The Scent of Jasmine

by Jude Deveraux

  Cay glanced at him over her shoulder. “A few hours? Then you didn’t . . . ?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, we didn’t.” He was frowning at the buttons.

  “Hope said that you fell asleep on your wedding night, but I didn’t believe her.”

  “I did not ‘fall asleep.’ I was drugged.”

  “Ah, yes, glass of wine, then sleep. Who drugged you?”

  “If I knew that, I could have saved myself at the trial.” He was two-thirds of the way through the buttons.

  “Hope said the door was locked from the inside and that only you and your wife were in her room.”

  “That’s about the only thing the lawyers got right.” Alex pulled on the last button. “There, now, get out of that dress and let’s get going. Someone may come in here.”

  “On a Sunday? Surely not. Not even my father works on Sundays.”

  “So I guess that means that no man does,” Alex said in a derisive way. He was looking at the back of her dress as though he’d just climbed a mountain and was proud of what he’d done.

  “Turn around,” she said. “I’m still a girl and you’re a man and . . .” Breaking off, she stared at him as though she was just realizing that he was in new clothes.

  “You like this?” he asked, holding out his arms.

  “You look like a planter,” she said softly. “Those clothes suit you.” She turned back around to face the mirror but kept looking at him in its reflection. “Of course the fact that you’re the dirtiest man in the country, and that you have nits in your hair takes away from the overall effect.”

  He ran his hand over his hair. He used to keep it neatly trimmed and tied back at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon, but now it had grown wild and long, and she was right that it was very dirty. “Maybe I can wash it when we get to where we’re going.”

  “No. You’re going to take a whole bath today or I’m not going to put on boy’s clothes.”

  Alex smiled at her. “Too late for that. You’ll never get those buttons done up without my help.”

  Cay grabbed a dress from a shelf near her and held it up. It was a plain thing, made of brown plaid, with black braid around the collar. There was a look of threat in her eyes.

  He wasn’t going to tell her, but if she was going to continue wearing a dress, he much preferred the white one she had on. He’d grown used to the way it flashed in the sunlight. The surprise was that she’d seemed to know, through some mysterious female way, that he wouldn’t like for her to wear the plain brown dress.

  “You have to take a bath.”

  “I promise that I’ll wash.” He was smiling at her. “I’m not a barbarian, even if you think I am.”

  Cay looked back at the mirror. She was holding her beautiful dress about her, and she took one last, long look, glanced at Alex as he turned his back to her, then she let the dress fall and stepped out of it. She looked at herself in the long corset, her pantaloons going down to her knees, and at her torn stockings above the worn and dirty slippers. This was her last glimpse of herself as a girl.

  Worse, she knew that she was going to have to get his help in removing the corset. Her maid had tied it for her days ago, and she hadn’t had it off since then.

  “You have to untie me,” she said.

  “I’ll have to turn around to do that. Or should I wear a blindfold?”

  “You wear a blindfold when you get shot for untying a woman’s corset strings when she doesn’t want you to, but I’m asking you to do this, so it’s all right.”

  Laughing, Alex turned around, and Cay was pleased when he drew in his breath. He was the only man to have ever seen her in her underwear. Except for her father and brothers, she thought, but they didn’t count. Tally had once put itching powder in her corset just before she was to meet her mother’s old friend, Thomas Jefferson, who had become the governor of Virginia. At the memory of what she did to Tally afterward, she couldn’t help smiling.

  “Where do I start?” Alex asked, keeping his eyes on the back of the boned garment.

  “Pretend it’s a horse harness and untie it.”

  “I could use my knife and—”

  “No!” she said. “No cutting.”

  He almost made a joke about “not yet,” meaning that he wouldn’t do any cutting until he took his knife to her hair, but he thought better of it. The strings had been tied in a way that had hardened into a knot over the last few days, and it took a while to get them loose. As he began to pull the strings out, he could feel her take deep breaths.

  “My maid pulled it in tighter than usual because of the ball,” Cay said as she let out another breath.

  “Isn’t that painful?” He had hit a snag and he dearly wanted to pull out his knife and slash the blasted thing.

  “Of course it is, but you men love a small waist.”

  Bending, he put his face closer to the laces. It looked like the maid had tied a knot in the middle as well as at the top. “But those dresses you women wear today hide your waist.”

  “Do they really?” she asked, her voice all sweet innocence.

  He pulled the laces loose, stepped back from her, and smiled. She had him there. The high-waisted fashions concealed little. “No, they don’t hide much of anything. When a woman stands in front of a candle you can see—” He cleared his throat. “It’s done.”

  Cay was already shrugging out of the corset. He’d left the bottom of it fastened, so she had to step out of it. Alex meant to turn away, but she started twisting about in such a manner that he couldn’t stop looking at her—and laughing.

  “I can breathe!” She ran her hands up her back and scratched through her long cotton shift, and when that wasn’t enough, she went to the wall and rubbed up against it, her face showing her utter delight.

  “You shouldn’t have been afraid of the bear, he would have thought you were one of his tribe.”

  “Do shut up,” she said amiably. “If you had spent days in a corset, without even taking it off at night, you’d—” She turned her back to him. “Make yourself useful and come over her and scratch my back. It itches until I could go mad.”

  Alex hesitated, but he did as she said, gently scratching her back through the fabric.

  “I know you’re a weak man, but surely you can do better than that.”

  He began to scratch harder and when his nails weren’t enough, he took out his knife and used the handle of it to rub her back until he was sure he’d remove the skin.

  At last she stepped away. “Better. Much better.” She was still twisting about, shrugging her shoulders, and moving her arms in circles.

  Again, he marveled at how pretty she was. Why hadn’t Nate thought to mention that in all his letters? “Do you think you could get dressed now, lass?”

  “Sure. What should I put on?”

  “Anything that covers you,” he muttered, and went back to searching the store to see if there was anything else that they would need. On the counter was the bottle she’d put there while they were dancing. It was labeled “jasmine oil.” It looked like, even if she was going to wear boy’s clothes, she planned to smell good. He would, of course, have to tell her that she couldn’t wear it, but he wouldn’t ruin her good mood now. He put the oil back on the shelf.

  In the back of the store, Cay was having trouble with the clothes. She left her shift on, but when she put a boy’s shirt on over it, her breasts were still prominent. And they tended to move when she walked. She wasn’t about to tell the Scotsman about this problem and ask his opinion. Instead, she had to look around the store to find cloth she could use to bind her breasts. In a back corner were rolls of fabric and scissors, so she cut a bit of white muslin and made a big bandage of it. She didn’t pull too hard, just enough to stop the movement and make her chest into a lump, and she put the shirt back on. If she kept it loose, she thought it would work.

  It didn’t take long to put on the other clothes. She traded her torn silk stockings for a boy’s th
ick white ones, and breeches went easily over her slim legs. She had a great deal of trouble fastening them at the waist, what with all the buttons and ties, but she figured it out. She tucked the shirt into the trousers, slipped her arms through a vest, found a lightweight wool coat, and put it on. As she started for the front of the store, she grabbed a big straw hat off the shelf, and went to the front counter.

  “Well?” she said to Alex’s back.

  Turning, he gave her a long look, but said nothing.

  “You don’t like it? Did I do something wrong? I’m not used to breeches, but I think I fastened them properly.”

  Silently, he went behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her toward the mirror. Her reflection showed a girl in boy’s clothing. Her hair hung past her shoulders in thick curls, and she was still wearing her pearl earrings. It was amazing that they’d stayed on as long as they had—but then she’d tightened them often.

  Without a word, Alex held out his hand, and she knew what he meant. She unscrewed the earrings and put them in his palm.

  “I’ll put these with your other clothes and take them with us.”

  “Of course we’re going to take my dress. Maybe it can be repaired. I don’t plan to wear these hideous clothes forever. Once you’ve left on your travels with the other men, maybe I can go back to being a girl.”

  “And travel all the way back to Virginia as a lone female? No, you will not.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she was again twisting about.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Moving. It feels odd not to have on a corset. I’ve worn one every day of my life since I was twelve.”

  “Twelve?” Alex said. “You’ve been tied into that thing since you were little more than a babe?”

  “Of course. How else does a grown woman get a small waist? You don’t think a mother would wait until her daughter was an adult, then try to pull her waist in, do you?”

  “I can honestly say that I never wondered how a woman got a small waist. I guess I thought they were born with them.”

  Cay shook her head at him. “Next you’ll be telling me that you think women naturally have a shine to their hair and roses in their cheeks.”

  Since that was true, Alex could only stare at her in silence.

  “I think you missed out on a lot in life by having no mother or sisters.”

  “I think I was a babe in the woods until I met you,” Alex said under his breath, then louder, “Are you ready to go, lass?”

  “You’ll have to stop calling me that, now that I’m supposed to be a boy.”

  “When we do something with your hair so you don’t look like one, I will.”

  All humor left Cay’s face. “I think that if I wash it and comb it back when it’s wet, it might be manageable just as it is.”

  He didn’t like the sadness in her eyes. “Might as well say that about a lion’s mane,” he said and was glad when she smiled.

  “Truly?”

  “Completely. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever before seen so much hair on one person. And the color is truly magnificent.” As he talked he was walking toward the door and Cay was following him.

  “You don’t think it’s too red?” she asked, her eyes wide in innocence. She wanted to distract him enough so that he didn’t see the things she was putting into the bag.

  With his eyes on her, he picked up the big bag of goods and held the door open for her. “I wouldn’t change a strand of it.” He glanced back into the store, saw the money he’d left on the counter, and closed the door behind her. “I once had a pony with a mane the color of your hair and it was my favorite of all of them.”

  Cay looked at the closed door behind her. “Are you just saying these things to get me to do what you want?”

  “Aye, I am, but I’m also telling you the truth, lass,” he said softly. “You have beautiful hair.”

  Smiling, she went down the stairs.

  In the store, she’d felt the looseness of the boy’s clothing, but it wasn’t until she mounted her mare that she really saw how different they were. Instead of having to rely on people or things to help her mount, without a skirt holding her legs together, she put her foot high up into the stirrup and hoisted herself up. She looked down at her legs in the dark breeches and knew that if her elegant mother saw her now she’d faint. Edilean Harcourt would never wear boy’s clothing, no matter what the circumstances. But Cay couldn’t help feeling just a bit more free. She saw that the Scotsman was watching her in curiosity. “I want to see the map to where we’re going,” she said in the firmest voice she could manage.

  She had no idea what she’d said that made him laugh so loud, but she reminded him that they had to be quiet or someone would hear them.

  “I think I’ve made my lot worse,” he said as he reined his horse away and started going south, Cay right behind him.

  Eight

  Cay had been careful not to say another word about the Scotsman’s hair or the state of his body until they stopped to camp that night. When she’d lowered her lashes and asked sweetly that they camp by a stream or a river, he’d squinted his eyes, as though to ask what she was up to, but he said nothing, and that’s where they’d stopped. All through their dinner of dried fruit, crackers, and pickles, she’d said nothing.

  It was only after they’d finished eating that she stood up and stared down at him. “It’s time for you to take a bath.”

  “Too cold,” he said without looking up.

  “It must be eighty degrees and you’re a Scot, so how can anything be too cold?”

  “The river current is too strong.”

  She didn’t have to look at the stream to see how gently it was flowing. “I have soft soap for your hair.”

  “I don’t need it.” He still hadn’t looked up at her. “As for you, lass, I’m afraid it’s time to trim your hair. I brought scissors so I won’t need to use my knife, but I think we should get started on it.”

  She knew he was trying to distract her, but it wasn’t working. “You smell so bad that I have to hold my hand over my nose and breathe through my mouth. Your hair is so dirty that I’ve seen cow tails that are cleaner. You stink, and I can’t stand it any longer.”

  Alex kept his eyes straight ahead, looking at the water and the sun low in the sky, and not looking at her. The truth was that he didn’t want to remove the stench of the prison from his body. He knew he was being foolish, but he hadn’t been allowed to bathe since the day he’d married Lilith, and if he washed, he knew it would remove his last connection to her.

  And then there was the fact that he was alone with a young woman whom he was beginning to see as being quite desirable. All in all, he thought it would be better to make her stay away from him. “I like the smell of me.”

  “Well, I don’t. If we’re going to make it to Florida together, then there are going to be times when you need my help, and if you want me to give it to you, then you are going to be clean.”

  When he just sat there, she turned away from him, went to her horse, and began to saddle it. He took longer than she’d thought he would before he stopped her, but he did.

  “Why didn’t your father turn you over his knee and teach you to obey your elders?”

  “My father would never strike a child, but my mother . . .” She glared at him. “Don’t get me started on my family! There’s the water and the soap is in the bag. And when you get through, I’m going to coat your hair in jasmine oil.”

  Alex took a step back from her, his face filled with horror. “Nay, you will not.”

  “The oil will kill whatever is living in there. Smother it.”

  “But the smell, lass . . . I couldn’t bear the stench.” When he saw that she wasn’t going to give in, he looked back at the water. “No, I won’t do it.”

  “Fine,” Cay said as nicely as she could manage. “But I am going to take a bath.” Turning, she slipped into the surrounding
forest and removed her shoes, cursing him with every breath. “I guess he wants turpentine,” she muttered. “Make him smell more like a man. Good. Then he can stay as filthy as he wants to and I won’t care. But he’s not going to share my cloak again, and he’s not going to sleep beside me ever again. He’s not going to—”

  She stopped her tirade when she heard a big splash. It was either a huge fish, a bear coming to eat them, or . . . She stepped closer to the stream and looked to see the Scotsman’s head just above the water.

  “It may be warm on land but this water is cold,” he said, and even in the fading light she could see that his face was already red.

  “The water in Scotland is colder,” she said, laughing.

  “Aye, but I don’t get into it naked. I have my plaid.”

  Cay kept the smile on her face and stepped back into the trees. She was alone in the forest with a naked man who might be a murderer, but she was smiling. Even to her, that seemed odd.

  “Will you no come in, lass?” He sounded like a old man calling to a young girl—which was what was happening, but she knew he was doing it as a joke.

  His jest removed the awkwardness of the moment. “Use the soap. I just hope it’s strong enough to remove some of the dirt.”

  “Could you not come in and show me how?” he called in a teasing way.

  Cay stayed out of sight, but she was laughing. When he said nothing more and she heard a lot of splashing, she cautiously peeped around a tree and looked out at the water. He was standing chest deep, lather on his head, and he was shivering. As she watched, he dove into the water and she saw his naked behind above the surface. Turning back, she giggled and began removing the rest of her own clothing.

  What would he do if she did get into the water with him? she wondered. In her group of female friends, it was Jessica Welsch who was the flirt. One time Cay’s mother said that it was a wonder Jess hadn’t run off with a man when she was thirteen, considering what her mother Tabitha’s past was like. Cay had wanted to know all the story behind that remark, but her mother wouldn’t elaborate on it.