Authors: Bertrice Small
Darling Jasmine (10 page)
“A Scotsman always wears his kilt into battle, Jasmine, and so I am prepared to go to war with you this evening over the chessboard.”
His shirt was open at the neck. She could see the dark hair upon his chest. Her eyes strayed to his long, sturdy legs, which were covered in dark hair. His knees were shapely and rounded. Forcing her eyes away from his form Jasmine tried to quiet her thoughts. She was suddenly behaving like a bitch in heat. She felt both hot and cold at the same time. What had her grandmother said about spring, and sap rising? “You are, as usual, my lord, overconfident,” she murmured with what she hoped was unconcerned disdain.
The laugh that rumbled forth from his broad chest was openly knowing. “I have the strongest desire,” he told her, “to kiss that little mole of yours, darling Jasmine,” and, before she could evade him, he did just that, pressing his mouth against the teasing little beauty mark nature had placed between her left nostril and her upper lip.
“You are too bold, sirrah!” she scolded him, pushing away. “Come, and let us begin our game.” She seated herself in the tapestry-backed chair by the hall fire, motioning him to the seat opposite her. “You may begin,” she told him.
He calmly moved a pawn in a familiar and quite typical opening move. Then his eyes met hers.
“ 'Tis hardly a challenging beginning,” she mocked him, but her own move was quite similar to his.
The play now began in earnest. Jasmine kept up a taunting verbal assault as she played. Her tone was overbearing and overweening. She played hard, and he had not the slightest inkling that she was leading him carefully so that he could shortly capture her queen and win the match between them. She made a move, and then swore softly, reaching out to correct the apparently foolish maneuver, but he stopped her with his hand, shaking his head.
“But I did not mean it,” she objected strongly. “I was distracted. Surely you will not hold me to such a play, Jemmie? 'Tis not fair!”
“You removed your hand from the piece,” he said quietly.
“But I did not mean to, sir! I was distracted,” she cried.
“If our positions were reversed, Jasmine, would you allow me to replay the move?” he demanded of her.
Her small white teeth worried her lower lip, and she did not answer him.
James Leslie reached out and, taking the black onyx piece belonging to him, silently completed the winning move, palming her ivory queen gravely. Jasmine leapt to her feet and, turning, attempted to make her escape. He was quicker, however, and his hard arm wrapped itself about her slender waist, drawing her back against him. “Nay, madame, you cannot go until you have paid your forfeit,” he said softly, and his other hand firmly cupped one of her breasts. His warm breath in her ear sent a shiver up her spine. “Ya-sameen,” he murmured the name she had been given at birth, “how I long to possess you again. I have never forgotten that night we shared so long, long ago.” His thumb rubbed her nipple until it was stiff, and tingling.
“The servants . . .” she protested.
“Are too well trained by your Adali to enter the hall unless called,” he told her even as he pushed the chess table aside with his big stockinged foot and drew her down upon the thick sheepskin rug before the fire. His elegant fingers fumbled a moment with the golden frog closure of her gown, finally releasing it so the plum-colored silk fell away, revealing her naked form to him. He stared at her, almost awed.
“How is it that after four bairns you still have the figure of an exciting young girl?” he wondered aloud. His fingertips caressed the generous swell of her bosom.
“I do not,” came her soft reply. “My belly is no longer flat, and my breasts are much fuller than the last time we found ourselves in this situation. I have the body of a woman, Jemmie Leslie.”
“To my eye you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he assured her. His dark head bent to press a kiss upon her left breast. “I like your sweet titties,” he said.
“You cannot continue to have me at such a disadvantage,” she told him, her fingers unlacing his shirt, her hands pushing it from his shoulders. It fell about his waist. “What does a Scotsman wear beneath his kilt, Jemmie Leslie?” she teased him provocatively.
With a grin he stood, loosening the garment so that both it and his shirt fell about his ankles. “Only the badge of his manhood, madame,” he answered her, stepping away from the discarded clothing.
“Take your stockings off,” she ordered him. “I'll not make love to a man with a bare bottom and stockings on his feet.” She kicked her slippers off as she spoke.
Chuckling, he complied with her request, finally joining her upon the sheepskin. “Do you remember the last time?” he asked her.
A small smile touched Jasmine's lips. “Aye,” she said. “It was after my uncle's Twelfth Night gala. We seduced each other, and Sibby caught us and raised such a ruckus. My stepfather wanted us to wed to save my reputation. Poor Alec, caught between his two girls. One who wanted you desperately, or so Sybilla thought.”
“And one who refused to wed me,” he reminded her. “You said you would not be forced to the altar.” He smiled at her wryly. “Yet now you are, and with the same man you refused those years back. I fell in love with you then. Did you know it?”
Jasmine shook her head. “Nay,” she admitted, “I did not.”
Bending, he brushed her lips with his. “Well, I did, my darling Jasmine. I fell in love with you then, but when I finally gathered up my courage to go to your grandparents, you were to wed with Rowan Lindley. I was too late. A laggard in love. That is why I cannot let you go now, Jasmine.
I will never let you go again!”
I will never let you go again!”
“How fierce you sound,” she told him, her hand stroking his handsome face. “Am I to have no say in this matter, Jemmie Leslie?”
“Only if you swear to belong to me forever,” he replied, catching her hand in his, kissing each knuckle upon it, then turning it over to kiss her palm ardently.
“Swear!”
he growled at her.
“Swear!”
he growled at her.
In response Jasmine laughed softly. “Not yet, I think,” she replied. “If I allow you to become too certain of me, Jemmie, then you will grow careless in your affections and actions toward me. Better I keep you dangling. At least until we plight our troth come summer.” She retrieved her hand with a seductive smile.
“You are a bitch,” he said, half-amused, half-angry.
“Aye,” she drawled slowly. He lay by her, half-raised upon an elbow, looking into her fair face. Drawing his head down, she kissed him a deep, sweet kiss. “Would you have me be some simpering fool of a woman, my lord? Best you know what you are getting. Perhaps you will even change your mind and ask the king for release from this match.”
“Nay, madame,” he told her, looking into her turquoise-colored eyes. “I am no easier than you are. We are well matched, I believe.” His head dipped, and, taking a nipple in his mouth, he began to suckle upon her while his hand kneaded her other breast.
The first strong tug on her flesh sent a frisson of pleasurable sensation through her body. It had been so long since she had been with a man that it almost seemed as if it were the first time. Jasmine drew in a deep breath and exhaled it, feeling the tingle all the way to her toes. Her fingers threaded themselves in his dark hair, pressing into his scalp. “Ummmmmmmm,” she sighed, enjoying his attentions. The last time they had made love, the only time they had made love, she amended to herself, James Leslie had ended a period of celibacy in her life that began with the murder of her first husband, Prince Jamal Khan. Now he was ending another love drought for her. She wondered if her pleasure in him came from the cessation of her passionless state, or if he would indeed prove to be an excellent lover.
Releasing her nipple, the earl of Glenkirk began to lick at Jasmine's perfumed flesh. He encircled the nipples with his tongue, rousing them into tight little nibs. He laved the flesh between her two breasts, and then across her torso, blowing softly upon the glistening wetness he left behind. The natural fragrance of her body began to mix with the scent of her bath oil and but contributed to his arousal. He could feel her fingers digging into his head as her own sensual appetites were stirred and awakened.
Raising himself up, he kissed her mouth, feeling her lips soften and yield beneath his. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, demanding he caress it with his own. Their kisses melted one into another until there was no longer a beginning or an end. She loosed his hair, and her hands slid away from his head, caressing the graceful curve of his neck, feeling the prickles of sensation she encouraged in him beneath her fingertips. His broad, furred chest pressed down into the soft swell of her bosom. He groaned as Jasmine smoothed her hands down his long back, then cupped his hard buttocks for a brief moment.
He was hard and ready then, but she held him off. Repositioning herself just slightly, she reached down and began to caress him with such a delicate yet tantalizing touch that he almost spilled his seed, so filled with boiling lust was he at that moment. He groaned.
“Patience, my lord,” she cautioned him. “A woman's passion is not so quickly raised as is a man's.”
In response he pushed her hands away, for any more fondlings of his sensitive weapon, and he would be ruined. Rolling onto his side he squeezed her Venus mont gently, smiling, pleased, as she gasped with surprise. A single finger insinuated itself between the fleshy folds that hid her little pleasure pearl from public view. He found the jewel and began subtly to taunt the tiny nub until she was writhing.
My God,
Jasmine thought in her last moment of clarity,
he certainly takes instruction well.
Explosion after explosion of sensation rolled over her burning body. She ached with both pleasure and hunger for more pleasure. Before she might peak, however, he stopped, and before she might protest, he pushed two fingers into her throbbing passage, going deep, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as his hand moved to awaken her further.
“Please!”
The word exploded from her tightly constricted throat.
Jasmine thought in her last moment of clarity,
he certainly takes instruction well.
Explosion after explosion of sensation rolled over her burning body. She ached with both pleasure and hunger for more pleasure. Before she might peak, however, he stopped, and before she might protest, he pushed two fingers into her throbbing passage, going deep, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as his hand moved to awaken her further.
“Please!”
The word exploded from her tightly constricted throat.
He withdrew his hand from her, and, swinging over Jasmine's eager body, he drove himself into the wet hot receptacle she offered him. The walls of her sheath enclosed themselves about his throbbing member, pulsing all around him in their ardor. He felt her legs wrapping themselves about his torso even as he sank deeper into her scalding flesh. “Ohh, wanton!” he groaned into the silken tangle of her black hair.
It had been so long!
Jasmine could feel her heart pounding in her ears. He filled her full with his fierce passion, thrusting and withdrawing, thrusting and withdrawing until her head was spinning wildly. She pushed her hand into her mouth to stifle the cries that threatened to burst forth from her throat, but seeing it he tore the hand away, and her song of pleasure rang throughout the hall. “Jemmie! Jemmie! Oh God! Yes! Ohhhhhh!” She shuddered as she tumbled from her peak and down into the warm darkness of repletion.
Jasmine could feel her heart pounding in her ears. He filled her full with his fierce passion, thrusting and withdrawing, thrusting and withdrawing until her head was spinning wildly. She pushed her hand into her mouth to stifle the cries that threatened to burst forth from her throat, but seeing it he tore the hand away, and her song of pleasure rang throughout the hall. “Jemmie! Jemmie! Oh God! Yes! Ohhhhhh!” She shuddered as she tumbled from her peak and down into the warm darkness of repletion.
He flooded her with his tribute, groaning with his satisfaction, as his lust burst, then finally drained away. Sprawled half-atop her, he breathed deeply the fragrance of her dark hair until he was finally able to raise himself and roll off her entirely. Reaching for her hand, he said, “Madame, you surpass my memories of you. I am mad for you, Jasmine! Tell me at least that you gained some measure of delight.”
She laughed weakly. “My lord, I believe we have found something upon which we may agree. The passion between us bodes well for a happy marriage of sorts, I think.”
“But there must be more between us, Jasmine,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she agreed, “but is this not a good beginning?”
“So you are willing now to do your duty as the king has ordered?” he teased her gently, nibbling upon her fingers.
“There, my lord, is another thing we have in common. We are both dutiful, and know our obligations to the crown and to our families,” she replied. She pulled her hand from his, and then, grasping his hand, began sensuously to suck upon his fingers, one at a time, her eyes engaging his. Her mouth turning up in a small smile.
“Is there anything else, madame?” he murmured. Jesu! The wench was a witch. She had already drained him so deeply he thought little left of himself, yet her mouth, now tantalizing his fingers, was arousing him once more. He could already feel a stirring in his loins.
“We both like children and the simple life,” she said.
“Aye,” he agreed, “but they are
your
children, not mine.”
your
children, not mine.”
“A situation easily remedied,” Jasmine promised him. She released his hand and, standing, drew her chamber robe lightly about her. “Come, Jemmie Leslie. My bed will be warmer and more comfortable than this place before the fire. Now that I am of a mind to do my duty, you will find me very willing, my lord.” Turning, she walked from the hall, pausing only a moment at the entry to beckon him to follow her.
The earl of Glenkirk rose, wrapped his kilt about himself and, gathering up the rest of his garments, trailed after her, a bemused smile upon his face.
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