“I have a painted ball for Charlie-boy I found in a street stall in Edinburgh,” he responded. Then, reaching out, he pulled her into his lap as he sat down by the fire. “I missed you,” he told her simply, “and I agree that there is really no need for us to come to London again. Will you truly be happy if you don’t, Jasmine? I love you so deeply that the very thought of your unhappiness gives me pain, my wild lassie.” He nuzzled the top of her dark head.
Safe.The word popped unbidden into her head. She was safe at last, Jasmine realized. But then she had been safe with Rowan until his life had been snuffed out by a madman. She had lost two husbands to violence, and a young lover to an unnecessary and premature death. Surely this time it would be all right. Had not her own grandmother lost five husbands before she married Adam de Marisco?It would be all right.“You stink of horses, and now so do I,” she said, sliding from his lap. “Adali certainly must have your bath ready, or at least being prepared.”
“I don’t have to go back to Lynmouth House then?” he teased.
“I will never be separated from you again, Jemmie Leslie,” she told him and, taking him by the hand, led him upstairs to her own apartments, where the large old iron-bound oak tub had been set up before the fire in the dayroom. “I shall maid you, sir,” she told him, and began pulling his boots off, then his damp, knit woolen stockings.
“And I you,” he replied, seating her and drawing her shoes from her narrow, high-arched feet.
Jasmine stood and removed his doublet and his shirt. He removed her bodice and her chemise, pulling her against him for a brief moment to feel the softness of her breasts against his darkly furred chest. Drawing away reluctantly, Jasmine unbuttoned his breeches and slid them over his narrow hips, past his shapely calves to his ankles. He stepped from the garment and kicked it away. Then he undid the tapes of her skirt first and the several petticoats she wore beneath it, lifting her from them when they puddled about her ankles. Naked now but for her stockings, Jasmine pulled his drawers off, and he kicked them too across the chamber. Kneeling, he slipped her garters down her legs, then rolled her silk stockings off, sliding them from her feet as she lifted each one in turn.
He pressed his face against her smooth belly, his breathing very ragged. Then, standing, he took her face between his two hands, and said, “I can’t wait, darling Jasmine. I must take the edge off my appetite for you. It has been the longest month of my life!”
“Mine also,” she told him, reaching out to caress him. He was rock hard and practically throbbing with his desire. Jasmine drew him down to the floor between the fireplace and the tub. Lying upon her back, she opened herself to him in sweet invitation, reaching out to draw him into her embrace.
With a groan he pushed himself into her, finding to his delight that she was hot, and wet, and very, very welcoming. “Ahhh, God!” he moaned thickly as his manhood slid deep, and she wrapped her legs about him, encouraging him onward. His hunger for her seemed to increase rather than ease as they found the passionate rhythm of love together.
Jasmine sighed deeply as the thick column of flesh delved into the deepest recesses of her very being. She took her pleasureof him shamelessly; the walls of her sheath tightening and releasing him, causing him to cry out with unabashed delight as she gave back every bit as much as she took. Her fingers dug strongly into the muscles of his back, her nails lightly raking him.
“It’s too much,” he half sobbed, and exploded his tribute within her, but Jasmine was with him, already soaring and utterly replete with her own satisfaction as their lips met in a scorching kiss.
They lay side by side afterward upon the carpet, the fire cracking practically atop them, fingers entwined. Speaking in soft voices, they both agreed that they were utterly shameless, then they laughed together, happy and perfectly pleased with themselves.
“Now we really do need a bath,” Jasmine murmured. Her thighs were smeared with his love juices, which had been extremely copious. If it had ever occurred to her that James Leslie might have been unfaithful to her while he was away, that thought was quickly dispelled by the evidence of her eyes and the abundance of his creamy passion.
He somehow managed to get to his feet, drawing her up with him. “I have never had such desire for a woman as I do for you, darling Jasmine,” he told her candidly. “I am not even certain being your husband will rid me of my hunger for you.”
Jasmine climbed into the tub and beckoned him to join her. “You flatter me, Jemmie Leslie,” she said. “I am just a woman.”
The earl of Glenkirk laughed. “You will never bejusta woman, my darling Jasmine,” he told her. “Now, madame, wash my back like a good wife should, and afterward I shall reward you for your efforts.”
Jasmine giggled. “I am not your wife yet, my lord. I should far prefer to be rewarded like a good mistress would. Mistresses, I am told, have more fun than wives.”
“Not in my house,” he riposted wickedly.
Adali entered the apartment in the company of Rohana and Toramalli. He bore a silver basin of perfumed water, and an armful of small white linen cloths, which he took into the bedchamber. The maidservants carried trays of food, which they placed upon a rectangular table.
“Ohhh,” Jasmine sniffed. “That smells delicious. What have you brought us?” She scrambled from the tub to be dried by Rohana.
“Cook has sent up a variety of foods, m’lady,” Rohana told her, toweling Jasmine, then powdering her. “She thought m’lord would enjoy a hearty supper as he had ridden far today according to Fergus More, who is in the kitchens eating now.” She helped Jasmine into a cream-colored chamber robe. Then she moved on to help Toramalli who was drying a slightly embarrassed Lord Leslie, who could not quite get used to being attended at his bath by pretty women.
Jasmine began lifting the lids upon the dishes. There was a dish of cold, raw oysters in cracked ice, and seawater; a thick rich stew of rabbit in a winey brown gravy with scallions, sliced carrots, and new peas; a roasted capon; a medium-sized trout, steamed in white wine, and set upon a bed of cress; a small ham; a bowl of new lettuce from the kitchen garden; fresh bread warm from the oven; a crock of sweet butter; a quarter wheel of Brie already runny upon its silver platter; and, finally, a bowl of tiny new strawberries with a pitcher of clotted Devon cream. She hummed approval. “Tell Mrs.Davis her menu is well appreciated, Adali,” Jasmine said.
“Will you want me to serve?” he inquired politely.
“Yes,” she surprised him. “Send for the footmen to empty the tub, and have it put away. Then we will eat.”
The servingmen came, each carrying two buckets, and the tub was quickly emptied, then stored away, the drain in its sidebeing carefully replaced. Rohana and Toramalli set up the table before the dayroom fire, and Adali quickly served his master and his mistress both food and wine. He then withdrew with the women. James Leslie ate with a good appetite, as did Jasmine. She filled his goblet several times with wine, and soon between the heat of the fire, the excellent meal, and the long day’s ride, he began to nod.
“Come,” she said to him, rising. “You need to sleep, my dear lord,” and she led him to the bedchamber where he fell into bed, asleep almost before his head touched the pillows. With an indulgent smile Jasmine banked the fire, tucked the coverlet about him, and climbed into the bed next to James Leslie, snuggling against him even as his arm instinctively reached out to enfold her in his embrace.
When the earl of Glenkirk awoke, it was already past sunrise, and Jasmine was dressed. Adali handed him a saucer of steaming tea, and, to his great surprise, he found it most refreshing. As Jasmine’s servant helped him to dress, Jasmine chattered at him happily.
“We must go to court this morning and bid the king and queen farewell, Jemmie. Then, tomorrow, we can begin our journey to Queen’s Malvern. The servants are already packing, and I am taking the staff home with us since I will never again return to London. Grandmama will find places for them, I know, and I will not leave them here after all their years of faithful service to the family. Greenwood House will be closed up. Perhaps I shall even sell it as it will be mine one day.”
“If you sell it,” the earl observed, “then your family, who do like to come up to London, will have no place to stay, Jasmine.”
“Let them stay at Lynmouth House,” she responded.
