The Falcon and the Flower (45 page)

Estelle found the empty vial she had given to Morganna. As she bent to retrieve it, a vision came to her of what the girl had tried to do. She picked up the mead but could discern no telltale smell of rue; however, to be on the safe side she threw away the flagon’s contents. Estelle did not wish to estrange Jasmine and Falcon further by explaining that Morganna had asked for the rue to get rid of Falcon’s child. She would simply have to watch the girl closely, for she had almost succeeded in carrying out her destructive plan.

When de Burgh and his men returned triumphant, it was cause for a great celebration. Since it was well into December, they decided to hold the Christmas festivities early. The hall was decorated with holly and mistletoe, an enormous Yule log was felled and made ready, and the oxen sent from Chepstow were put on the spits to roast.

Jasmine was dressing for the celebration with the help of Glynis when Falcon pushed open her chamber door and strolled in. She was sitting in her brief shift pulling on her stockings. “I’m not dressed,” she protested with a gasp.

He grinned. “So I see,” he said.

She glanced guiltily at the scarlet gown laid out on the bed. “I’m wearing red,” she said defiantly.

His grin widened. “So I see,” he said again.

Little Glynis made a hasty departure before the sparks began to fly. Falcon drew close, drinking in the heady sight of her, which he had thirsted for while they had been separated. His eyes swept down over her tiny waist and flat belly. “You’re even slimmer than when I left.”

“My breasts are fuller,” she said, then blushed hotly.

His grin showed his even, white teeth. “So I see,” he repeated, this time running an appreciative finger over the swell of her breast. He was glad she had chosen to wear red; he had known she would. The diamonds he intended giving her tonight would be set off magnificently.

His eyes grew smoky with desire, and she warned, “De Burgh, don’t you dare!”

He teased, “Can’t you find it in your heart to be kind to me after a two-week absence?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“Let me take you to bed, just for an hour?” he teased. “No!” she said sharply.

“Then take off your shift and let me see your lovely body for a little while.” “De Burgh!” she protested.

“Selfish little wench!” He gave a mock sigh. “Ah well, I’ll just have to settle for the taste of you then,” he said, picking her up and setting her down in his lap. His lips brushed hers. “Did I ever tell you,” he said, brushing her lips again and again, “that your little bottom is heart-shaped?”

She was unused to this gentle loveplay and was quite willing to be teased and touched. His hand ran down her silken stocking. “Did I ever tell you,” he said, brushing her lips, “that you have the prettiest slim legs?” He put his fingers beneath her chin and raised it so he could look into her eyes. “And what’s this you have between your pretty legs? Did you ever tell me?”

She jumped off his lap quickly and grabbed up her gown. “De Burgh, we will miss all the fun.”

He sighed. “We will if you don’t let me take you to bed.”

“There’s going to be dancing,” she said with excitement.

He mocked, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why are we
wasting time in the bedroom when we could be having fun downstairs?”

She giggled. “Will you dance with me?”

“I thought all your dances would be reserved for Tam. Don’t tell me you’d favor an old man like me with a dance?” He turned her around and hooked up her gown. Then he lifted her pale tresses and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “Lord God, how you make me quiver,” he murmured, all teasing gone from his voice. He knew if he didn’t remove himself from her presence, her clothes would be strewn across the chamber and she’d be beneath him in the bed. Alone together in a room, the torment and temptation were too great for him. His eyes grew serious. He dropped a chaste kiss on the top of her head and hastily left her to finish dressing.

The tables in the hall groaned beneath their succulent burden of food. The roasted oxen were supplemented by venison; it took a score of red deer to feed two hundred. In the dead of winter there were no fresh vegetables available, but the icy rivers teemed with fish, game was always plentiful, and the cooks had baked dozens of loaves, pastries, and egg dishes. Apple and mincemeat pies and gooseberry and quince tarts smothered in thick, rich cream were washed down by old ale, hot spiced cider, and the wine sent from Chepstow.

Laughter and music were the order of the night. Tam was the first knight to gather enough courage to ask Jasmine to dance, but he was followed in quick succession by his brother Gower, Montgomery, and Gervase. Jasmine
tried without success to keep her eyes from the dark head that leaned against the wall watching her from across the hall. He was so easy with everyone, even the scullions called him Falcon, she noticed. Trust Gervase to deliver her to her husband after they had danced, she thought ruefully.

Falcon laughed down at her. “You haven’t asked me to dance.”

She tossed her hair back. “An ugly lout like you deserves to stand against the wall!”

His hands shot out to seize her about the waist and draw her close. “I’ve a present for you tucked inside my doublet,” he said temptingly. Her eyes met his and she took up his challenge. Her hand slipped inside against the hard, bare flesh of his chest and she gasped as her fingers closed over what she knew must be jewels. As she drew them out, the diamonds caught the light and the reflection of her flame-colored gown. Womanlike, she took delight in the luxurious gift as she slipped the twin bracelets over her wrists.

She was breathless as Falcon fastened the matching necklace about her slender throat and whirled her off to dance before she could think of anything to say. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” he invited, then lifted her high to show off her pretty legs. The hall went wild. When they danced there was something between them that carried them away to another world where none of the others could follow.

After the dance Falcon went with the other men to drag in the Yule log for luck. There was much good-hearted pushing and shoving, and many of them were unsteady on their feet from what they had imbibed. Jasmine was flushed and happy. It was almost as if Falcon were courting her, and what woman could resist? What woman indeed? she asked herself as Morganna, in a low-cut, short leather tunic, fastened her eyes on Jasmine’s
diamonds and sneered, “I’m happy to see the two of you do something together, at least.”

Jasmine refused to be baited. “Yes, I have discovered a passion for dancing,” she said lightly.

“Passion?” Morganna scorned. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.” She pulled aside her tunic to reveal her breast with the
F
carved into it. “There’s passion! He puts his mark on everything he owns that really matters to him.”

Jasmine closed her eyes. The evening had been thoroughly spoiled for her. If Falcon really cared anything at all for her, he would rid the castle of Morganna’s hateful presence.

When he returned to Jasmine’s side, he brought her a cup of hot, fragrant cider, but she set it aside. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows drawing together in concern. The sparkle had gone out of her and she had withdrawn from him.

“Nothing,” she said stiffly. “I’m suddenly very tired.”

He searched her face, but she would not meet his eyes. Finally he said, “I’m sorry, I should have realized. I’ll carry you up to bed.”

She recoiled. “No! Please stay or your men will be disappointed.”

Estelle came up and put her hand on de Burgh’s arm. “I’ll see to her,” she said quietly. Inside Jasmine’s tower room, Estelle warned her granddaughter, “I’ve never taken my eyes from her tonight because I know she is a danger to you.”

“If he wants her he can have her,” Jasmine cried angrily.

“He doesn’t want her, that’s why she’s obsessed! with him,” said Estelle firmly.

“He’s carved his initial on her breast!” cried Jasmine.

“What do you mean?” asked Estelle.

“She showed me a big
F
scratched across her breast!”

“She must have done it herself. She’s capable of anything. I didn’t tell you, but two days ago I know she came to your chamber to put rue in your wine to rid you of the child. I found the empty vial spilled upon the floor. She wanted me to think she carried his child, but the only child really is yours. Tonight I saw the raw hatred she bears you, darling. She’ll try again tonight. I feel it. I know it.”

Jasmine was still for a moment as she absorbed the truth of Estelle’s words. “I will be ready for her. I will put the fear of the Devil into her.”

“I’ll ready the candles, you put on your gossamer robe,” urged Estelle. They prepared for the ritual and silently waited. The green candles had burned themselves in half before they heard a footfall on the stone steps.

In the dim tower staircase Morganna stretched a cord low across the top step and secured the ends by wedging them tightly into deep crevices in the stone walls. She tested its tautness, smiled with satisfaction, and was about to step over the cord and descend when Estelle opened the chamber door and commanded, “Come … we’ve been expecting you.” There were times when it was quite impossible to disobey Estelle, and this was one of them. As if under a spell, Morganna entered the chamber. With fascinated horror she saw Jasmine in a nimbus of light inside a circle of green candles. Her nakedness glowed through a robe transparent as a spider’s web and she held a chalice of some potion on high as she sang a mystic chant. An unusual smoky miasma was filling the room until the heavy, burning fragrance almost choked Morganna.

Jasmine drank from the chalice then caressed a crystal orb before her, which began to swirl inside like a whirlwind. “I, Jasmine de Burgh, call upon the Powers of the Universe to curse Morganna of Wales. If you ever lift a
hand against a child of mine, God wither it!” Jasmine raised a dagger and pointed it directly at Morganna.

With a strangled cry the girl fled the room. She forgot the cord across the stairs and went down headfirst with a scream of terror. Falcon’s door flew open as he rushed out.

“They tried to murder me,” she screamed. “They are witches!” She pointed up the stairs and de Burgh stood horrified at the sight of Jasmine in her ritualistic robe. Falcon tried to help Morganna to her feet. Her face and arms were torn and bleeding from the rough stones. Her hand was frozen into a claw. “I cannot move my hand … they have crippled me!”

Big Meg had also heard the screams and came running. De Burgh spoke to her quickly. “Take the girl and tend her wounds.” He took the stairs two at a time. Both women backed away from his terrible black anger.

“There will be no more witch’s rituals in my castle. This night puts an end to all your dabbling in black magic! Do you understand me?” he thundered, his eyes blazing with cold fury. He turned on his heel as if he could no longer stand the sight of his wife.

Why did he have such an unreasoning attitude toward the occult? Jasmine wondered angrily. Why did he take that slut’s part against her? She wanted to run to him with the tale of the Welsh girl’s wickedness against her and their unborn child. She wanted to show him the cord stretched across the steps, which could have killed her or at the very least made her miscarry, but her pride forbade her from defending herself. She would not beg him, in fact she would not even speak to him from now on. She would totally ignore him as if he didn’t exist.

Over the next couple of days it became apparent that Morganna was no longer at Mountain Ash, and no one
seemed to know of her whereabouts. It was assumed that de Burgh knew, but that the subject was closed.

Jasmine succeeded in ignoring Falcon, but though she looked away from him when they occupied the same room or when they dined in the hall, it did not free her mind of his strong image. When he and his men went hunting she thought she would go mad with the quiet loneliness, but when they returned their uproar shook the rafters.

She found him time and time again watching her, his eyes shadowed and moody, and she knew with the age-old knowledge of Eve that his need grew stronger and her time grew shorter. She knew he was stalking her like his prey. She knew his control would snap and he would take her, but she did not know how or when.

Falcon de Burgh fought the gnawing need in his gut and the ache in his loins with an iron determination, yet her siren song called to him day and night. The days were Hell when he could see her, hear her, smell her fragrance as she left a room, but the nights were worse. They were endless, lonely, sleepless endurance tests. When he drank himself to sleep his dreams were so erotic they shamed him. If she was in the same room he could not tear his eyes from her. She grew more beautiful each day. She was not quite so slim as she had been and yet he could probably still span her waist with his hands. She was innocent and earthy at the same time, and her breasts were ripe and luscious.

A new year was dawning and he knew he would not, could not go on this way. If he did not take her he would go mad; if he did not have her he would die. He shook his head and laughed at himself. If he didn’t have her he deserved to die! He was a fool if he didn’t turn their isolation to intimacy.

He stocked his chamber with plenty of food and wine and water, and stacked logs high against the hearth. He
searched his mind for the things she would need and finally sent Big Meg up to Jasmine’s chamber to fetch her hairbrushes, her diamonds, and the big oval mirror in its stand.

“Why does he want my diamonds and my mirror?” demanded Jasmine.

“I don’t know my lady, I only know I’d better not return without them,” Meg said.

“I’ll see about this,” Jasmine retorted, always ready to meet him more than halfway in a fight. She brushed aside Gervase and stepped into de Burgh’s chamber. She swaggered over and planted herself squarely in front of him. She dug both fists into her glittering silver girdle and looked up. This battle she knew she was going to win.

He succeeded in looking very innocent.

“Why do you need my diamonds and my mirror?” she demanded.