Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

T here was a faint scraping against the casement windows in Jasmine's bedchamber. A light wind ruffled the surface of the Thames. The moon silvered both the lawns and the river. Anyone looking up would have seen the shadowy figure of the man who had climbed the thick vine which grew up the brick side of the house. Clinging to his precarious ladder with one hand, he fumbled to open the casements and, meeting with success, swung himself over the sill and into the room. Walking over to the bed, he looked down upon the woman there.

It was the sound of the windows opening, and the thump of feet hitting the floor that had aroused and awakened her fully. Jasmine opened her eyes. "Jemmie!" she said, recognizing the silhouette looming over her. "Are you mad?"

"Aye," he told her. "Mad for you, darling Jasmine!" Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his boots off, then, standing, began to remove his clothing. "Did you think I would go off to Edinburgh for the next month without coming to say a proper good-bye?" He slid naked beneath the sheets with her, taking her into his arms.

"But what of Kipp St.Denis, my faithful watchdog?" she demanded. "He will go running to his brother, and then the marquis will complain to the king, and then heaven only knows what will happen," she fretted.

"Kipp has gone home. I simply outwaited him. I then followed him back to his brother's house to make certain. Turnabout is fair play, after all, is it not, darling Jasmine?" He nuzzled her ear, inhaling the warm fragrance of her. "I even watched the lights go out all over St.Denis's house." He nibbled upon a perfectly shaped earlobe. "Only then did I come to you."

"Ohhh, Jemmie," she sighed, pressing her body against his. "I have been wild with longing for you, and now you are to leave me."

"But not until the morning, sweetheart. We have a few hours until then, and I intend that we make the most of them. It has been hellish not sharing your bed. I ache to have you as my wife."

"Promise me we will never have to come to court or involve ourselves with the Stuarts ever again," she said fiercely. "I do not like having my life manipulated by others, Jemmie. We will live in your Highlands forever, if we must, to escape the royal meddling. I know the king does not like his native land, and so is unlikely to chase after us."

He kissed her mouth in a leisurely fashion, tasting the familiar sweetness of her, his big hand cupping the back of her head. "We Scots are a contentious people, Jasmine. We are just as apt to murder our kings as obey them. Our lords, great and small, are an unruly lot. Jamie was always afraid of them, and rightly so, I think. If we live in Scotland, you will learn ‘tis a turbulent and tumultuous land to which I have brought you, darling Jasmine. You will find, like your mother, that you will want some time in England each year. Our climate is unique, you will discover. Autumn is our best season." His hand slipped from her head to smooth down the length of her back, caressing her buttocks.

She purred with contentment, twisting herself about, and drawing his dark head down into the shadowed vale between her breasts. He rested there a moment, listening to the beating of her heart beneath his ear. Then, affixing his hands about her waist, he straddled her and, bending, began slowly to lick the flesh of her torso. The flat surface of his tongue moved all about the swell of her breasts, and beneath them. It blazed a trail across her chest, her shoulders, and up the slender column of her throat. Then, his head moving swiftly like a darting butterfly, he blew back the wetness, finally fastening his mouth about one of her nipples, which he at first suckled, and then gently bit.

"Beast," she murmured, and, raising her head up, nipped hard upon his muscled shoulder, her teeth dangerously close to drawing blood.

"Little bitch!" he groaned, his hands pinioning her down hard. Then he transferred his attentions to her other nipple, his fingers kneading the tender flesh of the first breast as he drew hard on the second. He half released her so that he might push his hand between her silk thighs, his fingers seeking. "Jesu, you're a hot little bitch. Wet, and hot, and very ready, darling Jasmine!"

She easily broke his light hold on her, her arms sliding about him. Her hands gently stroked him as she whispered hotly in his ear, "Fuck me now, Jemmie! I will die if you do not!"

"Not yet," he insisted. "I have barely begun to delight myself with your ripeness, sweetheart." A single finger found what it sought, and he began to tease at her most vulnerable spot, flicking the digit back and forth over the sensitive flesh, feeling it swell beneath the tender torture until she was gasping with pleasure.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. "Bastard!" she hissed at him. "I want you! I want you!"

He laughed happily. "In time, darling Jasmine," he promised her, and then began to kiss her even as he pushed two fingers deeply into her sheath, moving them quickly back and forth until she drenched them with her love dew. "There, sweeting, that should take the edge off your hunger," he told her.

"I hate you," she half sobbed weakly, but he had eased her longing, and they both knew it.

"And I'm wild for you," he teased her. His lips met hers again, rendering her dizzy with the sweetness. "Each night I'm away from you I will remember tonight and all the other nights we have lain together making love to one another. I will count the days until we are married, and you are mine forever, Jasmine." He kissed her lips once more, and then her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose, her determined little chin. "Tell me you will hunger for me as much those long weeks we are apart."

"Yes, damn you!" she managed to gasp. What was happening to her? Usually she was equally in control of their lovemaking; but tonight he had taken firm charge, and she found she was utterly content to allow it. She wanted him to take her roughly, overwhelm her entirely, make her a slave to his masterful passion. She felt like a very young girl again.

Releasing his grip upon her, he slid down the length of her torso, leaving her breasts aching with longing to be touched by him again. Catching up her small, narrow foot in his big hand, he kissed it, suckling lightly upon each toe, his tongue tickling her high arch. His kisses trailed over her narrow ankle, up her shapely calf, across her dimpled knee and, sweeping over her silken thigh, moved across to her other leg. Then reversing the process, he worked his way back down to her left foot.

Pulling himself back up, he began to nibble lightly once more upon her ripe lips, while her fingers tangled in his dark hair. He nuzzled his face against her navel, rubbing his cheek against the satiny flesh. Every pulse in her body was throbbing with her desire. Lower and lower, he moved along her torso. Her vulva was swollen, and already pearlescent with her love juices. He licked at it, smiling to himself when she whimpered first, then swore at him furiously. Spreading her wide, he settled himself between her legs, gazing at her sex, which he revealed to his eyes, opening her nether lips with his thumbs to expose the tumescent core of her sex, throbbing beneath his hot look.

"God," he groaned, "you are so damned beautiful there!"

"Jemmie! You are killing me!" she cried out low.

Leaning forward, he licked several times about the coral shell of her, and then, fastening his mouth about the jewel of her sex, he sucked hard on it while her body arced wildly beneath him, almost dislodging him. His hands fastened about her hips, holding her still beneath the sweet assault.

Pleasure such as she had never known rolled over her in such wild excess that she thought she would surely die. Then, as suddenly as he had offered her this delight, he was mounting her swiftly and fiercely driving into her very womb, bringing yet another surge of pleasure so great that she could hear a violent roaring in her ears as her body began to convulse with a powerful orgasm the like of which she had never known. Her nails clawed at his back, and she moaned wildly.

He couldn't get enough of her. Over and over, and over again he thrust into her, unable to cease the furious motion of his loins. He groaned as she wrapped her legs about him, giving him greater access to the exquisite pleasure that their two bodies were capable of generating. Finally, when he thought relief was not attainable, his lance quivered wildly, then burst with such intensity that he thought he would never stop coming as his love juices poured into her womb, flooding it to overflowing. Exhausted, James Leslie collapsed upon his lover's pillowing bosom, sobbing with relief.

"Ahhh, you exotic witch," he finally managed to say, "you have come near to killing me, and I, you."

Jasmine managed a small chuckle. " Wasn't it wonderful?" she said, her arms going about him again.

"And now I must leave you for a month, more or less," he complained.

"Ride quickly," she encouraged him. "I do not know how long I can bear St.Denis's company, and holding him off will be both difficult and irritating. Thank God the queen is my friend!"

"If he so much as touches you," Glenkirk growled, lifting his head and staring into her turquoise eyes, "I shall make him this court's first eunuch. I hate the way the randy bastard looks at you, as if he were contemplating a delicious meal."

"He'll find himself poisoned if he attempts to take a bite out of me," Jasmine promised him. "I am yours, James Leslie. Body and soul, I am yours. I will have no other man as my husband. Now, get off of me, you great beast. I need to prepare love cloths so we may begin another sweet round of passion. I have hated being without you, and I need strong memories to last the next month."

"You are totally insatiable," he grinned at her.

"So are you," she shot back at him.

"Prepare the basin," he instructed her. "I'll need those memories too, darling Jasmine."

When she awoke long after sunrise the following morning, James Leslie was gone from her side, and she didn't even know when he had departed. On the pillow where his dark head had lain was a perfect half-open blood red rose. With a smile she lifted it and inhaled its fragrance, her mind awhirl with the memories they had made before the dawning. Those memories would have to sustain her in the weeks to come, Jasmine knew. The basin was gone from the bedside, and she realized that her servants, discreet as always, had already been there. Reaching out, she pulled on the bell cord to inform them she was awake and ready for her Assam tea.

Shortly Adali entered her bedchamber, the tray, with its blue-and-white porcelain cup and deep saucer, in hand. "Good morning, my princess," he said, setting the tray down. Taking the handleless cup up, he spilled some hot, fragrant tea into the saucer, and brought it over to her. "Your tea." He took the rose from her to put in a bud vase.

Jasmine sipped the beverage slowly. Then she said, "When did Lord Leslie leave, Adali?"

"Before first light, my lady. The skulking one had not yet returned to his post, nor has he come yet. I imagine his master will no longer require him to hide in the shadow of the garden wall now that the earl has departed for Scotland. He and Fergus More rode out just after dawn."

"And now begins the tiresome task of outwitting the marquis of Hartsfield while I pretend to consider his silly suit," Jasmine grumbled.

Adali made a disapproving motion with his mouth. "The gentleman has all the finesse of one of your father's fighting elephants," he observed. "A dangerous fellow, I sense."

"Aye," Jasmine told him. "Jemmie says he is deviant in his passions. I will have to be very careful about him."

"Surely, my princess, you will not allow yourself to be alone with him," Adali said, disturbed.

"I must at some point," Jasmine told him. "That is why he has had Jemmie sent away; so he may have time alone with me. He believes he can convince me to marry him. Of course all he wants is control over my wealth, and my not-so-royal Stuart son. Obviously he has a poor opinion of women, another mark against him in my books."

"You will want a bath," Adali said, dropping the distasteful subject of Piers St.Denis.

"Ummmm," Jasmine agreed. "I am deliciously battered, and replete with my lord's loving, Adali."

"Then you are truly content to wed with James Leslie next month? While I believe he is the proper husband for you, my princess, I should not want you unhappy. Not I who love you like a father and have raised you from an infant," Adali said, his brown eyes filled with tender emotion.

"I am content," Jasmine told him. "Thank you, dearest Adali. I would have you know that I love you every bit as much as I loved Akbar, whose royal seed gave me life."

He bowed low to her and, unable to say another word, hurried from the room, so overcome with emotion was he. Watching him go, Jasmine smiled. She could not imagine life without Adali by her side. He had always been there, with her and for her. He and her two maidservants. How would they adjust to life in the less civilized climes of Scotland? At least they would all be managing together as they always had, she considered with a small chuckle. Adali, Toramalli, and Rohana could make civilization anywhere.

Jasmine was just stepping from her bath when Adali entered her bedchamber, annoyance plainly written all over his light brown face. "The marquis of Hartsfield is here, my lady. Let me send him away for you. He has arrived in a most unseaworthy little bit of a barge, and says he wishes to take you on an outing today."

Jasmine burst out laughing. "He is attempting to be romantic, Adali," she giggled. "I shall go on his picnic, and as we are returning home I shall develop a cold, which ought to give me a few days relief from his company. Courting men don't like sickly women."

"Very well, my lady," Adali said. "When will you be ready to go, for he will surely ask me. An hour? Two?"

"Let us make it two hours, Adali. As he did not request the pleasure of my company beforehand, he can hardly expect me to be available upon his immediate arrival. Have a footman bring him some wine and biscuits, and then leave him alone to stew in the library."

Adali bowed and departed.

Dried, powdered, and wrapped in a chamber robe, Jasmine stretched out upon her bed and contemplated what she would wear on this outing. "Something girlish and countrified," she said to her maidservants.

"You have a lavender-blue silk gown with a wide lace collar," Rohana suggested.

"You could wear it with several petticoats and no farthingale," Toramalli said. "The neckline is very low, however."

"Hummm," Jasmine considered, thinking what fun it would be to tease St.Denis with a glimpse of what he could not ever have. She was very proud of her bosom, which, despite her four childbirths, was still firm and creamy. "Let me see it," she told Rohana.

Rohana brought forth the requested garment, laying it out for her mistress to contemplate. The gown was really quite simple. It was ankle-length, and its sleeves had slashes showing a fine creamy silk beneath. There was no decoration upon the bodice, which would be well covered by the beautiful lace, which formed a draped collar. The waist would be tied with a cream-colored silk galant .

"Yes," Jasmine said. "Do we have slippers to match?"

Toramalli shook her head. "Better you wear black with it, else you dirty them. You have a pair of new pantofles which will suit the occasion perfectly, my lady. What jewelry?"

"The pearl necklace with the pear-shaped pink diamond," Jasmine said mischievously. "He'll have a terrible time keeping his eyes off it, and yet will be desperate to appear disinterested in either my jewelry or my breasts." She grinned at her two servingwomen, who burst into laughter at her reasoning.

"You are as naughty as you were when you were a little girl and used to hide in the palace gardens from Adali," Rohana remarked.

For a moment a shadow passed over Jasmine's face. How simple her life had been then as the youngest child of the great Mughal emperor, Akbar. It all seemed so long ago, so very far away from her adopted land of England. "I suppose," she said, "that that little girl still resides somewhere within me, but don't ever tell the children, Rohana."

"They don't need to be told how to be naughty," Toramalli said. "It seems to be instinctive with them. I am amazed your old grandmother can control them, and yet she does."

Jasmine laughed. "Nothing is too big a challenge for Skye O'Malley," she told her servants. "They say I am like her. I love hearing it, of course, but I do not believe I have her greatness."

"You are young yet, my princess," Toramalli observed, "and you have the blood of conquerors in your veins from your father as well."

Exactly two hours after the marquis of Hartsfield had been announced, Jasmine descended the stairs of Greenwood House and entered the library, where he was impatiently awaiting her. She looked dewy fresh and deceptively innocent. Her beauty literally took his breath away. He had to have her!

She curtsied to him. "Good day, my lord."

He bowed, regaining his composure. "Madame. I thought perhaps you would enjoy stopping to lunch somewhere along the river."

"Adali told me. What a lovely idea, my lord. Shall we go?" Jasmine smiled pleasantly.

"Of course," he replied, hurrying to the door to open it for her. "I have a barge waiting."

They exited the house and walked down to the river, where, to the marquis of Hartsfield's surprise, another barge other than his own appeared to be awaiting them, as was Adali, garbed in narrow long white pants and a long white coat embroidered in gold thread and pearls that came to just below his knees. About his waist was a gold sash, into which was stuck a jeweled dagger. Upon his graying head Adali wore a small white turban. Jasmine had not seen him dressed this way in several years. She raised a dark quizzical eyebrow.

Adali bowed to her. "The marquis's barge was quite unsuitable, my princess," he said calmly. "I sent it away."

"But my basket of food was in the barge," Piers St.Denis protested, astounded by the servant's boldness.

"The contents of your basket would not have suited my mistress's palate, my lord. I have replaced your basket with one from our own kitchens," Adali replied, and then he helped Jasmine into her own barge.

When the marquis had entered the vessel and seated himself next to Jasmine, Adali also entered the barge and, with an imperious wave of his hand, signaled the bargemen to begin rowing.

"You are coming with us?" Piers St.Denis was becoming annoyed. Was he never to be alone with Jasmine?

"My mistress does not go off with strange men, my lord," Adali answered the marquis of Hartsfield. "It is my duty to protect her. Her father, the great Mughal Akbar, himself, placed her as an infant into my arms and gave me my instructions. I have never failed my mistress, nor will I ever fail her. I will be her protection until I die."

"You are a slave then?"

Adali shook his head in the negative. "I am a free man, my lord," he said stonily, his tone indicating his disapproval of someone who did not recognize either his authority or his social standing.

"I mean your mistress no harm, Adali," Piers St.Denis said in a conciliatory voice, attempting to use his great charm on Adali. "Certainly you must understand that."

"My mistress is a lady of rank, wealth, and extraordinary beauty, my lord. I am sure your intentions toward her are honorable. Nonetheless, it is my duty to be with her until she is remarried and put into the care of her husband. Then I will run her household even as I do now. I will continue to see to her safety and that of her children." He did not smile. His attitude was an implacable one. "Do not allow my presence to disturb you. I see and hear all but report nothing publicly." Then, turning his back to them, he remained standing outside the barge's open cabin door.

"I am surprised that you allow a servant to speak to anyone like that," the marquis grumbled irritably. Adali's bearing was very formidable. How the hell could he overwhelm Jasmine with passion if that damned creature was always there. Did Glenkirk have to put up with such an inconvenience? He doubted it.

"Adali is not truly a servant any longer," Jasmine told her suitor calmly. "He has always been a friend, and he is like a second father to me. I trust both his judgment and his instincts. He wants only what is best for me, my lord." And then she dropped the subject, smiling sweetly at him and saying, "Where have you planned for us to stop and eat? Isn't it a lovely day? There is no place in the world like England in the springtime, is there? Have you traveled? It seems I have been all over the world."

"I have never left England," he said stiffly. "Why would I? There is everything here that I could possibly want."

"Have you never been curious about other lands, and other people?" she asked him. "Until I left India, I had never been anywhere, but I did travel with my father's court, of course, across the vastness of our land. India is hot, however, and I preferred as I grew older to spend much of my time in Kashmir, at the palace my father gave to my mother. It was on a lake. The climate there was more temperate than that of Lahore, Fatahpur Sikri, or Agra. Such hot cities!"

"Cities?" he looked surprised. "I thought India a rather savage and barbaric land, madame. Your cities, naturally, could not rival London, or our other fine towns. They are made of mud and wattle, are they not? England must have been quite a revelation to you when you first arrived."

Jasmine could not believe her ears. Did he know nothing of the world outside of England? "India," she told him, "is a very ancient civilization, my lord. Our cities are far more urbane, in many instances, than your cities. While the poor live simply, as all the poor do no matter the country, our men of property do not. My father's palaces far outshine anything I have seen in England. In Agra my father's residence had walls nine feet thick, and 180 feet high. They were impossible to breach. There were soaring towers, and planted terraces with kiosks atop them. The walls had battlements, and breastworks, and places for archers. It was incredibly magnificent, and that was not even the best of his castles. Akbar built an entire city he called Fatahpur Sikri. It was all marble and sandstone, and so beautiful that just to look at it hurt one's heart.

"Why do you believe India is some backward place to be scorned? We have as many, if not more, artisans, merchants, and manufacturers than you do. Our land mass is enormous when compared to this little island kingdom of England. And in my father's land all faiths were welcomed. Such is not the case in England, or any of your civilized lands in Europe. Not only that, we have a great and glorious history which has been written down over the centuries, and can be found in the libraries of my father's palaces. And our music, painting, and literature is unparalleled!"

He was taken aback by her outburst. He had assumed that she had come to England to escape the barbarity of her native land. "If you loved India so," he said, "then why did you leave it?"

"Because," Jasmine said bluntly, "my half brother, Salim, who is now the Emperor Jahangir, wished to pursue an incestuous relationship with me, my lord. He murdered my first husband, Prince Jamal, the royal governor of Kashmir, in order to clear a path to my bed. My father was dying and knew he could no longer protect me from Salim. I was sent to England that my half brother be thwarted in his unnatural desires." She smiled sweetly at him as she had several times that morning. "Did you not know that? I would have assumed your interest in me would have engendered some curiosity in my personal history, my lord, but it has obviously not."

"My concern for you, madame, grows more as each minute passes, and I come to realize what a magnificent woman you truly are," the marquis declared. He was astounded by her frankness.

Adali made a sound that was very much like a sharp bark of laughter at St.Denis's words, but he did not turn around.

"You know nothing of me, sir," Jasmine said scathingly, "except what the king has told you. That I must have a husband because I am incapable, weak woman that I am, of running my own life, and raising my own children. That I am a wealthy woman. Wealthier even than the king himself. And I am certain that the king told you that I was beautiful, but until the day I returned to court with Glenkirk, my lord, that was all you had heard of me. You knew, of course, that I was Prince Henry's mistress, and had borne him a son; but you were not at court when I was here last. And since the king has offered you the opportunity to court me, you have not even bothered to learn anything of me other than what was previously told you. I do not find that particularly flattering, my lord. It would appear that you court me because of my wealth and the power you believe you will have as the stepfather of my not-so-royal Stuart son. You must be aware that I will not have you, yet you persist in this game. Why, my lord St.Denis? Why?"

"Everything you say is true, madame," he began, "but from the moment I laid eyes on you I knew that you must be my wife! I am consumed with desire for you! Yet you would not let me near you, and how was I to learn about you if I could not be with you? I would not base our marriage on gossip and innuendo, or worse, misinformation. Only you can tell me the true history of Jasmine Lindley."

"You had Jemmie sent away," she accused him.

"How else could I be allowed to spend time with you?" he asked her. "To have returned from France with you in tow was quite a coup for the earl; and to marry you will be but the final jewel in his crown. I, however, would pluck that jewel from him, madame, and wear it myself. There isn't a man alive, knowing the situation, who would fault me for it." He caught her hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed it ardently, turning it over to embrace both the palm and the inside of her wrist.

Jasmine snatched her hand back. "You presume, my lord!" she told him icily. The kiss had sent a shiver of distaste through her. There was something about him that reminded her of Salim, although there was absolutely no resemblance between her brother and the marquis.

"I will have you, Jasmine," he declared, his bright blue eyes glittering almost black. "You were meant to be my wife."

"I will be James Leslie's wife," she said quietly. "There is nothing you can say, or do, my lord, that will change my mind. However, if you wish to keep me amused while my Jemmie is away in Scotland, I shall be pleased to entertain your company, for I know it will make the king happy. Perhaps we can even decide upon a list of eligible maidens to present the king with when you finally accept that your quest of me is futile. From that list we will choose a bride for you. You had best take advantage of my suggestion, my lord. You are too complicated a man for the king. In the end he will choose Villiers for his favorite of favorites, and you will have no influence left with the royal Stuart. You have few friends, I suspect, and Villiers will certainly be content to see you fade into obscurity," she warned him.

"You are far too clever, and much too observant, I think," he told her. "Are you one of these intelligent women, then?"

"Aye, I am," Jasmine admitted.

Adali, who had been monitoring the conversation, now turned to the pair, saying, "There is a lovely grove of willows just around the next bend in the river. With your permission, my princess, I will direct the bargemen there."

Jasmine nodded.

"Do you read and write?" the marquis asked her.

"Aye. And I do mathematics. I know history, and I speak several languages quite fluently, my lord. I was taught by a very enlightened priest who came to my father's court for the express purpose of educating me. I was baptized in my infancy into the Christian faith. My foster mother followed Islam, as did my brothers. Two of my three sisters were members of the Hindu faith. I have told you that in my father's land all faiths were welcomed. My sisters were as well educated as I was except for poor Aram-Banu Begum. She is slow of wit, but a sweet girl."

Every time she spoke he was further amazed by her. She had said that he was complicated, but she was equally complex, he thought. "You, your brothers, and sisters, all had different mothers?"

Jasmine laughed, knowing even as he asked her he was shocked at what he already knew the answer would be. "Yes," she said. "It sounds quite licentious to you, doesn't it, my lord, but it is the custom in India for a man to have multiple wives and concubines. Of course, not all the men in India can afford more than one wife; but my father married for dynastic and political reasons. Many of his wives were the sisters and daughters of the men whom he conquered, or those who wished to forge alliances with him. My English mother was his fortieth wife, and, of course, he had a large zenana of favorites. I have often thought it quite unfair that men may have the privilege of many women, but women must be faithful to but one man at a time. What do you think, my lord?" Her turquoise blue eyes twinkled.

"I … I … I have not ever considered such a thing," he replied slowly. A man might have a wife, and a mistress, but God only knew that was enough trouble. Forty wives? The deceased emperor of India must have been a formidable man indeed.

She laughed gaily. "You are shocked," she mocked him.

The barge slid up on the sandy riverbank before he might answer. Adali leapt out and, beckoning to his mistress, lifted her onto the shore. He left the marquis of Hartsfield to exit on his own. Two of the bargemen climbed from the elegant little vessel, carrying several baskets. Adali took a linen cloth from one of the baskets and spread it upon a patch of the grassy field, beneath a particularly large willow tree. He next set out the meal. A small chicken, roasted golden; a rabbit pie, still warm from the oven in its stone pie plate; half of a small country ham; fresh bread; a crock of sweet butter; a quarter wheel of hard yellow cheese; a small silver dish of runny French Brie; a bowl of fresh strawberries; and a carafe of wine. There were two silver plates, two Venetian goblets of crystal etched with silver butterflies, and the appropriate cutlery with silver blades and bone handles, and silver spoons.

"Have you food for yourself and the bargemen, Adali?" Jasmine inquired of him, setting her lavender skirts about her on the grass.

"Yes, my princess," he answered her, bowing.

"Then you may leave us to eat your own meal," Jasmine told him. "I believe that we may trust the marquis to behave himself, Adali."

"I will be within earshot," Adali responded, and moved away from them back to the barge, where the rowers awaited his further instructions.

"Will he always be with us?" Piers St.Denis asked her, sitting down.

"It will keep you from foolish misbehavior, I think," Jasmine teased him wickedly. "If I were forced to defend myself, I could harm you."

He laughed. Despite the fact she was the most irritating women he had ever met, she was also incredibly desirable. "Jasmine, for I intend even without your permission to call you by your name, if you will but give me a chance, you will find I am a most charming fellow. I should make you an excellent husband. I will manage your affairs every bit as well as Rowan Lindley managed them when he was married to you. Now, I'll have a bit of everything, for I am quite hungry, and your cook is obviously very good. Your Adali was right to send my poor basket away. It was much too common."

Now it was Jasmine's turn to laugh. She began preparing a plate for him as she spoke. "You may call me by my name, if you choose, my lord," she told him. "As for your managing my affairs, I had best tell you that I manage my own affairs. While I did, on occasion, ask Rowan for his advice, all decisions regarding my wealth abide in my hands. They will continue to remain in my charge." She handed him a full plate and, pouring a goblet of wine, passed it to him as well.

"Glenkirk has agreed to such a thing?"

"I should not have agreed to marry him had he not," Jasmine replied, putting two chicken wings, a slice of ham, and some bread and cheese on a plate for herself. "Is the wine good? It comes from the French branch of the family at Archambault in the Loire." She sipped at her own filled goblet appreciatively.

"You have French relations?"

"Aye." She gnawed on a chicken wing.

He grew silent, eating his food instinctively. This was not a simple woman, he thought again. She was educated. She was independent. She had traveled extensively. She had been the beloved of a prince who, had he lived, would have been England's next king. She had his son. She was fabulously wealthy. All of this far outweighed his other concerns, but he needed time to rethink his plan of attack. Jasmine was obviously not one bit afraid of the king's power, nor did she stand in awe of Piers St.Denis, the marquis of Hartsfield. How could he control her? What would frighten her into obeying him? How could he gain control over her wealth? Glenkirk was either a fool, or he had agreed to her wishes intending to get his hands on Jasmine's wealth after their marriage. He needed time to think.

When they had finished their meal there was nothing left to do but to return to Greenwood. He could hardly woo her on the riverbank with her bargemen and the disapproving Adali looking over his shoulder. As they progressed back down the river Jasmine began to sneeze. After a bit she started to sniffle. Her eyes grew heavy, and she was much less talkative than she had been when they had begun their journey to the picnic site.

"Are you ill?" he nervously ventured.

"I think I may be developing an ague, my lord," she said unhappily. Then she sneezed several times again. "It is so damp on the river, and it is still spring. Perhaps an outdoor luncheon was not such a good idea after all. Ahhhhhchooo! Oh dear!" She fumbled for her handkerchief, shivering visibly as she did so, blowing her nose noisily.

"We are almost back to your home," he said, irritated. Good Lord! An ague! What if it was one of those fatal agues? What if she died, and he was held responsible! God's foot, how Villiers would laugh at his misfortune, all the while sympathizing with the king over her untimely demise. Then he should never get either Jasmine, her wealth, or the power to be had by being the little duke of Lundy's guardian. "Adali!" Piers St.Denis leaned forward, tugging at Adali's silk coat.

"My lord?" Adali had quickly turned about.

"Your mistress is ill, Adali. Have the rowers row more quickly. She should not be out in this damp air, I fear!"

Adali peered into the cabin, his face impassive. "Indeed, my lord, my mistress does appear flushed. An ague, I think." He turned away and ordered the bargemen to a faster pace.

Reaching the Greenwood quay, Adali immediately took charge, lifting Jasmine from her seat and carrying her up the lawn to the house. "The barge will take you wherever you wish to go, my lord," he called after the marquis, effectively dismissing him.

Piers St.Denis stopped dead in his tracks halfway up the lawn. Adali had put him in an untenable position. He could hardly run after Jasmine under the circumstances. He had been given only one choice. Turning about, he walked back down to the barge and climbed into it. "Whitehall," he said to the bargemen.

From the library windows she watched him depart, chuckling to herself, well pleased. "Carrying me into the house from the barge was a very nice touch, Adali," she praised him.

"I thought so too, my princess," Adali replied. "How long do you intend suffering with the ague?"

"I think several days at least, and then I shall allow the marquis a brief bedside visit," Jasmine replied.

"Do not be too clever," Adali warned her. "If the king does not believe his young friend has had enough time to court you, he is quite capable of postponing your wedding to Lord Leslie. I know that you do not want that, nor does your family."

"I do not like the marquis," Jasmine told him. "I told you that he reminded me of Salim, and now I realize why. Do you remember how my brother would say things as if they were absolute fact? I will have you. It was not just words for Salim. It was fact. He wanted me. He would have me. There wasn't the slightest doubt in his mind that what he wanted he would have. Piers St.Denis behaves exactly the same way. In the face of my open and avowed dislike of him; in the face of my impending marriage to the earl of Glenkirk; he is absolutely and utterly oblivious. He will have me. He truly believes he will, and it is irritating beyond all, Adali!

"Time I otherwise might have spent with Jemmie, I must now spend with the marquis. I did not wish to remain in London at all, but rather to go home to see my children, from whom I have been separated for many weeks now. I wanted to visit my grandfather's grave and bid him farewell. All the things I would otherwise occupy my time with, I cannot because I must remain here and allow that obviously greedy little royal sycophant to play at courting me. James Stuart is a meddlesome and sentimental old fool, but it is the last time he will interfere in my life, Adali! I have had enough!"

Adali could see that his lady was careening into a dangerous temper. He knew that he had to prevent it lest she unwittingly worsen the situation in which she now found herself. If only she had married the earl of Glenkirk two years ago, there would be no difficulty now. "Why do you not send for the children?" he suggested.

"What?" She looked surprised.

"We will send a message to your grandmother tomorrow requesting the children be brought to London. The marquis of Hartsfield should, I believe, be exposed to your offspring. After all, does he not seek to become their guardian and stepfather?" There was a twinkle in Adali's dark eyes. "Little Lord Henry and my Lady India will understand the situation if we tell them. They will like the marquis a little better than you do. As for my Lady Fortune, she will follow the lead of her elder siblings and be the naughtiest of them all. Taking it all in will be the youngest, Duke Charles. Recognizing his brother's and sisters' dislike of the marquis, he will reject him, too, when St.Denis, believing himself clever, approaches your son to win his favor. Little ones his age have very strong likes and dislikes, my princess."

"It is brilliant!" Jasmine cried. "And the king will be absolutely delighted to have some time with his grandson. Send a pigeon at first light, Adali!" Then she clapped her hands and laughed. "I cannot wait to see Piers St.Denis's face when he is set upon by my children!"

"I shall write the message to Madame Skye myself," Adali said. And he did, even before first light, slowly, painstakingly forming the tiny letters on the parchment. It was not necessary to inform the matriarch of the family of everything that had happened since Jasmine's return to England from France. Adali had already done that, for he always kept in communication with Skye when they were apart. She knew of the king's new foolishness, of Jasmine's irritation, of Glenkirk's trip to Scotland. Now using the code they had devised several years earlier, he told her that the children were needed to help their mother discourage her unwanted suitor. They must leave for London upon receipt of the message. Then, stuffing the tightly rolled parchment into its silver container, he affixed it around the leg of a Queen's Malvern pigeon and, going to the window, released the bird into the predawn sky. He watched as it turned for home, its wings beating strongly in the cool air.

For the next three days Piers St.Denis arrived at Greenwood, beribboned bouquet in hand, only to be turned away by Adali. His mistress, the formidable servant reported, was yet too ill to receive visitors. No, a leech had not been called. His mistress did not believe in leeches. Perhaps tomorrow she would be well enough to receive him. On the fourth day, just as the marquis was becoming irritable, Adali greeted him with a broad smile, saying that his mistress would be happy to see the marquis, but only for a few moments. Beckoning the visitor to follow him, he led him up the two flights of stairs to Jasmine's apartments.

As he followed Adali, Piers St.Denis's eyes flickered back and forth, catching glimpses of the rooms above the main level, for he had never been allowed upstairs before. An open door revealed a large library, but the other doors on the second level were closed to his sight. Greenwood was not a particularly large house, and he wondered at its location at the end of a row of homes belonging to the high and very mighty. Its furnishings were fine, but not ostentatious by any means. He might have even called it simple but that the tapestries, the carpets, and the silver were so obviously rich and of the finest quality. They had reached the third floor of the house, and Adali ushered him through the doors into Jasmine's apartment, through a dayroom, and directly into her bedchamber.

"My lord!" She held out her hands in welcome to him. Her dark hair was loose about her, and she wore a modest chamber robe with a round, high neckline. He was relieved to see she appeared recovered.

"You are well?" He kissed the two hands offered him, then, without being invited, sat upon the edge of her bed.

"I am weak yet, but the fever and chills have gone, I believe," Jasmine assured him, withdrawing her hands from his grip. "And I have received wonderful news from my dear grandmother. My children are coming to London to be with me!"

"Your children?" The marquis of Hartsfield did not look particularly pleased. "I thought your children lived in the country."

"Ohhh no, my lord! My children have always lived with me. I am not one of those mothers who but spawns her offspring, then leaves them entirely to the mercy of servants. Gracious no! My little ones are in the country because Grandmama brought them back from France so Jemmie and I might have a bit of time alone together; but now I want them back with me again, particularly as Jemmie is gone and I am so alone. Besides, you seek to be my husband, so you should really meet my children, don't you think? And, of course, the king will be absolutely delighted to see my little not-so-royal Stuart." She gave him a dazzling smile. "I do believe I am better just knowing my little ones are coming."

Piers St.Denis was not pleased. He had gotten rid of James Leslie so he might be alone with Jasmine, and the earl was gone a week now, and he had yet to be alone with her. Now her blasted brats were coming to take up her time, and when would he have his chance with her at all? This was something he could not complain to the king about, for the king was totally sentimental where family was concerned. He would be delighted to see his grandson and the other three little beasts as well. Aggravated as he was, he smiled back at her. "Of course I should meet the children," he said. "Aren't the two eldest old enough to be fostered out? As we are to spend our life at court, Jasmine, we should begin to consider your children's futures as well."

"I will not foster my children out, my lord," she said. "I consider it a nasty custom, giving one's offspring to other families to raise. My children are wealthy, titled, and of impeccable lineage. They will be considered quite eligible marriage partners when the time comes, and without being sent away into other households."

"I think, perhaps," Adali interrupted, "that we should conclude your visit, my lord. Agitation is not good for my lady, as I know you realize. You will be welcomed back tomorrow, however."

St. Denis rose from her bedside and bowed to Jasmine. "The queen sends you her regards," he told her. "I will be back tomorrow, madame. There is a masque at the end of the week, and I would escort you to it if you are well enough, and I hope that you are."

"We shall see," Jasmine murmured, falling back upon her pillows.

"Farewell then, my love," he replied.

"Farewell, my lord," she responded as he departed her chamber. His love? There was Salim's distant voice again, she thought, and shivered.