by Jessica Loft
“Coming my lady,” Jasmine quickly replied, already moving back into the large bathing room. There, lying alone in the large circular bathing tub, was her Lady, waiting impatiently for more bath salts.
“What in heaven’s name took you so long?” Lady Astrid asked, her beautiful golden brows crossed together in frustration.
“My deepest apologies my Lady,” Jasmine murmured, bowing her head. “I felt ill for a moment.”
Lady Astrid wrinkled her nose as a sneer graced her Cupid’s bow lips. “Sick? What do you mean sick? I simply cannot have you near me if you are to get me ill,” she said, her voice as cold as her heart.
“No my Lady,” Jasmine quickly replied, shaking her head. “I simply felt faint from lack of food. I forgot to break my fast this morning.”
Her excuse seemed to appease her Lady, and the royal woman sniffed delicately at the air.
“Very well,” she said at last. “Proceed. Stir my bath salts in and help yourself to five of my grapes.”
“Thank you my lady,” Jasmine replied, at once going to her knees to stir in more of the lavender scented bath salts. In truth, she had not broken her fast, because she was too nauseous to try and eat. Perhaps the treat of the sweet grapes would appease her stirring stomach and mind.
CHAPTER 2
“Father, please,” Duke Robert Kingsley the Fourth begged. “Don’t make me marry this woman.” Though he was a strong, mature man at the age of twenty-eight, Robert begged his father like a five-year old boy begging to not a have a switch over his backside. “She’s absolutely horrid.”
Duke Robert Kingsley the Third coughed heavily into his white linen kerchief, not daring to look down. He knew that the fated bright red spots would be staining his lovely kerchief, and he didn’t want the rather colorful reminder that he was dying. Though nearing his end, he was still a very handsome older gentleman, with a thick head of snow white hair, a sharp nose, and brilliant blue eyes. His lean frame remained intact, though he was now confined to a wheelchair; he still carried a great deal of authority with him wherever he went.
“Come now son,” The older Duke coaxed. “This arrangement was made at her birth. We cannot break the union between the lands. Your mother and I were strangers when we married, you know that. And you also know that I have never nor will ever love a woman like I loved her.”
Robert ran a hand through his wavy dark brown hair, his similar blue eyes gazing intently out the window. He was hungry for freedom, dying for it. He had joined the Queen’s army in hopes of adventure and he had gotten it. But he wanted more. What he didn’t want, what he couldn’t stand, was the thought of being confined to a castle with a woman as cruel as Lady Astrid of Scottsdale.
“That was different father,” Robert shot back, turning to look at his father. “Mother was kind, lovely. She was soft and gentle to every living thing. The townspeople in the Lady’s land rumor her to be as cruel as the Hungarian Countess, Elisabeth Bathory.”
“Rumors and balderdash son, I assure you,” his father chuckled, spitting up more blood. He missed it with his kerchief, and the speckles of it landed on his bright blue cravat. Quickly he tore it from his throat, not wanting his son to see it.
“As for your mother, she was kind, yes, but she still had her spoiled ways. She would throw a tantrum at times before you were born if she didn’t get her way. But once she became pregnant with you and your brother, she quickly matured. I have no doubt that Lady Astrid will do the same. Motherhood changes a woman,” he promised.
“She’ll no doubt eat the children,” Robert mumbled, again making his father chuckle.
The elder Duke grew suddenly serious, and called Robert over to him. “My darling boy, I know this isn’t what you want, and if there were more of our family left, perhaps I would take your side and fight to break the wedding contract. However, your mother is gone, God rest her soul, as well as your baby sister. Your brother Jared, quite possibly dead or still a prisoner to the Turks, will undoubtedly never return to us. You are all that’s left to carry on our family name. You must wed, and do so soon. I want- I need to see a grandchild before I go.”
Robert softened, and slowly nodded his head. With all the loss their family had suffered, he knew he should not be complaining of his duties. His father was right. Their line must continue on. Walking over to his father, he kneeled in front of him and bowed his head.
“My apologies father,” he murmured. “Of course you are right. As promised, I will ride towards Lady Astrid on the marrow’s morning, and introduce myself personally to my Lady Wife.”
Pride swelled in the elder Duke’s heart as he heard the commitment in his son’s voice. “All is forgiven, my son. Now come, push me to the dining room. I’m famished, and cook has promised trout with wild mushrooms for this evening’s meal.”
~
After dinner, Robert escaped to the stables and saddled his best friend, Nicodemus. He was a strong, black Scottish Friesian with a wild spirit and a hard kick. Most of the stable boys were afraid of the stallion, and understandably so. Robert made sure to groom and care for the horse himself. After saving his own life so many times in battle, he owed the beast that much.
“Hello old boy,” Robert greeted, throwing his saddle atop Nicodemus’s back. “Shall we race the devil this evening?”
Nicodemus neighed and bucked his head, as if in agreement. Robert chuckled, and as soon as the straps were tied properly he jumped into the saddle and they took off galloping towards the trails that twisted and turned around the Kingsley land. Robert felt free when he rode with Nicodemus; unharnessed. With him, he could let the reigns dangle and trust that his steed would know exactly where to take him.
The sun set low over the last hill on his property, giving the land a final kiss of night before it dipped away to allow the moon to reign. With summer quickly approaching, the days were growing longer. It made it harder for Robert to sneak into the gypsy camp, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the challenge.
“What ye doin’ here, Robert,” Shamus asked as he approached the outskirts of the camp. From where he stood he could already hear the lively gypsy music, see the fires, and smell the herbs that would no doubt allow the witches of the groups to have their visions for their customers that dared travel to them for help.
“Same as I’m always doin’,” Robert replied. “I’ve come to check on Emma.”
Shamus shook his head, his much larger frame blocking Robert’s entry. “Ye can’t t’night, lad, te’ witches be guardin’ her tight.”
Robert swore under his breath.
“How is she?” He asked after a spell. “Is she faring well?”
The large red headed man softened his stance, and took a step towards Robert. “She’s an angel, bless her. Not a trouble at all.”
Robert pulled out the sweet pastries he’d snuck from the dinner table, and handed them over to Shamus. He knew better than to pick a fight with the large roaming Scotsman. Though he was kind at the moment, he knew that it could be a whole other type of story if the beast of a man was crossed.
“Give these to her would you? Let her know that her Uncle Robbie stopped by?”
Shamus nodded his head and took the treats. He knew the man meant no harm, but it was the wish of the elders that no stranger be allowed into the camp tonight. Though Robert was technically a relative to one of their own, they still didn’t allow him in. Emma was, for all intents and purposes, a gypsy.
From his saddlebag he pulled out a small sack of gold coins, and a fresh loaf of bread. “Here, as thank you for protecting her so well,” Robert explained, handing the things over to Shamus. “I’ll be gone for some time, but I’ll try to visit when I can get away. I must wed, and will be at my new bride’s castle for at least a year getting our new affairs into order.”
Shamus raised an amused eyebrow. “I feel as if congratulations are in order, but your face says otherwise.”
Robert shrugged. “Tis an arranged marriage. There’s naught that I can
do about it.”
CHAPTER 3
Jasmine felt the sharp sting of Lady Astrid’s bejeweled hand slap her across her face. At her lip, she felt a hot liquid and a sudden swelling. One of her many rings had no doubt ripped the delicate flesh of her parted lips. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. At least, not in front of the Lady.
“Where is it?” Lady Astrid seethed. Pure disdain shone from her beautiful eyes. She knew that the handmaiden was lying. She just knew it!
“I know not my Lady, I swear it!” Jasmine replied for the tenth time.
“She clearly does not know my dear,” Lord Stephen urged, trying his best to intervene for the poor frail looking young woman in his daughter’s employ. “Let her be this instant!”
“But she took my ruby comb, I just know it!” Lady Astrid accused again.
“Nay my Lady I swear!” Jasmine pleaded. Though she trembled with fear at the moment, she didn’t want to lose her job. According to Laurel, a rumor of her swelling stomach had passed to her parents, and they had since disowned her. She now officially had nowhere to go, and if she didn’t keep her job with Lady Astrid, her only home would be on the street.
“Go,” Lord Stephan commanded.
Jasmine quickly left the room, happy to be off the hook if only for a moment. She circled back towards the bathing room’s entrance, and when she was sure that she was alone, pulled the ruby comb out of her corset. It wasn’t like her to steal, and if she weren’t so desperate to provide for her baby, she would never have taken it. But the castle’s cook was strict with the evening meals, and what she was earning was going into her savings to help care and clothe the babe once it was born. She’d no doubt have to pay for a midwife as well, and she knew the cost could be expensive.
Since she had little money to spare, Jasmine had grown leaner, instead of the other way around like women were supposed to do when they were pregnant. Her skin had grown paler, and her eyes seemed larger than usual because of all the baby fat she’d lost in her once plump lips and cheeks. The only part of her that looked as if it was retaining any weight at all was her slowly growing belly. She was nearing into her third month, and sure enough, her tiny seed was blossoming into a sweet bud.
As quietly as she could, Jasmine pulled open the top drawer of the Lady’s vanity and put the comb back beneath her hairbrush and pins. In the evening when she would be called to brush her Lady’s hair they would both find it nestled there, and all suspicion would be thrown off of her. Quickly she shut the drawer and scampered out of the bathing room. Seeing that the coast was clear, she all but ran down the steps to try and catch the last few minutes of the lunching hour to have her small share of soup and bread.
“Where have you been?” Laurel whispered when Jasmine finally made it to the kitchen. “And what in the Lord’s name has happened to your lip?” Laurel reached up to gently touch the cut across Jasmine’s lips, making the young woman flinch.
“Please,” Jasmine implored, not in the mood to answer questions. “Just tell me I made it in time for the meal.”
Laurel turned and looked up at her father imploringly, hoping that he had a soft spot in his heart that day. “It’s not her fault, da. The Lady hurt her. See?”
Chef James, a very large man with a greasy apron and a full black beard stepped up to Jasmine and gently took her chin in between his chubby fingers. He turned her head left, and then right to inspect the damage. From behind him, his wife and Laurel’s mother, Mildred, peaked over his shoulder in sympathy.
“Sit ye self down lass,” James said at last, letting go of Jasmine’s chin. He turned back towards the stove and ladled out a full wooden bowl of stew for her as Mildred cut her a thick slice of bread, spreading honey over it. The couple laid the meal out for Jasmine, for once showing her some daughterly kindness.
“Thank you,” Jasmine sighed, picking up her spoon. She dug into the stew hungrily, as if she couldn’t get it down fast enough.
The family took a seat down beside her. Though they had a kitchen to clean up and the evening meal to begin, they had something to say to the young girl. “Ye father was-is, a bit of an ass, lass. And I have te admit, for a while I pegged ye as a person just like him. But this last month or so has proven ye to be otherwise. I want to apologize. For me cold shoulder and half empty meals.”
The large man looked down at his chest, a wave of shame pouring through him. “It was wrong of me te push the sins of ye father on ye, and I am sorry. From now on, ye’ll take yer meals whenever ye can get them, and I’ll save ye as much I can. After all, ye can’t let the wee babe in ye gut starve.”
Jasmine felt a whirlwind of emotions all at once. She wasn’t sure if Laurel had told them about her pregnancy or if she’d just been caught vomiting too many times. Still, it was nice to no longer have that secret to bear alone. In addition, she was also touched by kindness and generosity from people she thought despised her. She had no idea why, but the fact they explained themselves then apologized meant the world to her. All of the emotions from the day came slamming into her all at once, and she felt her tears begin to flood down her cheeks.
“There, there, lass,” Mildred whispered, getting to put her arms around the young woman. “These soldiers, they be devilish creatures at times. They can tell ye exactly what ye want to hear and make ye feel as if they mean it too. If truth be told, the mister and I are happy to have a plain looking daughter. It keeps the soldiers from prodding up her skirts.”
“Mama!” Laurel gasped, a blush burning in her cheeks. True she was plain, and nowhere near the beauty that Jasmine was. But she was just as hard working and held a heart in her smaller chest just as big.
The small tension made Jasmine laugh, and she wiped her face on her sleeve. “Thank ye. For your kindness and acceptance,” she said softly, getting her tears under control.
James nodded his head. “It’s a cold world out there, it’s best we give it a little warmth any time we can. Now eat ye stew. The Lady will be ringing for you any minute no doubt.”
Jasmine did as she was told, and just as she stuffed the last bit of honeyed bread into her mouth, she heard the clear ring of her Lady’s bell ringing through the stone steps. She thanked Laurel and her family a last time before she hurried to find her mistress.
“My Lady,” Jasmine greeted, bowing deeply when she found her waiting outside the library.
Lady Astrid looked down her nose at Jasmine, and snapped open her fan to sway the warm breeze. She looked haughtier than ever in her baby blue satin gown, the latest in its fashion. Her hair, curled to perfection, was held up by the gleaming ruby comb that Jasmine not an hour earlier had just been struck for.
“After you left, Papa made me go through my things. I found my comb, and though it’s obvious that you didn’t take it, I still don’t think that I owe you an apology,” she sniffed, her voice ringing with superiority.
“As you wish my Lady,” Jasmine murmured. She figured it was the best she was going to get, and she was fine with that. She just wanted the matter to be dropped as soon as possible.
“Very good,” Lady Astrid replied, nodding her head. “You may rise now. Papa has just given me word that the Duke of Earlsbury will be arriving on the marrow. He is my intended husband, and if the rumors are true, he is to be one of the finest looking men in our great country. So come, we must sit with the seamstress and busy to a new dress. She will need your help if it is to be finished by morrow’s evening.”
Jasmine nodded her head and rose, but dread filled her. To have a dress completed within such a short time was nearly impossible, especially with the delicate fabrics Lady Astrid used to have her garments made. It would take a dozen women to finish on time, not two.
CHAPTER 4
“Jasmine, Jasmine awake!” Laurel whispered, shaking her friend’s shoulder. Jasmine’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked up to see her dear friend looking down at her with concern.
“What is the matter?” She asked,
yawning. She and the seamstress had stayed awake early into the morning to finish the Lady Astrid’s dress. By the wee hours of it she had poked her needle into her fingers more than the fabric, but the task had been completed. While the older woman had been able to make it to her quarters, Jasmine had passed out among the scraps of tulle and silk.
“It’s nearly nine. The Lady will wake within the minute and if she catches you sleeping in here, she’ll skin you alive!”
Laurel grabbed Jasmine’s hand and hauled her up to her feet. Just as she did so, they heard the clang of the Lady’s bell. Quietly they snuck out the second door, and Jasmine looped around to walk through the front door of Lady Astrid’s room.
“Good morrow my Lady,” Jasmine greeted, curtseying.
“Hello Jasmine. Has my dress been finished?” Lady Astrid asked, her voice curt.
Jasmine nodded her head. “Aye my Lady, it has.” Lady Astrid smiled in satisfaction, and promptly gave Jasmine her breakfast order.
As Jasmine headed towards the stairs, her mind and her body was astir. She had to relieve herself badly, and she had a gnawing of hunger in her belly something fierce. Her head ached from resting on the stones, and her legs wobbled like jelly for lacking of padding. Everything about her person seemed to ache, and as she made her way through the maze of stone halls, she became distracted in where she was going.
“Omph.”
At first, Jasmine thought that she had run into a slightly soft wall. It was still tall and firm, but not as hard as stone. Opening her eyes, she looked up to see the brilliantly light blue eyes shining down at her in concern. She quickly lost her wits, wondering what such a handsome stranger was doing in the belly of the castle.
“Are you all right?” He asked, his voice rich and deep. His hands snaked out and grabbed her arms to steady her. “That was quite a run in.”