steal food was intolerable. Besides, why should he drive her from her own table? James Leslie was arrogant beyond any man she had ever met, but God’s nightshirt, he would not keep her from her supper. “I must change my gown,” Jasmine said in regal Mughal tones. “Please tell my grandmother that I shall join her shortly.” Dismissing Adali, she turned to her maidservants.
Adali restrained his delight that his mistress had decided to act in a reasonable fashion. It was, he knew, a temporary measure until Jasmine could come up with some other scheme to avoid doing her duty, but they would defuse that problem when it reared its head. Reentering the hall, he said, “My mistress will join you momentarily. She is changing her gown, my lord.”
“Well done, Adali!” Skye complimented him. “Was she packing?”
The steward laughed. “Aye, madame, she was, but as I pointed out to her, she has no other place to hide. Her place is by her husband’s side now not just for her own standing, but for the children’s as well.” Adali bowed, then began directing the serving of the evening meal.
James Leslie watched him with a speculative gaze.
“He is loyal to her first and foremost,” Skye said quietly in answer to the unspoken question, “but he serves her best interests even when she disagrees with him. Treat her well, and he will be your most valuable ally, my lord. Remember, a powerful king trusted him.”
The earl nodded, and then he saw her enter the hall. For a moment he almost forgot his anger, for she was every bit as beautiful as he had remembered her. Gowned in burgundy velvet, her black hair now dressed in the familiar chignon, she made her way to the table. James Leslie rose, bowing, kissing her hand, seating her by his side. Jasmine acknowledged him but briefly.
“How lovely you look, my darling girl,” Skye said. “The picture of fashion, I vow.”
“Have fashions not changed that much then these months?” Jasmine said lightly. “What a shame. I was anticipating having your Bonnie make me a brand new wardrobe, grandmama.”
“You shall have whatever your heart desires, madame,” the earl said. “As my bride you are entitled to a bridal wardrobe. My pockets are deep as you well know.”
“If I wish new garments, my lord,” Jasmine said in scathing tones, “I am more than able to pay for them. I am far wealthier than you are, sir. We had best discuss this now. The king may order us to wed, but until I agree to do so there will be no marriage between us. First there must be the legalities. While I will give you a reasonable dowry, my lord, the bulk of my wealth remains mine. Until you agree to that, you will not have me to wife.” There, she thought, that will set his proud Scots heart back a pace.
“Of course, darling Jasmine,” the earl said smoothly. “Your wealth remains your own. My own mother, and I am certain yours, too, had such arrangements in their marriage contracts. I would suggest we do it immediately, but I am not certain a contract drawn by a French advocate would be considered legitimate in England. I think, therefore, we must wait until we return to England.”
“Until the papers are drawn to my satisfaction, and signed, my lord, there will be no formality between you and me,” Jasmine replied.
“Naturally, madame,” he returned.
Skye speared a haunch of rabbit and gnawed on it vigorously as she listened to her granddaughter and the earl of Glenkirk battle back and forth. James Leslie had obviously taken her advice, and was going gently with Jasmine, but Jasmine was not making it easy on the man. Why she has decided he is her enemy, I do not know, the matriarch thought to herself. If I were twenty years younger I should be tempted to cast a lure for him myself were I a single woman. Reaching across them, she tore herself off a piece of bread from the loaf.
“I mean it, James Leslie,” Jasmine snapped.
“I am well aware of it, madame,” he answered, his voice testy now.
“Then we might as well leave tomorrow for England,” she decided.
“Nay, madame, we will leave Belle Fleurs in a week’s time. Your grandmother needs the rest, having departed her own home almost immediately following your grandfather’s demise. And, I believe it advisable that you and I become reacquainted on neutral ground.”
“Indeed, sir? What is it you do not know about me that you need to know? I am beautiful. I am wealthy. I am royal. I have had two husbands, and a princely lover. I am the mother of four children, and I pleased you in bed those many years back. Is there more?”
“Aye,” he answered her coldly, “you are all you say, madame, but I am curious to learn if beneath the prideful and cruel bitch you seem to have become, there is a vestige left of the charming woman I once knew, darling Jasmine.”
Skye choked on her wine, gasping and coughing at his words.
“Why you arrogant Scots bastard,” Jasmine said angrily. “How dare you speak to me in such a fashion?” She was flushed with her ire.
“Nay, madame, the question is, how dare you speak to me with such disdain? I am to be your husband.”
“When we return to England I shall petition the king to change his mind,” Jasmine told him.
“And I shall implore him not to change his mind. He won’t, you know. You will just irritate him if you try,” James Leslie said. “The king doesn’t like anyone, particularly a woman, impugning his divine right as the monarch. He has made a decision, and will not be denied. This is not about you, or about me, Jasmine. It is about the king’s firstborn grandchild, young Charles Frederick Stuart. The lad may have been born on the wrong side of the blanket, but the blanket is a royal one. Stuarts do not abandon their responsibilities.”
“I do not need a husband to raise my children,” Jasmine snapped.
“Nonetheless, the king has commanded that you have one,” the earl rejoined. “At least the king knows I am honest and will not use his grandson for my own ends, as others might.”
“Supercilious cad!” she sneered at him.
“Vicious vixen!” he snarled back.
“Beast!”
“Bitch!”
“Cease!” Startled they both looked to Skye, whose face was stern. “You are bickering like two spoiled children,” she said. “You will stop it this instant!” Turning to Jasmine she continued. “The king has ordered you to marry this man. He is handsome, rich enough not to see you only for your fortune and as respectable as any widow might wish. And I approve of him. In this family that carries more weight than James Stuart’s majesty. Therefore, you will marry the earl of Glenkirk, my darling girl. I wish the choice could be yours, but alas, it cannot under the circumstances. As for you, James Leslie . . .” She fixed her gaze upon him. “You will treat my granddaughter with dignity and respect when she is your wife. I hope you will come to love each other, for that is the best kind of marriage to make, but if you cannot, at least you will honor each other, and the Leslie name.” She rose from her place at the highboard. “Now, I am an old woman, and I am exhausted with my travels. Adali!” Skye called to her granddaughter’s steward. “Take me to my bedchamber before I expire with weariness!” She took his arm and walked from the hall with not another word to them.
James Leslie picked up his goblet and sipped the wine thoughtfully. “If you would like,”
