The Candle Princess

by Raine Hughes

  “Oh!” His heart plummeted. Now what? He didn’t want to be responsible for Jasmine losing her powers. She certainly would never retain her status in Djinn society and return to her homeland if she lost the use of her magic. Hadn’t he already promised himself that he would help her? “You really can’t cook?”

  Jasmine shook her head, sending her hair swinging. “I am sorry, Noah, but I had to use my powers to open this can of food. I do not know what this can opener is that you speak of.”

  Noah raked his fingers through the hair falling over his eyes and came to a decision. “Then I’ll just have to teach you, you know, to gain that experience with the mortals that you told me you needed.” Her surprised expression told him that experiencing mortals wasn’t the same as she perceived. Her look turned to dubious and that was so much like his inner thoughts. Was he the proper one to teach a Djinni princess about mortals? He wasn’t exactly a good example of what being a typical mortal was all about.

  Or was he? If she was expecting that dull and unimaginative being her father spoke of, maybe he was. Realization of his gloomy state kick-started his resolve; there was no reason why he couldn’t change. He just had to shake off the depression that seemed to have settled in him over the last few months. He had let that happen, passively sinking deeper and deeper into lethargy.

  Maybe he needed someone like Jasmine in his life, to shake him up. She needed help to show she was capable of serving a mortal. Maybe God had taken a hand in this. He had to believe that there was a heavenly purpose to their coming together.

  “What would be difficult magic for a Djinni?” he asked, pleased to see the darkness lift from her eyes.

  “I could make for you a tropical paradise in all this cold snow.” Her uplifted arms encompassed the subjects of her words. “Perhaps. I am not certain.” She lowered her arms as her confidence dipped once more, seemingly to an all-time low. Her aura was fading. He didn’t like that he could see it nor be responsible for ensuring that it would brighten.

  What am I getting into? More than I can handle?

  Noah crooked a brow, hoping he looked like he was giving her suggestion great consideration. “That would be a bit too obvious to my neighbors. I don’t think it would be a good idea that they know you’re here. I mean it’s okay for them to know you’re here,” he rushed to explain, “but they shouldn’t find out you are a Djinni. Folks tend to be nervous around strange people.” He groaned and hastened to say, “Not that you’re strange, you’re—”

  “—different than your people?” she finished for him when he stumbled to a stop, the only way to stem his foot-in-mouth words. A smile lurked about the corners of her mouth.

  “Exotic would be more descriptive,” he said, relieved that she didn’t take offense easily and that her spirits seemed to be lifting, too, along with her aura. It was really quite easy to lighten her outlook. “Anyway, I think you’ll find mastering the way we do things to be challenging enough.” When she looked disappointed he added, “Until I need something more worthy of your talents, that is.”

  “I’cn try to do many of these things your way.” Her speech was changing, he realized. She was picking up on his way of speaking and using contractions, combining a few words incorrectly, but she was trying. He would have to be content with Jasmine using a combination of mortal and supernatural means to accomplish her tasks. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to witness all the unnerving magical events and mishaps.

  Keeping a Djinni occupied with simple but challenging tasks might be more difficult than he imagined.

  There was a mind-boggling contradiction.

  Chapter 4

  Noah came in from doing the outside chores to discover Jasmine sewing, or at least it was her version of the task. He stared in fascination as the sewing machine whirred along without assistance. Warm pantaloons made of some sort of animal skin were taking shape. The tanned outside of the hide was incredibly soft, even to his calloused fingers. Inside, where it would lie against her skin, the garment was a mass of tiny black curls. He determined that it was lambskin, only softer than any lamb he’d ever encountered. A fleecy black top similar to Jasmine’s red silk one was already completed and lying on the table.

  He grinned to himself. Even though she would be much warmer than when she was dressed in filmy chiffons, this outfit would leave her with a bare midriff, with not even tassels to fill in the space. He was growing fond of the costume but he wouldn’t want a witness.

  With a start, he realized a car was pulling to a standstill in front of the house. He’d only just cleared the driveway. It took him a moment to realize it was his mother’s.

  “Oh, Lord, not now!”

  Behind him, he heard Jasmine enter the room. “Does the sewing upset you?”

  It took a few seconds for his brain to kick into gear. “No!” He grasped her upper arm. “But, I think now would be a good time to use your powers on a challenging request. Can you disappear? I mean, just for a short time. It’s just that my mother…”

  He watched Martha D’Ark get out of the car and pull out the usual casseroles and desserts for his freezer; other times she brought bread. She always cooked up a storm when the weather turned nasty. It gave her something to do besides worry about his father out braving the treacherous conditions as a transport driver, his other calling.

  “Oh, you mean the sewing machine,” Jasmine confirmed. “As you wish, Noah.”

  With a nod, the table was once more cleared.

  “No! I mean—” Noah stopped himself, horrified as he realized what he had intended. Besides, she couldn’t just disappear. She had no magic urn to hide in! Now he was truly mortified for persisting in thoughts of hiding his exotic houseguest. “I’d rather not have anyone see you dressed like you are,” he pleaded, hoping she would understand his predicament. “Can you change into something more appropriate. Now!”

  Noah spun around as the door opened.

  “Noah!” a cheery voice rang out an instant before the person appeared.

  “Mom! How nice to see you,” Noah exclaimed, his voice too enthusiastic. He hoped his smile didn’t look forced as he rushed towards her in an effort to give Jasmine enough time to effect her change behind the cover of his larger stature.

  “Hello, dear. I’ve brought you… Oh! You have company!”

  Noah closed his eyes for a despairing second, praying that Jasmine had understood his order.

  “Please enter.” Jasmine rushed forward to welcome their guest with a greeting that matched his. “You must be Noah’s ma-ma,” she said as a bag fell from the older woman’s hands. “Oops! I catch!” She giggled with her wild movements.

  Noah saw the startled expression on his mother’s face a second before he stared in mute surprise himself. Jasmine was dressed in a shimmering emerald creation that sheathed her body like a second skin. Her hair was piled high, a ruby red scarf trailing from the topknot to flow about her shoulders. It matched her heeled, exotically jeweled red sandals.

  His gaze took it all in within an instant. But, his brain remained sluggish. He registered the almost-indecent low neckline, the tiny waist his hands could probably span, and the slit not quite halfway up the side of her long gown. This was more revealing than her harem costume!

  He stifled a groan. While he’d asked her to change, he hadn’t indicated what he would like her to change into. Certainly not this mouthwatering, exotic outfit!

  Martha recovered and handed her other parcels to him. He barely managed to move in time to take them. He was so stunned with Jasmine’s appearance he hardly knew what he was doing. However, his mother met Jasmine’s happy smile and dancing eyes and must have decided she liked the unusually dressed woman gracing his kitchen because she said with genuine pleasure, “Call me Martha, dear.”

  Jasmine nodded, dipping in a little curtsey that spurred Noah’s awareness because she was barely able to move in the body-clinging gown, even with the slit that gave him a provocative glimpse of a firm calf and more. He recogniz
ed the dress style from the calendar on the wall of his bathroom.

  His eyes once more drank in the way every curve of her body was pronounced. Her creamy breasts crested above the low cut bodice, no doubt held in a gentle uplift by that amazing clear material she wore. Her satiny flesh rose and fell in a provocative manner that stole his breath.

  Speaking of breathtaking, he was in danger of passing out for lack of oxygen!

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us, son?”

  His brain tried to formulate an answer and his tongue tried to express it. “She’s Jasmine. She arrived awhile ago. Since her, ah, transportation has been tied up, ah, for a while, she will be staying with me, for a while.” He refrained from groaning at his lack of vocabulary and forced himself to stop talking. Would his mother chalk his ill-prepared story up to a distraction with Jasmine? Did he want her to?

  Noah never had female company, hadn’t dated since Carol left, and his mother definitely knew he wouldn’t casually bring a woman into his life.

  Feeling heat climb up his neck, Noah avoided her gaze in an effort to regain some calm. “Jasmine needed a place to stay, Mom. I moved upstairs. She’s a fabulous decorator. You should see what she’s done.”

  When both women fixed him with amused stares he lamely finished with, “Jasmine designs clothes, too. I only just saw this latest creation as you arrived.” Would that explain Jasmine’s unusual attire, totally out of place in his plain kitchen? Would Jasmine go along with the ruse? Would she understand?

  With one last perplexed look at him, Martha returned her gaze to Jasmine. “You made this yourself?” At Jasmine’s nod, she looked impressed. “And you’re an interior designer, too?”

  Jasmine’s laugh was musical and sincere. “I desire to make things bright and alive. This place I find dark on my soul, so I changed it, or at least I have begun.”

  “Oh, show me,” Martha said enthusiastically as she stepped out of her calf-high snow boots and handed her coat out to Noah who barely had a chance to put the casseroles and other goodies on the countertop, first. He stood rooted to the spot as the women swept by.

  Oh, God, how am I going to explain this? He hastily threw the coat over the nearest chair, and sprang after them. Behind him he heard the chair go over with a muffled crash.

  His mother was standing in much the same place he had not that long ago and looked about in awe at the new décor. She slowly turned in a circle to take it all in. He could see that she was just as stunned at the transformation as he’d been, although the ever-increasing curve to her lips indicated she liked every bit of it. Thankfully she hadn’t touched the exotic walls so they remained stationary. Their humming wasn’t intrusive so she either didn’t notice or she attributed it to music playing in the background.

  “You’ve certainly managed to accomplish a great deal in a short time,” Martha said as she continued to survey the room. She met Jasmine’s anxious gaze and grinned before turning to Noah to add, “It’s certainly a long overdue improvement. I like it.”

  Jasmine practically bubbled with pleasure, obviously excited over the compliment, indicating to Noah that she rarely received such praise.

  “Would you like to see the bougrat al-noum, the bedroom?” she asked.

  That certainly gave him a moment of excitement—of the wrong kind! Noah waved his hands frantically behind his mother’s back.

  “Noah has not yet seen what I have done to his, now, my room.”

  Noah’s heart plummeted at her misinterpretation of his ploy to avoid what was sure to invite questions, although in all probability it would have been too late anyway.

  “I am sure it will please you, too, Noah. Please, enter.” Jasmine drew the curtain back and allowed Martha to precede her with Noah right on her heels.

  “This is absolutely amazing!” Martha’s breathy words coincided with her transfixed perusal of the room.

  Noah nearly tripped on the thick, deep-pile wall-to-wall rug. From what he could see it was pure sheepskins. The walls were attired in that same fabric he’d already examined in the other room, though without design. Was it alive like the living room walls? The simple ivory color that constantly changed from one shade to another under the flickering of a dozen or so strategically placed candles, suggested it was.

  He cringed at the potential danger all around them. While Jasmine had a thing for candles and claimed to be proficient with their use, the open flames made him nauseous.

  He wasn’t prepared for the scene that met him as he raised his eyes either, the first thing being the expansive bed sheltered under a high canopy of plain but intimate see-through silks draped in wave after wave of pale color. The wooden bedposts were intricately carved. The huge bed itself was piled high with bright pillows and thick comforters. Jasmine sat in the midst of it all as his mother exclaimed over the satin pillowcases and crushed velvet comforter. Jasmine looked exotic and all too desirable. Noah had to drag his gaze away from her if he was to keep his manly response from giving him away.

  No problem as his stare fell on the statue that had once graced the living room. The stone woman stared at him accusingly.

  Guiltily, he hauled his gaze away and discovered a chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, or at least it looked like a high ceiling. It was amazing how optical illusion worked. He stared in awe at the reflection of the candlelight ensconced on the walls that twinkled down at him in a brilliance heightened by the multitude of pyramid cut glass. The thing must weigh as much as a truck!

  Thoughts on self-preservation of a different kind assailed him as he stepped backward and jumped forward once more as he connected with his mother’s body.

  “She came well-prepared to make her stay comfortable, I see,” Martha said into his ear. There was no speculation in her tone. Instead she sounded confident of her observation.

  A quick, “Yes!” was all he managed to say. He’d nearly knocked her down in his haste to get out from under the heavy chandelier. “I think we’re ready for a little refreshment. I know I certainly am parched.”

  He made show of tugging at his throat then took his mother’s elbow and firmly steered her back to the kitchen, faltering as he saw that the decorative set of three candles that Jasmine had settled there, were now lit. Surely, his mother would realize they hadn’t been burning before, unless she’d been as distracted as he’d been, albeit for different reasons.

  “Mom, you’ll have to try some of Jasmine’s erotic mango-pear pie. Exotic, I mean exotic! I think you’ll agree it’s fabulous.” He righted the downed chair and practically forced her into it. Then he quickly got out a plate and cutlery, along with what was left of a pie cooling in the refrigerator. He plunked a wide wedge of it in front of his mother and sat down opposite, only to leap up again as Jasmine entered the room. He’d left her behind in his haste to remove his mother from further speculation.

  Jasmine’s eyes were more green than brown today, taking on the color of her shimmering gown. He was reminded of a cat, a creature that could twine its way into one’s heart.

  It was a long moment before he dragged his gaze away, to find himself winded. He didn’t dare speak, fearing his voice would squeak or crack or completely fail him. His mouth felt as dry as an Arabian desert.

  Martha glanced back and forth between them before taking a bite of the pie. An appreciative moan accompanied her taste sensation. She savored the mouthful like a true food lover, closing her eyes, turning her face upward slightly to the heavens, slowly circling her mouth with her tongue to be certain no flavor had escaped. “This is absolutely delicious, dear, and definitely exotic on the taste buds.”

  Noah’s mouth watered, his eyes feasting on his delectable houseguest as his mother’s words swirled through his brain without gaining much attention.

  “Erotic-exotic mango-pear did you say?”

  This time Martha’s words cut into his illicit thoughts. He jerked his gaze away and watched her take another forkful of the pie. He remained silent and concentrated on c
atching his breath.

  In-out. In-out. No! Slow…ly in and slow…ly out.

  “Guess I won’t have to bring any baking over to you now that you have such a pretty and talented houseguest.”

  Her tone sounded sad and perhaps gleeful, too. The two don’t go together. Or do they? It was the thoughtful, slightly amused look she imparted on him that had him worried.

  “Jasmine is just learning to cook,” Noah began. His eyes were drawn to the pie as his mother’s gaze went there, too. “There are a few of our traditional foods she’s already mastered, but, ah, we’ll appreciate your contribution immensely.” He fixed her with a wide smile, hoping she would lose the dejection in her voice at being done out of something she loved to do.

  His mother had borne the brunt of Carol’s sharp tongue. Carol had been insufferably health conscious and minced no words in telling her how bad all the baked goods were. The only time he’d enjoyed the treats his mother created was when he’d visited her alone. He realized just how uncomfortable Carol had made his parents feel. Now he knew what it was like! Why had he ever married Carol? Love is blind, the answer zinged into his head, just as quickly he changed it to lust is blind. Carol’s shallow beauty had called to him and he had succumbed, fool that he’d been, only to get burned, or rather given the cold shoulder.

  “May I try one of these?” Jasmine held the parcel of multi-shaped cookies that had nearly fallen to the floor earlier. “While pie is my specialty, I have never made one of these. They look so pretty. What is it you call them?”

  Noah hoped he hadn’t hurt Jasmine’s feelings as he tried to appease his mother. She didn’t look upset at having her lack of culinary skills exposed. She was still smiling and looked genuinely interested in eating one of the simple cookies.

  “Those are shortbread cookies, with sprinkles on them. Cookies are my specialty. Come sit with us.” Martha turned to Noah. “A cup of tea would go nicely with this, son.”