Chapter 30
"I only did what was best for you," Estel e protested.
"I am Lady de Burgh, mistress of Mountain Ash. Must I remind you that you are merely a guest here?"
"Jasmine, are you real y wil ing to risk your life to give me a child?" asked Falcon, hope mixed with admiration in his eyes.
"This child is mine, and may G.o.d strike any dead who try to harm it." Her eyes flashed their anger. "Thank G.o.d for one of the bonuses of carrying a child. Custom demands that you keep from my bed for the next few months."
His jaw tightened slightly, but it was a smal price for him to pay if she was wil ing to go on with the pregnancy. "You have my word I wil not bother you, my lady," Falcon said sincerely.
"It may interest you to know that there is a great hole in my floor through which I heard you both conspiring against me."
She turned her accusing eyes on Falcon. "Before you again commit adultery with that s.l.u.t who writhes and pants after you, I suggest you mend the hole in your ceiling!"
"I have not committed adultery, Jasmine," he said with narrowed eyes. "At least, not yet."
She was almost certain he was lying. The girl was like a b.i.t.c.h in heat with him, how could he have refused the use of her body? "Suppose I ask her?" she suggested.
He shrugged. "Perhaps by that time it wil be a done thing," he drawled.
She shrugged her beautiful shoulders as if she did not care. He wanted to take hold of those shoulders and crush her to his wil. He wanted to shake from her a confession that she was mad with jealousy over Mor-ganna... that she was fal ing in love with him... that she was fil ed with joy to be carrying his child. Instead he bowed formal y. "Is that al, madame?"
"No, it is not," she said with a serene little smile. "I am going to become absolute mistress of Mountain Ash. My word wil be law from now on. I am taking ful charge of the household and the servants. The rest I leave to you, sir." She waved an imperious hand. "Estel e, Big Meg, and my husband won't like the idea that their delicate little Jasmine has grown up, but Estel e, Big Meg, and my husband can go to Hel." Her voice and her smile were as sweet as wild honey.
Chapter 32.
Wil iam Marshal and Salisbury, John's brother, were closeted with the king at Gloucester. Hugh de Burgh, the king's newly appointed justiciar, chose not to join them. He had always played the role of Devil's advocate and he did it wel. Among them the three men intended to manipulate, coerce, or shame John into more acceptable behavior.
The encounter was not going wel. King John was in a seething, almost uncontrol able rage. He was the king and could do anything he pleased. He had waited years for the crown, coveting it when his father wore it and jealously obsessed by it when his brother Richard held it and sat on the throne for ten long years.
Being king was supposed to mean absolute power, yet first his barons, then the church, and now his own chosen ministers and his brother were turning against him.
"I think I deserve an explanation of why you gave my daughter Jasmine to Chester when I had contracted her to de Burgh,"
said Salisbury, coming straight to the point.
"Wil iam, that wasn't my doing. It was some scheme of the queen's to amuse the court. I was told it was to be a mock wedding, a jest, an entertainment. I saw no harm in the little playlet."
Wil iam clearly saw through him and briefly wondered how much Chester had paid him. At least they had succeeded in getting John on the defensive.
"No harm has been done," John insisted. "She is safely wed to de Burgh, so I don't know why you are badgering me about it!"
"I'l tel you the harm, John: Other than a personal affront to me, you have succeeded in driving away the strongest flank of our army. A cal to arms of your northern barons failed dismal y. De Burgh was the best captain you ever had or could hope to have in the future. He's the best! His knights are trained better... his men-at-arms are loyal, fierce fighters, with more guts than a slaughterhouse. His Welsh bowmen, his English broadswords men, even his mercenaries are better trained than al others. What good is he to us holed up in Wales?"
John waved an arm indicating he could fix things in a trice.
"When spring comes I wil lure him back into the fold. The de Burghs are loyal Plantagenet men. His anger wil have a chance to cool over the long winter months. There is no discord between de Burgh and me."
Salisbury sighed. There was no point in reminding John of the bad blood that existed between de Burgh and Chester, one of the few other barons stil loyal to the crown. Bad blood that would never have been stirred up but for John and his insatiable appet.i.te for money and women.
Wil iam Marshal's round with John succeeded in roiling his rage until it was almost out of control. "John, you must put an end to this trouble with the church. Splendor of G.o.d, man, don't you realize the seriousness of being excommunicated by the Pope?"
"I'l not be dictated to by that a.s.shole! I am the King of England! I am the head of the church in England, not the b.l.o.o.d.y Pope! Do you realize the church has more wealth than the crown?" John's face was a dangerous hue of purple.
"Do you not realize that wealth can be used against you?"
thundered Wil iam Marshal. "Louis of France must be laughing with glee at this rift between England and the Pope. He has taken most of Normandy, Anjou, Maine, and Poitou. Now he wil be eyeing England, and he'l have the Pope on his side."
"You don't need to tel me they are thick as thieves. Mayhap you're in it with..them. I note your dominions in France to the far south are stil in your possession!" screamed John.
Wil iam Marshal's mouth tightened. "I wil forget you said that, John. You know I paid dearly to hold my French possessions with the blood of my men. You must end this quarrel with the church by accepting Stephen Langton as Archbishop of Canterbury or the Pope wil lay England under an interdict!"
"If the a.s.shole does that I wil seize possession of the bishops who obey the interdict and banish them from the kingdom!"
."Oppressing the churchmen is not the answer, John. Be guided in this by me. The Pope has the power to declare you deposed from the throne, to absolve the English people from their al egiance to you and entrust the King of France with the carrying out of these decrees,"
Wil iam Marshal pointed out..
Salisbury joined in the fray. "Such a threat would mean little if you were strong and popular in your own country, but you are rapidly losing the respect and love of al cla.s.ses of your people."
John was raving now as he threatened, "I wil bring foreign mercenaries into England to overpower any resistance to my actions. I wil compel the barons to put their sons into my hands as pledges for their own good behavior. I wil use the courts and the exchequer to plunder the clergy legal y."
Salisbury said bluntly, "That won't be enough to pay for mercenaries. You'l have to make taxes and scutages heavier and col ect them more frequently, and how popular do you think that wil make you?"
"Christ Almighty, was a king ever so beset? You are al against me! Where's Hubert, he'l support me, if n.o.body else wil."
"Hubert is too much of a yes man.
Wil iam Marshal's face grew ever more stern. "We are not finished, John. There is stil the matter of your morals to be dealt with. It has come to my ears that you abducted yet another young female, but this time with fatal results."
" 'Tis nothing but vicious gossip!" cried John, smas.h.i.+ng his fist into the table. "Women literal y throw themselves at kings. You cannot deny they are lined up out there to warm my bed. I am a normal, healthy man, I like women! Christ Almighty, you'd have something to complain about if I was b.u.g.g.e.ring my pages like my brother Richard did for years. He had a warm relations.h.i.+p with the church too... he screwed the Bishop of Fecamp for years.
That proud prelate and others I could name were his special favorites!"
Wil iam Marshal had such strict morals, he turned white about the mouth to hear of Richard's pederasty.
"Now the bishops are cal ing me down from their pulpits, railing against my morals, and al because they believe some filthy gossip. Believe me when I tel you I wil put a stop to it!"
By now John was foaming at the mouth; his color had begun to alarm the two men.
Wil iam Marshal said in a placating tone, "If it is vicious gossip there is a simple way to put a stop to it. Cease taking other women to your bed. It is time to get an heir upon your wife, the queen."
John's answer to this quite shocked the men. "It is not my fault Isabel a hasn't conceived. She has only just begun her menstrual courses this month."
The marshal opened his mouth and closed it again. Once more he tried to find words. "Do you mean to tel us that you consummated a union with a little girl not even old enough to conceive?"
At this John's eyes rol ed back in his head, he fel to the rushes, and his feet began the staccato hammering that always accompanied a fit.
Wil iam Marshal hurried out to get Hubert de Burgh. Let him handle the king's temper tantrum; the marshal needed fresh air in his nostrils.
John was wily enough not to use any of Salisbury's or Hubert's men to carry out his vengeance. Instead he relied on Faulkes de Br6aute to select a handful of mercenaries who could be trusted to carry out his orders without question. He would put a stop to the rumors and gossip by making an example of one of the n.o.ble families. That b.i.t.c.h who had been a friend of Avisa's must have her tongue stil ed forever. Mathilda de Braose refused to give her two grandsons as, hostages. She had said she wouldn't entrust them to a man who kil ed his own nephew, Arthur.
John ordered the arrest of Wil iam and Mathilda de Braose, Lord and Lady of Hay on the Welsh border. He liked the idea of setting an example so wel that he turned his attention to the church. He would do the same with one victim and watch the rest fal into line. He selected the poor Archdeacon of Norwich, who had been foolish enough to take Pope Innocent's excommunication seriously and had preached from his pulpit that any priest who served King John was contaminated. John ordered a fine new archdeacon's cope be made for Geoffrey of Norwich; however, it was made from lead, and when the mercenaries forced it over his head, it suffocated him.
mercenaries forced it over his head, it suffocated him.
Jasmine kept herself busy from dawn to dusk. She rushed about learning how to competently run a household. She consulted with the castel an and learned the duties of every person housed under her roof. The next time she came face to face with Morganna she said, "And what pray tel are your duties at Mountain Ash? Everyone must earn his keep here."
Morganna said slyly, "I perform certain services for Lord de Burgh."
"Indeed?" questioned Jasmine. "Do you perform these services wel?"
Morganna's mouth thinned. "He always leaves me with a smile on his face."
Jasmine looked her straight in the eye and asked, "How is my husband in bed?"
Morganna again gave a sly reply. "I don't know... he prefers the floor."
Jasmine's mouth twitched with amus.e.m.e.nt. Falcon had not bothered to mend the hole, so she was certain he spent his nights alone. "You look strong to me. I think you would be suited to kitchen work. I shal inform the cook she has a new helper to fetch wood for the cooking and carry water for her."
Morganna seethed with hatred. "I am strong and carrying wood and water wil only make me stronger. You are obviously too delicate for such work," she said with scorn.
Jasmine smiled sweetly. "It is my condition that is delicate. I am with child, didn't you know?"
Morganna was ice cold inside; she knew exactly what she would have to do.
Jasmine stil hadn't had a look at the occult books or secret doctrine that de Burgh pored over in his solitude, but as she looked down from the tower and saw his dark head out by the stables she decided that her opportunitgt; was at hand.
Inside his chamber, she was almost overwhelmed by the essence of the man. Everything in the room bore the strong stamp of his powerful personality, with the bed dominating. It was ma.s.sive with black velvet curtains embroidered with his emblem of a golden falcon. Above the bed on the stone wal were great crossed broadswords so heavy she doubted she could even lift them. No wonder his wrists were so thick, his shoulders so heavily muscled, she mused. No rushes for de Burgh; his floor was covered by a thick red carpet no doubt brought back from a crusade to the Holy Land, and the large fireplace had half a dozen wolf skins stretched out before it, al silvery and inviting. No tapestries covered his wal s, rather they were bare stone adorned with many flambeaux to give good light and a dazzling display of weapons. He was expert in the use of every single one, from longbow to knives and daggers.
daggers.
Against one wal his huge war chest held his armor, which was always kept polished and in good repair. She ran her finger over the dark wooden chest that traveled everywhere with him. Even its worn hinges were lovingly polished. The very air was palpable with the maleness of the man. Everything was oversized to match him. The chairs were big with deep cus.h.i.+ons, the desk containing his pens, maps, and books was ma.s.sive and securely locked. When she opened his wardrobe to see if the keys were in one of his pockets, the scent of him almost undid her. It was a mixture of fine leather, sandalwood, and dangerous male animal. She blushed. It was the same scent that lingered on her skin after he had made love to her. She touched the fine lawn s.h.i.+rts, which seemed far too delicate a fabric to touch that hardened, powerful body. Her hand pa.s.sed over leather jacks and steel mesh vests; yes, these were more suited to his brute strength.
She felt al the doublets for keys, noting as she did that they were not padded as she had thought. Those wide shoulders were al de Burgh.
When she found no keys, she returned to the desk, picked up a wickedly sharp-looking dagger, and tried to force the lock.
She heard the door and whirled about, truly caught in a compromising position. Dagger in hand, she was ready for Falcon's anger, but his eyes were alight as he said her name.
"Jasmine." He made it sound like a caress. His eyes licked over her like a candle flame, taking in the pale-pink gown and silver ribbons. He came close enough to lift a tress of pale hair and rub it between thumb and forefinger. "You are so beautiful," he breathed.
"I am ful of you," she said, tossing her hair back away from his possessive fingers.
His green eyes slipped down her body. "Are you sure, love?
You look far too slender to be with child."
Her lashes dropped to her cheeks. He was too close. His effect on her was devastating. She began to tremble. "I'm sure," she managed to whisper.
He took her hand into his own large, warm hand and said softly, "You've given me no chance to tel you how happy you've made me." He put his finger underneath her chin.
"Look at me, Jasmine." When she did, he smiled down into her eyes. "Why are you trembling? You're the one holding the dagger," he teased.
"You're playing with me," she said, her eyes liquid with apprehension. He hardened immediately at her choice of words and groaned. "I'd like to play with you, Ja.s.sy, if only you'd let me."
"Beast!" she accused. "I'd rather you beat me than punish me by forcing me to bed."
He winced. "Why would I punish you?" he puzzled.
"Because I came to uncover your secret books of magic. Your powers are stronger than mine. I would learn that power," she flung at him defiantly.
He was amused and laughed softly to himself as he took out a key to unlock the desk. He lifted out his books and spread them upon the desktop for her to see. With a rueful grin he said, "I read Virgil and the great deeds of the Homeric heroes. Now you know my secret; I am a romantic fool. Tales of fair maids ever set my pulses beating wildly. Is it any wonder you stole my heart?"
She was in panic as she saw the tel tale signs. He took her by the shoulders. His eyes were stained black with desire, his lips parted ready to cover her mouth, his manhood moved against her bel y with a wil of its own.
"You must not... I am with child," she protested.
"I wil be gentle," he promised softly, dipping his head to taste her pink mouth.
"Gentle!" she cried, flaming with anger as a last defense. "You brute, you don't know the meaning of the word. Look at this chamber. Everything about you is too big, too hard, too brutal, too uncouth. Once aroused your l.u.s.t knows no bounds... you are like a rampant stal ion. You are too strong, too powerful. I cannot stop you from forcing yourself upon me."
His eyes narrowed. "I'd say you do a d.a.m.ned good job most of the time. Are you real y afraid of me Jasmine, or are you afraid of yourself?"
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"Afraid if you let me love you properly you might like it and want more? Afraid to touch me in al my wicked, forbidden places lest it set up a craving in you that wil never be satisfied? Afraid to open wide to me, because I might enter your soul along with your body? Afraid because you might not measure up to the other women with whom I have shared pa.s.sion?"
This last was too much for her. Blinded by tears, she raised the dagger.
"I wouldn't advise it," he said quietly. With one swift hand he disarmed her, then he put one foot behind her legs and tripped her. They went down together before the fire. He was sprawled dark and powerful y lithe. His dark brows slanted above his emerald eyes. His broad-shouldered frame revealed unmistakable raw strength. The silence was thick with chal enge. Her tumbled gilt hair spread out across the rug, reminding him that when she was naked her beautiful hair was long enough to cover her delicious b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
His hands immediately loosened the silver ribbons, and one impatient hand slid down inside the neckline and went round down her back until it rested warmly at the base of her spine.
Then he forced her body against his. As his demanding mouth covered hers she could feel him rising hard against her. His lips brushed twice across hers before he used the tip of his tongue to trace the outline of her mouth, sending a shocking trail of fire deep down inside her. Her hatred for him was hot.
Then suddenly, clearly she realized she didn't have to be in love to feel the fire.
He held her captive against him while his strong, insistent arousal throbbed against the curve of her stomach.
Then he sat back on his heels and quickly took the pink gown off over her head. She protested repeatedly, but he was deaf to her pleas. Somehow she felt if she could keep her s.h.i.+ft on it would protect her from his onslaught, but he seemed to have a dozen hands intent on plucking her naked. When she was nude, he clasped her hands above her head to prevent her clawing him and looked down at her hungrily. She lay like silken enchantment upon the furs, the fire highlighting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and bel y. He dipped his head to place a kiss deep within each armpit. He had done it before yet stil she blushed deeply at the intimacy of such an act. He freed his shaft from the constriction of the tight cloth that covered him, and his magnificent erection sprang up with a wil of its own. He poised over her, breathing harshly. Whenever he!ay with her it was like slow torture. His mind and his body were at war with themselves. His flesh was fiercely demanding, his blood sang with delirious excitement, but always just beyond the ragged edges of his l.u.s.t, his mind told him he wanted more.