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Darling Jasmine. Bertrice SmallЧитать онлайн книгу.

Darling Jasmine - Bertrice Small


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darling Jasmine.”

      Skye choked on her wine, gasping and coughing at his words.

      “Why you arrogant Scots bastard,” Jasmine said angrily. “How dare you speak to me in such a fashion?” She was flushed with her ire.

      “Nay, madame, the question is, how dare you speak to me with such disdain? I am to be your husband.”

      “When we return to England I shall petition the king to change his mind,” Jasmine told him.

      “And I shall implore him not to change his mind. He won’t, you know. You will just irritate him if you try,” James Leslie said. “The king doesn’t like anyone, particularly a woman, impugning his divine right as the monarch. He has made a decision, and will not be denied. This is not about you, or about me, Jasmine. It is about the king’s firstborn grandchild, young Charles Frederick Stuart. The lad may have been born on the wrong side of the blanket, but the blanket is a royal one. Stuarts do not abandon their responsibilities.”

      “I do not need a husband to raise my children,” Jasmine snapped.

      “Nonetheless, the king has commanded that you have one,” the earl rejoined. “At least the king knows I am honest and will not use his grandson for my own ends, as others might.”

      “Supercilious cad!” she sneered at him.

      “Vicious vixen!” he snarled back.

      “Beast!”

      “Bitch!”

      “Cease!” Startled they both looked to Skye, whose face was stern. “You are bickering like two spoiled children,” she said. “You will stop it this instant!” Turning to Jasmine she continued. “The king has ordered you to marry this man. He is handsome, rich enough not to see you only for your fortune and as respectable as any widow might wish. And I approve of him. In this family that carries more weight than James Stuart’s majesty. Therefore, you will marry the earl of Glenkirk, my darling girl. I wish the choice could be yours, but alas, it cannot under the circumstances. As for you, James Leslie . . .” She fixed her gaze upon him. “You will treat my granddaughter with dignity and respect when she is your wife. I hope you will come to love each other, for that is the best kind of marriage to make, but if you cannot, at least you will honor each other, and the Leslie name.” She rose from her place at the highboard. “Now, I am an old woman, and I am exhausted with my travels. Adali!” Skye called to her granddaughter’s steward. “Take me to my bedchamber before I expire with weariness!” She took his arm and walked from the hall with not another word to them.

      James Leslie picked up his goblet and sipped the wine thoughtfully. “If you would like,” he said quietly, “we could stay in France until the spring, renewing our acquaintance, madame. The sea is chancy at this time of year. We were fortunate in our recent crossing from England.” His tone was almost conciliatory toward her.

      “It might be better,” Jasmine considered. “It would give the children a chance to know you, my lord; and I do not like the way my grandmother looks. Grandfather’s death must have been a terrible shock to her. Then to leave Queen’s Malvern to come to me at such a dreadful time of year for traveling. Perhaps in May?” she suggested.

      “I thought April the first,” he said softly.

      “You cannot be serious,” Jasmine said, remembering how she had tricked him almost two years back into leaving her alone until April first when, she had promised him, she would then set their wedding date. Instead, he had arrived at Queen’s Malvern on that date to find she had departed with her children, and he had no idea to where.

      “Be grateful, madame, that I do not fix our wedding date for that day,” he replied somberly.

      She was suddenly cold. “Do you hate me that much, my lord?” The sudden realization of his black mood assailed her. What had she done in running away from James Leslie? She had only wanted a little more time to herself. To mourn her sweet prince, and yet the king was so adamant that she marry the earl of Glenkirk. Still, had not he said he would give her more time? But how was she to understand that then?

      “I do not know what I feel for you, madame,” she heard him say to her. “Once I was overwhelmed by your beauty and your passion. I thought I loved you. Your arrogance, however, has made me see you in a new light. I am not certain if I can ever love you, but we must learn to get along for the sake of your children, and the children we will have together. Our home must be, I insist, a place of peace.”

      The words were out of her mouth before she could contain them. “We will have no children, James Leslie, except that they come from a love between us. I am not some finely bred mare to whom you have been brought to stud. I will wed you, and I will never bring shame to your name. I will manage your household, and stand by your side in all things, but I will have no child of yours unless it comes of our love.”

      “How very noble of you, madame,” he replied scornfully. “You bore Westleigh three children, and yet your family arranged the marriage to keep you from the consequences of your wanton behavior. Did you truly love Rowan Lindley?”

      “Aye, I did!” Then Jasmine laughed bitterly. “My wanton behavior, as you call it, resulted from your lust to possess me, my lord. I remember that Twelfth Night quite well. ’Twas you who approached me, and aye, I agreed to allow you to seduce me, for bereft of our mates we were both in need of comforting. Had not my stepsister, Sybilla, discovered us, and raised such a fuss, none would have been the wiser. You and I might have forgotten the entire incident, and gone our separate ways, as we did anyhow.”

      Reaching over, he grabbed her wrist in a hard grasp. “I would never have forgotten that chance encounter, madame!” he told her fiercely. “You were the most beautiful and the most exciting woman I had ever known; but I shall also not forget that you held me up to ridicule before the entire court by running off two years ago. Do you think, madame, that because you were born a royal Mughal princess that your pride is greater or more sensitive than mine? What do you really know of me, Jasmine?”

      “Nothing,” she admitted, gently loosening his grip on her arm.

      “Well, I shall tell you,” he said. “Long ago in the reign of King Malcolm and his saintly Queen Margaret, my ancestor, Angus Leslie, the laird of Glenkirk, wed with the queen’s sister, Christina. The sisters were the daughters of the heir to England’s king; but he died before King Edward, and it was their brother who was then to be king but that Harold Godwinson usurped his right, and then William the Norman conquered the land. The mother of these sisters was Agatha, a princess of Hungary. My great-grandfather, Charles Leslie, was born Karim, a prince of the Ottoman Empire. His father was Sultan Selim, his brother, Sultan Suleiman. My great-great-grandmother, Janet Leslie, was Sultan Selim’s favorite wife. I have as much, if not more, royal blood in my veins, Jasmine Lindley, as you do.”

      She was astounded by his revelations, but she would not be moved. “Then we are indeed well matched even if none but us knows it, James Leslie,” said Jasmine, rising from her place at the highboard. “The hour grows late, my lord,” she said. “I will escort you to your chamber.”

      He followed her from the hall, noting the stiff line of her backbone as they went, wondering what further mischief she was plotting. Could he trust the old countess of Lundy now? Or was she merely lulling him into a false sense of security in order that Jasmine might escape him once again. Devious the old woman might be, he considered, but he had never heard it said that she was anything other than honest. He had to trust her. There was no option other than remaining awake all night watching, and for how long could he do that? Had he been a fool to allow Jasmine more time before their marriage? Was his desire for revenge overwhelming his common sense? Should he call the priest in on the morrow and marry her immediately, thereby putting an end to her headstrong foolishness? Then he shook his head at his own thoughts. Marriage, or no, if Jasmine de Marisco Lindley wanted to leave him again, she most certainly would. He had but two choices. Locking her away or winning back her friendship.

      “You will find your servant awaiting you,” Jasmine said as she stopped before an oak door. “Good night,


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