The Falcon and the Flower Part 14

"Absolutely not!" She struggled to free herself but it was in vain.

He brushed her lips a second time, then sighed with resignation. "Alas, I must content myself to merely watch you."

He removed her ruby-red cloak, then his eyes examined her matching gown to learn the secret of its fastenings. His fingers deftly undid the b.u.t.tons and slipped the velvet down to bare her shoulders.

"What on earth do you think you're doing, sir?" she demanded.

"Undressing you for your bath, you said I might watch you. Or did you intend to bathe with al your clothes on?" he teased.

"De Burgh, I did not say you might watch me ... you made that outrageous suggestion if you wil remember."

"Did I? I make so many." He grinned, giving the velvet gown a sharp tug so that it fel to her ankles. She was clad in a short s.h.i.+ft that completely revealed her pretty legs.

"You horsefaced lout!" she spat. "I come to you for protection only to have you molest me."

"Ah, now we are getting to it. Protection from whom, Jasmine?"

She blushed. "It was nothing, just a sil y fancy real y."

He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "A sil y fancy that sends you rus.h.i.+ng to my arms? You risk your reputation and your precious maidenhead to come to my tent where you know I may do anything I please with you?"

"I most certainly would not have come if I had known you would strip me and make me pay a penalty!"

"A smal price to pay for my protection, Jasmine," he teased.

"You are welcome to seek another's protection, since you seem to hate me so much. Perhaps you would seek King John's protection?" he asked lightly. He felt her begin to shake.

"No . . . Falcon ... I seek your protection."

"Then you didn't come to seek me out because you love me.

I'm merely the lesser of two evils," he accused, knowing if he raised her temper she would forget her fear. "What's the matter with your legs?" he asked, looking down with a slight frown.

"What do you mean?" she said, glancing down at her bared limbs.

"Is one fatter than the other or do they have that peculiar look because of your uneven knees . . . one is higher than the other?" He lifted her down from the chest. "Walk about for me so I can have a good look." Stung by his criticism, she paraded before him in her s.h.i.+ft to show him his error. He repressed the urge to tel her how exquisite she was. A young woman who had been told of her beauty every day of her life did not need compliments. To tease her he kept a critical look on his face as he judged the fine points of her legs. She was disturbed that he found her flawed and some of her confidence evaporated.

Final y he conceded, "It must have been a trick of the lamplight, they seem quite pa.s.sable now I observe them more closely."

She caught the amused gleam in his eyes and her anger rose immediately. "Only pa.s.sable?" she demanded, hands on hips as she stood before him.

He reached out for her and pul ed her against him. His lips brushed hers. "Vain little wench. You know your legs are absolute perfection. Does the rest of you match?" he whispered huskily as he caught a soft, round breast and cupped it in his palm.

She s.h.i.+vered at his touch and said sharply, "Stop play- ing this cat-and-mouse game with me, de Burgh. Whatever it is you intend, do it, and have done!"

"You mean get it over with quickly while you close your eyes and grit your teeth? Ah, cherie, you haven't the faintest idea about lovemaking, have you?" His powerful hands caressed her silken shoulders. "A night of love can have no time limits imposed upon it, no barriers of any kind can come between two as they merge and become one." He stroked the back of his hand down the swel of her breast. "The whole night is separated into delicious phases, each uniquely enjoyable.

There is the time before love" his lips brushed her temple "the time during love" his lips brushed her again "the time between the first and the second loving" his fingers slipped the chemise off her shoulders "and the time after love." He kissed her eyelids. "The overture, the prelude, the performance, and the cadence."

When she opened her eyes she saw he had her naked.

Without another word he lifted her and sat her down in the water. She gasped as his hand dipped beneath the surface to grope about for the soap. She was trembling visibly as he lathered his hands and soaped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s erotical y.

"Falcon, I came here to you so that I would not be seduced. I think of you as my protector," she said in a smal voice fil ed with trust.

At her soft words an aching tenderness began in his heart and spread throughout his chest. He knew he would s.h.i.+eld her their whole lives if she would let him. He stood up and said gruffly, "Have your bath, love."

He walked his usual rounds, checking on men and horses, then stood outside his tent until he saw her silhouette emerge from the tub and pul on her s.h.i.+ft. As he lifted the tent flap and entered he saw her s.h.i.+ver from the cool night air. She moved the smal brazier, which gave off little heat now, closer to the war chest and sat down primly, clutching her cloak. She felt his bold eyes caress her body like a physical fondling. The bath had relaxed her and after the long day in the saddle she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. She hoped he would be gentleman enough to give her his furs and bed himself down elsewhere.

"Have you ever slept on the ground?"

She sat up very straight and shook her head.

"Don't worry," he said softly, removing his s.h.i.+rt, "I wil cus.h.i.+on you against its hardness."

Her eyes flew open in indignation. "Are you hinting, de Burgh .

. . are you dreaming? Please disabuse yourself of the notion I am about to share your bed!"

"Jasmine, you know if I decide to have your body tonight, you wil have to do as I say."

Her eyes were fixed on his hands, on the long slim fingers that had the strength to kil . "You have the strength to force me to your wil !" she accused bitterly.

He shook his head regretful y and murmured, "Jasmine, when I make love to you . . ." He didn't finish the sentence, but his words implied that it wouldn't be under these circ.u.mstances.

She gave an inward sigh of relief and pul ed her cloak tighter about her chil ed body. He shrugged as he removed the remainder of his clothes and slipped under the furs. "Suit yourself," he said, hiding amused eyes from her.

She sat for a whole hour without moving. Each minute seemed longer than the last. De Burgh was obviously sound asleep from the deep even breathing that came from the warm furs. d.a.m.n him to Hel , she was freezing! The last coal in the brazier had cooled and blackened long ago. How could the day have been so hot and the night so cold? she wondered wearily. What if she froze to death . . . while the author of her misery was total y oblivious to her dire peril? Did she dare to steal his furs while he slept? She heard a rumble in the distance which her terrified mind identified as thunder. The next instant she slipped under the furs beside him as quietly as she possibly could. His whipcord arms were around her instantly, pul ing her head down onto his shoulder. "Ja.s.sy . . ." he murmured softly as his lips brushed her temple, "have no fear."

Instinctively she knew she was safe from everything in the whole world. His warmth became hers as she melted against him and sleep claimed her. Of course Falcon could not sleep, for the night held magic for him. He lay in exquisite torture, needing her more than he had ever needed a woman before, and yet his need to protect and cherish were greater than the demands of his body. He knew a deep, satisfying pleasure that she was here beneath his hand, trusting him implicitly.

With the scent of her fil ing his head, he al owed his imagination ful rein to run riot and indulge every fantasy as his blood ran like fire along his veins, pulsing his shaft until he thought the ache would kil him. He caressed a handful of her pale golden hair, kissed it, smel ed it, tasted it, then bound it about his neck, chaining them together. He lifted the furs slightly so he could see her delicate pale breast through her s.h.i.+ft pressed against the dark tan of his chest covered with the mat of black hair.

Their bodies made such a contrast it sent a deep thril through him. He promised himself he would furnish their bedchamber with a very large mirror so he could watch their bodies when they made love. He rubbed the tip of his arousal against the silken skin of her thigh and shuddered at the feeling of pleasure it brought him. She turned toward him in her sleep and her soft breast thrust against his hand. He cupped it gently and dipped his head to taste its sweetness. He had to stop himself from sucking hard on the tempting, erect nipple, for it would surely waken her and she would withdraw from him.

He knew a need like he had never known before. It was an unbearable torture for him not to take her there and then, but he had promised her she would be safe with him. He would wait for their wedding night, but his wil power was not strong enough to forego the sensuality of touching her from head to toe. The deep need to feel her beneath him, between his thighs, overpowered him, and he straddled her careful y. Then he slowly crouched above her and let the silken head of his hard shaft slide across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, up the val ey between them, then he dared to proceed until it was a hairsbreadth from her lips. He was so sensitized there that when he felt her faint warm breath against the tip he thought he would go mad.

He had thought he could stop at any time, but now he realized he had reached a point where he was out of control. Crouched above her, he fought a battle with his white-hot senses. He closed his eyes to blot out the enticing pale loveliness that provoked his manhood. His mind and his body were at war. It was slow, painful torture, but final y he forced his fiercely demanding flesh to withdraw and he lay back down beside her and wil ed his blood to coot. He couldn't move; he was too weak with l.u.s.t.

Just before dawn he slept. The change in his breathing pattern made Jasmine awake. She was covered with blushes as she untangled her hair from his possessive fingers and slipped from the furs.

Mary-Ann FitzWalter's eyes were misty as Jasmine slipped into the smal room Mary-Ann had shared with Estel e. "Oh, Jasmine, you spent the night with your lover. I am so happy for you, but oh how I envy you." She sighed.

"Mary-Ann, Falcon de Burgh is not my lover! Our betrothal is a temporary arrangement I intend to get out of as soon as it is possible for me to do so." Jasmine glanced quickly at Estel e, expecting an att.i.tude of out- rage that she had slept in de Burgh's tent, but Dame Winwood's att.i.tude toward Jasmine marrying the strong knight was undergoing a change. She saw the malignancy of the royal court. King John's evil was pervasive and would contaminate almost everyone it touched. Jasmine would be better served as the cherished and protected wife of the powerful de Burgh. She had been kept safe so far, but Estel e knew of John's insatiable appet.i.tes. He thought s.e.x was power and as wel as indulging in corrupting practices with his child-bride every day and night, he needed the venal conquest child-bride every day and night, he needed the venal conquest of every female who crossed his path. It was common knowledge that the wives of his closest sycophants and his n.o.bles were his for the asking, and now his eyes were fal ing on their daughters as wel . At first the men were outraged, but John had no conscience. He bribed, he deceived, and he threatened. They soon discovered his threats were not empty he was capable of any atrocity and gave proof every day of his reign.

Berkhamsted Castle had made the Plantagenet king welcome not only because he owned it, but because they feared the rumors that were more numerous than wh.o.r.es on a Friday night in London. Since arriving seemingly exhausted, the shrewd Dame Winwood had gathered in the rumors from the lowest servant to the highest-ranking d.u.c.h.ess in residence at Northampton as she had at Berkhamsted where they had lunched.

The clergy were absolutely outraged at King John's s.e.xual excesses, but the thing that real y stuck in their ecclesiastic craws was that he was a law unto himself, reducing the power of the clergy to naught in church and in legal matters. Sin of sins, he was helping himself to their vast wealth.

They asked Hubert Walter, the Archbishop of Canterbury, to issue King John an ultimatum and bring him back under the church's thumb, but the archbishop was old and ailing and nothing official was done. Various churchmen spoke out against him, namely Geoffrey, the Archdeacon of Norwich and the Bishop of Worcester. Only John's personal friend the Bishop of Lincoln stayed loyal to him. However, (he weight of these churchmen was not as significant as Canterbury's would have been, and John thumbed his nose at their condemnation and marked their names wel for retribution.

The baronage was also on the verge of revolt. Their lives and possessions could be forfeit on a whim. John demanded money, he insisted that they ready themselves for war on a moment's notice, and he demanded their sons as hostages for their good behavior. His strongholds of Corfe, Carisbrooke, and Windsor and Dover castles held the sons of England's wealthy and powerful aristocracy as a safeguard that they would not revolt. It was an ancient custom and up until now an honorable one, but Hubert de Burgh had confided to his adored Avisa that John had gone too b.l.o.o.d.y far when he had asked him to blind his young nephew Arthur, so that he could never be brought to the throne.

Avisa, who hated John with a pa.s.sion, now had her weapon.

She opened her mouth to tel the tale to everyone who would listen. She added fuel to the fire by embroidering and exaggerating the things her lover told her in confidence. She said that Arthur, the rightful heir to the throne, was mysteriously missing and that some people even went so far as to accuse King John of disposing of his own nephew.

She fil ed the ears of her very good friend Matilda de Braose, the Lady of Hay, who, scandalized, pa.s.sed the stories on to her husband Wil iam, a baron who owned much land in Wales and Ireland. The de Braose family was related to the powerful Lacys through marriage, and King John had asked for sons and grandsons from both families. Because of the rumors of John's vile character, his barons began to plot secretly.

Falcon de Burgh had the royal court and his three hundred escort on the road headed for Nottingham before eight bel s.

The previous night he had dispatched riders to Leicester Castle, to notify them to be prepared to feed four hundred people and five hundred horses. Everything seemed to be going along wel , thanks to de Burgh's total command, until the unwieldy party was readied for the last leg of the journey from Leicester to Nottingham.

With a smirk marring his darkly handsome features, King John summoned de Burgh and drawled, "Escort Jasmine of Salisbury to me, de Burgh. I fancy her company on this long ride. My beautiful young niece and I share many common interests." He paused for emphasis and added, "She would do anything to please her uncle the king, I am sure."

De Burgh saluted him smartly with a total y impa.s.sive face, then wheeled his great destrier to search out his sweetheart who had lain against his heart al night.

She blushed hotly at his approach and her lashes brushed her cheeks as she lowered her eyes from the intense greenness of his.

"Lady Jasmine, King John asks that you ride at his side."

Her eyes flew to his in anger. "You are jesting, sir. I would not have believed such cruelty even from you!" she snapped.

"I wish with al my heart that it was a jest, my lady. But I beg you have no fear. Put your trust in me as you did last night and you wil come out of this unscathed." He grinned wickedly and she remembered the warm scent of his body beneath the furs.

He had smel ed of sun, horse, and sandalwood al mingled together, and a s.h.i.+ver of excitement rippled along her spine. More likely it was fear that once again the king had singled her out, only this time there was no escape. She rode forward beside de Burgh with her head held high. A cool remoteness came over her as he led her to the left side of King John. Her stirrup grazed the king's and she glanced down, realizing his legs were as short as her own. Her mind, unbidden, immediately began making odious comparisons. De Burgh's legs were long and strong, almost like tree trunks. His iron-thewed thighs were as high as her waist. Her mind snapped back instantly as John said, "Tel me the secret thought that just crossed your mind, lady fair."

She lied blatantly and added, "It is kind of your majesty to take a fatherly interest in me."

"Mmm, a father-daughter relations.h.i.+p is a pleasure I have yet to experience. Daddy's little girl . . . mmm . . . most tempting."

His conversation was leading down a path Jasmine did not wish to explore further, and it was with an enormous sigh of relief she saw de Burgh ride up escorting Queen Isabel a.

"I'm sick of eating your dust. I have decided to ride on your right-hand side. Is it not fitting that a queen should ride with a king?" she bantered. If Isabel a was angered by her husband's interest in Jasmine, she was not in the business of showing it.

John threw a malevolent look at de Burgh, who had outmaneuvered him for the moment. He said, "Do you not envy me such a wanton little bedpartner? She cannot get enough of me, day or night."

De Burgh bowed formal y to the vividly lovely child-queen and said, "She is a jewel in the crown of womanhood, sire."

"Ha!" John said lewdly, "She could suck the bra.s.s off a doork.n.o.b!"

Isabel a's eyes glittered and she licked her lips as she raked her eyes down across de Burgh's loins.

Falcon glanced at Jasmine and was relieved to see that the crude s.e.xual comments had gone completely over her head.

Not a hint of a blush showed, proving she had not understood the king's words. Her eyes held Falcon's for a moment, however, as she gave him silent thanks for bringing the wretched little queen to her rescue.

"Tomorrow night, John, before you go running off to Scotland, we must have a great feast," Isabel a said. "I'm dying to meet your wizard or astrologer or whatever he is, who resides at Nottingham. You know, the man named for the great star, Orion." Her eyes flashed a chal enge at Jasmine. "I wil give you until tomorrow night to finish painting my tarot cards so we can al have our fortunes told."

John's smile, which always resembled a leer, licked over Jasmine. "What other specialties do you perform? Perhaps something in private, .one on one?"

Jasmine answered in a cool, detached voice. "I can read palms, sire, but my time belongs to the queen and I'm sure she would never spare me for private consultations with another, not even the king."

"Ha! John, so do not try to lure her behind my back as you were doing when I came upon the scene. I forbid it!"

"Forbidden fruit is always sweeter," he said, laughing.

"So you showed me this morning. 'Tis a good thing I'm mounted today for I could hardly walk when you left my bed, you brute!"

Jasmine had quickly learned how to block unpleasant words. It was a trick of the mind. Quite simple real y. Her ears heard nothing, her mind freed itself to wander in a far-off place. She was present only in a physical sense. Mental y, emotional y, and spiritual y she had withdrawn to a private place of her own. A secure and protected place where nothing and no one could touch her. She heard, saw, smel ed, and felt nothing in her immediate environment.

A light drizzle began in the late afternoon, turning the landscape to a dreary gray-green. It made the travelers irritable and nasty-tempered, which quickly sapped the energy of master and servant alike. It seemed the day would have no end when at last the weary party sighted the high turrets of Nottingham Castle and man, woman, and horse dragged in wet to the bone.

It was wel past midnight by the time al were fed and bedded down in exhausted, dreamless sleep. Dame Winwood's services had been imperative to control one of King John's bouts of temper or "madness," as Estel e cal ed them, and she hurried off to the king's bedchamber The Lunatic Asylum, as she dubbed it.

Falcon de Burgh had bribed the castel an of Nottingham to make sure Mary-Ann FitzWalter and Jasmine shared a chamber. He bit off a foul oath, however, when his betrothed was nowhere to be found. The weather had had no effect on a hard-bitten soldier like de Burgh, but it doubled his burden of seeing that dry tents were set up for his men and that their mounts and the packhorses were wel rubbed down before being bedded for the night. The last of the wagons were being unloaded in the bailey when, incredibly, he caught sight of Jasmine.

"Splendor of G.o.d!" he exploded. "What in Christ's name are you doing scrabbling about the wagons in the middle of the night?" Sometimes he had the urge to put his hands about her night?" Sometimes he had the urge to put his hands about her beautiful little neck and throttle her, so maddening could she be.

"Oh, milord, please don't be fierce with me," she begged. Her lashes were spikey with rain and tears and her voice was husky with emotion.

He wanted to carry her to bed and warm her with his body before she caught her death of cold. His hard eyes raked her, noticing how the wet material of her gown molded her thighs, bel y, and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and the hard little nipples were erect with cold. Her physical impact on him was immediate and p.r.o.nounced as his shaft lengthened to a solid nine inches.

"I can't find my hedgehog!" she explained.

"Is that what this is al about? That d.a.m.ned vermin-ridden bit of trash you cal p.r.i.c.k?"

"His name is Quil ," she corrected with a sob in her voice.

He took her shoulders in hard hands and pul ed her to him.

"I've paid good gold coins to keep you safe this night and here you are like a common camp fol ower where any man could rape you." He shook her roughly until he noticed her teeth were chattering from the cold dampness. He bent his head to cover her cold lips with his hot mouth. For a moment she melted against his warmth, then tried to push him away with her pitiful last ounce of energy. As usual the aching tenderness began in his heart and spread throughout his chest and he began to question the thing he had denied for so long. Was he beginning to fal in love with her? Nonsense, he told himself firmly. He was in pa.s.sion, in desire, in l.u.s.t al right, but in love?

Never! He reached down between his quilted tunic and hauberk and pul ed out a warm, dry, p.r.i.c.kly bal . "Here!" he said, thrusting it into her hand.

"Oh, milord, thank you from the bottom of my heart. 'Tis the most precious gift you could ever give me," she said softly.

Though he knew he could al ot not one more minute of the fast-disappearing night to her, he swept her into his arms and carried her up four flights of stone steps to the chamber he had secured for her.

Chapter 16.