Darling Jasmine by Bertrice Small Read Free Book Online

born Karim, a prince of the Ottoman Empire. His father was Sultan Selim, his brother, Sultan Suleiman. My great-great-grandmother, Janet Leslie, was Sultan Selim’s favorite wife. I have as much, if not more, royal blood in my veins, Jasmine Lindley, as you do.”
    She was astounded by his revelations, but she would not be moved. “Then we are indeed well matched even if none but us knows it, James Leslie,” said Jasmine, rising from her place at the highboard. “The hour grows late, my lord,” she said. “I will escort you to your chamber.”
    He followed her from the hall, noting the stiff line of her backbone as they went, wondering what further mischief she was plotting. Could he trust the old countess of Lundy now? Or was she merely lulling him into a false sense of security in order that Jasmine might escape him once again. Devious the old woman might be, he considered, but he had never heard it said that she was anything other than honest. He had to trust her. There was no option other than remaining awake all night watching, and for how long could he do that? Had he been a fool to allow Jasmine more time before their marriage? Was his desire for revenge overwhelming his common sense? Should he call the priest in on the morrow and marry her immediately, thereby putting an end to her headstrong foolishness? Then he shook his head at his own thoughts. Marriage, or no, if Jasmine de Marisco Lindley wanted to leave him again, she most certainly would. He had but two choices. Locking her away or winning back her friendship.
    â€œYou will find your servant awaiting you,” Jasmine said as she stopped before an oak door. “Good night, my lord.”
    He took her hand up and kissed it. “Good night, madame,” the earl of Glenkirk replied, then, turning, he entered the chamber.
    Jasmine snatched her hand back and, whirling about, hurried off down the corridor. She could actually feel the imprint of his mouth upon her skin, and it was most discomfiting. This man she must wed, this man with whom she had spent an incredible night of passion almost ten years ago, was in reality a stranger to her. They had met again briefly at King James’s court, but it was not an association she had encouraged. He was a dark-spirited man whom she did not in the least understand. She was even a little afraid of him, but she would never reveal that to anyone, least of all James Leslie. He was, she realized, a man she could not cajole or manipulate. He was as hard as flint.
    She had offended him. Embarrassed him. Defied him. Yet he would obey the king and marry her in spite of it all. Jasmine shivered. This was a dangerous man, and unless she could find a way to soften him, her life would not be pleasant. Jasmine entered her own bedchamber, where her servants were waiting for her. Her grandmother would know what to do. On the morrow she would speak with that dear old lady, and Skye would guide her actions so she might find James Leslie’s weakness, and touch his heart. If indeed he even had a heart.

Chapter 3
    J asmine awoke to hear the faint scratching of sleet upon the windows of her bedchamber. She could see the gray day beyond the slit in the half-drawn draperies. A cheerful fire burned in the fireplace, warming the room. She stretched herself beneath the fine lavender-scented linens and the down comforter that covered her. How lovely it was to lie here in the great oak bed her grandfather had long ago commissioned for this chamber. Jasmine loved this bed, with its eight-foot-high headboard of linenfold paneling and its four turned and carved posts. The hangings belonging to the bed were a natural-colored linen embroidered with a design of green silk. It was a wonderful refuge from the troubles of the world, but she had no troubles. Oh, yes she did.
    Jasmine sat up suddenly. She most assuredly had troubles. They had arrived late yesterday in the person of James Leslie, the earl of Glenkirk.