would lie with her in the marriage bed. She shuddered as his tongue invaded her soft mouth and knew not if it were in repulse or response. She was agonizingly aware of the peril she was in. His physical response to her was overwhelming him, and soon he would overwhelm her. She gasped softly. “No, Falcon, no.” She was smothered by his nearness and could not breathe. She struggled against the close contact of his hard, muscular chest. “Let me go!” She trembled and pushed with all her might against his wide shoulders.

Suddenly he swept her up into his arms, one arm beneath her knees. Greatly alarmed, she cried, “Where are you taking me?”

He buried his face in her hair and murmured thickly, “I’m carrying you up to my bed, sweet, I can wait no longer.”

“Falcon, don’t spoil this beautiful last night in the garden for me. I want it to linger on in my memory, unspoiled by your forcing my body to satisfy your quickly aroused lust,” she said on a rising note of panic.

Reluctantly Falcon withdrew the arm he had beneath her knees, allowing her feet to touch the grass again. As she tried to pull away from him, she was mortified to see that the material of her bodice was snared upon a fastening of his doublet and had torn to expose one of her breasts. He groaned and his lips immediately sought the tempting swell of the round globe.

“My lord, you mustn’t do such scandalous things,” she choked. “I must bid you good night.”

A strong hand kept her anchored close to him. “Does it not excite you to do scandalous things?” he teased.

“No! I must go now,” she insisted, “for ’t is plain you cannot keep your hands to yourself.”

“If I promise not to touch you further, will you stay with me longer?”

“Why?” she asked, not trusting him.

“I get pleasure from just watching you, looking at you,” he said, drawing her toward a bench in a secluded garden alcove.

She laughed nervously. “You will soon tire and grow bored watching me, I am sure.”

He sat down and drew her down beside him, occupying his hands with hers so they would not wander to more intimate places. “I could watch you all night. I want to watch you sleep … I want to watch you dance … I want to watch you bathe … I want to watch you dress, for the sheer pleasure of undressing you so you will have to start all over.”

“You mustn’t say these things to me, it is most unseemly!” she protested sharply.

“Jasmine, I want to be unseemly with you … I want you to be unseemly with me. Just think of all the lovers who have sat here in this garden before us,” he murmured.

“We are not lovers!” she pointed out.

“We could be, sweetheart. Yield to me, Jassy,” he whispered urgently.

She tried for a light note to escape his intense purpose. “Ah, milord, a year will pass so quickly and then you will have your way and drag me off to your Mountain Ash and I will yield to you.”

“A year?” A look of thunder descended upon his brow and his voice was like a whiplash. “Three months, mistress. Make no mistake, you will be wed to me in three months unless I’m in Hellfire!”

She watched him stalk off, his cloak swinging to his heels. He had delivered his ultimatum, as usual giving her no room to argue her case. He went directly to her father and told William he would let Jasmine play lady-in-waiting until the autumn and then they would wed. Finally he sought out Dame Winwood and issued her a list of dos and don’ts concerning Jasmine and her safety, which almost made the old woman’s head spin.

William of Salisbury escorted his daughter to the City of London where King John and his child-bride, Isabella of Angoulême, had arrived and taken up residence at Westminster Palace. At first sight, Jasmine was awed by its size, but she noted Dame Estelle calmly took it in stride and so she tried to do likewise. She reasoned that if she felt intimidated, how much more so must the little Isabella feel?

Jasmine and Estelle were given rooms on different floors at Westminster since Jasmine had been chosen to be a lady of the bedchamber and Estelle’s status had not yet been established.

William went off to closet himself with John while Estelle unpacked and Jasmine tried to make Feather and Quill accustomed to their new home. She met the two attendants Isabella had brought with her from Angoulême and felt sorry for the two little mites. They were
hardly more than children and both had tear-swollen faces from homesickness. A few motherly women had been appointed to guide and advise Isabella at Westminster Palace in everything from dress to religion, but rumor had it that the little queen had taken one look at them and dismissed them immediately, likening them to a flight of bats.

Jasmine was slightly shocked that such a young girl was not heavily chaperoned, especially since she was in the delicate position of being married but not yet old enough for the marriage to be consummated. She felt protective toward the young girl before she had even met her.

Isabella occupied a large suite of rooms that adjoined the sumptuous suite chosen by King John. Jasmine tried to close her ears to the gossip concerning the king, which flew fast and furious about the royal halls of Westminster Palace. She had been warned that court was a cesspool of venomous gossip and discounted every lurid thing she heard. Such things couldn’t possibly have any truth in them anyway. Jasmine was about to experience a severe shock.