Darling Jasmine (21 page)
Authors: Bertrice Small
A tiny smile touched Charles Stuart's mouth. He was not a young man who showed his emotions, but he did remember his elder brother's mistress with fondness. It had been Jasmine who had taught him how to bandy words with his brilliant older sibling, how to win arguments with Henry, much to the elder's delight, for Henry Stuart had loved his little brother, although until Jasmine had explained her Hal's nature to young Charles, he had not believed it. The heir to England's throne was almost fifteen, and while he was considered prim by his father's court, he was quite fond of music and drama, as was his mother.
“I am h-happy t-to see you again, m-madame,” he acknowledged Jasmine. The prince sometimes stuttered because he was basically shy.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Jasmine responded, curtsying prettily. Then she said, “Your namesake will be here in a few days, sir. May I bring the duke of Lundy to see his uncle?”
“Oh, yes, m-madame!” the young man said. “I did not see him when your g-grandmother b-brought him last. I have not seen him since he w-was a bairn.”
“He is much like his father,” she told the prince with a smile.
“I like children,” the prince replied. “I w-would have a b-big family one d-day.”
“You must choose the right wife,” Jasmine told him.
“I hae an eye on the Spanish infanta,” the king said.
“A French princess would be better,” the queen murmured. “Jasmine, my dear, come and sit on a footstool by me while we watch the masque. St. Denis, you may stand behind me.”
The masque that followed was a salute to springtime and the coming summer. It had not the imagination of the masques that Jasmine and Prince Henry had taken part in several years before. It was more music and dancing, with little story, although the costumes, as always, were lovely. Jasmine recognized none of the young people involved.
Times are changing,
she thought,
and I am getting older.
After the masque ended, there was dancing. The marquis of Hartsfield made to lead Jasmine out onto the floor, but Prince Charles stepped forward.
Times are changing,
she thought,
and I am getting older.
After the masque ended, there was dancing. The marquis of Hartsfield made to lead Jasmine out onto the floor, but Prince Charles stepped forward.
“The first dance is mine, I believe, my lord,” the young man said. He did not stutter once.
“Of course, Your Highness,” Piers St. Denis answered, stepping back and bowing to the royal prince.
Charles Stuart took Jasmine's hand, and they began to dance a stately country dance. “You are not going to marry him, are you, m-madame?” the prince asked.
“I most certainly am not going to marry him,” Jasmine said. “Because your father is so insistent, I must play at letting him court me, but I detest Piers St. Denis, Your Highness, and I love Glenkirk.”
“W-why did you run away then?” He twirled her gracefully.
“Like Your Highness, I am a king's child. I do not like being told what to do, and I had not finished mourning Hal. I was not ready to marry again. Not so soon. Now, however, it is different. Lord Leslie loved me even before I wed with my beloved Rowan Lindley. He loves me now, and I have come to love him. Try to love the girl you finally marry, Your Highness. It is so important to a woman to be loved.” She dipped and, lifting her skirts, pranced three steps.
He lifted her lightly, swinging her about, and then replaced her on the floor, where they moved in the final elegant precise steps of the dance. “I d-do not like St. Denis. There is s-something unwholesome about him. And I like Villiers e-even less. He t-takes my father's attention from m-me. S-still, if I had to choose, I suppose Villiers is b-better. He is greedy, but h-harmless.”
“I agree, Your Highness. You are very wise for a young man,” she praised him. Then she curtsied deeply, the dance over.
He returned her to St. Denis, nodding curtly at the marquis. Piers St. Denis could hardly contain his excitement. The royal family treated Jasmine as if she were one of their own! It was not only the child, but its mother as well who would bring him power. With a broad smile he led her into the figure of the next dance.
He was, she thought, an excellent dancer. It made the evening more pleasant than she had anticipated. He suggested a small interlude after a time, fetching them chilled wine and leading her to a cushioned alcove in a window where they might sit and be restored.
“The king and his family hold you in high esteem,” he told her approvingly. “You will, in time, wield a certain amount of power here at court because of your excellent connections.”
“When I marry Glenkirk,” she said, “I will not remain at court.”
“Why do you persist in this fantasy that you will marry the earl of Glenkirk?” he demanded of her angrily. “I am the man you will marry, Jasmine. And we will make our life at court.”
“My lord,” she said patiently, “the choice is mine to make, as you well know. This evening is the fantasy, and it is yours, not mine!”
“I can delay your marriage indefinitely, Jasmine. The king will do it if I beg him. I can convince the king to change his mind and give you to me,” the marquis threatened.
She laughed. There was nothing else for it but to laugh. It was either that, or she would scream. “The king is weak where his favorites are concerned, my lord, but he will never go back on a word so publicly given,” Jasmine told him with complete candor.
In response he forced her back against the stone sill of the window and kissed her fiercely. One hand dived down the low front of her dress to capture a breast and squeeze it hard. His lips worked feverishly against hers. His tongue forced its way into her mouth.
Taken unawares, Jasmine struggled with herself a moment to maintain her calm and not panic. His kiss was abhorrent. She gagged on his tongue. The hand fumbling with her breast was repellent, and he was hurting her. She would be bruised. She bit down on his tongue, shoving him away from her at the same time, then slapping him hard.
“How dare you lay hands on me!” she hissed furiously.
He tried to pinion her again, but Jasmine, ready for him this time, shoved her knee hard into his groin. Hearing his gasp of both pain and surprise, she pushed him aside to escape from the windowed alcove. Grasping at the skirt of her gown, he momentarily restrained her, preventing her flight.
“You will be mine!”
he half groaned, nausea sweeping over him from the pain she had inflicted on his private parts.
he half groaned, nausea sweeping over him from the pain she had inflicted on his private parts.
“Let go of my gown, my lord,”
she said through gritted teeth. “What must I do to convince you that I do not welcome your suit? Must I kill you, my lord? I am fully capable of it, you know. I personally hanged Rowan Lindley's murderer in the very same hour as my husband's death.” Jasmine's anger rose. “You repel me, my lord. I would just as soon slit your handsome throat as look at you! I will not play this game any longer! I will, under no circumstances, marry you, my lord St. Denis!” Then, with a determined hand, she smacked his grip away and moved off swiftly across the hall.
she said through gritted teeth. “What must I do to convince you that I do not welcome your suit? Must I kill you, my lord? I am fully capable of it, you know. I personally hanged Rowan Lindley's murderer in the very same hour as my husband's death.” Jasmine's anger rose. “You repel me, my lord. I would just as soon slit your handsome throat as look at you! I will not play this game any longer! I will, under no circumstances, marry you, my lord St. Denis!” Then, with a determined hand, she smacked his grip away and moved off swiftly across the hall.
Reaching the area where the royal family was seated, she curtsied low to the king. Her color was very high. “My liege?” she said in a quiet, but firm voice obviously directed at James Stuart.
“Aye, lassie, what is it?” he asked her.
“My lord, I beg you, do not force me to wed with the marquis of Hartsfield,” she said, sinking dramatically to her knees.
“Nah, nah, lassie, I said the choice was to be yers,” the king replied, genuinely distressed by her flamboyant action.
“Then I beg you, accept my decision in the matter. Your Majesty was absolutely right two years ago when your chose James Leslie for my husband. I need a man to whom I can look up, and I do look up to the earl of Glenkirk. I need a man whom I can love, and who loves me. That man is the earl of Glenkirk. I have pledged myself to him before God Almighty; and having to endure the embraces of another man seeking to have me to wife under such circumstances makes me feel as if I am being dishonorable. Please, I plead with Your Majesty to accept my decision in this matter! I will not take any man for my husband but James Leslie, the earl of Glenkirk!
“I know how Your Majesty values the friendship of the marquis of Hartsfield. That is why I ask that you choose another suitable woman for his wife. If you love him, as I know you do, then find him a wife who will honor him and appreciate Your Majesty's kindness,
and
the marquis of Hartsfield as well. Unfortunately, that woman is not me. You have said that the choice of a husband is mine. I can say no more plainly than I have said that it is James Leslie whom I choose.”
and
the marquis of Hartsfield as well. Unfortunately, that woman is not me. You have said that the choice of a husband is mine. I can say no more plainly than I have said that it is James Leslie whom I choose.”
“God's foot,” murmured George Villiers to the queen, “she has chanced all with a single throw of the dice! What incredible style!”
The king sat stupefied, not certain of what he should do. He had promised Jasmine the choice. He had promised Piers St. Denis the opportunity to court her; but here she was, troublesome lassie, refusing to cooperate once again. She had made it so publicly plain that she would not have St. Denis, poor sweet laddie, that he really couldn't force her to continue to accept the marquis's advances.
“Father?”
Young Charles Stuart spoke softly to his sire.
Young Charles Stuart spoke softly to his sire.
The king started. “Aye, my bairn, what is it?”
“While Lady Lindley has made her decision sooner than you would have wished, I think you knew she would choose Glenkirk in the end. The marquis is foolish if he believed otherwise, for in his heart he surely knew it also. Be gracious and generous, as only you know how, Father. I like Lady Lindley, and Hal loved her deeply. He would want you to give her this boon, and I know he liked Glenkirk.”
“The boy is right,” the queen interjected softly.
“Aye, my dear lord, he shows wisdom for one so young,” Villiers said, ignoring the fierce, irritated look the prince shot him, which plainly said that he didn't need, or want, George Villiers's help. Villiers forced back the smile that threatened to crack his lips. Prince Charles was jealous of him, he well knew, but eventually he would win over the younger man. James Stuart was nearing the end of his life, but Charles Stuart would be England's next king. George Villiers intended to be on his good side when he inherited the throne.
The king heard them all. He looked at Jasmine, her royal blue skirts spread about her as she knelt before her, her dark head bowed. What a troublesome wench she was, he thought, but his son was right. Henry Stuart had adored her. He would want her happy, and if Glenkirk was the man to make her happy, then so be it. “Verra well, Lady Lindley,” he grumbled at her. “Glenkirk it is, and God help the puir man wi such a headstrong lassie for his wife. Still, I suppose he knows what he is getting. But ye may nae go from court until he returns from Scotland. I want to see my grandson again before ye both return north.” James Stuart held out his hand to Jasmine, and she kissed it gratefully.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said.
“Thank you!”
“Thank you!”
“Steenie, help her up, for pity's sake, and dance wi her. Lady Manners won't mind as it is a royal command. I hae had enough for one night, and I'm going to bed.”
“But my dearest, dearest lord!” The marquis of Hartsfield had finally regained himself, and stood before the king, woebegone.
“Dinna fret, Piers,” the king said. “We'll find ye another nice lassie wi a good income.”
“But I want Lady Lindley, sire!”
“Ye canna hae her, Piers. Now cease yer whining, laddie, and trust yer old da to make it right, eh?” He got to his feet. “Come and help me to my bed, Piers. I am exhausted wi all this fuss.” He leaned heavily on the younger man.
“I'll go with you,” the queen said, standing quickly, and offering the marquis a patently false sympathetic smile.
“I don't want to dance another step, Steenie,” Jasmine told him. “Escort me to my barge. My servant is waiting.” She took his arm as they walked through the crowded hall. A path opened before them, and the whispers, quite discernible, hummed all about them.
“Well, my dearie,” Villiers said with a chortle as they were finally clear of the hall, “you have caused quite the most delicious scandal this night. What on earth made you do it? It was a dangerous ploy that very well might have gone against you.”
“I don't like St. Denis to begin with,” Jasmine told the king's young favorite, “but he attempted to make love to me, and I found it most distasteful. I knew then I could not play this game another moment until my Jemmie returned. Imagine keeping St. Denis completely at bay. The king did say, after all, that the choice was mine.”
“And a damned good thing he did,” Villiers noted. “Piers St. Denis appears to be totally obsessed with you, madame. I suspect he would have done almost anything to have you had the king not made the decision yours and yours alone.”
“Thank you for your help, Steenie,” Jasmine said as they gained the royal quai, and her barge was rowed quickly forward. “I do not forget my friends, nor does my family forget those who have rendered them a great kindness.” She took Adali's outstretched hand and stepped down into her barge. “Hurry back to the king, my gentleman of the bedchamber, lest the dreadful St. Denis steal a march on you.”
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