Darling Jasmine Read Free

mourn his lordship if ye go, my lady?”
    â€œI do not have to remain at Queen’s Malvern to mourn my Adam,” Skye told her servant. “Adam is always with me no matter where I go.”
    â€œI’ll begin packing this very day, m’lady,” Daisy said, “and I’ll pray for a calm sea when we cross to France.”
    â€œYou do not have to come with me, Daisy. I can take a younger lass to serve me. I think Martha would do, do ye not?”
    â€œI do not!” Daisy said indignantly. “Yer not going off without me this time, Mistress Skye. We’re of an age, you and I. If you can travel, then so can I! Martha indeed! Why the chit is a slattern, and not fit to serve a child. Martha, humph,” Daisy snorted. Then she bustled off to begin packing for their trip.
    Skye had not yet removed her cloak. Pulling the hood up, she slipped from the house and, walking through the barely ankle-deep snow, made her way across the lawns and up the gentle hillock to her husband’s grave. A small wooden cross marked the spot although later there would be a more impressive monument of stone. She stopped and stared down.
    â€œWell, now, old man,” she said softly, “and didn’t you give us a Twelfth Night to remember. How could you leave me, Adam? Ahhh, I know ’twas not your fault.” She sighed deeply. “They’ve all gone now. I don’t know when I’ve been quite so irritated with Willow. Yes, yes, I know she means well, but you know how I dislike it when she tries to run my life. Three daughters. One who brays constantly like a donkey; the second, a dear mousekin; and the third, in Scotland. God’s boots!”
    A gentle wind ruffled the fur edging the cloak’s hood, and a small smile touched the corners of Skye’s mouth. “Now don’t go trying to wheedle around me, Adam de Marisco,” she said. “You know that I’m correct. Not one of my girls is a bit like me. Only Jasmine is like me, old man, and well you know it. I’ll have to leave you for a while because I’m off to France to tell her of how you left us. She’s enjoying her freedom, I can tell, but ’tis past time she came home with the children and settled down. She won’t have an easy time with Lord Leslie until she makes her peace with him. You were right, old man. I should have insisted she come home long since instead of encouraging her in her rebellion. Ahhh, Adam, I can almost hear you laughing with my admission. I didn’t often say you were wiser than I, but you were, my dearest.”
    Two days later, before the dawn had even begun to tint the eastern skies, Thistlewood, the de Marisco coachman, climbed up onto the box of his mistress’s great traveling coach where his assistant already waited. “Well, me boy,” he said, his breath coming in icy little puffs, “we’re off for France we are. At least this day appears to be coming on fair, but Jesu, ’tis cold!” He settled himself and, turning, asked the younger man, “Are ye ready then?” And at his companion’s nod, Thistlewood cracked his whip over the horses’ heads. The coach lurched forward, moving slowly down the drive of Queen’s Malvern toward the main road and southeast toward the coast.
    In London the earl of Lynmouth found his friend, the earl of Glenkirk, at Whitehall Palace. “Are you in the mood to bring a wily vixen to heel, Jemmie?” he asked, a wicked smile upon his lips.
    â€œYou know where she is?” James Leslie replied, his tone cold.
    â€œNo, but if you are quick, I know how you may find her,” Robin Southwood replied. Then he went on to explain that his stepfather had died, and Skye had said she would go to France to tell Jasmine.
    â€œIn the spring?” James Leslie said. “Then there is time.”
    â€œMy mother said in the spring, but she is guileful as always. I would wager she’ll