Darling Jasmine

by Bertrice Small

  “Nay,” Jasmine said. “Our first son will be called Patrick after that handsome devil over the fireplace. Our second son will be Adam, and the third, James, my lord.”

  “God bless me!” the old earl of Sithean chortled. “The wench is ambitious in her desire to gie the clan sons. I fully approve!” He stamped his gnarled cane upon the floor of the hall enthusiastically.

  And afterward, when the Leslie men had all departed, and they sat together at the highboard eating a simple repast of broiled trout and toasted cheese and apples, James Leslie said, “You’ve made a grand impression upon my brothers, uncles, and cousins, madame. As for the clansmen, they will be devoted to you forever for the way you accepted their rousing greeting, darling Jasmine.”

  “I often watched my father reach out to his subjects when he would pass through their towns. They were so eager to touch the Mughal. It meant so much to them. Today, when your clansmen came to greet us and surrounded us with such a warm welcome, I did what my father did, reaching out to them as they did to us. I suddenly realized, Jemmie, that here in your highlands you are very much like a little king to your people. Perhaps this is why the Scots have always had such difficulty serving a single king when each chieftain is in reality a king himself within his own holding. It is a very heady experience.”

  He nodded. “How quick you are to understand us, but no country can survive amid its neighbors without a strong monarch.” He took her hand and began to nibble upon her fingers. “We have not had a moment to talk,” he said, “since you made your momentous announcement. We had no sooner gotten rid of my relations when Adali and Will Todd were calling us to the highboard to eat.” He turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her blue-veined wrist. “When do you plan to produce my son, madame?” His look was intense.

  “ ’Twill be sometime in late winter,” she said. “The very end of February, or in early March. It happened that first night when you returned from your silly little trip to Edinburgh.” She caught his hand and began to suck upon his fingers.

  “I don’t want to harm the bairn,” he said desperately.

  “We don’t have to worry about it yet, my lord,” she told him. “I can yet ride both my stallions, the two-footed and the four-footed one.” She caressed his face. “I have never wanted a man like this, Jemmie. I desire you always, and it took us so long to come from England. We haven’t been in a proper bed in weeks. Are you not hungry for me, too?”

  Reaching out, he cupped her head in his hand, his mouth brushing suggestively against hers. He could see her nipples pushing against the silk of her shirt, and his lust rose up to almost choke him. “Aye!” he managed to grind out, aching to possess her.

  “I do not know where to go,” she said intensely.

  “I do!” he groaned, pulling her up from her chair and practically dragging her through the Great Hall and its antechamber beyond. They reached the wide staircase and, picking her up, he almost leapt the steps to the floor above, where the apartments of the earl and countess of Glenkirk were located. Kicking the door open, he strode in, still holding her in his arms. Then he set her gently down. “Do not keep me waiting long, madame,” he said intensely.

  “Jesu!” Fergus More whispered to Adali. “He was nae this way with Lady Isabelle. I dinna know if I can get used to all the burning looks between them and this intensity. Why they can scarcely keep their hands off one another.”

  “Passion between a man and his wife is a good thing,” Adali murmured reassuringly. “Have you never had such feelings for a woman?”

  The Scotsman shook his head. “Nay,” he said, “but I’m thinking I might work up to them wi Mistress Toramalli. Sends a shiver down me back, she does,” he admitted. “Do ye think she likes me, Adali?”

  “I will ascertain if an advance on your part would be met with favor by Toramalli,” Adali told him diplomatically. “Now, you had best attend your impatient master, Fergus More.” Then he moved into his lady’s bedchamber, where the twin maidservants were helping Jasmine to disrobe. “We have a great deal of work to make the castle habitable again, my princess,” he told her. “It has been virtually shut up for most of the years the earl has been in England. Will Todd did his best, but there is a lot more for us to do.”

  “It isn’t as bad as Jamal’s place on my wedding night,” Jasmine said laughing. “I will never forget that. I gained great satisfaction from selling off those appalling women in his zenana.” Naked, she stepped into the tub that had been prepared for her, quickly washing without the help of her servants.

  “There is enough wood by the fire for tonight, and for the morning,” Adali said. “I have seen that wine was placed on the sideboard in the dayroom, and there is a basin with a supply of love cloths by your bed, my lady. Rohana and Toramalli have made it with our own linens and featherbed. You will be comfortable, and tomorrow we will make it even better. The rooms have a smell of mustiness about them, but it is not surprising considering the circumstances.”

  “It’s a wonderful castle,” Jasmine said softly. “We have finally come home, Adali. You knew it too, didn’t you?”

  He nodded, smiling. “Aye, I did, my princess. I would not have thought this pile of stones in the hills of Scotland would have felt like that to us, but it does.” Then his eyes twinkled, and he changed the subject completely. “Would you object, my lady, if Toramalli had a suitor? Fergus More has indicated he would be interested in paying her court, if she would have him do so, and with your permission.”

  “Toramalli?” Jasmine asked her servant. “It is your decision.”

  “The cheek of the man!” Toramalli, who was hot-tempered began.

  “He’s a lovely man,” her sister Rohana said. “You are very fortunate. And he has asked permission before approaching you. What delicacy of feelings, my sister.”

  “He probably means you, and can’t tell us apart,” Toramalli said, grumbling, as she dried her mistress off, but she was smiling.

  “If you think so, then let Adali have him approach the lady he would court,” Jasmine suggested as Rohana lowered a nightgown over her head, and it slid down to cover her body. It was white silk, with a round neckline and long sleeves.

  “An excellent suggestion,” Adali said. “Come, ladies, let us take the tub from the room. Together, the trio lugged the small oaken tub from Jasmine’s bedchamber.

  When they had emptied it down a stone chute in the garderobe, they stored the tub away and returned to the dayroom. Fergus More had just exited the earl’s bedchamber. He looked hopefully at Adali.

  “Toramalli wonders if you really know the difference between herself and her twin sister, Fergus More,” Adali told him. “Do you? If you do, then you have her permission to court Toramalli, she says.”

  The twins stood side by side, identical in features, but for one difference. Dark-haired and dark-eyed with golden skin, each possessed a flower-shaped birthmark at the corner of her eye. Toramalli’s was on the right. Rohana’s on the left. Without hesitation Fergus More walked directly to the correct twin and stood before her.

  “Of course I know which one ye are, Mistress Toramalli,” he said quietly.

  “Well,” Toramalli answered him pertly, “if you are clever enough to know the difference between Rohana and me, I suppose we could keep company for a while, Fergus More.”

  “Come to the kitchen with me now, lassie,” he invited, “and we’ll hae a cup of ale. Yer sister can come to,” he added as an afterthought.

  “You go,” Rohana said. “I’m much too tired, but I thank you for the invitation, Fergus More.” She yawned broadly.

  The two servants departed from the apartment, Adali remaining just a moment longer to snuff the candles and bank the fire. Rohana found her way back to her bedchamber, which was located within the apartments, bidding Adali good night as she went.

  James Leslie had entered his wife’s bedchamber by means of the connecting door between their rooms. Jasmine stood silently looking out of the windows across the mo
onlit hills. Hearing his entrance, she turned, smiling, and held out her arms to him. “My lord,” she said softly, and enfolded him within her embrace.

  Wordless he caressed her face as if for the very first time. His green-gold eyes adored her. Then his two hands tangled within her hair, and he kissed her deeply, his mouth warm and firm. “I love you,” he finally said. “I have from the moment I first laid eyes upon you. I know I have said it before, but I shall say it to you for the rest of our lives that you never think I might grow tired of you. I will always love you, darling Jasmine.”

  “Ohh, Jemmie,” she responded, “you fill me, heart and soul, to overflowing with your love for me. I love you, too. I would have to be the worst bitch created not to love in return the man who loves me so, but your love is so overwhelming that I wonder if I am worthy of it. How happy I am to carry a child created of such love!”

  In response he picked her up and laid her upon their bed, coming down next to her, to cradle her in his arms. “Thank you,” he said simply, and then he kissed her again. His lips, tender at first, became more demanding as their passions rose. He loosened the ribbons on her gown, sliding his hand beneath the sensuous fabric to fondle her breasts. She moaned as his fingers brushed her sensitive nipples and, laying her upon her back, lowered his head to suckle upon them.

  The touch of his lips upon her susceptible flesh was almost too much to bear. She shivered with pleasure as her nipples tingled almost painfully with the exacting pressure of his mouth drawing so strongly upon them. She caressed his dark hair, fingers twining about the thick tendrils, and here and there she saw a wisp of silver among the ebony. Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply when he removed himself from her breasts. His big hands drew her nightgown from her and stroked her still slim body. Bending, he kissed her belly, sending shivers of excitement down her spine.

  “I want to feel you against me,” she said softly.

  In response, Jemmie pulled his own nightshirt off and drew her back into his arms so that their bodies touched, transferring the warmth between them. Jasmine reached out with her hand to stroke his manroot, petting him with a delicate touch. He was warm and firm beneath her hand. “Make love to me, my Jemmie,” she purred at him.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he fretted.

  In response Jasmine slipped from his embrace and quickly mounted him, letting his solid length slide deeply into her. “We do not have to deny ourselves the pleasure of each other’s bodies quite yet, Jemmie, my dearest lover. If we are careful we may have several months of delight. I know what to do, and as I have had more experience in this than you, you must follow my lead. Rowan and I never denied ourselves when I carried his children.” She rotated her hips gently into his groin, and he groaned with enjoyment. Reaching up with his hands, he fondled her breasts, watching her through half-closed eyes as she moved upon him. “Does this please you, my lord?” she teased him.

  “Witch!” He squeezed the tender flesh of her bosom.

  “Ummmmmm,” she murmured. God’s boots! She was going to peak. He would have no joy of his own, but then she felt his love juices burst forth within her, and she fell sobbing with relief upon his chest.

  “Ahhhhhhh!” he groaned. “You are delicious, madame.” They lay entwined for a time, and then he pulled himself up, settling the pillows beneath him. Drawing her into his embrace between his legs, his hands reached out to cup her faintly rounded belly.

  The warmth of his hands was incredible. He was cradling their unborn child between his big hands. God, how safe she felt! How comforted the baby must be with his father’s hands protecting him so tenderly. Jasmine fell asleep, enfolded by her husband’s great love; and even more certain now than she had been earlier in the day, that she had at last come home. She would no longer have to run, or be a wanderer upon the face of this earth. Glenkirk was home. For now. Forever!

  Chapter 14

  By midmorning of the following day the earl of Glenkirk’s family was pouring into the castle to meet Jasmine. His paternal uncles, James the Master of Hay, and his wife, Ailis; Adam and his wife, Fiona; Michael of Leslie Brae with his Isabelle. The old earl of Sithean came with his women. And, of course, James Leslie’s siblings. His sister, Bess, and her husband, Henry Gordon. His two brothers, Colin, the Master of Greyhaven with his wife, Euphemia Hay; and Robert of Briarmere Moor, who was married to Euphemia’s sister, Flora. Jemmie’s sister, Amanda, was married to the earl of Sithean’s heir; and his sister, Morag, was the wife of young Malcom Gordon. They surrounded the earl of Glenkirk, hugging him, and covering him with happy kisses.

  Finally, Fiona Leslie cried, “Enough! Enough! We all know our Jemmie. We hae come to see his bride. Come forward, Jasmine Leslie!” And when Jasmine stood before her, she looked her over with a critical eye, and then smiled broadly. “Welcome to Glenkirk, madame.” Looking at her nephew, she said, “Yer mother would be pleased, and yer choice . . .”

  “Fiona!” her husband warned.

  Fiona Leslie glared at her husband. “I was only going to say Jemmie’s choice appeared to be as fine a one as his mother made all those years ago.” Then she smiled sweetly.

  There was relieved laughter. Fiona Leslie had been her sister-in-law’s best friend when they had grown up although their earlier relationship had been a rocky one. She was an outspoken woman, and they all knew she had thought Isabelle Gordon a sweet ninny; but since the unfortunate girl’s brother was married to Jemmie’s sister, no criticism of her would be tolerated publicly.

  “I’m glad that I meet with your approval, madame,” Jasmine replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously at Fiona, whom she immediately liked. Despite the difference in their ages, they were going to be friends.

  “Ye’d meet with Cat’s approval, and that’s more important. Yer already breeding, I’m told,” Fiona said. “Well, ye hae plenty of family about when the bairn is born. Is yer mother back from England yet?”

  Jasmine shook her head. “Not yet. She stayed later this year because she thought Grandmama might be lonely now that my grandfather is gone, but I am sure Grandmama wants nothing more than to send Mama back to Dun Broc as quickly as possible so she may have some peace.”

  “Hah!” Fiona chuckled. “Yer grandmama sounds like a woman after my own heart. Yer mother’s a good woman, however, and means well.”

  “Who is yer mother?” Bess Gordon asked.

  “Why ’tis the countess of BrocCairn,” Fiona said impatiently to her niece. “Do ye know nothing, Bess?”

  “Well, Jemmie hae been in England, and I didna know,” Bess said spiritedly. She turned to Jasmine. “No one tells me anything!”

  Adali and Will Todd were passing wine to the assembled guests. “I have not had time yet to staff the castle,” Jasmine explained.

  “Ohh, I hope ye’ll bring it back to the way it was when Patrick and Cat and our parents held sway here, James Leslie,” the Master of Hay said wistfully.

  “Aye!” Fiona enthused. “ ’Twas so grand then, Jasmine.” She looked to her brothers-in-law, her nieces, and her nephews. “Ye’ll hae to help Jasmine wi all of this. She canna be overtaxed as she now carries the next earl of Glenkirk wi’in her belly.”

  “I’m no weakling,” Jasmine protested. “I have four children already, and they are quite strong and healthy.”

  “Aye, ye’ve four bairns, but not one of them is a Leslie of Glenkirk,” Fiona said.

  “Aunt, give over,” Jemmie interposed. “My wife is not the family’s broodmare. We’re having a child, and lass or laddie, it will be welcome to Glenkirk, but that is not why I married my darling Jasmine. I wed her because I love her, and I have for many years now. I am grateful that she accepted me as her husband. Now let us all celebrate being together again,” the earl of Glenkirk concluded.

  “Aye! Aye!” their guests chorused.

  Then suddenly there was an uproar toward the rear of the Great Hall. Turning to look, they saw two small boys engaged in a bout of fisticuffs, rolling about on the floor and h
owling wildly.

  “ ’Tis Connor!” Morag Gordon said, aghast.

  “And Henry!” Jasmine cried, looking to her husband.

  The earl of Glenkirk stepped forward and forcibly separated his stepson and his nephew, a hand holding tightly to the collar of each boy, who squirmed and struggled in his grip. “What is going on?” Jemmie Leslie demanded of the two miscreants.

  “He said I were a savage and talked funny,” Connor Gordon declared, glowering at his rival.

  “You said I was a sissy!” Henry Lindley defended himself. “I was escorting my sisters into the hall, Papa, when we were accosted by this boy. He insulted India and Fortune.”

  “What, exactly, did he say, Henry, that you felt it necessary to give battle? By the way, this is my nephew, Connor Gordon.”

  “He said,” Henry declared in a clear voice, “ ‘Look at the wee sissy wi the skinny, yellow-eyed wench and the carrot-topped lassie.’ So I hit the little snot-nosed savage. I’ll not have my sisters maligned!” He glared furiously at his antagonist, his turquoise eyes blazing.

  “Connor,” the earl said, “do you know who I am?”

  “Aye, m’lord,” the boy answered.

  “This is my stepson, Henry Lindley, the marquis of Westleigh; and his sisters, Lady India and Lady Fortune. You will apologize to your new cousins for your bad manners.” He released his hold on the boy.

  Connor Gordon brushed his clothing off and bowed quite nicely. “I hope ye will accept my apologies, Lady India and Lady Fortune. I hae ne’er seen a lass wi yellow eyes before.”

  “My eyes are golden like my father’s,” India said grandly.

  “And my hair is red-gold, not carrot-colored,” Fortune piped up.

  Jemmie Leslie loosed his hold on Henry. “Now, gentlemen, shake hands,” he commanded the boys. “We are a family, and I will have no squabbling amongst us. Do you both understand?”

  The two nodded, Connor holding out a somewhat grimy paw to Henry Lindley, who took it and shook it.

  “I hae a pony,” Connor said. “Do ye?”