turned to her grandmother. “Madame, how could you bring him here? Is this why you have come? I shall never forgive you!”
“I did not bring him, my dearest girl,” Skye said quietly.
“I followed your grandmother from the moment she arrived in Calais,” the earl said.
“Robin?” Skye asked him.
He nodded. “He suspected you would not wait until spring,” James Leslie said. “He sent two servants to follow Captain O’Flaherty’s carriage, certain he would not go home but to Harwich instead.”
Skye nodded, a small smile upon her lips. “Robert Southwood is indeed my son.” She chuckled. “And he has his father’s guile.”
“If you did not bring him here to Belle Fleurs, Grandmama, then why have you come?” Jasmine inquired.
“Your grandfather is dead,” came the immediate reply.
Jasmine gasped, and her eyes immediately filled with tears that flowed down her smooth cheeks. “Oh, Grandpapa,” she half whispered. Then she turned on the earl of Glenkirk. “This is all your fault!” she cried. “If you had not hounded me from England, I should have had these last few months with him! Now, I shall never see him again, and it is all because of you, James Leslie! I hate you! I hate you!”
“Nay, madame,” he said in icy tones. “Whatever you have lost is your fault, not mine. You did not have to disobey the king and run from me almost two years ago. A marriage was arranged between us. I loved you. I was willing to give you all the time you needed to mourn Prince Henry Stuart’s death. I was not dragging you by force to the altar, Jasmine. You, however, took it upon yourself to gather up your children, and in direct defiance of King James’s order, decamp from England. I knew you were in France. Three times I came, but I could not find you, for your relations hid you well. Now, however, the game is up. We will return to England, where you will wed me in a large and public ceremony, standing before that same court who have found such amusement in the April Fool you made of me those many months back.”
“I will not!” she said angrily.
“Oh, but you will, madame,” he answered her.
“I am a royal Mughal princess . . .” she began.
“Who cannot return home to India,” he cut her off. “You have lived in Europe for ten years, Jasmine. You are an English gentlewoman now, and no longer an imperial Mughal. Your grandmother must have a few days’ rest, then we shall begin the return journey to England. Do not attempt to escape me again, my darling Jasmine. Cadby needs its young master, and would you keep Rowan Lindley’s son from his inheritance? And what of your daughters? I’ll wager you have let them run with the peasants’ children. None of them, I am certain, has begun any learning. They are English nobility, and you would do well to remember it!”
“I will kill you before I allow you control over my children,” Jasmine snarled at him.
“Be silent, both of you!” Skye’s voice suddenly cut into the conversation. “Adali, get Lord Leslie some wine, and then take his man to the kitchen for food. What is your name, Scotsman?”
“Fergus More, yer ladyship.”
“Go with Adali, Fergus More. Your master is safe with me,” Skye told him, and then, turning back to Jasmine, said, “I came to tell you of Adam’s death, my darling girl, but I also came to tell you that it was time to resolve your difficulties with Glenkirk. Past time. While it was outrageous of the king to insist upon this match, I am beginning to believe it is a good idea. You cannot remain here at Belle Fleurs, isolated, and alone but for the children, and your servants. It is not good for you, and it is certainly not good for my great-grandchildren. Jemmie Leslie is right. Henry Lindley is the marquis of Westleigh as his father before him was. He is almost seven now, and I will wager his French is better than his English. He must go home to Cadby and learn to be its master, and an Englishman again. India will be eight next month, and Fortune is five. Do any of them know their letters? Or how to write? And what of the king’s grandson, little Charles Frederick Stuart. He is the most royal of all your children, but what will his fate be if he does not return to England where he can gain his grandfather, the king’s, favor? You must think of the children, Jasmine.”
The younger woman gnawed at her lower lip, vexed. She knew her grandmother was correct, yet she struggled against herself. Glancing at James Leslie from beneath her wet lashes, she decided that he was still a very handsome man, but at this particular moment he looked very stern. It was a look she could not remember seeing on his face before.
“Just once,” she said, “I should like the freedom to pick my own husband.” Grumbling she continued. “My father chose Jamal Khan, and you and Grandfather chose Rowan Lindley. When do I get to choose?”
“Were you unhappy with either of your husbands, Jasmine?” Skye questioned her granddaughter.
“No,” Jasmine admitted, “but you got to choose your husbands!”
“Dom O’Flaherty, my first husband, may he rot in hell, was my father’s choice. Willow’s father rescued me from slavery in Algiers and married me. Niall Burke was chosen for me by my uncle, the bishop, and we were wed by proxy without my knowledge. Fabron de Beaumont was the old queen’s selection. Only Geoffrey Southwood and your grandfather were my decisions, Jasmine.”
“And they were your happiest marriages,” her granddaughter said. “I do not believe I will have six husbands, Grandmama. I want to make my own selection this time. I won’t be coerced dammit!”
“Madame,” the earl of Glenkirk said quietly, “you have no options but to obey your king as do I. To disobey is treason, as you well know, but should you choose such a dangerous option be advised that I shall return to England in several days’ time with my four charges, the infant duke of Lundy, the marquis of Westleigh, and the ladies India and Fortune Lindley. If you wish to remain mother to your children, you will accompany us. If you do not, I shall see that you never see them again, for you shall be banned from King James’s realm forever.”
Jasmine’s unusual turquoise-colored eyes widened with shock. “You bastard!” she hissed. “You would do that to me?”
He looked at her dispassionately. “I thought we had settled the matter of my birth, madame, and yes, I will obey the king.”
She flung her goblet at his head, but ducking it he reached up to grasp her wrist in a firm hold. Slowly he forced her arm down, and back behind her, drawing her against him. Then, bending, he kissed her a fierce kiss, his lips hard, the embrace a clear declaration of war between them. Jasmine struggled, but could not break his hold on her, but when he released her a moment later, she reared back and slapped him with all her might. Then, turning about, she ran from the hall.
“Is it that you hate her or love her?” Skye asked him, curious.
James Leslie shook his dark head. “Once I loved her to distraction. When I arrived here today I thought I hated her. Now I don’t know what I feel for her, Madame Skye. Why does she resist her fate so strongly?”
“Surely you have known since you first met her, my lord, that Jasmine is very proud, and absolutely determined to have her way in life,” Skye answered him. “We both know that the king meant well for her when he ordered your marriage, and indeed it is an ideal solution for Jasmine. Even I am now willing to admit to it. You are an excellent candidate for her hand, as you
