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Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General

Wild Jasmine (54 page)

BOOK: Wild Jasmine
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Skye laughed heartily as her daughter told her of how the two girls had made peace between themselves. “ ’Twas only a matter of time,” she said. “Sybilla was jealous of Jasmine because she unexpectedly had to share you. Now she has Tom Ashburne’s love, and yours does not seem to matter as much to her anymore. As for Jasmine, she is feeling secure in her new life. Rowan Lindley will be good for her as well. Adam and I will have two more great-grandchildren before the year is out, and you, my sweet Velvet, will find yourself twice a grandmother!” Then Skye laughed.

* * *

Lady Sybilla Alexandra Mary Gordon was married to Lord Thomas Henry Kempe on the very sunny morning of January 26, 1607. The bride wore a gown of white velvet with a cloth-of-silver underskirt and a bodice sewn all over with pearls and crystals that sparkled in the morning sunlight. The groom was garbed in black velvet. The sun, which had not shone in almost two weeks, was considered a very good omen for a happy marriage; and all the guests admired the bride’s necklace.

The marriage was celebrated in the chapel at Lynmouth House, and the feast held afterward was attended by the king and the queen, as well as all the more important members of the court. The king’s own Anglican chaplain presided over the nuptials, a great honor. The Earl of Lynmouth had, at the first news of his niece’s betrothal and wedding plans, sent word to his brother, Lord Burke. Padraic and Valentina had been on the road within two days and struggled through the winter weather to reach London in time.

Now, as he and Sybilla stood receiving the congratulations of the guests, the Earl of Kempe’s smile widened at the sight of the Burkes. “How did you know?” he exclaimed.

“Robin sent a message,” Padraic said. “I wouldn’t have missed seeing you wed for the world! Now you can no longer flirt with my wife, you rogue! My dear niece, Sybilla, will certainly destroy you if you do, I have not a doubt. Mama says you’re besotted by the wench.”

“Stop teasing Tom,” Valentina interjected, and she kissed the earl’s cheek. “I always told you that you would one day find the perfect woman for you, my dear friend. How glad I am I might be here today to see you married.” Then she lowered her voice. “But
Sybilla?

Tom Ashburne laughed merrily. “She is the perfect mate for me, divinity. I swear it! I should be lost without her.” He caught his bride’s hand in his and, raising it to his lips, kissed it as Sybilla beamed with pleasure, love shining from her blue eyes.

“I wonder how long until you’re a grandmother, Velvet,” Padraic asked the bride’s mother mischievously, and then ducked the blow she aimed at him. “Do I see a wrinkle, madame?” he teased, and turned away with his wife before his youngest sister could do him serious harm.

The Marquess of Westleigh promenaded through the ballroom of Lynmouth House with his betrothed wife displayed
upon his arm. Jasmine looked most magnificent in an orange velvet gown with a gold brocade underskirt. Tiny brocade bows, each with a miniature topaz center, decorated her sleeves. About her neck was a necklace of yellow diamonds. Her raven-dark hair was parted in the center and worn in a chignon that hugged the nape of her neck. The chignon was decorated with cloth-of-gold roses.

“Look at how proudly she holds herself,” Skye said to Adam. “She should be a queen!”

“She is you all over again, but for the turquoise eyes and that damnably fetching mole,” Adam de Marisco said.

“She is far more beautiful than I ever was,” Skye replied.

“Nay,” he told her. “You are the most beautiful woman who ever lived. Do not argue with me, little girl.
You are!

“I never argue with you,” Skye told him, and Adam laughed.

Jasmine saw little of court after her betrothal to the Marquess of Westleigh. It was not proper for an unmarried woman of good family to be seen there without an express purpose, unless in the company of her relations or her husband-to-be. Rowan Lindley did not like the court.

“ ’Tis full of hangers-on and low types,” he said. “I will show you London instead. As soon as the danger of severe storms is over, we must all return home. You will need time to prepare for our marriage.”

“Will we ever visit London after we are wed?” Jasmine asked him. “Greenwood is to be mine one day and we are always welcome to stay here.”

“If you wish to visit London, of course we can come,” he told her, “but are you not more of a country girl? I seem to remember the first time I saw you, you were barefooted and had an armful of fresh flowers with the dew still on them. That is the woman I fell in love with, Jasmine de Marisco.”

“I cannot always promise to remain the same,” she told him honestly.

“Good, then I shall not promise that either,” he replied, and they laughed.

He took her across the London Bridge to Southwark, where the Globe Theatre was located. One of the owners of the Globe was Master William Shakespeare, the famous playwright. There they saw several of his plays.
Macbeth. Henry V. King Lear
. Although these plays gave her a stronger sense of English
and Scots history, Jasmine preferred Master Shakespeare’s comedies, of which she saw two:
Much Ado About Nothing
and
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
.

The Globe itself was a bawdy, noisy place located directly next to the Bear Gardens. Rowan always bought them seats upon the stage itself. The pit below was a roiling mass of humanity. Of the playgoers, some were respectable, some not. Orange girls were selling their fruits from Spain, and ofttimes themselves for a greater coin. In the boxes about the theatre, where no respectable woman would dare to be seen, there were expensive whores openly plying their trade, calling boldly to the gallants below; and gentlemen with their mistresses, some well-known ladies of the court who hid behind the boxes’ curtains.

“Would you like to see the bear-baiting?” Rowan asked her one day.

“What is a bear-baiting?” Jasmine wondered aloud.

He told her and was rather relieved by the look of revulsion upon her face. Rowan Lindley did not enjoy bear-baiting himself.

“That is dreadful!” Jasmine exclaimed. “It is cruel! To hunt an animal is one thing, but to set beasts against each other for mere amusement is horrible! No thank you, my lord!”

“You have hunted, then?” he inquired, turning the subject.

“Aye, with my father and brothers. Tiger, antelope, and gazelle mostly. Sometimes we rode horseback and other times we pursued our quarry from the backs of our elephants. I am a reasonably good shot with both gun and bow, and I can use a spear accurately if I must. Do you hunt, my lord? And what?”

“Deer, rabbit, game birds for the table mostly,” he said. “I do not believe in killing for sport alone. It is wasteful.”

They were sitting together in the library of Greenwood House, trying to decide what to do.

“I learn more about you each day,” Jasmine told him. “I am beginning to think perhaps my grandmother is right about you.”

“And what does that magnificent woman say about me?” he asked her with a smile.

“That you are a good man and the perfect husband for me,” she said frankly.

“Aye, I am,” he agreed, “but, madame, there is more I need to know about you, yet you give me no opportunity to learn it. Come here to me, Jasmine.”

Curious, she arose and stood before him, crying out in surprise
when he pulled her down into his lap, her skirts ballooning about her. “
My lord!


Rowan
,” he said to her. “I am called Rowan. I want to hear my name from your lips, Jasmine.”

“Rowan! What are you about?” She struggled to arise, but he would not let her, pinioning her firmly within his embrace, half laughing at her spirited outrage.

“The night we agreed to wed, I kissed you,” he said. “Since then you have given me no chance at all to kiss you or to caress you. Should we not be lovers as well as husband and wife, Jasmine?”

“We are not married yet,” she said primly, but her cheeks were pink with her blushes. She felt suddenly shy.

“We are certainly not lovers, either, madame. Why are you so coy with me? You were not so coy with Glenkirk,” he said suddenly.

She gasped as if stung, struggling once again to escape him, and then, unsuccessful, she replied furiously, “Is that all you want of me, Rowan? What Jemmie Leslie had? I am no wanton, my lord, whatever you may think!”

“I will have more of you than
he
ever had, Jasmine,” Rowan Lindley answered jealously, and he kissed her.

It was an angry kiss, and she met it with equal anger. He bruised her mouth, forcing her lips apart, plunging his tongue into her mouth to do battle with her tongue. But their anger gave rise to passion, and suddenly he groaned. The kiss grew soft as he felt her rage draining away as well. Nibbling his way across her lips, his hot mouth found her cheekbones, her eyes, and finally the edge of her jawbone just beneath her left ear.

Jasmine quivered. He made her head spin, and she was very surprised to find the stirrings of desire beginning to infuse her body. He bit down gently upon the lobe of her ear. His tongue slowly explored the shell of it, his soft breath sending shivers down her spine. He passed a hand lightly over her breasts, then plunged it into her bodice. Jasmine was amazed the gown did not burst asunder with his invasion, for her breasts felt tight and swollen. Taking a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he worried it back and forth until she whimpered.

His mouth found hers again. They kissed until she believed they could kiss no more, their lips mashing against one another warmly, wetly. She pulled away, gasping for air, only to feel a hand slipping beneath her voluminous skirts. The hand slid
smoothly up her slim thigh, finding her most sensitive spot with unerring aim.


Rowan!
” she softly cried his name.

“I need to touch you there,” he murmured desperately against her cheek, and a single finger began to move sensuously against her tiny jewel.

She could feel herself getting moist with her desire. He was wicked!
Wicked!
She struggled feebly to sit up, but could not. “
Rowan!
” she gasped, unable now even to breathe quite properly.

He said nothing. The finger rubbed, and rubbed and rubbed, until finally he felt her stiffen, shudder, and then collapse, sobbing as she turned her face against his chest.


I hate you for that!
” she wept.

“ ’Twas not enough, was it?” he said low.


No!

“It was not meant to be, Jasmine.”

“Then why? Why did you do that to me?” she demanded, pulling herself into a sitting position and looking into his golden eyes.

“Because I want you to want me as much as I desire you, my love. You are no virgin to be satisfied easily. You are a woman. I want you to be my woman; to hold back nothing from me—
ever.

“You are cruel,” she said weakly, aching with her need for him.

“I can give both pleasure and pain, even as you can, my love,” he replied. Then he kissed her lips softly.

“Never bring Jemmie Leslie between us again,” Jasmine told him. “There is naught for you to be jealous of, Rowan. I swear it! Is there no way in which I can convince you of this?”

“Perhaps when I have loved you as you were meant to be loved,” he said. “Perhaps then I can wipe out the pictures my mind insists upon fabricating to torture me with, Jasmine. Perhaps I can replace the nightmares with dreams of my own, my love. Until then, jealousy burns a hole in my gut that aches unbearably.”

“Then have me now, Rowan,” she said softly, caressing his tawny hair. “I cannot bear that you suffer over something so trifling. Those few hours I spent with the Earl of Glenkirk were not important to me, nor to him either. We only sought a moment of comfort with each other. Make love to me now, my lord, and ease your pain.”

“No,” he told her. “I cannot take advantage of you. I would never want you to believe I did so, Jasmine. I must learn to control myself, but dear heaven, I want you!”

“Passion is the sweeter for the waiting,” she teased him gently.

“Glenkirk is a fool,” Rowan Lindley replied.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

“Because he could have had you, Jasmine, and he was not wise enough to take you,” her betrothed husband answered.

James Leslie, however, was even now bemoaning his lack of foresight. Several days after he and Jasmine had been found abed, he had called upon the Earl and Countess of Lundy, asking their permission to court their granddaughter. They had refused.

“Jasmine is now betrothed to the Marquess of Westleigh,” Skye had told Lord Leslie.

“But what if she carries my child?” he demanded.

“She does not,” was the stiff answer.

“Is she in love with Westleigh, or do you force her to this match because of me?” James Leslie queried.

“Listen to me, my lord,” Skye said quietly. “Rowan Lindley met our granddaughter last May. He fell in love with her and sought our permission to marry her. We refused him because we felt Jasmine needed more time to acclimate herself to her new life in England. We were also thinking of ourselves, and of how much we enjoyed having this grandchild we never expected to know with us. There is, however, no other path in life for a respectable woman, as you yourself know, but marriage. Jasmine’s petite adventure with you made us realize that it was time she be settled.”

“And she agreed to the match?” the Earl of Glenkirk asked.

“Of course she did, my lord. We have never forced any of our children or grandchildren to the altar,” Skye told him. “This disappointment is all your own doing. You had the opportunity to wed her, but when asked, you said nothing, which was every bit as good as saying no.”

“But she said she did not want to marry me,” he protested.

“And you believed her?” Skye felt genuinely sorry for James Leslie. He had realized too late his mistake.

“I thought she was being sporting, madame. We were caught, you will admit, in a most compromising situation. Jasmine is obviously not a woman to take advantage of a gentleman,
and then, too, there were her stepsister’s feelings to consider. I know her well enough to see she is a kind woman.”

BOOK: Wild Jasmine
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