Wild Jasmine (57 page)

“Quite nicely, I think,” he said with a small chuckle. “I have never met a woman it did not fit.” He stepped down from the stool and took her in his arms, his lips brushing the top of her head.

Her cheek lay against the smoothness of his chest. Her fingers made little circles upon his skin. She could feel the rhythmic, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. Lifting her head just slightly, she licked at his nipple, then kissed it with soft lips, moving to the other nipple, which she saluted in the same fashion. Rowan Lindley stood very still, allowing her to set the pace of their lovemaking. She rubbed her head against him, then sliding her palms slowly up his torso, she lifted her face to him.

Taking her head between his two hands, he bent, brushing his mouth softly over hers. Her tongue licked at his upper lip and then the lower lip as she pressed herself against him. The pliant mounds of her breasts aroused him, particularly as she slipped her arms about him, murmuring against his ear seductively. He could feel her firm thighs and her soft belly molding themselves against his thighs and belly. Then, as one of her hands caressed the back of his neck, she lowered her other hand to fondle his manhood. Her touch was like being scorched by flame. He had been touched there before, but never like this. Her slender, skilled fingers brought him as close to losing his control as he had ever been without actually being sheathed within his lover.

“
God’s nightshirt
,” he groaned, catching her hand and pulling it away from him. He was as near to spilling his seed as any green lad.

“Does it shock you that I touch you?” she asked him curiously.

He shook his head. “Your touch has magic in it, my love, but I am aroused almost beyond all bearing.”

“ ’Tis anticipation,” she replied wisely.

He laughed weakly. “Aye. I do not think I have ever desired a woman as much as I desire you, Jasmine, but I want to enjoy this wedding night of ours. More important, I want you to enjoy it with me. I think, perhaps, that I should make love to you rather than you make love to me. Afterward I will be pleased to have you caress me as you have just now caressed me. Will you let me lead the way, my darling?”

“Men are quick to pleasure, my lord. Far quicker than a woman,” she told him. “Since I but sought to please you, then
you must, if it pleases you, gain your pleasure as you will. If in doing so you give me pleasure, so much the better!”

He laughed again. “I do not believe that any woman has ever spoken so freely with me, Jasmine de Marisco. You are honest and, it would seem, totally without guile. I fell in love with a beautiful girl, but the woman I wed is, I think, far better than I deserve.”

“All women possess some guile, Rowan. Never believe it otherwise,” she told him. “I am frank with you because it is my nature to speak thusly.”

“Let us be done with talk,” he said softly, and one arm about her supple waist, he reached up with his other hand to cup a breast within his warm palm. Gently he crushed the soft flesh, and his thumb stroked at the tender nipple. “Such perfection,” he murmured softly into her perfumed hair. Then he bent, taking the nipple into his mouth and suckling hard upon it.

Jasmine’s eyes closed, and she sighed deeply. Each tug of his mouth upon the sensitive nub sent a shiver of sensation deep into the secret places of her body. When he straightened himself, lifting her into his arms and walking with her to the bed, it was almost a relief of sorts. Gently he lay her upon the feather bed, joining her immediately, his mouth closing over her other nipple. Fiercely he drew upon it, causing her to cry out softly.

His tongue licked at the nipple and then began a leisurely exploration of her person. “I need to taste you,” he said low as he moved from her chest to her belly to her thighs. Then turning her over on her belly, he licked her flesh from ankle to shoulder, nipping occasionally at her, causing her to squeal and squirm nervously. Rolling her over onto her back again, he slid down the bed to kiss her feet, saluting each toe in its turn and making her giggle. Moving slowly back up to where he was level with her, he slid a hand along the inside of her legs, rubbing, stroking, caressing. His gentle fingers insinuated themselves between the folds of flesh protecting that most sensitive of places a woman possesses.

Jasmine could feel that she was already moist with her rising passion. She bridled anxiously at his touch, remembering the last time he had touched her there; touched her and made her wild with a desire he had left unsatisfied. “
Please,
” she said, flushing at her own word.

He continued to softly caress her, and she shivered with the
sensation. “Open yourself to me,” he said low, pushing gently at her closed thighs, and when she answered his request, his tawny head dipped between her legs and he drew them over his shoulders, his tongue finding her with an unerring aim. “Ahh,” he groaned, “you are sweet, my love! So very, very sweet!”

“Ahhhhh,” she half sobbed, his teasing tongue taunting her with long-awaited pleasure. “Ohh, yes Rowan! Please, yes!” She was aching with a need so great that it threatened to overwhelm her in its intensity as his tongue played havoc with her. She shuddered with her first release, but despite it the edge of her passion was greater than it had been before. “I need you inside me, Rowan,” she pleaded with him. “
Please!
I will die if you do not put yourself within me!”

He rose up above her. “Look at what you have done to me, my love!” his voice grated harshly at her. “Open your eyes and see what I will pleasure you with, Jasmine,
and I will pleasure you, my love
, more than any other man has ever pleasured you!
Look at me!
”

She was fast being overcome with her own desire, but Jasmine forced her eyes open and almost cried aloud with joy, for his manhood, aroused, was huge. Rather than being afraid, she welcomed it, reaching out to caress it, guiding him eagerly into the depths of her very being. With a groan he sank into her flesh, feeling her young body encasing him tightly, yet at the same time opening to allow him passage deeper and deeper until finally he could go no farther. Slowly he withdrew himself almost to the tip of his spear, and then he began to pump her vigorously over and over and over again until their soft cries of pleasure, mingling with their kisses, drew them over the brink of sanity and down into the depths of unbridled passion.

Jasmine bit her lip until she could taste blood. Her nails raked savagely down his back. He filled her as no man had ever filled her, stretching the walls of her sheath until she thought they could stretch no more. His manhood throbbed its message of desire within her fevered body. She could barely breathe, and gasped desperately as the intensity built and built inside her until finally she gained release.

He could feel her tensing within, and then her quivering little flutters of satisfaction as she crowned the head of his manhood with her own sweet honeyed libation of pleasure. The warmth of it sent him out of control, and his own love juices burst forth in greater measure, searing her hidden garden with
an intensity of ecstasy that left Jasmine weeping wildly with relief and happiness. Gathering her in his arms, he held her against him. There was nothing left for either of them to say. Together they had experienced the kind of passion known to few lovers, and they were both sophisticated enough to realize it.

After a time Jasmine said low, “I do not know if I can live through another such bout, Rowan Lindley. Never have I known such a lover as you, my lord.
Never!
”

“
Not even Glenkirk?
” He hated himself even as he said the words. What the hell was the matter with him? He could not allow his jealousy to eat away at him like this. He would drive her away.

“
Not even Glenkirk,
” she answered him, understanding and wanting to reassure him. “He has neither your skill nor your other far more superior attributes,” she teased, gently patting his manhood. “In fact, I find my appetite for you has increased rather than decreased, Rowan Lindley, my dear lord, my betrothed husband.”

“You are worldly-wise enough to know that even the best lover must have rest, my darling,” he said with a smile.

In answer she arose from the tangle of sheets and, walking across the room, found a basin and pitcher of water by the fire. Pouring some of the water into the basin, she took her chemise, dampened it, and wringing it out, returned to the bed to gently bathe his sex. He was fascinated by her actions, especially as she told him, “In India we always keep a basin of perfumed water and half a dozen love cloths by the bedside. It aids lovers in their renewal.” Finished with her task, she bent over him and took his flaccid manhood in her mouth.

Rowan Lindley gasped with surprise, but as her mouth began to suckle upon him, he found himself unable, not unwilling, to make her cease. “God’s foot, Jasmine!” he groaned. My God, he was being aroused by her teasing little tongue and mouth so quickly that he was scarce able to believe it himself. He felt himself growing hard, and hot, and aching with a renewed need to possess this incredible woman who was to shortly be his wife. Roughly he pulled her head from him, yanking her into their bed, driving himself back into her and reveling in her cry of pleasure. This time neither of them gave quarter; driving each other beyond desire, beyond passion, to a white-hot intensity that scorched their very souls.

When the spring dawn came, they arose from their bed and
tenderly bathed each other with the remaining water. They should have been exhausted, but rather, each felt renewed and alive. Rowan left the bedchamber and returned with Jasmine’s clothing, which was warm and dry after its night before the kitchen fire. She folded the damp chemise and stuffed it in the pocket of her skirt. Together they devoured a huge country breakfast of barley cereal, ham, boiled eggs, bread, cheese, and apple cider.

“Your coach never came,” Mistress Greene told them. “It surely went on to the Red Bull. You’ll catch up with them quick enough and be home by noon, m’lady, m’lord.” She beamed at them as she bid them a farewell, her usual good nature made even more good-natured by the single gold coin the Marquess of Westleigh had pressed into her hand. It was more money than she and her family would see in five years, and she realized that Rowan Lindley’s generosity was due to his obvious happiness. Curtseying, she stuffed the gold piece in her pocket and waved the lovers off with a cheery, “God go with you and bless you with many children! Sons!” she amended.

“Ohh, Ma! Is that a real gold coin?” Lizzie’s eyes were wide with amazement. “Wait till Pa gets home and sees it!”

“You’ll not be telling your pa about this coin,” her mother said warningly. “Think, girl! Since the Red Bull opened up we just get by, thanks to my cooking, but if I was to die, where would you and your pa be? This gold coin will buy you a farmer’s eldest son, my girl! You can be the wife of a propertied man, Lizzie. Your father would waste this coin on some fool scheme or another, and who would have you to wife then? Some itinerant tinker? Oh no! This coin can be your dowry and our little secret, eh?”

Lizzie grinned at her mother. “I hope I can be as happy as them two,” she said, gazing after Jasmine and Rowan Lindley.

“Happiness is for the gentry,” her mother said. “A God-fearing man with a good farm is all you’ll ever need,” Mistress Greene said, but she smiled as she watched her guests departing.

“You gave her far too much money for an evening’s lodging,” Jasmine scolded Rowan Lindley as they rode. “You should not be so generous, my lord.”

“Not even to you, my love?” he teased her.

Jasmine laughed. “Now do not go twisting my words, my lord. My grandfather loves to do that to Grandmama.”

“And does she fluster as easily as you do, my love?” His gold eyes were twinkling with merriment. “I adore you, Jasmine. I do not think I can wait a week to marry you.”

“But you must,” she said primly. “Besides, who is to know if you steal into my chamber at night? I cannot bear to be without you, my darling!” Her glance was meltingly torrid as it caressed the region between his legs, and she licked her lips suggestively.

“Witch!” he groaned, feeling a familiar tightness in the area of his groin. “You will simply have to behave yourself, Jasmine. I do not want your grandparents, or your mother and stepfather for that matter, privy to our affairs, er, personal matters.”

But Skye took one look at Jasmine as the betrothed couple returned to Queen’s Malvern and chuckled wisely. Jasmine was radiant, and Rowan Lindley had the look of a cat who had swallowed a particularly delicious canary, despite his great effort at dignity. She was pleased to see that her judgment had not failed her. Jasmine was more than ready to begin a new life with a new husband.

As the wedding day drew nearer and Queen’s Malvern filled with all the children and grandchildren of Skye O’Malley de Marisco, Jasmine grew quiet and a trifle withdrawn. How different this all was from her first marriage to Jamal Khan, and yet there was a sameness to it. She remembered all the
aunts
, and the pleasure they gained from her wedding. How were they now? Did they all still live? Salim, of course, would be kind to them. His mother would see to that. She thought of her little palace on Wular Lake in Kashmir; of Ali the fisherman. Did he ever think of her?
And she thought about Rugaiya Begum
.

“What is it, my darling girl?” Skye asked Jasmine the night before her wedding, when the young woman’s thoughts were particularly troubling. “What disturbs you? You have begun to love Rowan Lindley, that I can see, but something else distresses you greatly. Tell me and perhaps I can help to ease your mind of whatever worries you have.”

“I cannot bear that my mother not know how happy I am, or that I am remarrying. It pains me that she will never see her grandchildren, Grandmama. She did not deserve to be alone in her old age,” Jasmine said. “She was a good and loving mother.”

Skye nodded. Loyalty was something that she well understood. “There is always a way,” she said thoughtfully to her granddaughter. “We need to find a means by which we can communicate with Rugaiya Begum so that your brother does not learn of it. You know these people best of any of us. Think, Jasmine! Is there such a way for us to speak to Rugaiya Begum so that only she can hear and understand? Your cousin in Cambay can deliver the message, but how? Only tell me how and I will see it done!”