Wild Jasmine (85 page)

BOOK: Wild Jasmine

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“I have been widowed for eleven years now, madame, and my brothers, even though they might take my earldom if I died, do not want it. Neither do their sons. They would have to leave Scotland, you see, and they love it too much to do so. They have been petitioning the queen to find me a wife. When King James decided to appoint me Lord Charles Frederick Stuart’s governor, the queen determined that they could kill two birds with one stone by not just putting their grandson in my charge, but by marrying me to Jasmine as well. They have no idea at all that I love her. I had resolved to court her when she had composed her life once more.”

“Then why did you press her with this April first date?” Skye asked him gently, feeling a bit more disposed toward the earl now. Impatience was such a charming, yet irritating, trait in a lover, she thought to herself.

“ ’Twas not my idea, madame,” the earl replied. “ ’Twas Jasmine’s. If she had but spoken honestly with me, I would have been willing to wait until she had mourned the prince a full year. Then we might have planned our wedding for the following spring, or summer. I would have given her a reasonable amount of time, madame. Truly I would have!”

A small smile touched Skye’s lips. “There was one thing that Henry Stuart loved in particular about Jasmine,” Skye told him. “She could always make him laugh. My granddaughter has, I fear, a rather wicked sense of humor, my lord. She has certainly played a very fine jest upon you.”

Understanding suddenly awoke in James Leslie’s green-gold eyes. “I have been made quite the
April fool
, madame, haven’t I?” he said, a little smile erasing the grim line of his mouth.

“I am afraid so, my lord,” she answered him, and a giggle escaped Skye. She simply could not help it.

James Leslie, however, was also a man with a sense of humor. He chuckled for a moment at himself. Then he said, “Where is she, madame? I beg you tell me where she has gone.”

“I cannot, my lord,” Skye told him. “I have given my word, and I have never knowingly or willingly broken that word once given.”

Before the earl might protest, Adam de Marisco finally spoke up. “Have you been to France lately, my lord?” he asked. “ ’Tis a most magnificent land. My mother was French. The wine you drink comes from the family vineyards at Archambault in the Loire Valley. Beautiful place!”

The Earl of Glenkirk arose. He bowed solemnly to Adam and said quietly, “Thank you, my lord.” Taking Skye’s hand up, he kissed it. “I admire your ethics, madame. They are to be commended.” Then he looked again to Adam and asked, “
Why, my lord?
”

“I did not give my word,” Adam de Marisco said, his deep blue eyes twinkling.

The Earl of Glenkirk smiled broadly, appreciating the subtlety, and then he said, “I will find her.
I swear it!
”

“Finding her is the easy part,” Adam told him wisely. “Remember, James Leslie, that I once courted her grandmother, and a fine chase my Skye gave me before she was willing to settle down and behave herself.”

“I have never behaved myself,” Skye O’Malley declared vehemently. “You would have been bored silly, Adam, if I had.”

The Earl of Lundy laughed, his deep laughter filling the room. “Aye, little girl, I probably would have,” he admitted. Then he looked to James Leslie again. “Godspeed, my lord, but be warned, take nothing for granted where the women of this family are concerned. They are devious, but well worth the battle if you can but gain the victory.”

The earl nodded, and then, bowing, departed Queen’s Malvern.

“Do you think he’ll find her?” Adam wondered. “After all, I did not tell him she is at Belles Fleurs. I only mentioned Archambault.”

“He will find her eventually,” Skye answered with certainty. “He is a most determined young man, my darling, and he loves her.”

“But will she marry him, I wonder?” Adam replied.

“One day, I think,” Skye said, “but not right away,” and then she began to laugh. “God’s nightshirt, Adam! I regret not one single moment of my life, not even the hard parts, but by God ’tis good now to sit by the fire, a goblet in my hand, watching the antics of our descendants! These are the best compensations of age, I think.”

“Nay, little girl, not the best. The best of it all is being here with you,” Adam de Marisco declared, and reaching out, he took his wife’s hand in his, kissing it as their eyes locked and their hearts soared as one, even as they always had. This was everything good, the Earl of Lundy decided happily. He could but pray God that their darling wild Jasmine one day find the same contentment and happiness in her life as he and Skye had found in theirs.

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Wild Jasmine
concludes the O’Malley Saga. I hope that you have enjoyed it, and if you have not read the other five books in the series, that you will do so. Although they are threaded together, each book is an exciting story in itself.

As always I look forward to your input. If you are so-minded, I hope you will write to me at P.O. Box 765, Southold, NY 11971-0765.

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Bertrice Small
lives on the North Fork of the eastern end of Long Island, where she writes her novels in a light-filled studio surrounded by her cover paintings and many mementos of the romance genre. Married for thirty-three years to her husband, George, she is the mother of Thomas, a radio sportscaster and writer; mother-in-law of Megan; and grandmother of Chandler David Small. Longtime readers will be happy to know that Nicky, the charming cockatiel; Checquers, the fat black-and-white cat with the pink ears, now fourteen; and Sebastian, the tiny two-year-old griege-and-white cat, remain her dearest companions. Many will be saddened to learn of the passing of Deuteronomy, her beloved long-haired Maine Coon cat, at the age of twenty, who has been sorely missed; and of Gilberto, the cranky Half-Moon conure, age unknown, who has gone to that great aviary in the sky.

Table of Contents

Cover

Other Books by This Author

Dedication

Genealogy

Map

Prologue - India February 1591

Part I - Yasaman India 1597–1605