Falcon emerged from the abbey to see Hubert in deep conversation with Estelle. He had not sheathed his sword, nor did he intend to until it had found its royal target. “She needs you,” he told Estelle grimly. He began to remount when Hubert’s voice cut through the red mist that fogged his brain.
“Where are you going?”
“To slay John,” he said evenly.
“You are too late it seems. The king is dead.”
“I won’t believe it until I see it for myself,” swore Falcon.
“It’s true, my lord. He is very, very dead. I sent his body on to Newark, to the Bishop of Lincoln,” Estelle confirmed.
Falcon looked at his uncle the justiciar with alienation in his eyes. “He despoiled everything he ever touched. You will be the only man in England who is not happy at the news.”
Hubert grasped his shoulder hard. “Nay, lad, I’m happier than anyone for I’ve the most to gain. John’s heir Henry is yet a child. Once he is crowned, I’ll undoubtedly be named regent. I’ll be the uncrowned King of England for many years to come. Don’t stand there gaping. Get your women out of here. Get on that ship and go back to Ireland as fast as the wind will carry you. I have the business of the realm to see to,” said Hubert.
Chapter 43
Although Jasmine occupied the captain’s cabin aboard the de Burgh vessel, Falcon had so far not shared it with her. When she had come aboard yesterday with her grandmother, the wind was blowing strong. The ship had strained against its anchors, making the timbers groan. Jasmine’s amethyst eyes were half-closed against the wind as she searched the forcastle deck for the dark, powerful figure of her husband. She saw that he was busy, but refused to go below with Estelle.
Not too many minutes had passed after he weighed anchor before a gigantic wave poised just above the ship long enough for him to shout “Hard astarboard.” The wave struck and Jasmine frantically clung to the binnacle head as the ship turned on her side as if she would roll completely, then incredibly she righted, water streaming from her, washing across the decks. Then she lifted. Jasmine heard Falcon order “Hands to braces” in the maintops. She felt the ship shudder and buck and heard the storm canvas rattle in the wind as the squall heeled her over again. Jasmine was soaked to the skin and waited no longer to seek safety belowdecks.
She warmed herself at the cabin stove and found a velvet bedrobe of Falcon’s to wear while her clothes dried. She expected de Burgh to come for dry clothes after he had weathered the storm, but her wait was in vain. Jasmine knew the storm they had just experienced was nothing compared to the one that was brewing between her and Falcon. She was of a mind to get it all out in the open. She wanted to have at him about his whore, Morganna, and she wanted to explain everything to him about the king. She clenched her fists and ground her teeth in frustration when he did not come. The welts from the whip on her leg and back had crusted over in a thin red line, and she knew she would be able to prevent scars if she rubbed her flesh with a paste of honey and calamint. It became apparent to her that Falcon was avoiding her. Each day when she went up on deck he was in exactly the same spot as the day before. He stood on the ship’s prow as it fell and rose in the waves, staring stonily out to sea.
The situation became unbearable for her. She had a great need to confess all to him and receive his forgiveness, as she would forgive him Morganna, after they had had a go at each other. Finally she knew he would not come to her aboard ship, so she pushed him from her mind and thought only of the joy of seeing her children again.
When the ship arrived at Galway, she and Estelle disembarked together without any aid from de Burgh. The anticipation of being reunited with her twins almost overwhelmed Jasmine. The moment she saw them she froze for a full minute, wondering how she could touch them when such a short time ago she had committed murder, then in a rush all was forgotten as they ran into her arms, embracing her as hard as she did them.
Jasmine was undone. The tears flowed unbidden as relief washed over her that the only man who could separate them was gone forever. She chose to sleep in their room this first night home. She told herself she was happy. So long as they loved her, that was all that mattered. She had a long, relaxing bath, after which Estelle dabbed on the honeyed calamint, then in a warm bedgown, she cuddled her babies and rocked them until they fell asleep. She too needed rest, needed to heal. She was asleep before ten o’clock, but after the witching hour, along about one in the morning, she awoke restless as a tigress. She put on her slippers and the velvet bedgown and went silently up to the castle ramparts. Her eyes crinkled against the wind as she looked out over the battlements, her silvery hair streaming out behind her.
She did not know how long she had been there before she realized she was not alone. She was startled and then unnerved to see Falcon staring at her in the shadowed moonlight. He did not speak. He did not move. She knew he was angrier with her than he had ever been before. She knew she would have to be the one to force a confrontation.
“Well, haven’t you the guts to face me?” she accused, taking the offensive while it was still open to her.
“If I come any closer I will knock you down, madame,” he said with suppressed violence.
She swaggered over to him, planting herself squarely in front of him, and dug both fists into the red velvet bedgown. Falcon was all in black. “You are a Devil!” she threw at him. “An unfaithful, lecherous Devil to boot!”
“You dare speak to me of faithlessness?” he roared.
“Dare? I’d dare anything! What will you do, take a whip to me?” She tore open her bedgown to expose her breasts. “Will you put more scars upon me?” she taunted. “Perhaps you’d carve your initials into my breast as you did to your whore!”
“That is a damned lie,” he bellowed, “and she is not my whore! After you left I confronted her and she admitted she picked the child up on the docks. You owned me heart and soul, yet you had not one grain of faith in me,” he accused. “You couldn’t wait to run off to whore for the king.”
The hate, love, all-consuming passion between them boiled over. She swung back her arm and slapped him full across the face.
He retaliated immediately and slapped her back. He had no idea of his own strength. The blow felled her, and he looked down at the crumpled figure of his beloved in horror. “My little love, my sweeting, what have I done?” he crooned as he bent to pick her up and cradle her against him. She clung to him sobbing and he rocked her until she cried out.
“Falcon, let me confess to you what I did,” she whispered.
“Nay, nay, there is no need for confessions between us. I will always adore you and cherish you no matter what you have done,” he promised, almost alarmed at what she would tell him.
“Falcon, please, I must,” she insisted.
He braced himself for the blow to come.
In a contrite low voice she said, “Falcon, I murdered King John.”
“You … murder?” he questioned.
“Yes, yes, I did. I gave him hemlock to make him impotent. It worked too well.”
Falcon began to shake. It came to her that he was laughing. “Jassy, Jassy, do you mean to tell me that he didn’t abuse you?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “so I had no real justification in killing him.”
“Darling, Estelle claims she poisoned him with peach pits,” he assured her.
“Oh my God, it feels wonderful to share the guilt,” she said, a bubble of laughter rising through the tears.
“I think we have done enough shouting and brawling on the ramparts for one night. I think we should finish our conversation in bed, don’t you?” he invited.
“Yes, please,” she murmured, snuggling against him for warmth.
He carried her to their chamber where he laid her in their bed and removed her bedrobe. “You are the loveliest woman on earth,” he vowed.
“When you look at me, I feel that is true.”
“My God, I’ve near starved to death for you,” he
said, climbing into bed and pulling her softness against the hard length of him. He kissed her a thousand times before he moved on to more intimate play. “Do you forgive me, darling?”
“I’ve never seen you so angry with me.”
“You stir my pirate’s blood,” he whispered, burying his face in her delicious silken hair.
“Mmm, I do it apurpose to provoke you,” she teased.
He knew he was the luckiest man alive. She was lovely and hot-tempered, but had a beguiling way of turning sweet as honeyed mead.
“I was dreadful jealous,” she said quietly, and he felt exultant at her admission.
Her fingers closed around his shaft and he groaned. “Oh, that feels wonderful, Hyacinth, don’t stop.”
“Hyacinth?” she cried, pretending to pull out handfuls of his dark hair.
“I mean my little flower,” he teased, shaking with laughter. He turned over and imprisoned her on top of him. She could feel his manhood seeking her center. Suddenly they were very serious. Face to face, he looked deeply into her eyes as he slowly impaled her inch by delicious inch onto his lance.
The feel and smell and taste of him excited her to a wildness she had not experienced in months. Though they tried to prolong their pleasure, they could not control themselves and took their release together. She collapsed onto him and he gently laid her beside him and whispered to her of the beauty of their castle at Portumna.
“The last night I was there the beauty of the place was haunting. The garden was filled with the last of the large summer roses. They seemed to float in the moonlight. Then a big white owl flew silently through the trees and I knew it was the perfect place for my enchantress.” He smiled into the darkness as he realized Jasmine was asleep in his arms.
Published by
Bantam Dell
a division of
Random House, Inc.
Copyright © 1989 by Virginia Henley
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-56752-9
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books By This Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Copyright
Virginia Henley, The Falcon and the Flower
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