The Falcon and the Flower (55 page)

“Not safe?” asked Jasmine.

“Madame, it was only last Christmas that an army of two thousand gathered at Stamford ready to move against the king. Have you been hiding under a stone?”

Jasmine laughed prettily. “Since John signed the Great Charter I am sure the army has disbanded. This is October and ten long months have passed since Christmas,” she chided.

He flushed and his eyes narrowed. She was insinuating that he was a coward, when he was only following the king’s orders.

“The justiciar has been gone less than twenty-four hours. They cannot be much farther than Peterborough. I will send after him. Return to the king and tell him that Lady Jasmine de Burgh awaits him at Castle Rising.” She gave him a contemptuous little smile. “I warrant he’ll chance the forty miles from Cambridge without his army.” She called in the castellan. “See that this man gets some ale and a fresh horse.”

Jasmine was restless as a tigress. She took up a warm cloak and went up on the battlements. Castle Rising had
an unimpeded view of the wash. She watched in fascination as miles and miles of pale coral sand were swallowed by the tide sweeping in from the North Sea. She nervously licked her lips and tasted the salt air upon them. The gulls and terns swooping overhead screamed with cries that pierced her heart. Why had she come? she asked herself in a panic She must have been mad! Then she turned to face the wind and it brought a small measure of calm.

She had come to ask King John a boon. She would face a dragon in its cave to allow her sons to remain in Ireland with their father. Aye, and if she was being truthful, she had also come to punish Falcon. She loved him totally and was devastated by his faithlessness. She had run blindly away from him in hope that the separation would make him suffer so much he would value her more. But she realized bleakly that if she was unfaithful to him with the king, he would value her less—in fact, she would be worthless in his eyes.

She sighed. John would be here soon. She would have to face him alone, unprotected. Her only salvation was a small vial of hemlock with which she would render him impotent. She had brought it all the way from Ireland. It was hidden between her breasts and she would keep it on her person at all times.

She went down in search of the castellan to see which apartments he would assign to the king. He showed her into the west wing of Castle Rising where over the years the king had often stayed. It was the only wing that had enough bedrooms to accommodate his gentlemen and servants. She asked the castellan to give Estelle a chamber close to hers in the east wing, then sought out Murphy, who was housed in the tower with his two young de Burgh charges and their servants. The boys had just returned from sword practice in the yard. They were both
eager to learn and thought themselves quite fierce now that they finally owned real weapons.

“The king is coming. It’s possible he will be arriving as early as tomorrow. You must kneel to him and always address him as ’your majesty’ or ‘sire,’” she told them.

Murphy said, “Whist, lass, they’ve been properly trained for all that, even though they’re fresh from the bogs of Ireland.”

“Oh, Murphy, I didn’t mean to imply that they are ignorant. They are boys and may not place the same importance on things as we do. I’m about to offer more advice and hope you won’t take offense at me. Please study the tides before you go riding on the sands of the wash. The water seems to sweep around treacherously in circles. You could be marooned and drown out there if you were not wary.”

Young Richard laughed and flushed. “I was already caught out there, my lady. My fear was so great it won’t happen again.”

She said to Murphy, “I’ve arranged for Estelle to have a chamber in the east wing, far from the king’s apartments, so you may be private with her.”

He nodded his thanks, and Jasmine warned, “It may be necessary for me to flee the king, Murphy, if he tries to hold me captive. Don’t be alarmed and above all do nothing foolish to antagonize John and jeopardize the boys’ safety. Together with Estelle I will be able to outwit him. I would appreciate it, however, if you would keep a couple of horses saddled and ready in case we have to steal away at a moment’s notice.”

Jasmine went down to the great kitchens where huge piles of game were already being dressed and sides of beef and venison were being fitted to the spits. The king’s men were used to a sumptuous table, and she wanted to make sure there would be some extra-special dishes for John. She decided the first course would be a tureen of prawns
and oysters broiled in herb sauce, followed by crisply browned roast duckling with orange and lemon sauce, a rack of lamb cooked crisp on the outside, but rare and pink on the inside, marrows stuffed with smoky minced ham and cheese, an artichoke salad, followed by apple, pear, and peach pie and spicy tarts decorated with marchpane.

The next day she chose her gown carefully. After much deliberation she donned a midnight-blue velvet with a demure lace collar. The dark color contrasted vividly with her pale golden tresses, but the gown was so plain and severe that it pointed out she was a woman of virtue.

At last she heard the rumble of wagons and looked out to see the king and his gentlemen riding beside the baggage carts. This was most unusual; the men customarily rode well ahead of these dust-raising carts. She heard the king order that the wagons not be unloaded and that they be guarded by a dozen men round the clock. She puzzled over the significance of this as she craned her neck to get a glimpse of Estelle. She knew her grandmother was a bad traveler and hoped she had not been forced to ride all the way. Jasmine picked up her skirts and ran, leaving the castellan and his assistants to receive the large party. She would wait to welcome the king at the door to his apartments, and at the first opportunity she would play the supplicant on her sons’ behalf.

Jasmine’s heart beat wildly as she heard John ascending the stairs and her thoughts scattered in a thousand directions, then a measure of calm descended as he came into view and she gathered her confidence. She was a woman; he didn’t stand a chance.

King John smiled at her, deeply satisfied. “Jasmine, you came to me.”

She went down on her knee before him, and he raised
her up and took her into his arms. His mouth captured hers in a possessive kiss and she almost panicked and fled.

“Majesty, I came as a supplicant to beg a favor from you,” she said primly. He took her hand firmly in his and swept into the chamber with her. Half a dozen of his gentlemen crowded in after them.

“The hall has been specially decorated in your honor, sire, and they will be serving some of your favorite dishes at dinner.”

His eyes traveled down to her breasts and his mouth curved with appreciation. “Lady Jasmine and I will dine here. You gentlemen may be excused now, I think we can manage with the services of a page. Send young Jamie to me.” The men bowed and left them alone.

A warning bell was ringing in Jasmine’s ears. She must not risk offending the king because he was so unpredictable. He was capable of turning cruel and vicious in an instant, yet she must find a plausible excuse that would allow her to leave the room. “Majesty, I am honored that you wish to dine with me. May Estelle join us? I have missed her so very much.”

“No, you little minx, she may not. I want you to myself tonight, Jasmine, and I believe that’s perfectly obvious.”

She blushed a deep pink and he laughed. “Ah, you do understand that I am going to make love to you; I am pleased.”

“Majesty,” she protested, “I came to petition you to let my sons stay in Ireland. They are only babes, and I—”

His arm went about her waist and he pulled her to him. He looked down at her lovely pale face. “You may have anything you desire.”

“Thank you, sire,” she said with a sinking heart, for she knew that in return he would take what he desired.

She stammered. “Majesty, I-I must bathe and dress for dinner.”

He shook his head and laughed. “I haven’t bathed yet. We will bathe together.” His eyes glittered knowingly. “Jasmine, I have waited too many years for you. I won’t permit you to leave this room tonight.”

“Sire, please. I have never been unfaithful to my husband. You know I am a virtuous woman.”

“I should have asked de Burgh for you long ago. He would have had to give you to me, I am the king, he would have had no choice.”

She thought wildly, My god, you do not know Falcon de Burgh! “Sire, I do not believe you would deliberately ruin my marriage. De Burgh would never share my favors.”

“He would have no choice, littlest one. He would have more good sense than to see me ruin all the de Burghs by stripping them of their land and titles,” he warned. “Jasmine, you have royal blood. Surely I don’t have to explain to you the divine right of kings?”

She lowered her lashes to her cheeks as his fingers sought her soft breast. “No, your majesty,” she murmured. Jasmine cursed her luck. John had outwitted her. She should never have underestimated him.

The young page knocked discreetly and entered. “Jamie, order a bath and see that the fire is banked.”

“Will you remove your cloak, sire?” he asked as he saw the king still wore his sable-lined mantle.

“The lady will tend me, Jamie.”

“Yes, your majesty. Which gown shall I bring for the lady?”

John licked his lips and said with relish, “The champagne satin, I think. There is nothing to compare with the feel of satin on female flesh.”

Jasmine realized they were not speaking of a gown but a nightgown. She was shocked to realize the page tended
John and his women every night and that the king traveled with a selection of negligees with which to adorn the women his gentlemen procured for him.

When the page left the chamber, Jasmine reached up to remove the magnificent cloak from John’s shoulders. She was glad that he wanted her to attend to his needs. She thought of the vial between her breasts and knew the degree of deviousness it would require to doctor the king’s wine.

John sat down before the fire, “My boots, Jasmine.”

She stiffened. All her senses were heightened and she was sensitively aware of every nuance. Was this night to be a lesson in humiliation? She came to him and knelt before him, her lashes lowered over eyes liquid with apprehension.

“By God, you look at me.” His fingers forced her chin up. He laughed. “Lord, how angry you are with me at this moment.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She was the most ethereal creature he had ever seen, and her anger excited him. There was something else about this young woman that had always excited him. She looked as innocent and untouched as a virgin. In fact, with her silvery-gilt hair she looked angelic. A thrilling surge ran through his loins at the thought of defiling an angel.

“My doublet,” he murmured. With trembling fingers she unfastened the brilliant emerald and gold doublet and wondered if she dared first remove the golden circlet from his head before she pulled off the doublet, or if he would wear it to bed. Her fear was momentarily replaced by amusement as she saw that beneath the doublet he wore a corset. John was showing signs of corpulence from his life of indulgence, but his vanity demanded he try to hide it from the world.

She choked back a laugh and coughed. “My throat is so dry, Majesty. May I have some wine?” she whispered.

He waved a negligent hand toward the sideboard, but his avid eyes never left her. She slowly poured two goblets of deep, rich wine, knowing he would see immediately if she reached for the vial. Mercifully at that moment the servants arrived with a large wooden tub and a dozen buckets of hot water.

Jasmine’s hands were trembling so violently she almost dropped the small vial. Clutching it tightly, she emptied half its contents into the goblet on the right and quickly slipped the vial back between her breasts. Young Jamie arrived with bath oils, scented soap, a pile of crested towels, and a champagne satin night rail. When the page made no move to leave the chamber, she took the wine goblets over to John, handed him the one in her right hand, and murmured, “Dismiss the page.”

“He’s going to bathe us,” explained John.

“Oh, no!” Jasmine exclaimed, appalled. She’d have no witnesses to what went on between her and the king. “I’ll bathe us, sire.”

John waved out the page. “Remove your gown,” he said with hungry eyes. It was as if she was paralyzed. Though her shyness excited him, he was growing impatient. “Do you think your tits and pussy so special you won’t even show your king?” His eyes glittered. “Will I have my gentlemen back in to undress you?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t !” She was horrified at the suggestion but knew him capable of anything.

He laughed. “They’ll even hold you for me while I fuck you, sweetheart.”

She realized with a growing alarm that he had not even tasted his wine. She took a deep gulp from her own goblet and was vastly relieved to see him follow suit and sip his own. The vial between her breasts burned her skin. She knew that at all costs she must conceal it. Slowly she removed her gown, knowing that he watched her hungrily. Then, pretending shyness, she presented him with
her back so that she could remove the vial and tuck it beneath her discarded gown on the stool. She slowly removed her undergarment and John’s eyes were drawn immediately to her heart-shaped bottom. His mouth suddenly went dry and he quaffed the wine deeply.

“Leave the stockings,” he said thickly. “Come to me.” She had beautiful breasts, lovely ivory globes with dark-pink nipples. He grinned in appreciation. “Your tits really are something special.”

She made no move toward him, so he came to her. She was relieved that he brought his wine with him. She took up her own goblet again and drank deeply. Before he set the golden cup down, he too quaffed deeply. He took her breasts into his hands, weighing them, squeezing them. “Your skin is so pale, so fair, you will be covered with finger bruises by morning.”

He knelt and pulled off her garters and stockings, then turned her so that he could intimately examine her round buttocks.

She bit her lips to keep from screaming as his hands explored her. Then he reached down to remove the rest of his own clothing. She moved away, ostensibly to finish her wine, but as John stood before her naked she almost choked. He was so overendowed, like all the male Plantagenets, he was hung like a bull. She closed her eyes to blot out the horror of it all and he laughed at her.