Free He Calls Her Jasmine by Ann Jacobs Page A

re-enact the scenes that had fascinated her so? She tried to control the lust that had her nipples tingling and her honey flowing slickly down her thigh, but the erotic images wouldn’t go away.
    “I think the rubies,” Brianna said decisively, crisscrossing the long rope of gold chain interspersed with brilliant faceted stones. “We will sew you another gown that does justice to the sapphires and diamonds Rolfe also gave you as bride-gifts. Come, let us get you wed, so that you and my brother may enjoy the pleasures of the marriage bed for a few hours ere he rides out again on the king’s business.”
     

* * * * *
    An heiress. The only surviving child of an outlawed earl he was bound to set out to fight on the morning after wedding her. A marriage prize too rich to aspire to, yet he was waiting here in Harrow’s great hall in all his finery to take her before God and his lord brother’s household.
    Rolfe straightened the red velvet tabard that bore his family’s device worked in gold thread and glittering gemstones. He adjusted the jeweled belt that held his dress sword in a jeweled scabbard. In his sweating hand he clutched the ruby-encrusted gold ring he’d soon place on Jasmine’s small hand.
    Perhaps if he fought valiantly and well, Henry would ignore the fact he’d wed the only living child of the Earl of Summerfield without royal consent, and let him live.
    Mayhap, if he distracted himself with the activity around him, he could get his mind off the probable consequences of listening to his cock and his heart instead of his brain. He scanned the room, finding his two knights lifting their tankards with some of Giles’s men while servants scurried about with food and drink they’d hurriedly prepared for a wedding feast.
    And Giles, richly-garbed as befitted a belted earl in black velvet with the deVere device worked across his chest in diamonds and silver. He strode across the hall to join Rolfe. “They come now,” Giles said, his gaze leading Rolfe’s to the staircase that led to the Lord’s Tower.
    When Rolfe saw Jasmine his doubts fled. He’d do anything, risk anything, to keep this exquisite creature for his own. She wore her raven hair loose, crowned with a wreath of herbs and flowers, her golden gown belted with the ruby girdle he’d brought back from the East…and a knowing, very unvirginal smile lit her beautiful face when she saw him.
    They made their vows and drank the toasts, broke bread and fed each other the tenderest morsels from the plate they shared. They laughed at the antics of traveling minstrels…danced…partook of the honey cake the cook had hurriedly prepared to celebrate their nuptials.
    “We will prepare your bride for you, my brother,” Brianna told Rolfe before spiriting Jasmine up the stairs.
    Surprised, for he’d expected no bedding ceremony, Rolfe turned to Giles. “All know we anticipated our vows. I presented the bloodied sheet to your priest, as proof that Jasmine might already carry my son.”
    “The bedding is Brianna’s gift to you. She lends you Arnaud this night.”
    Rolfe’s cock swelled in his chausses. “Arnaud minds not?”
    “Would you mind servicing a woman as fair as your bride?” Giles shook his head, as though Rolfe had taken leave of his senses.
    “Nay.” Tonight, his wedding night, seemed far removed from the villa Giles had captured near Constantinople. And he, very different from the frightened, injured boy his brother and the houris in the seraglio had tried to comfort after the death of his captors. “You showed me then that giving a woman pleasure could bring almost as great satisfaction as receiving it. I’ve not forgotten that day. Or the houri who let me lick her cunt and bring her to pleasure with a great glass dildo. ‘Tis grateful I am that I use these lessons now to enhance the pleasures I bring my lady with my cock.”
    Giles laughed. “How does your Jasmine like the embellishments you wear in it?”
    “She seems fond