Wild Jasmine (84 page)

James Leslie bowed to the king and the queen. Jasmine somehow managed to curtsey, and then he was leading her from the king’s privy chamber.

“Say not one word, madame, until we are in the privacy of your coach,” James Leslie warned her. “You will shortly recover your wits, but we will cause no scandal here at Whitehall, Jasmine, for all the court sycophants to gossip about.”

She nodded silently.

“Where to, m’lady?” her coachman inquired as they exited Whitehall. “Back to Greenwood, or home? The baggage coach has already left.” The coachman peered down at her.

“Queen’s Malvern,” the Earl of Glenkirk said to him, and then, “That is correct, madame, is it not?”

Jasmine nodded again.

The carriage moved off from Whitehall. James Leslie took the fur rug that was upon the seat and wrapped it about Jasmine’s knees. Then he seated himself facing her. He was very impressed by the luxury of the coach, and soon realized that there was heat coming from the grates in the doors. Ingenious, he thought, and sat back, stretching his long legs out before
him. Very soon the city was left behind them. The countryside lay couched in bleak midwinter on either side of the road. There was no snow, but it was cold, and there was frost in the brown fields. Smoke wafted from the farmhouse and cottage chimneys as they passed by them. Now and then a dog would dash madly from a farmyard to pursue the carriage, barking wildly as it raced along, snapping at the wheels until it finally tired of the game.

After some time James Leslie said quietly, “Do you intend not to speak to me at all, madame, or is it that you have truly lost your tongue?”

“I will not marry you,” Jasmine said. “Do you think yourself clever, my lord, to have convinced the king to give you guardianship over my Stuart son? And what foresight you have, Jemmie Leslie! Did you actually believe that by having custody of Charles Frederick, I should have no other choice but to wed you?”

“I did not ask the king for guardianship of your son, madame,” he answered her, “and as for marrying you, ’tis true I desired to court you, and to eventually convince you to take me as your husband, but ’twas my damned brothers, importuning first Jamie and then his Annie, that resulted in a royal command to wed. I will admit, however, to feeling no regret at that command, which I will obey gladly.”

“
I will not marry you
,” Jasmine repeated.

“I love you,” he said.

“You lie!” she retorted.

“Nay, Jasmine, I do not lie. When we were caught abed, and BrocCairn said I must wed you, I refused to speak because I was angry at myself for having been so stupid as to expose you to such embarrassment. Surely you know I was already in love with you then, but the situation with Sybilla was a difficult one. And you, sweetheart, were so coolly gallant in your refusal to force me to the altar. Afterward, I came to Greenwood and told your grandmother that I wished to court you.”

“I did not know that,” Jasmine said softly.

“Ask her,” the earl told her. “She said that you were betrothed to Rowan Lindley and that it would be best if you did not know of my visit, or the reason for it. She sent me away. I left court shortly after that, staying only long enough to meet my obligations to the king. When I returned to Glenkirk, I seriously sought out a new wife, for my brothers have been most adamant that I remarry. There was no woman, however, who
pleased me. I finally returned to court to learn that you were widowed, but by then you had involved yourself with the prince. I could hardly reveal my feelings to you under those circumstances, could I?”

“I am not a child, my lord. I am twenty-two, and I will not be forced to the altar by this Scots King of England,” Jasmine said firmly, ignoring his explanations.

“Madame, we do not have any other choice but to obey,” James Leslie told her. “I will make you a bargain, however. Allow me to pay you court at Queen’s Malvern. In a month or so we will set a wedding date, and so inform the king. ’Twill give us time to renew our acquaintance with each other.”

“What of my Stuart son?” she asked him.

“Why, he will remain with you, Jasmine,” James Leslie told her. “As you so scathingly pointed out to the king, a man without a wife is a poor choice to be guardian for a bairn.” The Earl of Glenkirk smiled across the coach at her, and Jasmine, in spite of herself, felt the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

“I will make you a bargain, my lord,” she said finally in return. “The king’s ultimatum came as a shock to me, as you know. I need time to accustom myself to it. You see, I never told Henry Stuart how much I loved him. I never told him at all that I loved him. He wanted to marry me, and of course such a marriage was not possible between us. If I had admitted my love for him, he would have been all the more obdurate regarding the choice of a wife. You know he would have, my lord. Then he died, and I could not tell him of my love. I have lived with that these past months, and the pain it has given me is beyond knowing.

“Now, the king, my Hal’s father, has ordered me to marry you. That he has done it for reasons that make no sense to me, in his grief, and in the mistaken belief he is protecting his grandson, does not help me to come to terms with that royal decision. You say you love me, James Leslie. I am not certain that I believe you, although I think you believe it. Very well then, if you love me, take me home to Queen’s Malvern, and then leave me be for a short period of time. With my children about me, and my grandmother’s wisdom, I will be able to accept what must be. Can you do that?”

“When may I return to begin our courtship?” he asked her.

“Come on the first day of April, my lord. ’Tis less than six weeks from now,” she said. “I will set our wedding date when
I see you again. I promise you that, and a royal Mughal princess would never break her word, Jemmie Leslie.”

She said his name softly, and the tip of her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. He almost grew dizzy with the sensuality of the action, and thought ruefully that he had best gain a firmer hold upon himself lest she rule their household. Then he thought of his mother and smiled. It was the sort of bargain Cat Leslie would have struck in the same situation. She would play for time, and God only knew ’twas little enough she asked him. If it would ease the path that they must travel together, then how could he refuse?

“Very well, madame,” he told Jasmine. “I will bring you in safety to your grandmother’s home, but you must give me a few days with you before I depart. Then I shall return on the first day of April, to plan our wedding.”

“I agree, my lord,” Jasmine said quietly.

“I will be a good stepfather to your children,” he promised her. “Even now I yet miss my own lads, but you will give me beautiful sons and daughters, Jasmine, I know. You like children, don’t you?”

“Aye,” she said, “I do. I was the youngest of my father’s children, and my siblings were grown but for one sister, and she lived with her mother at court. In my little palace on the lake in Kashmir, it was as if I was an only child. Perhaps that is why I enjoy having a household full of children.” She smiled at him. “Grandmama says I spoil my little ones, but I do not believe loving a child as I do can spoil it.”

“My mother loved her bairns like that,” he told her.

“Where is your mother?” she asked him.

“In Italy,” he said. “Someday I will tell you the whole story of Cat Leslie and her love, which in Scotland was called ‘wild and fair.’ ”

“I shall look forward to your tale, my lord. Does the story have a happy ending?” Jasmine said.

“Aye, a very happy ending, even as our story will have a happy ending,” the Earl of Glenkirk promised her.

Jasmine looked directly at him, her turquoise-blue eyes bright. “Are you then so certain of our fates, my lord?”

“Aye!” he replied with a wide grin. “I am!”

“I am not,” Jasmine told him solemnly. Then she turned away from James Leslie to watch the gray and brown countryside as it passed by their carriage. Above them the sky had grown dark, and it began to snow.

E
PILOGUE

Queen’s Malvern
April 1, 1613

“G
one?
I do not understand you, madame. What do you mean gone?”

Skye O’Malley de Marisco looked at the Earl of Glenkirk and thought he was an extraordinarily handsome man, with his midnight-black hair and his green-gold eyes. It was obvious that he had stopped somewhere nearby to change from his traveling clothes into this more elegant black velvet suit with its gorgeous lace collar. The earl had come dressed for courting. He carried a bunch of colorful spring blooms in his hand, and she reached for them now, fearful that he was going to squeeze the life from their stems. Skye took the flowers and handed them to her tiring woman, Daisy Kelly.

“Put these in water, Daisy, and make certain that we are not disturbed by anyone.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Daisy said, and bobbed a creaky curtsey. Then, unable to resist, she whispered to her mistress, “ ’Tis just like the old days, m’lady, isn’t it? Except now ’tis Mistress Jasmine causing all the difficulty, and not you.”

Skye swallowed her laughter and shooed her old servant off. She then sought to compose herself before turning to face the earl.

“
Where is Jasmine?
” James Leslie demanded once again.

“She has gone, my lord, as I have previously told you,” Skye said calmly.

“Gone where?” he pressed her.

“I do not know,” Skye replied blandly.

“
God’s boots!
” Anger darkened the earl’s handsome face, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

Seated in a large comfortable chair, Lord de Marisco felt a pang of sympathy for James Leslie. Adam certainly knew how aggravating the women in his family could be when they chose to be, and at this moment Jasmine had chosen to be particularly difficult. Slowly sipping Archambault wine, Adam remained silent for the moment, allowing his wife to handle the situation. One of the nice things about being old, he thought,
was the fact that one did not have to get involved if one chose not to be involved.

“Where is Lord Stuart?” the Earl of Glenkirk finally managed to say. “The child is legally in my charge, madame.”

“Viscount Lundy is with his mother,” Skye answered quietly. “You would hardly expect my granddaughter to go traveling without her children, my lord, would you?”

“She has deliberately disobeyed the king!” James Leslie shouted. “This is treason, madame! You are obviously a party to it!”

“Nonsense!” Skye retorted briskly. “You are distraught, my lord, and overreacting to the situation, I fear.”

“Your granddaughter, promised in marriage to me by the king, has gone
traveling
, but you do not know where?” James Leslie said through gritted teeth. “She has removed the king’s grandson from this place, and taken the lad,
my legal charge
, with her, and you believe that my outrage is an overreaction, madame? I think not, Lady de Marisco. I think not! It is indeed treason to disobey the king’s direct command.”

“I disobeyed a greater queen than this king,” Skye said with emphasis. “I am here to tell the tale, my lord. Do not raise your voice to me in my house again! Now sit down, James Leslie. I am no longer as young as I once was, though it aggravates me to admit it. I prefer to sit. I will not have you towering over me, glowering darkly. Take some wine to calm your irritation, and bring me some as well. My nerves are frayed with all this shouting.”

Skye sat down next to her husband, giving him a mischievous wink which caused him to chuckle. As angry as James Leslie was, Adam thought, Skye would not long be able to play the frail old woman with him. He was no fool, this young Scots earl; and Skye was too used to being in charge of her world. Whether James Leslie knew it or not, he was now very much a part of Skye O’Malley de Marisco’s world.

The earl poured the wine as she had bid him. His hands were shaking with his anger. He swore softly beneath his breath as he spilled some of the wine upon the silver tray where the goblets and the decanter were set. He swallowed down a mouthful of the liquid to calm himself, and then, turning, he walked across the room to give Lady de Marisco a goblet before sitting down opposite her.

“Why has Jasmine gone ‘traveling’?” he asked.

“She yet mourns Henry Stuart,” Skye said truthfully. “She
does not wish to remarry at this time, my lord. You were wrong to encourage the king to arrange it so. Jasmine is a king’s daughter, raised in a royal court. She prefers to make her own decisions. You took that right away from her when you, and the king, settled her future and that of her children between you, without even asking her opinion in the matter. She took back her rights when she decided to depart Queen’s Malvern. I do not thank you for that, my lord. This is my granddaughter’s home. My husband and I are no longer young, and having Jasmine with us has been the joy of our old age. Your actions have taken that from us also.”

“I love her,” the earl said. “I have for years. I simply did not want to lose her again, madame. I did not encourage the king to any match, I swear it! He asked me to oversee his grandson’s raising, as is the custom in Scotland for royal Stuarts. It was the queen, romantic fool she is, who decided that Jasmine and I should marry.