Willow opened her mouth to issue a scathing retort, but her brother, Robert Southwood, spoke first.
“Willow,” he said mischievously, yet seriously, “you have never been as young as our mother is, even today.”
“As usual, Robin, you speak in riddles,” replied Willow.
“You were born an old woman, Willow,” he told her bluntly. “Mama willneverbe old but in years. Her heart is young. It always has been, and it always will be. She will not live in the past as so many of her generation do. Adam, God assoil his generous soul, is dead, and gone from us. But Mama is alive, andwill continue to live until the day God calls her home to him. I know you mean well, but do not bleat at her about the wedding feast in the hall. Where else can it be held in such weather?”
“Well, I don’t know why such an ado is being made anyway,” Willow grumbled. “After all, it is Jasmine’s third marriage, and we are a house in mourning for our father.”
“Thefussis being made,” said James Edwards, Willow’s husband, in a rare show of irritation, “because Adam would have wanted it that way, and my lady Skye knows it. Now, cease your carping, my dear. You grow tiresome to the ear. I shall walk in the gardens now, madame, and you shall accompany me.”
“But it is raining!”Willow protested.
“Misting is more like it,” the earl of Alcester corrected his wife. “It will do your complexion good, madame. Come along,” and he took her firmly by the arm, almost shoving her from the room where they had all congregated just prior to the wedding service. “We’ll be back before the service begins, my dear.” And, of course, they were, Willow chastened.
Now the family came together in the hall of Queen’s Malvern to celebrate the marriage that had just taken place. The tables groaned with the bounty of Skye’s hospitality. There was a whole side of beef that had been roasted over an open spit; platters of lamb chops; capons in plum sauce, and ducks in orange sauce; a huge country ham; crusty pies of game birds and others of rabbit; whole river trouts on beds of cress; two barrels of oysters in seawater; jellied eel; bowls of new peas; and bowls of tiny carrots in cream sauce; along with dishes of braised lettuces from the kitchen gardens; a wheel of hard cheddar and one of Normandy Brie; stone crocks of sweet butter; and round cottage loaves of freshly baked bread. There was wine, and ale, and cider to drink. And lastly strawberries, clotted cream, and small sugar wafers, which were served with a very sweet marsala wine, an old tradition to wish the bride and groom good fortune.
A number of toasts were drunk to James and Jasmine Leslie, some of them warm and loving; some of them wickedly ribald. Jasmine grew more sentimental with each goblet of wine she consumed. She remembered her wedding to Jamal Khan. She had been decked out in scarlet and gold, in garments covered in diamonds and rubies, as befitted a royal Mughal princess. She had just been thirteen. When she had married Rowan Lindley, the marquis of Westleigh, she had worn the wedding gown both her mother and her grandmother had worn. It had been apple green silk with gold embroidery. She had been sixteen and a half.
Now she was almost twenty-five, and had taken a third husband. Her bridal gown was heavy cream silk brocade. The low square bodice was embroidered with swirls of tiny seed pearls over which was draped a creamy delicate lace collar. The V of underskirt showing was striped with narrow bands of cloth of silver. The skirt was bell-shaped and had a narrow waist. The gown’s sleeves were divided by narrow silver ribbons and slashed to show cloth of silver. The cuffs were bands of soft lace. Beneath the ankle-length gown Jasmine wore a beribboned chemise, several layers of silk and lawn petticoats, and silk stockings embroidered with tiny gold bumblebees. Her shoes of creamy brocade were decorated with pearls; and her dark hair, in its chignon, was adorned with pearl-encrusted silk roses, and narrow silver ribbons.
“Are you dreaming?” her husband murmured in her ear. “If you are, I hope it is of me, darling Jasmine.” James Leslie took Jasmine’s hand in his, turning it over and kissing the palm with passionate lips. It was the happiest day of his life. He well remembered the first time he had met her. He had come to Queen’s Malvern with the king, and it was thought that the widowed earl of Glenkirk might make a suitable husband for Sybilla Gordon, Jasmine’s stepsister, who fancied herself in lovewith him. He had been introduced to Jasmine, however, and had fallen in love with her immediately. That had been ten years ago. Now he brought her hand to his lips, nibbling at her fingers. “How much longer must we be polite?” he whispered to her.
“There is to be dancing,” she replied softly.
“Oh?”
“And some sort of entertainment, I believe,” she told him.
“Could we not provide our own entertainment?” he suggested.
“Jemmie!”she half scolded him. “This wedding means so much to Grandmama. You must learn patience, my lord. It is not as if we have not tasted of sensual delights before.” She made an attempt to regain possession of her hand, but he would not release it.
Instead he sucked wickedly on each of her fingers, and, when he had finished, he drew her hand beneath the table with its linen cloth, and pressed it against his groin. “As you can see, madame, I am very hungry. I will wager your grandmother would understand my sentiments.”
He was hard as a rock, and Jasmine struggled to keep the blush from her cheeks, yet she could not move her hand away. For a moment she stroked him, squirming slightly in her chair as thoughts of their previous encounters rose up in her head, and then she shuddered with a small release of passion.“My lord!”she pleaded softly.
He laughed low. “You are as hot for me as I am for you, my darling Jasmine. Very well then. We shall dance and watch the little entertainments your grandmama has provided for us; but when they are all over, madame, I shall take you to bed and drive from your head all thoughts of anyone, or anything but me!” He then relinquished the slender hand he had held captive.
“You will pay dearly for your wickedness, my lord,” she promised him, reluctantly removing her hand from his manhood.
“As shall you, darling Jasmine, for keeping me waiting,” he responded threateningly, his green-gold eyes laughing into her turquoise ones. “No matter how many years we are wed, I shall never tire of you.”
“A bold promise, but then you are a bold man, Jemmie Leslie,” Jasmine told him.
Suddenly the room was filled with a shrill and eerie noise. James Leslie looked quickly up. Into the hall came a man in a green kilt with a narrow red and a narrow white stripe identical to the one which James Leslie wore that day. He was playing the bagpipes as he came, each step measured, and dignified. He stopped before the highboard where the bridal party were seated, playing on, a sweetly melancholy tune. When he had finished, he bowed low to the earl of Glenkirk.
“Alpin More!”James Leslie said, a smile upon his face. “How came you here this day? You are a very long way from Glenkirk.”
“Yer brothers and sisters thought I should be here this day, my lord, and Lady de Marisco agreed. She arranged for me to be brought south. I hae traveled a long way indeed, but we could nae hae ye wed again wi’out yer piper, my lord. I played for ye when ye wed Lady Isabelle, may God grant her soul peace. Now I hae played for ye and yer new lady, may God bless ye both!” He bowed again.
“Jasmine, this is Alpin More, my piper,” James Leslie said to his bride. “Alpin, my wife, Lady Jasmine Leslie.”
“I have never heard the pipes played so beautifully, Alpin More,” Jasmine said. “I hope you will play for us again soon.”
The piper bowed once more to his new mistress. She was far more beautiful than the earl’s first wife had been. He hopedshe could have children, for his master needed an heir. The bride was not very young, but then neither was she very old, and she had already had children, or so he had been told. “I wish ye long life, and many bairns,” he told Jasmine gallantly with a smile.
“What a fine wish, Alpin More!” Jasmine told him. “I would have many sons for my lord, and may you play for them one day as well.”
