“Christ, are you trying to teach me manners?” Gower asked, doubling with laughter, for Tam was surely the lewdest youth in all Wales.
“Ye can’t teach manners to pigs,” asserted Tam, giving his brother a hard shove from the room. They jostled Big Meg as she was about to enter the chamber and she threatened to bang their heads together. She looked as if she could fell a horse. “Uncouth, uncivilized half-breeds,” she cursed, referring to their parentage—English father, Welsh mother. She took one look at the small, pale girl in Falcon’s arms and the maternal urge almost overpowered her. “Out, pigs!” she ordered. “That goes for you too, milord, beggin’ your pardon. She’ll not be sharin’ your bed for a night or two until she can hold her own against an overdemanding bridegroom.” Her eyes shone with the light of battle, daring him to countermand her orders. The three men showed mock fear, but Falcon couldn’t conceal a grin.
“It’s a package deal, Meg. She comes with a bird, a hedgehog, and a wildcat, and I give you fair warning that once she’s had a decent night’s rest and some warm food, she’ll be a match for you, me, and this pair of muscle-bound swine you mistook for pigs.”
Gervase had set Falcon’s chamber to rights. His war chest and full armor gleamed from a fresh polishing, and Falcon didn’t ask how the men had managed to get back to Wales with a full complement of weapons and armor.
Gervase said, “I’ve only been here a couple of days. I got through the passes before the snow started, but from what I’ve seen the new castellan didn’t do too shabby a job here. There’s enough fodder stored to last the winter and the men had a successful hunt two days back.”
Falcon tossed his doublet and cloak to Gervase. “Some clean clothes will feel good.” He removed his chain mail and Gervase saw the blood on his shirt. He knew better than to question him. De Burgh would tell all in his own good time. Falcon told him briefly what had happened in Gloucester and ordered a twenty-four-hour patrol on the walls.
Falcon stretched cramped shoulder muscles. “Christ, I could eat an oxen, harness and all.”
Gervase grinned. “The kitchen spits are turning at double speed. Here, have some ale to tide you over.”
Falcon drank the horn of ale and wiped his hand across his mouth. “Is there any of that mead they brew in these parts?”
“I’ll raid the cellars,” Gervase promised.
Falcon thought Gervase was back in short order, but when he turned he saw that it was Morganna who had entered his chamber without knocking. She had hot water and clothes.
“I don’t recall sending for you,” he said curtly, his eyes unreadable.
“Nevertheless,” she said with double meaning, “you have need of me.”
He held her with his eyes for long minutes, then lowered his challenging glare. The moment he did so, she advanced and began to remove his shirt.
The master’s return had a profound effect on the entire castle. Spits and turning irons were brought out and cooks, maids, and scullions raced about like an army of ants. Fires were started in all the great smoking chimneys and underneath the brick ovens. The castle itself was small, consisting of tower, hall, kitchens, armory, knights’ quarters, and servants’ rooms, but the outbuildings sprawled out behind consisting of stables, barns, dairy, stillroom, smithy, and storage sheds.
A holiday atmosphere prevailed. They were safe and snug for the winter with no harder tasks to accomplish than cleaning their armor, sharpening their weapons, and grooming their horses. When the men suffered from being cooped up they could count on Falcon taking them on a raid or two, but for the next months the battle-weary knights could eat, drink, dice, and lift their eyes from their swords long enough to select a pretty face or plump shoulder among the women servants of Mountain Ash.
Only a handful of Falcon’s knights were married because most were very young men. All the men, women, and children alike had a burning curiosity regarding the new bride, Lady Jasmine de Burgh. Some had never seen her and most of the knights who had, had only done so from a distance. It was the custom that there would be a feast the second night back at Mountain Ash and they would be able to see their new lady up close for the first time.
Jasmine awoke midmorning. She had been able to sprawl across the great bed whose curtains had been drawn back to let in the heat from the cozy fire. She yawned and stretched and threw back the luxurious fur covers.
Big Meg bullied her back into bed. “Yer feet don’t touch the floor until evening,” she said firmly.
“But I feel fine, Meg. There are a hundred things I must learn how to do.” Jasmine’s domestic shortcomings appalled her. “I’m afraid I’ve been brought up too frivolously. I’m in ignorance of the simplest chore.”
“You’ll get your beauty sleep. Tonight at the feast every eye in the hall will be fixed on you. Their curiosity about you is beyond all bounds. I’ve had to forbid them entrance to the tower today. You’d never believe the silly excuses they use to get up here. The men are as bad as the women. Well, not quite. Women can be right catty little bitches when confronted with a woman far more beautiful than themselves.” Meg set a great tray of food before her. “You’ll do nothing but eat and sleep all day and get your strength up to hold your own against that lot down there. They’ll examine you so closely, they won’t be satisfied until they know the color of yer drawers!”
Jasmine laughed happily. She was all woman and would love being the center of attention. She stretched her dainty feet into the depths of the feather mattress, took a large bite of the deliciously salty gamon ham, and contemplated which of her gowns would show off her unusual coloring to best advantage.
She hadn’t felt this happy in a long, long time. She drifted off in a warm haze of drowsiness only to be rudely annoyed by raised voices.
“Christ, Meg, I didn’t give her to you body and soul, I do still have rights of ownership!” Falcon insisted.
“A poor choice of words, de Burgh,” Jasmine shouted from the bed. “Let him in, Meg, I need to sharpen my claws on some hapless fool.”
As he looked at her lying in the bed, the anger in his eyes vanished immediately and was replaced by one of hunger. Big Meg moved off to respect the lovers’ privacy, but still hovered in the background to prevent him from exercising his rights.
“Are you feeling stronger, Jasmine? I brought you some mead.” Falcon held it out to her and watched hungrily as her pink lips touched the honey wine. His physical response to her was immediate and marked. It was ever so. He sat on the edge of the bed so that it would be less obvious. “You look luscious,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you’ve come through the ordeal so well.”
She blushed and looked away from him, but it did not free her mind of his overpowering presence. He cupped her face and drew her mouth up to his, then his hands slipped beneath the covers to caress her silken breasts. He said huskily, “Leave us, Meg.”
“No, sir. You put her in my hands to restore her strength. I’ll not have you draining away her vitality with your lovemaking,” she said bluntly.
He bit off an obscenity and stood to leave. He could see he would get absolutely nowhere with these two. Meg held the door for him and winked. “Take her twice tonight to make up for it,” she whispered. The grin was restored to his face.
“Wear white for me tonight as befits a bride,” he called.
Chapter 30
Big Meg was appalled when she lifted the lid on Jasmine’s trunk. As the velvets and silks covered with beaded embroidery spilled to the carpet she jumped back in alarm. “I can’t touch any of this finery, my big, rough hands would tear it to bits. I’ll get Glynis, the little maid from the laundry to see to your clothes. She’s never seen the likes of this, but she has a gentle touch and her hands are always clean,” Meg said decisively. “I’ll fetch her now, so she can get everything unpacked.”
When she was alone, Jasmine let Feather out of his cage so he could fly about freely and explore his new home. Then she coaxed Quill to unroll by tempting him with the l
eftover rind from her ham. Big Meg ushered in the little maid who stood shyly by the bed, her eyes like saucers. Small and dark like most of the Welsh, she had never seen anyone like Jasmine, let alone her clothes. The sparrow on Lady de Burgh’s shoulder cocked his wise little head at her to see if she posed a threat. When he was satisfied that she did not, he flew onto the rim of Jasmine’s mead and helped himself.
“Oh, the dear little mite,” Glynis said, clapping her hands.
Meg said darkly, “Let’s hope you take to the rest of the menagerie,” then pointed to Jasmine’s great trunk. “It’s all yours, Glynis.”
The girl’s ohs and ahs increased with each garment she lifted reverently from the trunk and hung in the wardrobe.
“Glynis, find me a hairbrush please. It will take me a lifetime to get the tangles from my hair. Then we must choose something for me to wear tonight. It must be special … something that will catch the eye of everyone in the hall,” said Jasmine. “Something scarlet, I think.” No white for her tonight. She needed to conquer these people, and red was the most powerful color in magic. It had all sorts of mystic properties, sexual, physical, and spiritual. Besides, scarlet would set off her silvery-gilt tresses to perfection, to say nothing of irritating de Burgh. What more could she ask? Scarlet it would be!
Glynis screamed as she opened a basket and a young mountain lion spat in her face.
“Oh don’t be afraid, Glynis, that’s Shanna. Meg, I suppose we’ll have to get her a litter box filled with rushes or she’ll pee all over Falcon’s lovely carpets.”
Meg rolled her eyes and Glynis’s mouth was agape. She closed it slowly and said with wonder, “You are a witch lady.”
Jasmine laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am, and tonight I feel all the Power of the Universe will flow into my body.” Her eyes glowed. “I feel more alive than I have ever felt before!”
She soaked an hour in the tub Big Meg effortlessly hauled in for her. “Mmm, it feels heavenly not to have to spend the day in the saddle,” she said, gingerly caressing her bottom to see if any callouses had developed. “Meg, let me have just a little more mead, I like it excessively.”
Meg obliged and wondered if she drank it to give her courage to defy de Burgh. She knew half the castle would walk the length of Wales to see him bested by a woman, but she doubted it would ever happen.
Little Glynis sat amazed as she gazed at the dazzling vision before her. Jasmine was dressed in flame color with her moonlight tresses tumbling about her shoulders. A bright silken poppy pinned behind one ear added another splash of contrast.
As de Burgh’s step was heard outside the chamber, Jasmine’s back straightened and her chin went up in readiness for a confrontation. He opened without knocking as she knew he would and stopped dead on the threshold. Falcon had never seen a more ravishing vision in all his experience. She would have an immediate impact upon any man who glimpsed her. Desire flared in him as he fancied he could warm his hands at her blaze. However, his brows drew together in a warning frown. “Jasmine, I asked you to wear white.”
“No, milord, you told me to wear white, there is a world of difference. I don’t take orders kindly.”
He held onto his temper. “Then I ask you now, Jasmine. Will you please wear white this first night as befits a bride?”
She tossed her head and stood her ground, unwilling to have his will imposed upon her. “Since I am to be the center of attention, I have decided I will stand out better in red. Those in the far corners of the hall will be able to get a better look at me.”
“I will wait while you change,” he said quietly, determined to be in control of his temper as well as the situation.
Jasmine, however, did not hold her temper. “You are ridiculous, sir! Surely I am to be allowed to choose my own clothes?”
Glynis shrank visibly in anticipation of the verbal battle while Big Meg did her best to conceal a grin.
Falcon looked at his wife with disbelief. She was well aware that she could choose her own clothes, that was not the point. He had asked her to wear white and she was deliberately thwarting him, and doing so with relish. Incredibly she was playing some sort of power game with him.
“I should take my hand to you,” he said quietly, blocking the door. “If you’d had a good warming years ago you’d know your place.”
“I demand that you remove yourself from the door and let me proceed to the hall,” she said, the light of fire in her eyes.
“Demand, Jasmine?” he asked lazily. By the way his brow slanted sardonically she suspected he was up to something, but he bowed formally to her. “So be it,” he said, and offered his arm.
After a brief hesitation she took it and allowed him to escort her to the hall below. Big Meg shook her head. “I know this sounds ridiculous to look at them, but she is very like him, you know.”
The hall was packed. The aroma of roasting meat tantalized every nose. The festive air was warm and welcoming and the great babble of voices stilled for a minute as Falcon entered with Jasmine on his arm, then it doubled in volume.
Pot boys scurried about, while female servants set the trestle tables and young pages filled their knights’ drinking horns. He took Jasmine to the raised dais, which was an innovation, built so all could get a better view of their new lady.
Falcon held up his arms to silence his household and waited patiently for them to quiet. “Before the serving begins I must introduce you to my new bride. Jasmine of Salisbury is now Lady de Burgh.” A cheer went up, but he raised a hand to silence it. “There is more you should know. I am afraid my lady has been spoiled and much indulged all her life.” He glanced down at her shocked face and she saw the amusement in his eyes as he laughed down at her. She knew in that moment he would have his revenge in his own time, his own way. “I must warn you that she has no maidenly reserve, while I, as you already know, am no gentleman. Neither one of us will hesitate to provoke each other before all assembled. Decorum is not a word you will associate with the de Burghs.”
Jasmine seethed as his insufferable laughter rang out over her head. “And so,” he said, pushing back his chair and swinging her up into his arms, “I am taking her back upstairs to change into a gown of my choosing. She is a willful wench who needs to learn who is master at Mountain Ash. If we don’t return right away, you will all know that I have seen another dish that tempts me more.”
As he strode from the hall he held her so firmly she could not move because he knew she would fly at him with her fists in a fit of hot temper. “I’ll give them something to talk about,” he murmured against her ear.
Upstairs she threw her hairbrushes and her shoes at him. “How could you humiliate me so?” she demanded. “I cannot go back and face them all.”
“Jasmine, I warned you before you went down, but you chose not to heed me. ’T is becoming a habit with you.” Then his voice lowered with quiet determination. “Now, change the gown.”
Her stubbornness had truly been provoked. She said silkily through set teeth, “There is no need for me to change since I shall not be returning to the hall.”
He ignored her words and opened her wardrobe. It took him only a moment to select the lovely white gown he had in mind.
She protested, “De Burgh, if I change the gown, it means I have to change everything—undergarments, stocking, shoes—you don’t know a thing about women’s clothes!”
“Don’t I?” he asked silkily. “Do you delude yourself you’re the first woman I’ve undressed?”
“Oh!” She gasped and turned her stubborn back to him. Immediately she felt his hands at the fastenings of her gown and she had visions of him tearing it from her. She whirled to face him, her mouth all sulky. He was so much taller, she had to tip her head back to look up at him. “’Fore God, if you ruin this gown I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” he asked, his hands already inside the neckline to take up her challenge.
She was so angry she was panting, but she had guile enough to lower her lashes to her chee
ks so he wouldn’t see her hatred in that moment. In a small voice she said, “’T is a particular favorite, that’s all … I thought it would please you.”
“It does please me, Jasmine. Its color makes you so vividly beautiful it has aroused me.” As his mouth closed over hers in a deep kiss she thought he was ready to let her have her own way, but without her realizing it he had the scarlet gown undone and off her as they kissed. He took his mouth from hers and ordered, “Now the shift.”
“No!” she said, her eyes stormy.
He rummaged among her things until he held a white silken shift and a pair of white satin shoes. She made it as difficult as possible for him to remove her undergarments, but he seemed to enjoy it as if it were a love game. When she stood before him clad only in the red stockings, he picked her up and set her down before the mirror so she could watch as he caressed her breasts until they hardened and thrust up impudently. Suddenly she was very ready to cover herself with the white gown. “De Burgh, I concede,” she cried.
He flashed his wolf’s grin. “There is no hurry to return, darling. They will naturally assume I am going to make love to you.”
She looked at him in horror and saw clearly that their assumption would be correct if she did not make haste. She cast about for words that would cool his advances. “Falcon, I want them to love me here at Mountain Ash. I promise to try to be a dutiful wife. Let’s go back to the hall. I’ll let you dress me,” she offered temptingly.
De Burgh was well aware that she was manipulating him, but her words and her attitude had softened considerably. Perhaps he was halfway to taming her. As he dressed her in white he managed to touch every intimate part of her body at least half a dozen times, so that by the time they reentered the hall she was rosy with blushes.
With de Burgh’s firm hand at the small of her back, a much-chastened Jasmine took reluctant steps toward the festivities. The moment everyone saw her, a great cheer went up around the hall, and one by one they got to their feet and began to applaud her courage and her beauty. It was the beginning of a love affair as the people of Mountain Ash and Jasmine lost their hearts to each other.
The Falcon and the Flower Page 31