Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

" S he has refused me! Most publicly! I am a laughingstock at court, Kipp! The bitch must be punished for her temerity, and, by God, I will see her pain!" The marquis of Hartsfield tore off his coat, flinging it across the room, and taking the large silver goblet of wine his brother offered him, gulped it.

"You knew the chance that she would have you over Glenkirk was slight," Kipp St.Denis reminded his brother. "Oh, I know you said you would win, but dammit, Piers, you had to know there was next to no chance she would change her mind. You are no fool, brother. Now tell me what the king said."

"He said he would find me a rich young wife, or rather the queen said it. There's another bitch, Kipp. Hand in glove with Villiers, if I don't miss my guess."

"A wealthy wife, handpicked by the king, is no shabby gift, little brother," Kipp attempted to soothe his sibling. "Think of the fun we'll have with her, eh?"

Piers St.Denis gulped down the contents of his goblet and handed it to Kipp for a refill. "Fun with some wellborn, and no doubt pious, virgin? One night, and she'll be beaten, Kipp. Where is the fun in that? Jasmine Lindley would have been a challenge to break because she has fire, passion, and experience. No virgin can compete with such a woman."

"You cannot refuse the king's choice of a wife for you, Piers," his brother warned him. "Whoever she is she'll be good for getting your heir on, if nothing else. We will have plenty of other women to amuse ourselves with, as we always have."

"I asked the king for her son," the marquis of Hartsfield told his brother. "I told him if he wanted to make me happy, and I could not have Jasmine, I wanted her son to nurture."

"You are mad!" Kipp exclaimed, astounded by his sibling's boldness.

"Nay! If I have the boy, I have power over Jasmine even if she won't marry me. Her weakness is her children, Kipp. She will have to do what I want to protect her child even if she is Glenkirk's wife. I shall openly make the bitch my mistress and destroy that marriage she so desires. And, as guardian of the king's only grandchild, albeit born on the wrong side of the blanket, I will have a certain power over James Stuart, too." His bright blue eyes gleamed wickedly in anticipation of his victory.

"The king will never give you the duke of Lundy," Kipp said flatly. "Put it from your mind, Piers, or you will suffer another embarrassing disappointment, I fear."

"The earl of Bartram has asked for the boy, too," the marquis told his surprised brother.

"And did the king tell him no?" Kipp St.Denis refilled his brother's goblet a second time.

"The king has not made up his mind," the marquis replied, sipping thoughtfully now at his wine. "Perhaps we should help him to make up his mind, Kipp, and at the same time checkmate the Leslies of Glenkirk."

"How?" Kipp St.Denis was beginning to be interested in what his brother had to say. If it was possible to snatch a victory from his brother's defeat, why not?

"What if Bartram were murdered, and the suspicion for his demise fell upon James Leslie and his new wife?" the marquis said.

"You would take a leaf from Somerset's book then?" his brother said thoughtfully. "It would have to be very well thought out, Piers."

"Aye, of course," was the reply, "but do you like my idea? Do you think it possible, Kipp? We could remove both possible guardians for the duke of Lundy in one stroke!"

"That still does not mean that the king would give you the boy," the practical Kipp said.

"Who else is there, brother? Who else?" the marquis exulted.

"Lady Lindley's grandmother, the old countess of Lundy," Kipp said. "She is the matriarch of her family. One of her sons is the earl of Lynmouth, another Lord Burke of Clearfields. Her son-in-law, the earl of BrocCairn, is the king's own cousin. The king likes that fierce old woman because she flatters him. He could give the child to her or any of her children."

"She would not live to see the boy grown," the marquis said. "She is already past her time, and as for her children, the king already has their love and loyalty. He does not need to do anything for them, but he does need to do something for me to recompense me for my public humiliation and my great disappointment."

"I wonder if you do not think yourself of more importance to the king than you really are, Piers," his brother considered. "Villiers, your great rival, charms the king with his sweetness and good nature. You, on the other hand, behave like a spoilt child each time you do not get your own way. Up until now the king has chosen to overlook your infantile behavior, but how long will his goodness last? He is not so big a fool as many would believe.

"When Bartram advised against giving you a Crown property, what did you do? You sulked and whined until the king was forced into offering you something of greater value, in this case, a chance to win the hand of Lady Lindley, in order to silence you. He should not have done it, but he didn't know what else to do to make you content again, so he gave both you and Villiers an opportunity.

"Your rival had the good sense to turn the king's offer down graciously, declaring his heart engaged somewhere else, then coyly admitting his passion for the very wealthy Lady Katherine Manners. You, Piers, had no such good sense. Now, having failed to gain the prize offered, you have once again gone into a fit of the sulks. The king will certainly tire of your behavior, especially in light of Villiers's sunnier disposition, brother."

"Villiers is a low-born opportunist," the marquis declared, angrily.

"Perhaps," Kipp replied, "but he has great charm, and the king to my eye is fast falling beneath his spell."

"Another reason for us to move quickly," Piers St.Denis asserted. "If I am indeed losing the king's interest, then I had best strike while I have yet the chance of getting what I want. Once I have the duke of Lundy in my possession, let Villiers have the king's attention all to himself. It will no longer matter to me, Kipp. Perhaps I shall cultivate Prince Charles. He is furiously jealous of Villiers, you know, and he is the future, not old king fool. That's it! I shall help to forge a bond between the young Charles and his royal uncle. When the elder becomes king, both shall thank me for it!"

"Now there is a better reason for obtaining custody of the boy," Kipp said. "His mother is not really important, but the lad! He is real power, little brother!"

"We are in agreement then?"

"Aye!"

"Then let us consider how best to murder the earl of Bartram, while placing the blame on the Leslies of Glenkirk, Kipp."

"Lady Lindley should be advised that the earl of Bartram is seeking to take her child from her," Kipp suggested.

"Yesss!" the marquis enthused, "and either she or Glenkirk, or possibly both of them, should face down Bartram publicly. Then when he is found dead under suspicious circumstances, the suspicion will naturally fall upon the Leslies of Glenkirk. The king shall be encouraged to remove his grandson from such unwholesome people, and voilà! I win! Even if Glenkirk and Jasmine are not charged with the death of Richard Stokes, the suspicion alone should do them in even as it did in Somerset and his vindictive wife."

"It will take clever planning. How much time do we have?" Kipp asked him. "When is Glenkirk due back from Scotland?"

Piers St.Denis thought a moment. "I don't really know, but he has been gone almost three weeks now. Perhaps in another ten days or more he should return. He was sent on a fool's errand, after all."

"I shall inquire about the court," Kipp said. "Discreetly, of course. You will say nothing further about the duke of Lundy lest suspicion in this crime fall on you, Piers. You do understand that, don't you? You cannot brag, even to Villiers, that you will obtain custody of the king's grandson. No one knows but the king, I imagine, and no one else must know."

Adali had more than doubled the guards watching over Greenwood House and its parklike grounds. Would there ever come a time when his mistress was completely safe, he wondered? Perhaps this Scotland would offer the sanctuary that they sought. He prayed it would be so.

The children had arrived from Queen's Malvern, and but for the absence of James Leslie, Jasmine was happy again. Her two eldest children were much like their father in features, although they both had her dark hair. India, however, had Rowan's golden eyes, while Henry's eyes were her own turquoise. It was her second daughter, Fortune, who seemed to be the swan in the duck's nest. Fortune had bright red-gold hair, which Skye claimed had been the color of her own grandmother's hair. As the child had Skye's blue-green eyes, Jasmine had to assume her coloring came from her Celtic ancestors; and indeed she was very much like the children who had played in MacGuire's Ford, the village on Jasmine's Irish estates, and little like her elder siblings.

As for baby Charles Frederick Stuart, he was every bit a Stuart, with his auburn curls and amber eyes so like his grandfather's, the king's. Almost three, he visited the court with his brother and sisters dressed in a satin suit of orange tawny with wide collar of delicate Irish lace. He carried a miniature sword with a gold hilt decorated with tiny emeralds and topaz that had been made just for him. Sweeping off his soft-brimmed hat with its three white plumes, he bowed to the king and queen while his proud mama looked on, well pleased by her smallest child's exquisite manners. Manners, Jasmine knew, she had not instilled in her baby. She silently thanked her grandmother.

Behind the tiny duke of Lundy, who by virtue of his seniority in rank led his siblings, came Henry Lindley, marquis of Westleigh; followed by his sisters, Lady India and Lady Fortune Lindley. The young marquis was dressed like his little brother, but his suit was turquoise blue satin, his custom-made sword studded with diamonds and aquamarines. His sisters were garbed in gowns of pink silk and lavender silk. As their elder brother bowed, they curtsied deeply, rising slowly and very gracefully to the silent approval of the queen and the court ladies, considered matrons.

"We are pleased to see ye once again, my dears," the king said in kindly tones. Then he beckoned to his grandson. "Come here to me, Charlie-boy," he said, and when the little boy had clambered within reach of his grandfather, James Stuart lifted him onto his lap, and reaching out drew his son, Prince Charles, into the child's view. "This is yer uncle," he told Jasmine's smallest son. "Ye are named for him. He is Charles, too. One day, when I am dead, Charlie-boy, this Charles will be yer king, and ye must be loyal to him. Yer a Stuart, laddie, and we Stuarts may fight among ourselves, but we are always loyal to each other in the end."

"Aye, sire," the little boy responded. Then he said to the young prince. "Why you look at me?"

"Because you look so much like your father, Charlie-boy. Your father was my big brother, like Henry is your big brother," the prince said. His eyes were filled with tears.

Charles Frederick Stuart, the duke of Lundy, reached up with a small hand and brushed a tear from Prince Charles's cheek. "No cry," he said in his baby voice. "No cry, Unca."

The king pulled out a silk handkerchief and blew his own nose, while those nearest the throne who had heard the full exchange sniffled audibly. The queen struggled to hold back her own tears.

"Play ball?" The child looked hopefully up again at his uncle.

Then to the amazement of those in the hall, Prince Charles smiled, a rare occurrence indeed and, lifting the child from his father's lap, took him by the hand. "Aye, I like to play ball," he said. "Let's go out into the court, my lord duke." He looked to the nearest footman. "Fetch us a ball, man," he said, and then hand in hand the two Charles Stuarts walked from the hall, chatting as if they had always known each other quite well.

"He's a braw little laddie, madame," the king said to Jasmine. "All yer bairns are fine laddies and lassies."

"I thank Your Majesty for your kindness to my children, and in particular for the favor you have shown the duke of Lundy," Jasmine said genuinely. Then she curtsied to the royal couple and, with her three older children, withdrew from the royal presence.

"Nicely done, my dearie," George Villiers said, coming up to them shortly thereafter. "You've raised some fine kits for such a wily vixen," he said with a mischievous grin.

Jasmine laughed and introduced her children to Villiers. "The gentleman will soon reign as the king's sole favorite," she told them afterward. "It cannot hurt to have his friendship, but he warned he is not as sweetly simple as he would like you to believe."

"He has no title," her eldest son noted.

"He will eventually," Jasmine said. "The king will reward him lavishly, and young Villiers has his eyes on an heiress of excellent family. He will have to be of equal rank with her father, or even higher before she is allowed to marry him, but he will be, I have not a doubt."

"He is very beautiful," Lady India Lindley said.

"Handsome," her mother corrected. "A man is handsome, a woman beautiful, my poppet."

India shook her head. "He is past handsome, Mama. He is beautiful! I am an heiress, and I would marry him without a title if he would but ask me." She looked admiringly after George Villiers.

"I do not like his eyes," Lady Fortune Lindley said.

"Why not?" Jasmine asked her younger daughter, curious. It was, she thought, a rather interesting observation for a little girl.

"They are like your black pearls, Mama. They reflect the light, but I can see nothing in them," Fortune remarked.

"You are such a fool, Fortune!" India mocked her. "I think his dark eyes, like a velvet night, filled with stars."

"Gracious!" Jasmine note. "You are a very romantic child, India. I think I am going to have to keep a sharp eye on you from now on, miss!" She found her two young daughters' observations on George Villiers interesting. While she found him amusing, and certainly useful, she tended to agree with her younger daughter, but then Rowan's posthumous daughter had always been sensible from her birth, she considered thoughtfully. India, on the other hand, had a streak of willful wildness very much like Jasmine's brother, who was now the Grand Mughal of India. It was to be hoped that she would outgrow such tendencies.

Prince Charles asked that his small nephew be allowed to stay in his apartments at court with him for a few days. It would have been ungracious of Jasmine to refuse, and Charlie-boy was most anxious to remain with this newfound uncle of his. Adali personally delivered a trunk of the child's clothing to the royal apartments. The prince, serious in his religious devotions, began teaching his nephew his prayers and his letters. The little child, who had a quick mind, was an excellent student, much to his royal uncle's great pleasure.

"It is like your father's court in that the courtiers scramble for the king's attention and favor," Adali wisely observed. "I suppose all royal courts are alike, my lady. Our littlest child fits in quite well, and is very much at ease with his princely uncle."

"Both of his grandfathers are kings," Jasmine observed, "and both of his uncles are or will be kings. If my not-so-royal Stuart had been born his father's heir, he would have been a king one day."

"He will have far less grief in his life being a duke," Adali said with a small smile, and his mistress laughed.

"How can you be so happy when I have been away?" James Leslie said, entering the room and surprising them both.

"Jemmie!" Jasmine squealed, and flung herself into his arms. "You're back! Ohh, now we can leave London, and go home to Queen's Malvern! Hooray! Hooray!" Then she kissed him hard, molding her body against his. "Did you miss me, my lord?" she murmured softly, nuzzling against the side of his neck. It was damp, and he had the aroma of horses about him, but beneath it she could scent James Leslie, her Jemmie.

She felt wonderful in his arms. God, he had missed her! He tipped her face up to his, saying, "Another kiss, madame. I am weary with longing for you." Then his mouth descended on hers, tasting the softness of her lips, her perfume, the night-blooming jasmine, enveloping him in its seductive scent. She yielded so sweetly in his arms, and, when he finally released her, his head faintly spinning, he grinned happily. "May I take it then that you have missed me, madame?"

She nodded. "And I have sent the marquis of Hartsfield packing, Jemmie! Most publicly, too. He will not come near me again, I vow."

"The king?" His tone was just slightly concerned.

"Ohh, the king understood perfectly once I explained it to him," Jasmine replied breezily. "And the children are all here! Charlie-boy has been at court with Prince Charles, who has taken a great liking to our little laddie; and Henry, India, and Fortune have made very good impressions on everyone. Why I've had a number of very serious inquiries regarding marriage for them; but now we can go home!"

The earl of Glenkirk turned to Adali. "What should I know?" he asked the household steward. "Or rather, what hasn't she told me?"

"Jemmie!" Jasmine looked somewhat aggrieved.

Adali grinned, then chuckled. "Actually, my lord, it is just as she has said. You were scarcely gone when the marquis was on our doorstep. He came to take my mistress on an outing. Naturally I accompanied them. Then my good lady caught a chill out on the river that turned into an ague, and could not see the marquis for several days."

Glenkirk snickered. What a clever wench Jasmine was.

"Then the queen had a masque," Jasmine took up the tale, "and the marquis aroused my ire by luring me into an alcove, and putting his hands all over me as if he owned me! I was forced to take drastic action, Jemmie."

The earl of Glenkirk winced, imagining the action she had taken to disengage her unwanted suitor. "Did you geld him forever?"

"Only temporarily," Jasmine replied. "I went immediately to the king and asked him to release me from St.Denis's unwanted attentions."

"She knelt," Adali told the earl. "She prostrated herself before Their Majesties, her skirts spread all about her. It was quite dramatic, my lord, and the king was very moved. Even I could see it from my place at the back of the hall."

"Jasmine!" James Leslie didn't know whether to be angry or not.

"Well, it wasn't fair!" Jasmine declared. "I'm in love with one man, and planning to wed him in just another two weeks, and I'm saddled with an unwanted suitor, Jemmie, who leers at me constantly and paws at me like a stableboy with a dairymaid. I've had enough of everyone telling me what to do! When I leave London I'm never coming back again! I hate the court with all its pretentions! And I don't enjoy most of the people who inhabit the court either. I didn't like my father's court, and I like this one little better, Jemmie. I just want to be your wife and a mother to my children. And, of course, I want to involve myself in Grandma's trading company. We must bring tea to England, and make it popular as the Spanish have done with chocolate, which I think a nasty drink. And there are the horses being raised at MacGuire's Ford to consider. And there is your own Glenkirk Castle to be looked after, too. We have so much to do together, Jemmie, and there can be no time for court and all its attendant silliness. And somewhere along the way we must have several bairns of our own," she finished.

"Aye," he agreed with her. "We must indeed have several bairns, madame. I am glad you have remembered that wifely duty amid all your wonderful plans for importing tea and raising horses," he chuckled.

"Ohh, Jemmie, the bairns come first, I swear it!" she promised.

"Good!" he replied. "Now, Adali, I want a hot bath and a good dinner, and I want to see the children. Then, madame, it will be an early night for us," he finished meaningfully.

"The children first, my lord," Adali said wisely. He knew that once the bath and the dinner came, there would be no time for anything but passion between Jasmine and James Leslie. Bowing, he hurried off to gather up Henry, India, and Fortune, who were delighted to learn that the earl of Glenkirk had returned from his trip to Scotland.

Racing ahead of Adali, they dashed into the library, where their mother and the earl were awaiting them. "Papa! Papa!" they squealed, flinging themselves at him simultaneously. Laughing, the earl bent down, and gathered them into his embrace. "So, my wee trio of rascals, you are glad to see me, are you?" he said with a broad smile. "Well, I've missed you, too!"

"We've been to court, Papa!" Henry said. "Charlie-boy led us in, and the king greeted us personally. He looks so sad, but I like him. And I bowed, just like you taught me!"

"And the girls curtsied beautifully," Jasmine said, making certain that her daughters did not feel left out.

"Did you bring us a present from Scotland, Papa?" India asked.

"Papa was on the king's business, greedy one," Henry said. "There is no time for presents when a man is on king's business."

"Oh?" The earl feigned surprise. "Then you do not want the gift I have brought you, Henry?"

"You really brought us gifts?" Henry Lindley's face was all boyish excitement. "What did you bring us?"

"A fine dirk for you, Henry, and silver thistle necklaces for my lasses," the earl said, producing the items from his pocket.

"Nothing for me?" Jasmine teased him.

"I will give you your gift in private later," James Leslie said, his green-gold eyes meeting her turquoise ones. Then he carefully fastened a thistle necklace first about India's neck, and then Fortune's. "See, lassies, each thistle has a tiny amethyst for a flower head."

"I will keep my necklace always," Fortune said adoringly as she looked up at the man who was to be her father.

He gave her a little hug and kissed her cheek gently.

"You chose well," India noted. "I like jewelry, Papa."

"Most ladies do, I have found," he replied, giving her a hug and a kiss, too. His eye then went to Henry Lindley, who was delightedly examining the small silver dagger with the carved bone handle.

The boy looked up. "‘Tis a fine weapon, sir," he said slowly. "Will you show me how to use it? And you won't forget my fencing lessons?"

"We shall begin them when we reach Queen's Malvern," the earl said. "And this winter, when we are at Glenkirk, you shall have lessons every day except Sunday, Henry."

"Come along now, children," Adali said. "Your papa has ridden far and is tired. He wants a bath, his supper, and his bed. Bid your parents a good evening." He shepherded them from the library.

"How good you are to them," Jasmine said. "It makes me love you all the more, Jemmie Leslie. I shall give you fine sons, for you are a man who obviously loves children."

"I have a painted ball for Charlie-boy I found in a street stall in Edinburgh," he responded. Then, reaching out, he pulled her into his lap as he sat down by the fire. "I missed you," he told her simply, "and I agree that there is really no need for us to come to London again. Will you truly be happy if you don't, Jasmine? I love you so deeply that the very thought of your unhappiness gives me pain, my wild lassie." He nuzzled the top of her dark head.

Safe. The word popped unbidden into her head. She was safe at last, Jasmine realized. But then she had been safe with Rowan until his life had been snuffed out by a madman. She had lost two husbands to violence, and a young lover to an unnecessary and premature death. Surely this time it would be all right. Had not her own grandmother lost five husbands before she married Adam de Marisco? It would be all right. "You stink of horses, and now so do I," she said, sliding from his lap. "Adali certainly must have your bath ready, or at least being prepared."

"I don't have to go back to Lynmouth House then?" he teased.

"I will never be separated from you again, Jemmie Leslie," she told him and, taking him by the hand, led him upstairs to her own apartments, where the large old iron-bound oak tub had been set up before the fire in the dayroom. "I shall maid you, sir," she told him, and began pulling his boots off, then his damp, knit woolen stockings.

"And I you," he replied, seating her and drawing her shoes from her narrow, high-arched feet.

Jasmine stood and removed his doublet and his shirt. He removed her bodice and her chemise, pulling her against him for a brief moment to feel the softness of her breasts against his darkly furred chest. Drawing away reluctantly, Jasmine unbuttoned his breeches and slid them over his narrow hips, past his shapely calves to his ankles. He stepped from the garment and kicked it away. Then he undid the tapes of her skirt first and the several petticoats she wore beneath it, lifting her from them when they puddled about her ankles. Naked now but for her stockings, Jasmine pulled his drawers off, and he kicked them too across the chamber. Kneeling, he slipped her garters down her legs, then rolled her silk stockings off, sliding them from her feet as she lifted each one in turn.

He pressed his face against her smooth belly, his breathing very ragged. Then, standing, he took her face between his two hands, and said, "I can't wait, darling Jasmine. I must take the edge off my appetite for you. It has been the longest month of my life!"

"Mine also," she told him, reaching out to caress him. He was rock hard and practically throbbing with his desire. Jasmine drew him down to the floor between the fireplace and the tub. Lying upon her back, she opened herself to him in sweet invitation, reaching out to draw him into her embrace.

With a groan he pushed himself into her, finding to his delight that she was hot, and wet, and very, very welcoming. "Ahhh, God!" he moaned thickly as his manhood slid deep, and she wrapped her legs about him, encouraging him onward. His hunger for her seemed to increase rather than ease as they found the passionate rhythm of love together.

Jasmine sighed deeply as the thick column of flesh delved into the deepest recesses of her very being. She took her pleasure of him shamelessly; the walls of her sheath tightening and releasing him, causing him to cry out with unabashed delight as she gave back every bit as much as she took. Her fingers dug strongly into the muscles of his back, her nails lightly raking him.

"It's too much," he half sobbed, and exploded his tribute within her, but Jasmine was with him, already soaring and utterly replete with her own satisfaction as their lips met in a scorching kiss.

They lay side by side afterward upon the carpet, the fire cracking practically atop them, fingers entwined. Speaking in soft voices, they both agreed that they were utterly shameless, then they laughed together, happy and perfectly pleased with themselves.

"Now we really do need a bath," Jasmine murmured. Her thighs were smeared with his love juices, which had been extremely copious. If it had ever occurred to her that James Leslie might have been unfaithful to her while he was away, that thought was quickly dispelled by the evidence of her eyes and the abundance of his creamy passion.

He somehow managed to get to his feet, drawing her up with him. "I have never had such desire for a woman as I do for you, darling Jasmine," he told her candidly. "I am not even certain being your husband will rid me of my hunger for you."

Jasmine climbed into the tub and beckoned him to join her. "You flatter me, Jemmie Leslie," she said. "I am just a woman."

The earl of Glenkirk laughed. "You will never be just a woman, my darling Jasmine," he told her. "Now, madame, wash my back like a good wife should, and afterward I shall reward you for your efforts."

Jasmine giggled. "I am not your wife yet, my lord. I should far prefer to be rewarded like a good mistress would. Mistresses, I am told, have more fun than wives."

"Not in my house," he riposted wickedly.

Adali entered the apartment in the company of Rohana and Toramalli. He bore a silver basin of perfumed water, and an armful of small white linen cloths, which he took into the bedchamber. The maidservants carried trays of food, which they placed upon a rectangular table.

"Ohhh," Jasmine sniffed. "That smells delicious. What have you brought us?" She scrambled from the tub to be dried by Rohana.

"Cook has sent up a variety of foods, m'lady," Rohana told her, toweling Jasmine, then powdering her. "She thought m'lord would enjoy a hearty supper as he had ridden far today according to Fergus More, who is in the kitchens eating now." She helped Jasmine into a cream-colored chamber robe. Then she moved on to help Toramalli who was drying a slightly embarrassed Lord Leslie, who could not quite get used to being attended at his bath by pretty women.

Jasmine began lifting the lids upon the dishes. There was a dish of cold, raw oysters in cracked ice, and seawater; a thick rich stew of rabbit in a winey brown gravy with scallions, sliced carrots, and new peas; a roasted capon; a medium-sized trout, steamed in white wine, and set upon a bed of cress; a small ham; a bowl of new lettuce from the kitchen garden; fresh bread warm from the oven; a crock of sweet butter; a quarter wheel of Brie already runny upon its silver platter; and, finally, a bowl of tiny new strawberries with a pitcher of clotted Devon cream. She hummed approval. "Tell Mrs.Davis her menu is well appreciated, Adali," Jasmine said.

"Will you want me to serve?" he inquired politely.

"Yes," she surprised him. "Send for the footmen to empty the tub, and have it put away. Then we will eat."

The servingmen came, each carrying two buckets, and the tub was quickly emptied, then stored away, the drain in its side being carefully replaced. Rohana and Toramalli set up the table before the dayroom fire, and Adali quickly served his master and his mistress both food and wine. He then withdrew with the women. James Leslie ate with a good appetite, as did Jasmine. She filled his goblet several times with wine, and soon between the heat of the fire, the excellent meal, and the long day's ride, he began to nod.

"Come," she said to him, rising. "You need to sleep, my dear lord," and she led him to the bedchamber where he fell into bed, asleep almost before his head touched the pillows. With an indulgent smile Jasmine banked the fire, tucked the coverlet about him, and climbed into the bed next to James Leslie, snuggling against him even as his arm instinctively reached out to enfold her in his embrace.

When the earl of Glenkirk awoke, it was already past sunrise, and Jasmine was dressed. Adali handed him a saucer of steaming tea, and, to his great surprise, he found it most refreshing. As Jasmine's servant helped him to dress, Jasmine chattered at him happily.

"We must go to court this morning and bid the king and queen farewell, Jemmie. Then, tomorrow, we can begin our journey to Queen's Malvern. The servants are already packing, and I am taking the staff home with us since I will never again return to London. Grandmama will find places for them, I know, and I will not leave them here after all their years of faithful service to the family. Greenwood House will be closed up. Perhaps I shall even sell it as it will be mine one day."

"If you sell it," the earl observed, "then your family, who do like to come up to London, will have no place to stay, Jasmine."

"Let them stay at Lynmouth House," she responded.

"Would you wish your Aunt Willow on your Uncle Robin?" he teased her. "What if they both needed to be in town at the same time?"

She thought a moment, then laughed. "Oh, very well, Jemmie, but I'm closing the house, and if someone needs to use it, let them open it, and pay the cost. I'm only leaving the gatekeeper and his wife, to look after it, and see the park is maintained. Now, hurry, and dress, my lord!"

"I'm hungry again," he complained. "I will go nowhere, madame, until I have been fed again."

"Toramalli, find some food for Lord Leslie," Jasmine ordered; and when it came, she ate with every bit as good an appetite as he did.

Their carriage drew up before the door of Greenwood House, and the earl of Glenkirk and Jasmine rode the distance to Whitehall. They were dressed richly but conservatively. The earl in dark green silk breeches, cream and gold showing through the slashes on his doublet. Jasmine in a gown of apple green and gold brocade with a creamy wide lace collar; a necklace of topaz and gold about her throat.

The king's face lit up with pleasure as they entered the hall. "Jemmie!" he called to them. "Yer back safe, I see."

The earl of Glenkirk bowed low to the king as Jasmine curtsied.

"I am, my liege, and happy to tell you that Scotland eagerly awaits a visit from James Stuart," James Leslie said. "Now, Your Majesty, I come to take my leave of you, and Her Majesty. I have a wedding to attend in several days, and must return to Queen's Malvern before the old countess of Lundy sends out a search party for me."

The king nodded. "Lady Lindley hae made quite clear to us that her choice of a husband is ye, Jemmie, and nae other. Is that nae so, madame?" His amber eyes were twinkling.

"Yes, my liege," Jasmine said meekly.

"Hah!" The king barked. "Ye were nae so mild-mannered, and humble just a day or more back when ye said it, and broke puir Piers St.Denis's heart, madame. Now I must find him a prize to equal ye, and I dinna know what I hae to offer the puir laddie."

"It is true," the earl of Glenkirk interposed before Jasmine might say anything to get herself in trouble, "that my bride is a jewel beyond price; nonetheless anything Your Majesty would choose for the marquis of Hartsfield would surely more than equal Jasmine's hand, coming as it will from Your Majesty."

The faintest smile touched the king's lips at James Leslie's words. He knew when he was being cajoled, and yet the earl's words, so publicly spoken, would force his darling Piers to accept whatever James Stuart offered him to assuage his disappointment over Jasmine. He nodded at the earl, murmuring, "Nicely done, Jemmie. I'll miss ye." Then he continued for the consumption of his court. "We will be sorry to see ye both go, but we understand that ye must leave us."

"We are both Your Majesty's loyal servants, and will come should you need us," the earl of Glenkirk promised the king.

"Aye, aye!" The king arose. "Come wi me, Jemmie Leslie. I want a more detailed report from ye in private." He looked at Jasmine. "‘Twill gie ye time, madame, to say yer good-byes to yer friends, eh?"

Jasmine curtsied again. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said.

"I will return for you when I am done," the earl told Jasmine. "Try and stay out of trouble, darling Jasmine, while I am with His Majesty, eh?" He blew her a kiss with his fingertips and followed after the king, who was making his way from the hall.

The queen had overheard, and laughed softly. "He knows you well, doesn't he, my dear? I think you should have a very interesting marriage if you can survive each other."

"I shall miss Your Majesty," she said quietly. "You are the only friend I have at court to say good-bye to, madame."

"What? Am I not your friend?" George Villiers demanded, pretending to be greatly aggrieved. He stood in the space between both the king's throne, and the queen's throne.

Now it was Jasmine's turn to laugh. "Oh, Steenie, of course you are my friend, too. I would have enjoyed watching you climb to great heights, but if I promise sometimes to write to you, will you write me back and tell me of all your triumphs?" She gave him her hand. "Once, I am told, my Uncle Conn was called the handsomest man at court. I believe, sir, that you now possess his mantle. He was not, however, as circumspect as I suspect you are. The queen had to marry him off to keep him out of trouble."

George Villiers took the elegant hand offered him, noting as he did the beautiful rings upon her fingers, each worth, he would wager, a king's ransom. He kissed the slender hand, then said, "You may trust that I am your friend, madame, and if you are kind enough to take the time to write to me, I shall most certainly correspond with you, telling you all the lovely gossip you will miss by running off to live in the country. Will you really spend winters in Scotland?"

She nodded. "Aye."

"Do you like rain and mist?" he wondered aloud.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because, I am told, there is much mist in Scotland, and it does rain a great deal. Is that not so, Majesty?" He turned to the queen.

Queen Anne nodded. "You get used to it," she said.

"What a charming scene," a voice next to them suddenly sneered.

Jasmine, recognizing the marquis of Hartsfield, did not bother to turn about. Her eyes, however, filled with anger.

"Good day to you, Your Majesty," Piers St.Denis said, pointedly ignoring George Villiers.

"Good day, my lord," the queen responded politely, but she wondered what he wanted. Probably to cause some trouble, she thought. He really was a bad loser.

"And where has your lover gone, madame?" The voice was cutting.

"My lord is with the king, although that should be no business of yours, my lord," Jasmine responded, still not bothering to look at him.

"Undoubtedly the king is telling him that your little bastard is to be given away to be raised by someone more suitable than yourself," the marquis said cuttingly. "I, myself, have asked for the child, and would make him an excellent guardian, madame, for I should raise him here at court with his grandparents, and his uncle to influence him, and to be about him. Not remove him into the wilds of Scotland, where he will undoubtedly grow up like a barbarian and not a prince's son."

Jasmine grew pale, and she finally turned about to look into Piers St.Denis's handsome face. " Suitable? You consider yourself fit to raise my son? You? A man who cannot, I have been informed, obtain pleasure from a woman unless you abuse her? I would kill you, or anyone else who attempted to remove my son, or any of my children from my care!" Jasmine snarled. "You, my lord, are not fit to raise any child!"

The marquis of Hartsfield had flushed when she had publicly revealed what he considered his secret vice, but before he could retaliate, the queen's voice spoke with certain knowledge.

"Jasmine, my dear, do not listen to him. The king is not giving any of your children to Piers St.Denis. He is more than well aware of the marquis's foibles and frailties." She put a hand out to comfort the younger woman. Then she turned an angry eye on the marquis. "Sir, you overstep your position!"

Piers St.Denis was astounded by the rebuke, and but angered further, and yet the queen had played into his hands if she had known it. "If not me, madame," he said, "then perhaps it is the earl of Bartram who shall have the lad. I have, myself, heard him importune the king over the boy's custody." He looked again at Jasmine. "Lord Stokes believes you unchaste, madame. He says a woman of mixed blood should not be allowed to raise a Christian prince's son, no matter which side of the blanket he was born on. He even questions your heritage, for were you not born to your father when your mother was yet wed to the earl of BrocCairn, Lady Lindley? That would make you a bastard, too, wouldn't it?"

She hit him; and the exquisite, large, oval-shaped Golconda diamond that she wore on the middle finger of her right hand cut the marquis of Hartsfield's face from the corner of his right eye to the right hand corner of his mouth. "I am a trueborn princess of India, my lord," she told the bleeding man in icy, even tones that never rose beyond a conversational pitch. "‘Tis you, I fear, who are the bastard! And I say again to you, and anyone else who is interested, that I will kill any man who attempts to steal my children, any of my children, away from me. I am their mother. I am their guardian, and there is none fitter than I to raise them!" Now it was she who smiled at the marquis of Hartsfield. "I fear, my lord, that you will never again be as handsome as you were before you accosted and slandered me this day. What a pity." Then Jasmine turned, curtsied to the queen, and began to make her way from the hall. Her heart was pounding with her anger. How dare James Stuart once again attempt to interfere in her life! She did not hear the queen calling after her, but instead her eye lit upon the earl of Bartram, who was just entering the hall, his normally reclusive wife upon his arm.

Jasmine blocked their entry. "How dare you attempt to steal my son from me, my lord!" she almost shouted at him. "Well, neither you, or your mealy-mouthed Puritan wife shall have him!" Then she pushed past the couple, departing the hall.

Behind her the countess of Bartram fainted, so frightened was she by the turquoise-eyed virago who had just confronted her. She would later swear hellfire had leapt from Jasmine's eyes. Her husband struggled to keep his spouse from collapsing upon the floor, but Mary Stokes was not quite the slip of a girl she had once been.

Queen Anne wanted to laugh, and she could see that Steenie did, too, but they somehow managed to control themselves. She handed the bleeding marquis of Hartsfield her own handkerchief. His doublet was already ruined. "You will live, my lord," she said dryly.

"I want her arrested!" he cried, petulantly.

"No," the queen said in implacable tones. "You deliberately told her something that was not true, my lord. You did it to cause trouble and for no other reason. You are angry that she has refused you in favor of James Leslie, but how could you not have known her feelings even when my dearest husband was foolish enough to offer ye a chance with her. Steenie knew, and was wise enough to avoid the confrontation, but not you. Your greed, not just for Lady Lindley's wealth, but for the power you thought controlling her children would bring you, has instead brought you the disaster you so richly deserve. You no longer have my friendship, my lord. And, I will be certain to tell the king of your penchant for wickedness. I will advise my husband not to entrust you with any young girl of good family, my lord. God only knows what would happen to her in your care! Now, he gone from my sight!"

George Villiers manfully struggled to maintain his composure as he watched the marquis of Hartsfield slink from the hall. I have won! he thought gleefully, and I hardly had to do a thing. What a fool St.Denis is to have destroyed himself. Granted, he would never have won the hand of Jasmine Lindley, but he might have come out of this with a rich wife, the simpleminded gudgeon. Now he will have nothing for all his trouble — and I didn't have to do a thing to accomplish this end! A small chuckle escaped him.

"Restrain yourself, Steenie," the queen said quietly. "Smugness does not become you, sir."

"Yes, Majesty," George Villiers replied meekly, but his heart was soaring with his victory.