by Raine Hughes
“What will you preach at your Christmas feast?” Jasmine was perched at the front of her chair, her interest genuine. “Noah has told me you give wonderful sermons and that they are what he has built his life on.”
Pastor Herman halted mid-chew at the implications in Jasmine’s statement. He seemed to consider his answer while he swallowed, then swung his gaze to Noah. “I never know myself until the time arrives. I’m sure to gain a few ideas over the next week or so.”
“I will be much privileged to hear about family and the values of your people,” Jasmine went on. “It will give me a better understanding of your way of life, to compare to my strict upbringing. My family includes both Christian and Islam peoples.”
Noah saw Herman D’Ark smile as if that allayed his misgivings. “I’m sure I can think of something you’d like.” With that, he finished his pie and got to his feet. “I thank you for the dessert. It was excellent, as my wife already declared. Martha and I look forward to having you at our table.”
Noah scrambled to his feet, pleased at the sentiment extended by his father. Neither of his parents had enjoyed Carol’s sarcasm and constant criticism. As Noah held his father’s coat for him, Jasmine handed over his fur hat and scarf, smiling in that naturally sweet and innocent way of hers. She gave a little bow of respect before their guest stepped into the porch. Noah followed him into the entryway, closing the inside door behind himself for privacy, not sure what his father might have to say yet.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a full veil or something to go with that outfit she’s wearing?” Herman D’Ark asked, halting in the open outside doorway.
“Jasmine happens to come from a place where that is not always the case. Personally, I’m glad she isn’t hampered by having to wear a facial covering.”
“She isn’t concerned about other coverings, either, is she?”
Noah chose to smile without saying anything. He suspected Herman D’Ark, his astute preacher-father, knew his feelings for Jasmine. If Noah wasn’t certain he could contain himself, what must his father suppose?
With a last speculative look, Herman D’Ark bid him goodbye. Noah leaned on the doorjamb and watched him drive away. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so drained. The cold air revived him so he was able to make a casual return to the kitchen.
“You handled Dad very well. I think he respects you now that he’s met you, even if he did think you’re wearing a crazy get-up—for this climate, that is,” he rushed on to qualify the comment. After all, he’d thought the same at first.
Jasmine raised her eyebrows at his opening statement. “I told him you liked it—my crazy get-up—that is. I told him you liked it very, very much.”
* * *
Noah winced at that. “Very, very much?”
She tossed her hair saucily and stepped closer. She heard his breath catch. “I am not correct?”
Indecision flickered across his features but he reached out and skimmed his fingers along her bare ribs, just like she had been fantasizing about since he had held her in his hands while they danced in the heat of the flames. His touch was so light, his fingers so hot, that they blazed a path over her quivering flesh.
When a shiver of delight coursed through her he said in a wistful voice, “Sometimes I half wish I wasn’t such a fine, upstanding gentleman of such high moral standard.”
Jasmine leaned closer and pitched her voice to a sultry level. “It leads to such increased sense of imagination, mental awareness, and…”
Noah laughed outright and pulled her tight against his hard body. “And?”
She batted her eyelids playfully. It was all the invitation he needed. He slanted his mouth across hers, apparently having lost his reservations now that his father’s visit was over. Sometimes the man had a low threshold for seduction. Now that she had the chance, she certainly meant to take advantage of it.
Jasmine accommodated his quest to hold her close by molding herself against him. Heat built inside until she fairly sizzled. She was amazed that he could do this to her with so little effort. She parted her teeth and he dived in to plunder her depths. His hand edged upwards until he cupped a breast through her bustier, his thumb irritating the nipple into blossoming under his assault.
When she bucked against him, he groaned and abruptly released her, to look upward and blow out a breath before speaking. “I wonder what intervention our gods might be pondering.”
Kissing was totally natural so how could they be bad? “More please, Noah.” The quiver in her body matched the one in her unashamed plea. Jasmine pulled his head down and boldly covered his mouth with her own. He tasted of blueberries and vanilla as she took her time at exploring his sweetness. His teeth were even and smooth under her probing tongue, his lips pliant, full and firm on her mouth.
Jasmine whimpered when he slowly pulled away, as if he was more reluctant to release her this time. She did not want to relinquish his delightfully sensual mouth either, but she supposed she must if they were to avoid another punishment from above.
Through half-closed eyes, she saw that his gaze was still focused on her mouth, his eyes blazing like an inferno, his hunger for her lips unconcealed. Then his eyes went big, as if some sort of revelation had just struck him.
* * *
Noah blinked as it hit him: he was in love with Jasmine. The realization was like a punch to his gut and if he hadn’t already run out of air, it would have whooshed out of him.
He had no control once his lips settled on Jasmine’s. It was unbelievable that he, a mere mortal, could pleasure a princess. Jasmine’s supernatural persona prompted a super desperate response in him. Was this what people in love truly felt? It was certainly different than his feelings for Carol had ever been.
Noah backed towards the porch, then out to climb into his outdoor clothing, overwhelmed with the revelations that he had never been in love with his wife but that he was fact in love with his houseguest. It was a moment before he realized what did not happen this time when he’d kissed Jasmine—no divine intervention. Why?
Ironically, he wanted to laugh with relief. His uncontained passions for Jasmine proved there were more feelings inside of him than he’d once thought. Wow!
But he was in trouble if he was going to continue doing the right thing! Especially if the gods weren’t holding up their end of things!
* * *
It was later that same day that an opportunity to explore the romance presented itself again. Something as simple as watching television provided it. Jasmine was fascinated with all the Christmas programs, happily singing carols along with the entertainers, laughing at the comedies, and excitedly bouncing on the sofa beside him.
Noah was delighted with Jasmine’s uninhibited expressions of delight. His focus was more on her than the antics happening on the television screen. He loved her laugh. He loved the way her eyes sparkled as she turned to him. He loved the way she brazenly scooted closer to him on the sofa when she caught his amused study.
With unabashed enthusiasm, she tilted her mouth up to him, just as the actresses did on television, and for once he took what was offered without hesitation. He resolved to concentrate on the here and now. He pressed the off switch on the TV remote.
Tonight Jasmine tasted honey-sweet, and spicy too, just like the tea they had just finished. She moaned into his mouth and he deepened the kiss, his hands starting an exploration of their own, seeking other sweet secrets of her body. She felt so good under his touch, so warm and willing. His body didn’t feel nearly so soft. In fact, a certain part of his anatomy was hard with desire.
Strains of the song, Jingle Bells, echoed in his ears. Maybe he should take Jasmine dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh. Of course, she’d have to conjure the horse and trappings up. Jasmine would love doing that.
The carol changed, and he heard Silver Bells. The song was loud and clear. He glanced at the dark television set. Were the living fabric walls emitting the music? There was an unnatura
l light illuminating the room. Was the fabric capable of glowing as well? Simultaneously, another sound penetrated his passion, that of a door opening and bouncing lightly away from the doorstop, the doorstop in his porch, by the sound of it.
“Someone’s here,” he rasped, shocked that he hadn’t noticed. He stumbled towards the porch and saw in passing that a set of vehicle headlights shone at him through the kitchen window. It looked like a school bus. Somehow he had missed seeing the vehicle come up the driveway, occupied as he had been with kissing his houseguest. That explained the light on the living room wall. It hadn’t been magical at all. “Carolers,” he exclaimed for Jasmine’s benefit, realizing that the visitors had probably had a good eyeful.
He was barely in time to reach the inside porch door before it flew open. “Merry Christmas!” echoed repeatedly as the singers trooped inside and took their cue from the man in charge. They began singing I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, leaving Noah to speculate that they had indeed seen more than they should have. The group was led by a grinning Pastor Herman. He would have driven the bus as he always did for the carolers.
Noah suppressed a moan as he swung his gaze over to his mother who winked at him. Had everyone seen them necking? A quick glance over the group showed only singers intent on their entertainment. Possibly their focus had stayed within the festive confines of the bus.
Jasmine joined him, unconsciously bouncing with delight beside him, clapping as their unannounced guests moved from one carol to another.
The final song drew to a close, then the group began trooping out, leaving behind his parents. His mother spoke first. “Herman told me all about the new Christmas lights and scenes you have up this year and I just had to see for myself.”
“I figured the others should see, too,” his father added, his voice ripe with amusement. “I’m glad we dropped in.”
Noah’s gaze darted to his father who regarded him with a grin and an upraised brow, plainly telling Noah what he had witnessed. Noah felt impelled to issue a casual invitation. “Feel free to bring another group around for a look any time, Dad.”
“Any time?” There was renewed amusement in the question. “Everything is so much clearer lit up in the dark.” With an all out grin and a quirking of his eyebrows, Herman D’Ark turned and took his wife’s arm to escort her out to the waiting bus.
With a groan, Noah bopped his head repeatedly against the doorjamb. An insistent tapping on his shoulder drew his attention. He knew the question.
“We definitely have to close the curtains at night, Jasmine,” he said, and waved his hand after the departing bus, the tail lights blazing red in the darkness. “If we can see them, they can see us.” They’d been caught necking like a couple of teenagers. Caught by his parents, no less!
Jasmine caught on. Unlike his reaction, an impish grin on her face led into a giggle. It was contagious. Just as his mother always said, it sometimes felt good to laugh at himself. It was even better to have someone to laugh with him.
By the next day word of the extraordinary Christmas light display brought yet another busload of gawkers to his farm. “God has done it again—provided the perfect solution to help me resist you,” Noah declared with a grin as they once more watched from the kitchen window. “We have only ourselves to blame for the new scenes that bring these people out, but I’m not sorry. I haven’t had this much fun with Christmas since I was a kid, and I owe it to you, Jasmine.” He leaned towards her.
“The window,” she reminded him that they were framed in the backlighting.
He groaned and they went back to people watching, chuckling over reactions to displays that appeared animated at times. Each time Noah glanced at her to see if she was occasionally indulging in creating the extra thrill, she looked back at him with a well-practiced, innocent smile. He wasn’t fooled.
Chapter 12
Finally Christmas morning came. Jasmine could barely contain herself.
“The morning is bright and clear and you look dazzling!” Noah said as he entered the kitchen.
“You tease. I do not believe.” Still in her fleecy nightwear, her hair in disarray, she raised her arms preparatory to setting her hair into place, magically, of course.
“Wait!” He held a small wrapped parcel out, the emerald-green bow bigger than the package. “It’s for your hair. Merry Christmas, Princess.”
Jasmine bounced excitedly and tore off the bindings and wrappings with abandon, revealing a set of tortoise shell combs. “Oh! They are so beautiful, Noah.” She fingered the pearl inlay. This was perhaps the most cherished gift she had ever received.
“I thought maybe you’d like to wear your hair down, with the combs to hold it back. Wait,” he ordered once more as she raised her arms. “Just wait, please.” He hurried into the bathroom and returned with a hairbrush.
Jasmine was astonished at the implication when he twirled his hand. Never had a man expressed a desire to work with her hair. He began brushing with long, flowing strokes as he moved slowly around her, his free hand following in the pathway of the brush. She could not remember that anyone had brushed her hair since she was a child. She rarely did that herself!
“One hundred strokes every night makes it shiny,” he said. “When I was growing up, I used to do Mom’s whenever Dad was away from home.”
By that, she assumed that Herman D’Ark normally handled the chore himself. That was a novel idea. Somehow she could not picture her father taking the time to brush hair or otherwise assist her mother with her toiletry, nor could she fathom him doing so for any one of his other wives, either.
“Carol had long hair when we met, styled just so. Never wanted it mussed up for any reason.” His voice held a note of disappointment. “When she got it cut, it was still every hair in place, at all times.”
By that did he mean that his wife hadn’t allowed him to touch her hair, not even during passionate interludes? With the attention Noah was bestowing on Jasmine’s tresses, she guessed his wife’s withholding that pleasure was like denying a child a lollipop.
“Sometimes I’d French braid Mom’s hair. I could do yours, Jasmine, if you’d like.”
Jasmine was too surprised to answer, but he did not seem to expect her to for he rambled on, gently pulling the brush through her hair from crown to tip while his other hand followed the pathway of the brush. Having someone else brush her hair turned out to be unexpectedly erotic. For some reason, she could not seem to draw a steady breath. Did she hear his breath catch as hers periodically did? Noah probably had not considered the heightened senses when he offered.
“It’s incredibly soft and silky, Jasmine, luxuriant.” He switched to lifting the heavy tresses and letting the strands fall free several times before taking up his brush once more as he worked his way around to the front, where he gave careful attention to his efforts. Noah raised her chin with a finger, looking critically at the way her hair flowed about her shoulders. Then he took the combs from her hands and placed each one with great deliberation at her temples. Finally, his gaze met hers and he smiled at his handiwork. Even his eyes smiled and she hoped hers did, too.
“Beautiful. You’re so incredibly beautiful, Jasmine.” Noah planted a kiss on her upturned nose then his gaze settled on her mouth. She lifted her mouth to him, anticipation sending a flutter into her stomach much like holding a bevy of butterflies inside her.
A squalling from the porch caused them both to jump back.
* * *
Noah groaned at the interruption, but offered her a wry grin. “I nearly forgot I have something else for you. Stay where you are.” He stepped into the porch and returned momentarily with a fluffy white kitten in his hands. “She’s Persian, a purebred. I thought you’d like her when I saw her over at the Doer farm.”
“Oh!” Jasmine eagerly accepted the soft ball of fluff. “She is so soft! Yes, oh yes, Noah. She is adorable.” She stroked the soft fur and the kitten broke into a purr. “I love these, too,” she said, and briefly touched a co
mb. The look in Noah’s eyes said he liked what he saw. She had to confirm that for herself. “I have to see.” She hurried to the bathroom mirror.
Noah came up and stood behind her, her gaze immediately drawn to him. His eyes shone with pleasure and tenderness, his face relaxed with more than a touch of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He began stroking her hair much like she was stroking the little cat purring under her chin, slowly, savoring the feel of the fur under her fingers. He did it without taking his eyes off her in the mirror. Did he even know he was petting her? The ancient and rare Egyptian emerald that was the center stone in her necklace shone more brilliantly each day. Was it so bright because it portrayed her love for this man, or because of Noah’s obvious love for her? Did the stone portray they would be true life mates?
Jasmine turned her mind to a book her mother had presented her with pertaining to expectations in marriage. There was a section on conception between royal Djinn that stated it would more likely occur if they were deemed true life mates, after much parental consideration and guidance. A union was denied or sealed by the King.
Djinn royalty could expect low fertility regardless of any special connection between the couples. Royal males took multiple wives to counter the lack. When royal unions did not result in a child, the King would declare that the arrangement of marriage had probably not been contemplated thoroughly enough by the parents. Of course the King’s reasoning absolved the male part in the equation. The Djinn never considered love in regards to a good union, good meaning advantageous and prestigious to all parties, not just the couple.
Such antiquated practices meant that it was almost unheard of for Djinni children of age to choose their own life partner. The book, written by a female ancestor, repeatedly suggested that conception in a love union was much higher than in those of arranged marriages.