The Falcon and the Flower (40 page)

He bit off an obscenity and stood to leave. He could see he would get absolutely nowhere with these two. Meg held the door for him and winked. “Take her twice tonight to make up for it,” she whispered. The grin was restored to his face.

“Wear white for me tonight as befits a bride,” he called.

Big Meg was appalled when she lifted the lid on Jasmine’s trunk. As the velvets and silks covered with beaded embroidery spilled to the carpet she jumped back in alarm. “I can’t touch any of this finery, my big, rough hands would tear it to bits. I’ll get Glynis, the little maid from the laundry to see to your clothes. She’s never seen the likes of this, but she has a gentle touch and her hands are always clean,” Meg said decisively. “I’ll fetch her now, so she can get everything unpacked.”

When she was alone, Jasmine let Feather out of his cage so he could fly about freely and explore his new home. Then she coaxed Quill to unroll by tempting him with the leftover rind from her ham. Big Meg ushered in the little maid who stood shyly by the bed, her eyes like saucers. Small and dark like most of the Welsh, she had never seen anyone like Jasmine, let alone her clothes. The sparrow on Lady de Burgh’s shoulder cocked his wise little head at her to see if she posed a threat. When he was satisfied that she did not, he flew onto the rim of Jasmine’s mead and helped himself.

“Oh, the dear little mite,” Glynis said, clapping her hands.

Meg said darkly, “Let’s hope you take to the rest of the menagerie,” then pointed to Jasmine’s great trunk. “It’s all yours, Glynis.”

The girl’s ohs and ahs increased with each garment she lifted reverently from the trunk and hung in the wardrobe.

“Glynis, find me a hairbrush please. It will take me a lifetime to get the tangles from my hair. Then we must choose something for me to wear tonight. It must be special
… something that will catch the eye of everyone in the hall,” said Jasmine. “Something scarlet, I think.” No white for her tonight. She needed to conquer these people, and red was the most powerful color in magic. It had all sorts of mystic properties, sexual, physical, and spiritual. Besides, scarlet would set off her silvery-gilt tresses to perfection, to say nothing of irritating de Burgh. What more could she ask? Scarlet it would be!

Glynis screamed as she opened a basket and a young mountain lion spat in her face.

“Oh don’t be afraid, Glynis, that’s Shanna. Meg, I suppose we’ll have to get her a litter box filled with rushes or she’ll pee all over Falcon’s lovely carpets.”

Meg rolled her eyes and Glynis’s mouth was agape. She closed it slowly and said with wonder, “You are a witch lady.”

Jasmine laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am, and tonight I feel all the Power of the Universe will flow into my body.” Her eyes glowed. “I feel more alive than I have ever felt before!”

She soaked an hour in the tub Big Meg effortlessly hauled in for her. “Mmm, it feels heavenly not to have to spend the day in the saddle,” she said, gingerly caressing her bottom to see if any callouses had developed. “Meg, let me have just a little more mead, I like it excessively.”

Meg obliged and wondered if she drank it to give her courage to defy de Burgh. She knew half the castle would walk the length of Wales to see him bested by a woman, but she doubted it would ever happen.

Little Glynis sat amazed as she gazed at the dazzling vision before her. Jasmine was dressed in flame color with her moonlight tresses tumbling about her shoulders. A bright silken poppy pinned behind one ear added another splash of contrast.

As de Burgh’s step was heard outside the chamber, Jasmine’s back straightened and her chin went up in
readiness for a confrontation. He opened without knocking as she knew he would and stopped dead on the threshold. Falcon had never seen a more ravishing vision in all his experience. She would have an immediate impact upon any man who glimpsed her. Desire flared in him as he fancied he could warm his hands at her blaze. However, his brows drew together in a warning frown. “Jasmine, I asked you to wear white.”

“No, milord, you
told
me to wear white, there is a world of difference. I don’t take orders kindly.”

He held onto his temper. “Then I ask you now, Jasmine. Will you please wear white this first night as befits a bride?”

She tossed her head and stood her ground, unwilling to have his will imposed upon her. “Since I am to be the center of attention, I have decided I will stand out better in red. Those in the far corners of the hall will be able to get a better look at me.”

“I will wait while you change,” he said quietly, determined to be in control of his temper as well as the situation.

Jasmine, however, did not hold her temper. “You are ridiculous, sir! Surely I am to be allowed to choose my own clothes?”

Glynis shrank visibly in anticipation of the verbal battle while Big Meg did her best to conceal a grin.

Falcon looked at his wife with disbelief. She was well aware that she could choose her own clothes, that was not the point. He had asked her to wear white and she was deliberately thwarting him, and doing so with relish. Incredibly she was playing some sort of power game with him.

“I should take my hand to you,” he said quietly, blocking the door. “If you’d had a good warming years ago you’d know your place.”

“I demand that you remove yourself from the door and
let me proceed to the hall,” she said, the light of fire in her eyes.

“Demand, Jasmine?” he asked lazily. By the way his brow slanted sardonically she suspected he was up to something, but he bowed formally to her. “So be it,” he said, and offered his arm.

After a brief hesitation she took it and allowed him to escort her to the hall below. Big Meg shook her head. “I know this sounds ridiculous to look at them, but she is very like him, you know.”

The hall was packed. The aroma of roasting meat tantalized every nose. The festive air was warm and welcoming and the great babble of voices stilled for a minute as Falcon entered with Jasmine on his arm, then it doubled in volume.

Pot boys scurried about, while female servants set the trestle tables and young pages filled their knights’ drinking horns. He took Jasmine to the raised dais, which was an innovation, built so all could get a better view of their new lady.

Falcon held up his arms to silence his household and waited patiently for them to quiet. “Before the serving begins I must introduce you to my new bride. Jasmine of Salisbury is now Lady de Burgh.” A cheer went up, but he raised a hand to silence it. “There is more you should know. I am afraid my lady has been spoiled and much indulged all her life.” He glanced down at her shocked face and she saw the amusement in his eyes as he laughed down at her. She knew in that moment he would have his revenge in his own time, his own way. “I must warn you that she has no maidenly reserve, while I, as you already know, am no gentleman. Neither one of us will hesitate to provoke each other before all assembled. Decorum is not a word you will associate with the de Burghs.”

Jasmine seethed as his insufferable laughter rang out over her head. “And so,” he said, pushing back his chair
and swinging her up into his arms, “I am taking her back upstairs to change into a gown of
my
choosing. She is a willful wench who needs to learn who is master at Mountain Ash. If we don’t return right away, you will all know that I have seen another dish that tempts me more.”

As he strode from the hall he held her so firmly she could not move because he knew she would fly at him with her fists in a fit of hot temper. “I’ll give them something to talk about,” he murmured against her ear.

Upstairs she threw her hairbrushes and her shoes at him. “How could you humiliate me so?” she demanded. “I cannot go back and face them all.”

“Jasmine, I warned you before you went down, but you chose not to heed me. ’T is becoming a habit with you.” Then his voice lowered with quiet determination. “Now, change the gown.”

Her stubbornness had truly been provoked. She said silkily through set teeth, “There is no need for me to change since I shall not be returning to the hall.”

He ignored her words and opened her wardrobe. It took him only a moment to select the lovely white gown he had in mind.

She protested, “De Burgh, if I change the gown, it means I have to change everything—undergarments, stocking, shoes—you don’t know a thing about women’s clothes!”

“Don’t I?” he asked silkily. “Do you delude yourself you’re the first woman I’ve undressed?”

“Oh!” She gasped and turned her stubborn back to him. Immediately she felt his hands at the fastenings of her gown and she had visions of him tearing it from her. She whirled to face him, her mouth all sulky. He was so much taller, she had to tip her head back to look up at him. “’Fore God, if you ruin this gown I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he asked, his hands already inside the neckline to take up her challenge.

She was so angry she was panting, but she had guile enough to lower her lashes to her cheeks so he wouldn’t see her hatred in that moment. In a small voice she said, “’T is a particular favorite, that’s all … I thought it would please you.”

“It does please me, Jasmine. Its color makes you so vividly beautiful it has aroused me.” As his mouth closed over hers in a deep kiss she thought he was ready to let her have her own way, but without her realizing it he had the scarlet gown undone and off her as they kissed. He took his mouth from hers and ordered, “Now the shift.”

“No!” she said, her eyes stormy.

He rummaged among her things until he held a white silken shift and a pair of white satin shoes. She made it as difficult as possible for him to remove her undergarments, but he seemed to enjoy it as if it were a love game. When she stood before him clad only in the red stockings, he picked her up and set her down before the mirror so she could watch as he caressed her breasts until they hardened and thrust up impudently. Suddenly she was very ready to cover herself with the white gown. “De Burgh, I concede,” she cried.

He flashed his wolf’s grin. “There is no hurry to return, darling. They will naturally assume I am going to make love to you.”

She looked at him in horror and saw clearly that their assumption would be correct if she did not make haste. She cast about for words that would cool his advances. “Falcon, I want them to love me here at Mountain Ash. I promise to try to be a dutiful wife. Let’s go back to the hall. I’ll let you dress me,” she offered temptingly.

De Burgh was well aware that she was manipulating him, but her words and her attitude had softened considerably. Perhaps he was halfway to taming her. As he dressed her in white he managed to touch every intimate
part of her body at least half a dozen times, so that by the time they reentered the hall she was rosy with blushes.

With de Burgh’s firm hand at the small of her back, a much-chastened Jasmine took reluctant steps toward the festivities. The moment everyone saw her, a great cheer went up around the hall, and one by one they got to their feet and began to applaud her courage and her beauty. It was the beginning of a love affair as the people of Mountain Ash and Jasmine lost their hearts to each other.

After dinner and the toasts, everyone wanted to speak with her, look at her, touch her. Falcon’s knights fell over each other playing gallant, which greatly amused him and pleased her. She was introduced to every female, from the youngest child to the old woman who made the brooms to sweep out the castle chambers.

Jasmine’s eyes widened as a young woman came up to the dais dressed as a young warrior in a sleeveless leather tunic with golden bracelets clasped about her upper arms. De Burgh said casually, “This is Morganna. She is hostage for the Welsh king’s good behavior.”

Morganna’s eyes slid over Jasmine’s ethereal beauty with contempt and she spoke instead to Falcon. She touched his shoulder with a light, familiar hand. “How is your wound?”

“It is nothing; the scratch is healed.”

“Wound?” asked Jasmine, looking at the girl, who was not beautiful in the accepted sense of the word, but clearly had a sensual quality a man would find attractive.

Morganna’s eyes touched Jasmine’s face again. “He was bitten by a wildcat.” She made the statement as if it had two different meanings.

She is someone to reckon with, Jasmine thought warily, but she would not question de Burgh about the girl. She had more pride than that. After dinner they sat at table for two hours, watching the dancing, the gaming, the dicing. She watched Morganna easily lure Gervase
from a game of chance he had been winning. “I believe Gervase is out of his depth with that one,” she said wisely.

De Burgh shrugged. “By morning he will have lost his purse and gained a better understanding of women.”

She flared, “Do you treat all women with contempt?”

“No. An honorable woman I treat with honor.” He took her hand and she drew in her breath sharply. For a brief instant her fingers were against his mouth and the familiar panic rose up in her as the time for bed drew nigh. “Let’s go up,” he murmured huskily, rising and taking her with him with one strong possessive arm.

Her heart beat thickly as they began to climb the tower steps. She glanced up at his strong profile outlined against the eight-foot-thick stone walls and felt very small and vulnerable. When she would have gone on from his door up to her own chamber, he stayed her with his hand and drew her into the doorway, then leaned his arms on either side of the jamb, effectively trapping her. His head dipped to steal a kiss. As soon as he lifted his mouth from hers she begged, “Please, Falcon.”

“Do you deny me?” he demanded.

“No,” she said quickly, “for I do not want another battle on my hands, not tonight.”

“Battle?” he questioned. “I want to make love, not war.” He pushed open his chamber door and all she could see was the massive bed.

“Please no, Falcon,” she breathed.

His mouth was on her throat, kissing its wildly beating pulse, while his fingers sought and made erect a taut little nipple. “Jassy, I’m starving for you,” he said against her throat.

On a half-sob of fear she cried, “Oh, Falcon, I was so happy tonight. Please don’t spoil it for me.”