Wild Jasmine (73 page)

“I will never leave you, my Hal,” she told him. “Unless, of course, you no longer desire me.”

“I cannot,” he said with utmost seriousness, “ever imagine not desiring you, Jasmine, my love.”

“Then it is truly settled,” she replied.

Chapter 19

T
he Earl of Glenkirk had returned to court after an absence of some months. He had been in Scotland overseeing his vast holdings. It was becoming increasingly difficult, he found, to serve both James Stuart and his own interests. Glenkirk was his home, and he loved it, but without Isabelle and the children, it was a place overrun with lonely memories—not just of his late wife and children, but of his mother, his father, his grandparents, and that magnificent matriarch he had never known but who was still spoken of by the Leslies of Glenkirk, his great-great-grandmother, Janet Leslie. But they were all gone, and he was alone. He did not like being alone.

He knew that he should remarry. His brothers and sisters constantly importuned him to remarry. His mother wrote him long, serious letters from Italy, where she now lived with her second husband, begging him to remarry. His father wrote him once yearly from the Americas, where he lived with his new wife and family. He, too, preached remarriage and duty to Glenkirk.

James Leslie found his father’s letters particularly irritating. Patrick Leslie had gone off, leaving his family in order that he might explore the new world. When his ship was reported sunk, they had believed him dead. He had survived, however, but neglected to inform them. A charming but spoiled man, Patrick Leslie had continued on with his explorations, returning home in secret almost ten years ago to confront his eldest son and heir with the fact of his existence.

He had not been at all interested in picking up his old life. He was, in fact, openly relieved not to have to do so. His son had agreed to keep the secret of his survival between themselves, and the former Earl of Glenkirk never lost touch with his son again, writing him yearly.

His father had been very sympathetic over the death of Isabelle and the children, but then he began to nag his son regarding remarriage and his obligations to the family. But it was the pleas of his brothers, Colin and Robert, that concerned James
Leslie most. They did not wish the responsibility of Glenkirk thrust upon them.

“There must be some woman you would be content to marry, and father children upon,” Colin Leslie had said to his brother the night before James began his return trip to England. “It is not as if Isabelle was the great love of your life, Jemmie. And how long have she and the bairns been gone now?”

“Aye,” Robert Leslie had chimed in seriously. “ ’Tis past time you remarried, and had new heirs. If there is no one in Scotland who takes your fancy, then look about the English court, man. We will settle for any strong, healthy lass, Jemmie. Even a Sassenach!”

James Leslie sighed to himself at his brother’s words. There had been a woman he might have married, but he had not been quick enough. She had wed another.
Jasmine de Marisco
. He had never known a woman like her. His brothers could not know that it was not the memory of his dear Isabelle that prevented him from remarriage now. It was the memory of Jasmine de Marisco, and one incredible night that sometimes he was not even certain had really happened. Isabelle had been his wife by an arranged marriage, but this time he would follow his mother’s lead. He would marry only for love. Without love there was nothing.

And now, newly returned to court, who should he happen upon first but Lady Frances Howard Devereaux, the Countess of Essex. Frances Howard was considered one of the most beautiful women at James’s court. A voluptuous woman with large, dark eyes and rich chestnut-brown hair, she was one of the Earl of Suffolk’s daughters. At thirteen she had been forced into marriage with young Robert Devereaux, the Earl of Essex, and her dislike for him was no secret. But despite her arrogant and willful personality, she had great charm when she chose to exhibit it. Even one of her great enemies described her as “a beauty of the greatest magnitude in the horizon of the court … every tongue grew an orator at that shrine.”

“Glenkirk, you rogue! I did not know you were returned to court,” Frances Howard effusively greeted James Leslie. “Little has changed, I fear. The same old faces; the same old scandals. Oh, yes! Prince Henry has taken a mistress, and not on the sly. It is quite in the open, my dear.” Frances kissed his cheek familiarly, and for a moment he was enveloped in the fragrance of violets. “How is your Scotland?” she asked him, tucking her hand through his arm to walk with him.

“Same old faces, but alas, the scandals have moved south with the king,” he told her mischievously. “The weather, I might add, was abysmal, as it frequently is in Scotland. Tell me of the prince. Who is the lady who has found favor with him? I thought that you were his favorite, Frances, but I hear, even in Scotland, that you have turned your sights upon Viscount Rochester. Oh, yes, how is your husband?”

Frances Howard, dressed in a gown of tawny orange and gold brocade with a wickedly low neckline that revealed her plump breasts, chuckled, and rapped the Earl of Glenkirk upon the arm with her gold and lace fan. “I but toyed with Henry Stuart, my dear. A lovely boy, but a boy nonetheless. My husband is as always.
Boring
. As for the prince, he has taken the dowager Marchioness of Westleigh to his bed. I must say that she is every bit as beautiful as I am,” Frances concluded generously. “She is half foreign, I am told. Born a princess in her native land. Her mother is the Countess of BrocCairn. She and the prince are mad for one another, my dear. One cannot help but wonder how long it will last, but still it is encouraging to know that Henry Stuart does not have his father’s proclivities.”

“The
dowager
Marchioness of Westleigh, Frances? I did not know that there was one. Surely she must be a bit old for the prince. I have met the young Marchioness of Westleigh, but not her mother-in-law,” the Earl of Glenkirk replied. “It is young Lady Lindley who is foreign-born.”

“My goodness, you have been gone a long time,” Frances Howard told him. “The Marquess of Westleigh was killed in Ireland, Glenkirk. It is his young widow who is Prince Henry’s mistress. Lady Jasmine Lindley is her name. Is that the same lady of your acquaintance?”

He nodded, stunned. “Aye, it is. I did not know she had been widowed. How long?”

“Well over a year, I understand. She has three children, but they are in the country,” Frances Howard said.

“They cannot be very old,” the Earl of Glenkirk said. “She ought to be with her children, and not at court whoring for the prince!”

Frances Howard laughed. “Oh, Glenkirk,” she replied, “do not be so old-fashioned! One has servants to look after one’s children. Lady Lindley does her children a better service here at court pleasing England’s next king than she would remaining at home with them. Why, I think her a most excellent
mother, for she is ambitious, and her position in Prince Henry’s life cannot fail but help her children.”

James Leslie was outraged, but he could not understand why. Jasmine Lindley was not his responsibility, and yet the thought of her as Prince Henry’s mistress was galling. He voiced his concern to Lady Lindley’s stepfather, and was further outraged by Alex Gordon’s attitude.

The Earl of BrocCairn looked at the Earl of Glenkirk as if he were a half-wit. “God’s nightshirt, Jemmie, what business is it of yers? My own father was a royal bastard. Yer own mother was this king’s mistress in his youth. Where is the harm in it? Jasmine was no virgin, but twice widowed. She was willing.”

“
Willing?
” he ground out. “Willing to whore for a prince?”

“Aye, willing,” BrocCairn replied. “She likes Henry Stuart. She has told her mother so. Besides, it canna hurt the future of her bairns that she is the prince’s mistress. Little Henry Lindley will benefit by the association, as will our two granddaughters.”

James Leslie felt himself overcome with rage at the Earl of BrocCairn’s reasoning. Excusing himself, he hurried off before he hit the man. What was it about the Stuarts that drew women to them? And what was it about the royal Stuarts that led them to believe that they had a perfect right to appropriate any woman that took their fancy? But he knew the answer. James Stuart and his family believed most seriously in the divine right of kings to do what they pleased, when they pleased. Henry Stuart, if he had learned nothing else, had absorbed this lesson at his father’s knobby knee.

The Earl of Glenkirk stopped in his flight and looked about. He was in a stone corridor, and completely lost. A sound caught his ear, and instinctively he stepped back into the shadows. A door at the end of the corridor opened, and in the shaft of light that spilled forth momentarily, he saw two people hurry through, one a man, the other a woman. He could not yet make out their features for they were too far away from him. The woman ran ahead of the man, who chased after her and finally caught up almost directly in front of the Earl of Glenkirk’s hiding place. Shocked, he recognized the two. He was unable, however, to reveal himself.

Jasmine Lindley laughed low, seductively. “You really are very naughty, my lord,” she told Henry Stuart.

“
I won!
” he said.

“
You cheated!
” she responded. “I have been playing chess since earliest childhood, and I could even beat my father, who
was one of the finest players in India. You, sir, are not his equal. I saw you palm that bishop! You did not win, my lord!”

“Nonetheless you will pay the forfeit, madame, else I expire right here in this darkened corridor,” he told her. “Surely you would not want to be responsible for my death? Then brother Charles would become king one day, and the poor little fellow is much too serious to be a King of England, madame. I shall make him Archbishop of Canterbury instead,” Henry Stuart finished with a laugh, and he reached out for her.

In the dim torchlight that lighted the interior hallway, the Earl of Glenkirk saw Jasmine Lindley step quickly aside to evade the prince. Now, he thought, now I must make my presence known to them, but somehow he could not bring himself to step forward, to speak up. Instead he watched as the two lovers played a game of dodge and catch which the prince eventually won, drawing Jasmine into his arms to kiss her.

Pressing her against a stone pillar, he murmured against her mouth, and Glenkirk, in the shadows, not even daring to draw a deep breath, heard and saw everything.

“Witch! You have surely bewitched me, Jasmine, my love,” Henry Stuart said. The tone in his voice was that of a young man in love but trying to keep control of the situation.

Lowering his head, the prince kissed the exposed flesh of her bosom. Then, with skillful fingers, he managed to undo her laces just enough that her breasts spilled from the gown. Bending, he suckled on each of her breasts while Jasmine sighed softly.

“Someone could see us,” she protested faintly.

“We are quite alone, my love,” he assured her.

I should turn away since I dare not reveal my presence, the Earl of Glenkirk thought, but he did not.

“I want you, my love,” the prince told her. “Now!” He pushed the skirts of her gown up, eagerly seeking her.

“Oh, Hal!
Not here!
” she begged him, but it seemed to Glenkirk that she was not truly distressed by her situation. “What if someone comes, my darling? ’Twould be a terrible scandal.”

“Who would dare admit to seeing such a thing?” He laughed, pressing against her sensuously, his tongue licking at her ear. “Why, Jasmine, my love, there could be someone hidden in the corridor at this very moment, and they would not dare reveal what they saw to a living soul. Does it excite you to think of fucking me before an audience? God’s boots! I
would not care if the entire court were present now, I desire you so very much!” He fumbled with his own clothing, releasing his greatly swollen manhood. “I want you, my darling!
I want you now!
” Henry Stuart said, his hands cupping her bottom and lifting her up to impale her upon his fleshy rod.

“Ahhhhhh,” she cried softly, and wrapped both her arms and her legs about him, her naked breasts pressing hard against him.

James Leslie almost groaned aloud at the sight. As the prince thrust rhythmically into his most willing partner, her beautiful face became an erotic mask of pure pleasure. The earl closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sensual sounds of their lovemaking, imagining himself in Henry Stuart’s place. It had been almost five years since he had lain within her embrace, and he had been half in love with her then, a fact brought home to him when he learned of her impending marriage to Rowan Lindley. Now she was widowed, and he might have been free to court her had she not been Prince Henry’s mistress. He struggled to prevent the overwhelming jealousy he felt from boiling over.

“Ohhh, Hal, my darling!” Jasmine cried.

“My love!” the prince replied, his voice harsh, and he shuddered with his release even as she half fainted within his arms.