by Raine Hughes
He gave a strangled laugh. “You’re agreeing that I’m a fool? Of course you’re right!”
“No, this I did not… it is not your fault. It is I who must plead forgiveness for my imprudence.”
“Stop!”
Jasmine’s breath caught at the sharp command. She tried to pull her hand away from his arm but he covered it with his larger hand.
“We both acted without thinking and that is not a crime. Stupid yes, criminal no.” His voice had returned to its normal softly spoken cadence.
He turned to look at her before reaching across to gently cup her face in his big hands. “They all liked you, Jasmine, and that I think is the most important thing. They accepted you, just the way you are.” This time his voice was husky.
For a moment it was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he spoke as if being liked was some sort of miracle. Then she remembered Carol, his ex-wife. If Noah had found her unbearable, perhaps his friends and family had also found her to be so.
Then he covered her mouth with his and she gave up trying to figure it out.
His embrace was hot and demanding yet not as aggressive as the kiss under the mistletoe at Helga’s that had left her stunned. All thought vanished as his tongue slipped in almost shyly, gradually becoming bolder, but not aggressive, before he gentled the embrace once more.
She moaned with the explicit pleasure of it. Somehow she must make him understand that he had every right to think of her as his, to declare his love and claim her. Theirs was not the typical Master/Djinni relationship. No, theirs was much more amenable and she wanted it to progress. She wanted Noah to belong to her, too!
Finally he lifted his mouth from hers, but only a fraction. “But not near as much as I do,” he stated, completing the statement he had started seemingly ages ago, about liking her.
“I like you, too, more than any master I have ever known,” she declared, ready to declare her love. His eyes sprang wide. Abruptly he disengaged and leaped out of the truck. It was a moment before Jasmine realized the implication of what she had said; she had used improper words and they indicated something else entirely.
Noah marched around to her door and hauled it open, giving her only time to say, “I have bungled my words—”
“We’re both tired,” he cut her off as he handed her from the truck cab with a firm grip, ever the gentleman even under the most trying circumstances. He marched her along to the house and inside at a breathtaking pace then bounded straight up to his bed.
Why did she persist in saying or doing the wrong thing? It was not only her magic that was flawed.
* * *
As if Mother Nature had been waiting for Noah to move his ferry-come-ark, spring came early. Jasmine greeted the warmth enthusiastically. Every day she went out to the roadside to scan the shrinking snowdrifts. She found bottles and cans, ruined tires, and even an old shoe. Chunks of wood floated and bobbed along on running melt water, but there was no sign of her special green urn or the stopper. That was depressing.
So was Noah’s continued withdrawal. He was distant but polite and while he obviously knew of her repeated trips down to the road, he never offered comment one way or the other. She looked forward to the day when she would find her glass home, but it was not so that she could return to Mt. Kaf.
Without Noah’s love, she had no reason to tarry since there was no service to fulfill. She had never been confined to service to Noah. She could not ascertain if he was truly unmindful of whether she could, or would, return home as soon as she had the means to do so. He had become withdrawn.
Nevertheless, she was ecstatic when she discovered the green glass urn half-submerged on the bank of the ditch one morning. Rushing to the house, she lost no time in beginning the task of housekeeping, making use of the outside clothesline to dry things after she carefully shook them out of their miniature size and examined them for ruin. Water had gotten inside with the brass stopper missing. It should be nearby since it would not float away, but with the water-filled ditches, it could be awhile before being revealed.
To anyone looking at the tarnished oval piece of brass, it would be uninteresting and lacking in value. Aside from being a motorized device, that evidence hidden from prying eyes, the stopper was also what enticed mortals to polish it once they had picked up the unusually shaped glass urn. In the process of bringing a shine to the brass, humans invariably pulled the stopper out, freeing the Djinni within.
None of the proper sequence of events had taken place, all because of her impatience. Nothing had turned out as expected. Initially everything had turned out so much better. How had things changed so drastically? Better off she would have been, if she had waited for a mortal to find her, to press her into service, to give her reason to maintain a poor opinion of yet another demanding master.
Truly miserable with the situation as it was, Jasmine left the urn on the kitchen table to dry out, along with some of the minute-sized furnishings from within it.
* * *
Noah walked down to the rural mailbox to pick up his various letters and papers. As he slammed the metal door shut, an object caught his eye and he bent to retrieve it. Once the grass began growing, it wouldn’t do to run the lawnmower over a hard object and turn it into a dangerous missile.
He lifted the object up for inspection. Instinctively he knew that the glob of metal was the brass stopper from Jasmine’s magic urn. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected with its almost total lack of luster. It wasn’t anything that would gain attention. In fact, it was only a trick of the light that had allowed it to momentarily glint and draw his gaze.
Jasmine would need it when she found her magic bottle—urn—he reminded himself of the proper term. Now he was actually curious as to what it would look like given the uninteresting stopper that went with it. Would it be nondescript, too? An unusual shape or coloration? Something to draw a mortal’s attention, to entice the person to open it and subsequently release the Djinni within? Once Jasmine had both the urn and the stopper she could actually leave.
His heart lurched in his chest. His attitude and his actions since the night she’d admitted to liking him were fueled by fear that she just might want to take her leave. He didn’t want her to go! But aggressive action or talk was no way to influence her. To stay or to go must be her choice. His role was to convince her that he couldn’t bear for her to leave him. Wrong! He needed to contrive the opposite—that she couldn’t bear to leave.
Noah pocketed the hunk of metal and strode up the long laneway to the house, mail in hand. Impulsively he changed his route and headed towards the barn with argument to himself that he was going there to collect the eggs from the three hens that had become the rooster’s small flock. They were a pretty bunch, the rooster’s feathers being shiny brown, black, red and iridescent green, while his mates were breeds each sporting a different color—one black, one brown, and one white, the white one having feathered feet and a feathered crest on her head for enhancement.
Reaching under the black chicken that was currently sitting on the shared nest, he discovered there was only one egg in it. He was too early for collecting eggs and he had known that in the back of his mind. With deliberation, Noah replaced the egg with the brass stopper and watched the black hen’s startled look. It must be cold. The situation would have been humorous if he’d been in a laughing mood.
He wasn’t. He was planning to deceive the woman he loved and while that part sickened him, he desperately needed more time to make up for his unpleasant demeanor, time to formulate a plan because he just couldn’t bear for her to leave yet.
Refusing to give more thought to the ramifications of what he was doing, Noah headed for the house and his unusual houseguest. His spirits lifted because now he was in control of when she could leave. He firmly shoved guilt to the back of his mind and whistled a tune as he walked.
* * *
Jasmine looked up as Noah entered the house, a rare smile on his lips to replace the jauntily whistled tune sh
e had just heard. He actually smiled at her, and it did not fade as his gaze settled on the table holding her urn and the tiny furnishings.
“You found it!” He meandered close and lifted the glass urn to eye level. “It’s an unusual shape. Seven sided? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Yes,” Jasmine agreed, watching him tilt it toward the sunlight and stare in wonder at the changing colors. Mortals were always fascinated by the unusual urn, both its color and its shape.
Running his fingers over it one last time, he gently placed it back onto the table. He eyed her tiny furniture before finally looking up. “Was there much damage?”
He did not seem dispirited by her find, greatly surprising her. “There has only been a little water damage. It appears my favorite rug suffered most. It is very susceptible to water damage so that the material began to disintegrate immediately. It will take painstaking repairs that cannot be hurried.”
He cocked an eyebrow to signal that she continue explaining.
“On this rug, I cannot use magic to mend it. It is old and the weaving is intricate. I must devote my every attention to it while I am mending. It is exhaustive work and I cannot manage many minutes at one time. However,” she rushed on, “I will not deplete the time planned for working on the ark, Noah, to get it ready in time for our first sailing.”
She heard his breath catch. Had he picked up on her wording? Words should dispel any thoughts of her wanting to leave before that.
Noah gave a little sound of satisfaction as he picked up the urn once more and gave it a studied second examination. “Certainly, take all the time you want.” His gaze connected then skittered away, but his words sounded as casual as those she’d just spoken. “I was a bit afraid you might be prompted to leave after my unthinkable behavior at the costume party, especially since you’ll be back in favor with your efforts in getting the ferry here.”
Ah, so he really did not want her to leave. Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief herself before tossing her head and declaring, “I will not return to Mt. Kaf until I have experienced everything mortal. I will be true to my own desires as you have allowed me to.”
He cocked his head at the implication of her statement. “So, you’re saying that while there’s no reason why you can’t return home now that you can be reinstated, you don’t actually have to? Or want to? I thought that your father would immediately expect you to return so that he could, ahem, choose a mate for you.”
“As you have in the past allowed me, Noah, I am free to do as I wish. I do not wish to leave this place or you.” There. She’d declared her reasons.
“Oh.”
The less-than-excited word nearly dashed her hopes. She was bungling this but it was too important to let it ride. Jasmine reached up and touched the pursed, straight line of his lips. “You are not my master, by your admission. I am not bound by the rules that govern the lives of a Djinni to a master. You are special. With you I would stay and make love. Yes?”
* * *
Air whooshed from Noah’s lungs. His brows shot up. “We can’t do that!”
“Because I am a princess? Or a Djinni?” Her voice dropped as she asked, “Or because you do not want to make love with me.”
“You know I want you, Jasmine, even if… even when I was only just another master to you.”
She shook her head adamantly. “You have never been just another master. I bungled my words and you did not wait…”
“Then, God help me, I admit that I want you like that.” He hadn’t meant to voice the thought but it came out and he wasn’t sorry at the admission. Noah found himself wondering yet again if in loving Jasmine he’d discover she wasn’t real flesh and blood.
And he was terrified.
Guilt assailed him at discovering his first thought was not a moral one, but rather, regarded mythology. His values were changing, and all over a woman who was over three hundred years old!
“A wish for you, Noah?”
The truth was he fervently wished Jasmine wasn’t a Djinni! Fear gnawed at his insides. Fear that he’d found the woman of his dreams and he couldn’t really keep her. Fear told him that he’d never find another like her.
Fear had a very bitter taste. He never thought love would be something he’d be afraid of, not that deep down, gut-wrenching fear. But fear never went away unless you confronted it.
“No, not a wish, Jasmine.” The beginnings of her eager smile faded. “I just don’t know how to handle our situation. Actually, I haven’t known how to handle things at all. I don’t want you to leave and I can’t think of how to ask without commanding you, like a master.” He didn’t want a request to be interpreted as a wish, for that would immediately oblige Jasmine to stay, possibly against her desires. “I think you already know I’ve dreamed of making love with you.”
When her eyes and entire face lit up he licked winter-dry lips and croaked out, “I’ve been thinking of you as a fantasy. That can’t be true. I’ve touched you. I’ve kissed you. I’ve caressed you. You’re definitely here. You’re very real to me, Jasmine, and I do want you.” He leveled a steady gaze on her so that she would know it was the truth even as he took a step back, physically as well as mentally.
“Aside from the moral issue—which I’ve disregarded previously, hence our gods had to intervene—in all honesty it would hurt too much to have you, fully have you in that way, Jasmine, then let you go. I’m scared spitless. I’m only human, after all.” Well, that certainly put their respective backgrounds into place, regardless of the sexual attraction!
Abruptly he turned to stare out at the darkening skies. A spring storm was approaching fast, the clouds heavy and dismal, just like the sudden new aspect of this situation. He’d finally admitted to wanting her, only to have to continue denying himself.
“You are right.” Jasmine’s resigned sigh was loud behind him. “I know making love with you will bring joy and much pleasure. Djinn royalty is not known for passionate bindings. Marriage is based on convenience and status.” Her voice took on a dispirited tone. “After experiencing your thrill and your compassion, as well as your kisses, I know if we make love there will never be anyone to equal you. Perhaps not even if we do not make love.”
She was thinking along the same lines as he was, Noah realized as he glanced sideways at her. She wondered the same things, torturing herself with fantasies. Still, it would be better to keep the dreams than experience the reality and thus know for sure what was missing from future relationships. Wasn’t it?
Or was it just his fear of not being able to satisfy her that was the basis for his terror? He hadn’t been good enough for Carol. Or considering her personality, maybe no one would have been good enough for his ex-wife so he shouldn’t put himself down on that score.
“I wish I was not a Djinni.”
Noah snorted at Jasmine’s wistful words but didn’t voice the exact same thought he’d recently had. “I guess everyone wishes they were someone else at times. Right now I’d favor being a Djinn. Then we’d have no problem, would we?”
“We might both be uninteresting and not a second look would we give to each other!”
Knowing they were on the same wavelength made it harder to resist temptation. “That said, we better refocus our attentions elsewhere. If you plan to stay for a while yet, there’s no use worrying ourselves over what ifs. We have an ark to get ready.”
“Aye, Captain!” Jasmine jumped to attention and gave him a mock salute, along with a saucy look in keeping with the return of good moods. “I have time to convince you that I have set my boat on you.”
He laughed when he realized her intent. “I think you mean sails. You’ve set your sails on me, to convince me…”
The look in her eyes told him he should take a quick exit, but like a prisoner awaiting execution, he lacked the will to do it. He didn’t have long to discover what kind of convincing she had in mind.
She began a slow sway, palms together, hands raised over her head. She didn’t move
closer, but kept swaying in the most evocative of movements. Erotic dance! The thought sprang to mind, much as it had another time. She swayed to the sound of muted flute music.
Her moves were hypnotic. He stared wide-eyed and breathless, discovered he was slack-jawed, too, as she continued the slow undulation. With effort he pulled his jaw back up and swallowed. That’s when he realized that she had moved closer. Much closer. He hadn’t even been aware of it.
Her unique scent filled his lungs and his body, sending strong impulses to his nether regions. He reached out, but she was just beyond his fingertips. Repeatedly, he reached for her, only to discover that she remained seductively out of range. Finally he stepped forward to capture her.
“Got you!” he whispered, his gaze dropping from her smoldering eyes to focus on her moist lips. He lowered his head, intent on just one thing.
The dogs erupted into a frenzy of barking. Then someone knocked on the door long enough for them to leap apart before it was opened.
“Anyone home?”
Noah found his voice quickly. “Mom, Dad, we didn’t hear you drive up.” Understatement! They probably knew it, too. He and Jasmine had been locked in an embrace in front of a window like they’d been silhouetted another time. He kept a groan to himself. Maybe with the sunlight reflecting on the glass, they had been invisible to outside eyes.
Noah didn’t dare look at Jasmine. He knew his complexion was ruddy. He had no idea if Jasmine blushed or not. But that would also depend on whether she felt as guilty as he did. Not that he should, he realized, unconsciously raising his chin. They hadn’t been doing anything to be ashamed of.
But how long would that have lasted? Now that their attraction for each other was out in the open, it was obvious that they were both determined to pursue it, even as they agreed that they shouldn’t. Good thing his parents happened to drop in for a visit. At least that’s what he told himself. No doubt a higher being had something to do with the timely interruption once more.