The Falcon and the Flower (8 page)

“Jassy …” he whispered softly, his heart filled with tenderness.

“I’m sorry I called you the Devil,” she whispered. “You must think me ridiculous.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and bestowed a kiss upon it. She pulled away with a gasp. “We shouldn’t be here … alone together.”

“Why not?” He reached out to retrieve her hand, but instead he brushed across her breast and she jumped as if she had been burned.

“Because you are wicked … and because I am undressed. You’ve already forced me to kiss you …” She felt herself blushing profusely in the darkness. She cursed herself for a coward. If she weren’t absolutely terrified of thunder and lightning, she would make a run for it from the wardrobe. The journey from Winwood Keep, the encounter with this man who had made her faint, topped off by the fierce storm had somehow exhausted her. Her legs felt weak and trembly and she was short of breath.

Suddenly he wanted to allay all her fears. “Little sweeting, don’t be afraid. I vow on my knighthood I won’t let harm come to you. Here, take my hands, share my strength.” The long minutes stretched out, then finally she placed her hands in his and gradually she relaxed, closed her eyes, and drifted to the edge of sleep. They had been in the silence and blackness for almost two hours before he felt her hands totally relax into his
and knew she was asleep. Very gently he lifted her from the wardrobe and tenderly placed her in his bed.

He was wildly curious about her, needing to know the color of her eyes, the feel of her skin, the size of her breasts. He had entered a sublime state where her image pushed all other thoughts out of his head. Being as quiet as he could, he lighted a bedside candle and sat down to gaze at her. She was so unearthly fair. Her silvery hair spread across the pillows was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Of their own volition his fingers stole out to feel a silken tendril, then carefully he opened her white velvet bedgown to see what lay beneath. His breath caught in his throat. She was extremely slender and fragile, yet her breasts rose high and pointed, her tiny waist emphasizing their fullness. Her legs were slim and pretty and her tiny mound of Venus was covered with delicious golden ringlets.

His maleness throbbed with need. Lord God, he was hard. He wanted her, but knew that if he let his hands have their way she would awaken and scream. He could not dishonor Salisbury’s daughter, yet he refused to give up the idea of possessing her. As he gazed at her he felt linked to her by an invisible thread. This was the one he would choose! Gently he drew up the furs to cover her nakedness and sat down in the chair to daydream of her becoming his bride.

When Falcon awoke it was full daylight and the huge bed was empty. For a moment he feared it had been only a dream, then with relief he realized that he would have awakened in bed if he had been dreaming.

He called for hot water to bathe and shave. He took great care in his dressing that morning, then with great deliberation he sought a private audience with William.

He waited until William’s squire withdrew and even made sure the young pages were on the other side of the closed door before he spoke.

“William, perhaps my timing is poor when you are so worried about Richard, but I feel I must speak.”

A slight frown creased William’s brow at the young knight’s serious tone. “What is amiss?”

“Nothing … I hope,” said Falcon, gathering his courage. “William, I want to formally request the hand of your daughter in marriage.”

William’s face lit up. “My boy, it is exactly what I hoped for. Is it to be Ela or Isobel?” He beamed.

“William, I want to marry your daughter Jasmine.”

William’s brows drew together again. “Jasmine?” he said incredulously. “My boy, that is impossible. Jasmine will not inherit my lands or my castles—”

Falcon stopped him. “I don’t want your lands or your castles, William, they are as nothing compared to my desire to have Jasmine.”

William sighed. “You don’t understand, my boy. She has not been trained to be a wife. Both Ela and Isobel have been in training all their lives to run many castles. Jasmine knows only music and painting and how to grow pretty flowers.”

“I care naught for any of that. I will have stewards and castellans to run my households. I want Jasmine and no other for my wife,” Falcon insisted.

William shook his head sadly. “She could never bear you strong sons … she is far too delicate. Let me tell you about her mother. I fell in love with her because of her fragile beauty, but my seed killed her! The baby was so puny she would have died also had it not been for the superhuman efforts of Dame Estelle, her grandmother.”

As Falcon listened he realized incredulously that William was going to refuse him! This was a totally new experience for de Burgh and one that was just as totally unacceptable. He would have her!

He waited with quiet patience while William explained in detail why marriage to Jasmine was impossible, then
he said straight out, “Jasmine came to me last night in the storm. She spent the night in my bed. I … comforted … her. I am sorry, William, but she is compromised beyond repair!”

William’s first reaction was outrage, and yet it was tempered by the respect he felt for the man before him. De Burgh had wasted no time in coming to him and bluntly laying out the situation before him. His motive was obviously not greed; therefore his genuine affections must be involved. And, William grudgingly admitted to himself, it was almost always the female of the species who did the choosing. If Jasmine had stayed safely in the women’s quarters, she could never have allowed herself to be compromised. The surprising element in all this was that Isobel or Ela hadn’t gone to de Burgh nights ago. William sighed, letting his breath out in a rush of relief as he told Falcon truthfully, “It is not my decision to make. I gave Jasmine to Dame Winwood, her maternal grandmother, who saved her life and has had the responsibility of her.” He pressed his lips and admitted grudgingly, “If it were my choice alone, I’d be tempted to give you the girl. I want a blood tie with you and if Jasmine is the price, then I’d pay it. But be warned, de Burgh, the dame will prove a worthy adversary even for one as strong as you. Never underestimate her power.”

Falcon’s brow cleared. “Then I have your blessing if her grandmother agrees to the marriage?”

William shook his head and chuckled. “Lad, ye make it sound like a fait accompli. Dame Winwood is impossible, implacable, immovable, impregnable; she’s also a witch.”

Falcon de Burgh licked his lips. He loved a challenge; besides, no woman had ever said nay to him in his life.

William laid his calloused hand on de Burgh’s shoulder. “Whatever the outcome, will you look after things here for me? My ship is being readied in Southampton; I
leave tomorrow for the coast. Once word is out that England has no king, lawlessness will reign here.”

“I will keep Salisbury safe for you and yours, my friend. I agree with you that the barons think might is right and Richard’s death will leave them free to rape the land.”

Falcon de Burgh wasted no time seeking out Dame Estelle Winwood. He had decided to finalize matters before the Earl of Salisbury departed for France. However, he had reckoned without Estelle’s habits and whims. She could not give him audience until after her ablutions, then of course it was time for her devotions. In quick succession followed her tending the sick, concocting her herbal medicines, and taking her exercise. The third time de Burgh went to her quarters to seek speech with her he was informed she was taking a bath. He took a threatening step toward the servant who dared deny him repeatedly and said firmly, “Then I shall see her while she bathes.” The woman could see that the knight was easily capable of such outrage and fled the room.

Within five minutes the resolute figure of Dame Winwood confronted him, erect and unbending as a ramrod. “You have bullied my servant, but you cannot bully me, sir,” she challenged.

“Dame Winwood, I am not here to bully you, my lady; rather I would beg you grant me my heart’s desire,” he began in what was for him an exceeding flowery speech.

“Ah, you need a magic potion for impotence,” she stated with studied contempt.

For one brief moment Falcon saw blood-red fury, then he realized the wily old bitch was very deliberately goading him. So, he thought, what I am after comes as no surprise to her. She has sniffed what is in the wind. Without further preliminaries he stated his purpose. “I wish to marry the Lady Jasmine.”

She laughed in his face. “As well ask of me the moon and stars. The answer is no; it is impossible.”

“Nothing in this world is impossible, madame, to one as resolute as I.”

Estelle changed her manner and spoke frankly as if taking him into her confidence. “Jasmine is too fragile to be wife to any man, let alone one as obviously virile as you. Frankly, sir knight, you would be too venal, too lusty, too demanding in bed for one so delicate.”

Dryly he murmured, “A moment ago I was impotent.” As they stared each other down, each knew they had the measure of the other.

“I need my grandaughter to carry on my work. She is a novitiate, a true adept. She must remain virgin so that her powers will be a hundredfold greater than mine. Your desire for her is totally selfish,” she finished accusingly.

“So is yours,” he stated bluntly.

They stood like two dogs with hackles raised, neither willing to back down by as much as a hairsbreadth. Falcon took the offensive, knowing no other way. “Her virginity is compromised since she spent the night in my bed, so her value as a ’white witch’ or whatever it is you wish to exploit her as will drop considerably once the gossip starts.”

“I believe her to still be a pure and innocent maiden in spite of the sojourn in your bed,” hissed Estelle.

“Ah, but after laying eyes upon me, would anyone else?” he challenged.

There was a small silence while Dame Winwood gathered her scattered thoughts for a counterattack. “My answer is still no, and I have the support of her father to back up my decision.”

“Au contraire, madame
, I have William’s blessing!” he pointed out.

“Why would he do such a thing?” she demanded in outrage.

“Perhaps so that no scandal will touch his daughter. An honorable marriage is infinitely preferable to the risk of producing a bastard child.”

Estelle waved away the suggestion languidly as if it were no more trouble than a gnat. “I have a full stock of abortificants, so do not think to trap the girl that way.”

They were at a stalemate. It was an even match— thrust and parry … parry and thrust. She decided to disabuse him of the notion that William would support him against her. “William apparently thinks the sun shines from your arse, but I do assure you my influence upon him is greater than yours. He will cast his vote with mine and they will both be an emphatic
no.
His lust killed my daughter and he has never forgiven himself; I rule William through his guilt!” Estelle decided to give him the coup d’état. “You are a most reckless man to tangle with me, young Lord de Burgh. My magic spells and curses are so powerful they make wise men tremble.” Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she stood before him in all her majestic glory.

His dark eyes burned into hers a full five minutes. Then very deliberately he took his dagger from its sheath, laid it on the table between them and delivered his own ultimatum. In a measured voice he said, “Superstition and fear are unknown to me, madame. However, I too am capable of magic. If you deny me this marriage I will make you disappear from the face of the earth without trace.”

As they looked at each other, she knew she had met her match. Grudgingly she admitted to herself that he was a magnificent man, and, God’s nightgown, they were few and far between. It was a unique experience for her to encounter a male who did not fear her occult power. She saw that William was wise to align himself with a young man of such absolute strength of body and purpose. He would make a better ally than enemy, and a
wise woman would use it to her advantage. Her agile mind took one step forward to offer a delaying tactic—a compromise. She could always retreat one step back if the opportunity ever presented itself. Estelle broke the pregnant silence. “A betrothal,” she offered, and Falcon knew the magnitude of the sacrifice she was making. “A betrothal,” he agreed grudgingly.

Because of William’s imminent departure, he immediately drew up a betrothal contract under the close scrutiny of Dame Estelle and de Burgh in his small study off the solar. When the three interested parties were satisfied, Jasmine was sent for, almost as an afterthought.

When the servant summoned her to her father, Jasmine thought it was to bid him good-bye. She knew his ship was being readied to take him to France where great history-making events were taking place that would alter all their lives in one way or another. She hurried after the servant, but her step faltered as she entered the study and found de Burgh and her grandmother also there.

De Burgh was the first one in the room to become aware of her. As she hesitated upon the threshold, he feasted on her breathtaking beauty. His eyes drank in every detail of the exquisite picture she made framed in the doorway. She wore an underdress of the palest blue with silvery ribbons, her tunic embroidered with silver thread. She was as pretty as a confectionary atop a cake he had seen once at a wedding feast. He admitted frankly to himself that she had enchanted him. He sighed with a mixture of relief and satisfaction that the prize was his.

William cleared his throat, held out his hand for her to come forward, and began, “I … that is, we”—he glanced at Dame Estelle to give him courage—“have decided to betroth you to Falcon de Burgh.”

Jasmine laughed. Falcon likened the sound to silver bells. Her grandmother gave her a small warning signal with her hand and said, “Your father is serious, Jasmine. The contract is drawn up.”

Jasmine’s mind was like quicksilver. She instantly assumed her half sisters had rejected his suit, and, clinging to any straw that would unite the ambitious de Burgh to the royal family, she was a poor third choice. Her eyes opened wide in mock surprise. “I had no idea Messieur de Burgh was an earl.”