Bound By Sin (A Cin Craven Novel)

by Jenna Maclaine

  I did. It was like watching an angel and a devil do battle. Ares was just as tall as Devlin but not quite as broad. Still, the muscles working in his bare arms were a thing of beauty. His jet-black hair was closely trimmed, as was the Van Dyke beard he wore. His full lips might not have been as attractive on a human, but on a god they were rather sensual.

  Michael’s dark blond hair, pale skin, and blue eyes contrasted sharply to Ares’s dark coloring. He was shorter and, though his body was solidly muscled, it was slender by comparison. Still, my husband’s chiseled features, the sharp cheekbones and square jaw clenched in concentration, lent him a chillingly lethal quality the war god didn’t possess. For the moment Michael was holding his own and the sight of it made my blood sing.

  It wasn’t long, however, before it was apparent that the god of war would eventually prevail. Ares got in a lucky stroke that drove Michael down on one knee. The god raised his sword but before he could bring it down across Michael’s neck I stepped forward, throwing a ball of magic that hit him squarely in the chest. He staggered back and Michael leaped to his feet just as Ares returned the volley, sending what looked like a streak of blue lightning in my direction. I ducked and it hit the wall behind my head, scorching a large black mark across the white paint.

  “Ares!” Claire shouted and he snapped his head around in her direction. “Do not throw a god-bolt at my cousin! And while you’re at it, quit trying to kill her husband. He was only comforting me, nothing more.”

  Ares turned curious eyes to me and rubbed his armor-plated chest. “What manner of god are you?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m not a god. I’m a witch . . . and a vampire.”

  “Vampire . . .” he mused. “Ah yes, one of Morrigan’s creatures.”

  I nodded.

  He glanced over at Michael. “This explains why you fight so well,” he said before turning his attention back to Claire. “They do not harm you, filati?”

  “No,” she said smiling. “They do not harm me. They’re family.”

  Ares stepped forward to go to her but stopped short when Claire held her hand up.

  “Oh, God,” she said miserably and rushed back to the washbasin.

  “Not again,” Evangeline groaned as she moved off the bed. “If all the fun is over, I have better things to do.”

  With that she walked through the bedroom wall and disappeared. Ares’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “What place is this?” he asked. “And why is Claire ill?”

  Holding Claire’s hair back with one hand, I looked pointedly over my shoulder at Michael.

  “She’s not ill,” Michael informed him. “She’s pregnant. With your child.”

  “My child?” Ares whispered in disbelief. “I’m to be a father?”

  Before I knew it the two men were laughing, hugging, and slapping each other on the back as if they’d both managed to accomplish something no other man in the history of the world had ever done. I dipped a cloth in the pitcher of water and pressed it to the back of Claire’s neck.

  “Could you two find somewhere else to do that before I turn you both into weasels?” I snapped.

  When Claire had recovered enough to wash her face and rinse her mouth out, Ares came striding up behind her, grinning like an idiot, and swept her into his arms.

  “Oof,” she muttered. “Breast plate.”

  He glanced down and the armor disappeared. I arched a brow at the incredibly lovely expanse of muscled chest it revealed. Ares spun her around (which I wasn’t sure was wise) and she laughed and smiled up at him. Then his lips came down to claim hers in a kiss that made me blush.

  “I believe our work here is done,” Michael said as he ushered me quickly from the room. “For tonight, anyway.”

  When he closed the door behind us, I turned to him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “I don’t know about you,” I said, laying my head on his chest, “but I’m exhausted. Even my brain hurts.”

  He laughed. “I will say this—life with you is never boring.”

  Unfortunately, he was right.

  CHAPTER 24

  As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep. Pandora had been gracious enough to find us some white paint and, as much as I hated to do it, Michael and I had painted over the glass on the three large windows and the double doors that led to the porch off the master bedroom. We’d gotten it finished just before dawn and, with the room now vampire-friendly, had fallen gratefully into bed. Michael was asleep in minutes but my mind was whirling with the events of the past few weeks and I couldn’t shut them out.

  Claire was obviously unharmed, though I didn’t know how I was going to explain her current condition to her mother. That, however, was not what I was worried about. We still had at least a week, possibly two depending upon how long Devlin and Justine stayed in Jamaica, until we could leave. That was a lot of time for Boucher to make his move. I could boot him off the island, I could even post a guard at the dock, but he’d lived here for a long time and if there was another way to get onto this island he would know it. I had taken everything from him and I didn’t for a moment believe that he would let that go without seeking some sort of vengeance. I didn’t worry about a face-to-face confrontation. It was what damage he could do, especially in the daylight hours, before we knew he was here, that concerned me.

  And, as if that weren’t enough, I now owned slaves. Not for long, certainly, but I had to deal with that issue as well. Of course I would free them, but I had no idea what that entailed. I was relatively certain that the law required a bit more than me just waving my hands and saying “you’re free.” Perhaps Mr. McCready would know how one went about emancipating one’s slaves. And once the slaves were gone, who would work the plantation’s fields? It would be difficult to hire the labor needed to accomplish such a task with most of the able-bodied men away fighting the war. Perhaps I should simply close up the whole plantation and sell it after the war was over.

  These thoughts and the various scenarios that followed them floated through my head for hours. I tossed and turned and glared at my husband, wondering how he could sleep so soundly with everything that was going on. Around noon I finally fell into a fitful slumber . . . which lasted for exactly two hours, until I woke with the nagging feeling that someone was watching me. I cracked one eye open.

  “Why are you here?” I asked Evangeline, who was standing beside the bed, staring down at me with some-thing that resembled contempt on her face.

  “Because when I refused to tell Adrien where my father had buried the last of his gold, he pushed me down the stairs and I broke my neck,” she replied.

  “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “But what I actually meant was, why are you here?”

  “Cin?” Michael asked groggily.

  “Go back to sleep, darling. It’s only Evangeline,” I told him.

  He groaned and rolled over.

  “What you should be asking is why are Pandora and Ulysses still here,” Evangeline said as she floated a few feet away and perched on top of one of our trunks, which the soldiers had been gracious enough to carry upstairs for us last night.

  “Who is Ulysses? And why shouldn’t they be here?” I asked.

  “Ulysses is Pandora’s husband and they don’t belong to Kenneway. They came here from New Orleans with Adrien. They’re his slaves. He should have taken them with him, yet he didn’t. She’s dangerous, that one, and entirely loyal to Adrien. You should put her on the boat to Savannah immediately.”

  I opened my eyes and stared up at her. “I don’t understand you people. How can someone be loyal to a man who claims to own her?”

  “Because she’s not only his slave,” Evangeline informed me. “She’s his daughter.”

  That got my attention. I sat up quickly, pulling the sheet up around my body. “Well,” I said, “that puts a bit of a different light on it. Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure,” she said bitterly. “I’d always had my suspicions about those two
, but a familial relationship was not what I thought Adrien had with her. I learned the truth, more than I wanted to know, one night after Adrien came back from England with the girl. He and Pandora were arguing, so I decided to eavesdrop. Adrien wanted Pandora to give Claire some sort of potion that would make her compliant, but Pandora refused. She said it might kill Claire and that she wouldn’t be party to murdering an innocent white girl. Adrien was furious and told Pandora that if the north was successful in the war, our whole way of life was doomed.”

  “What did she say to that?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine a slave being too upset about that prospect.

  “Pandora said, ‘It ain’t your way of life though, is it? You ain’t a planter and you never was. You stole this life with all those pretty lies you told to Miss Evangeline. And she believed it all, thinkin’ you came from some big River Road plantation. She never would’ve looked twice at you if she’d known you weren’t nothing but a poor cracker with a handful of slaves you couldn’t afford to feed.’ And then he hit her and told her that if she wasn’t his daughter he’d beat her bloody for speaking to him that way.” Evangeline laughed bitterly. “What a fool I was to believe his lies, when he was nothing more than a simple schoolmaster’s son who’d won a small farm and a few of slaves in a river-boat card game in his youth.”

  I rested my chin on my knees, thinking. I felt sorry for Evangeline, but my mind was eased somewhat about Pandora. I didn’t trust her for a moment, but at least I didn’t believe she would poison Claire’s breakfast.

  “So, do you agree with me about getting rid of her?” Evangeline asked impatiently.

  “Not quite,” I replied. “My friend Devlin often says that you should keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. If Adrien is planning something, Pandora will know about it. And you, Miss Evangeline, are the perfect spy.”

  She smiled at me. “I am, aren’t I?”

  I nodded. “Keep an eye on her. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let me know immediately.”

  “I can’t promise anything,” Evangeline warned me. “Pandora practices the voodoo and she seems to be able to feel it when I’m around. But I’ll do whatever I can to see that Adrien gets what he deserves. It was bad enough that he murdered me, but to have lived all these years with a man who was nothing more than a lie . . . it’s more than a woman should have to bear.”

  “He’ll get what he has coming to him,” I said. “I’m willing to let him walk away, but I know he won’t be wise enough to do so.”

  Evangeline nodded. “I’m glad you came here. Perhaps now I’ll finally have my vengeance,” she said. “And speaking of vengeance . . . what the devil have you done to my windows?”

  I spent the next twenty minutes explaining to a ghost what a vampire was.

  CHAPTER 25

  Near dusk Michael woke me with a whispered question. “Are we alone?”

  I cracked one eye open and glanced around the empty room. “Yes,” I replied. “Blessedly alone.”

  He gathered me in his arms and rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him.

  “And what would you like to do this evening, my beautiful wife?” he murmured as his fingers trailed lightly back and forth across the bare skin of my back.

  It was quite apparent what my amorous husband had in mind. Smiling wickedly, I slid slowly down the length of him, trailing kisses along the muscled ridges of his chest as I went.

  “Well,” I said, as I worked my way down his stomach, “I should check on Claire and see how she’s faring this morning.”

  I swirled my tongue around the indentation of his belly button and then moved lower.

  “And then we must decide what to do with Mr. McCready,” I added, passing my lips lightly down his rock-hard shaft, my hot breath making him quiver beneath me. “But what I really want to do is . . .”

  “Yes?” he whispered raggedly.

  I ran my tongue up the length of him and then swiftly sat up and pasted a thoughtful expression on my face.

  “Take a walk down to inspect the slave village,” I said lightly and bounded off the bed.

  I made it halfway across the room before a feral growl erupted from the general direction of the mahogany four-poster. With a giggle I sprinted for my clothes, which I’d left draped across a chair next to the wardrobe. I’d almost made it when Michael slammed into me, his momentum carrying us both forward so that I had to put my hands up to brace against the impact. He grasped my wrists and spun me around, pinning me to the wall.

  “Tease,” he scolded.

  I smiled. “You know you love it.”

  “I’ll show you what I love more,” he replied.

  Grasping my hips, he lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he drove into me, insistent and un-yielding. A shudder of pure pleasure ripped through my body and I dug my fingernails into the corded muscles of his neck.

  “On second thought,” I said, gasping for air, “this is a much better idea.”

  CHAPTER 26

  It was early evening when Michael and I came downstairs to find Claire sitting by herself in the dining room, eating supper.

  “Good evening, Claire,” I said. “That’s a lovely gown.”

  Even though our coloring was similar, that particular shade of mauve would have looked virulent on me. On Claire it looked stunning.

  “Why, thank you, Cin,” she replied cheerfully. “But I can’t take credit for it. Adrien didn’t allow me to pack any of my belongings, so it’s a blessing that Evangeline and I are nearly the same size.” She looked down at the dress and adjusted the bodice a bit. “If I hadn’t lost so much weight, it would fit perfectly.”

  “This is her second helping,” Evangeline announced as she drifted into the room through the wall. “I don’t know why she bothers when it’s all going to come back up anyway.”

  “Because I’m starving,” Claire said. “And for someone who didn’t have anyone to talk to before I arrived, you’d think you’d be a little more pleasant.”

  “Evangeline,” I murmured to Michael, since he was obviously confused by the one side of the conversation he could hear.

  “Claire?” Michael asked. “You didn’t, ah, inherit any of your father’s abilities, did you?”

  Claire smiled at him over her teacup. “Do you mean can I control the undead? No, I can’t, but I have always been able to see ghosts.”

  “That must have been disconcerting as a child,” I said.

  “Not really. Mostly they’re just lonely spirits who can’t, or won’t,” she said with a meaningful glance toward Evangeline, “move on to where they’re supposed to be. I always enjoyed talking to them, though I’m afraid the villagers thought I was a little daft.”

  Poor Claire, I thought. It often amazed me that anyone born into my family had a shred of sanity left by the time they reached adulthood.

  “Do you think Pandora has any more of this wonderful blackberry jam?” Claire asked, changing the subject. “I can’t get enough of these biscuits. I could eat them all day.”

  I looked at the heaping plate in front of her and shook my head. I remembered that when I’d first seen her I’d been worried because she was so thin. I’d thought perhaps Boucher wasn’t feeding her properly. Now it was obvious that she was eating like a horse, she just couldn’t keep anything down.

  “Is it normal to be that sick?” I asked.

  Evangeline and Claire both shrugged so I turned to Michael.

  “Well, how would I know?” he said.

  Pandora came into the dining room carrying a bowl of fresh strawberries and another pot of jam. “First strawberries of the season,” she announced.

  “Ask her,” Evangeline said. “Pandora attends all the births on the island. If anyone would know, it would be her.”

  “Pandora, how long can Claire expect the baby to make her so ill?” I asked.

  She didn’t seem surprised that I would ask her such a thing. “Well, now, that depends,” she replied. “Most times it only last
s a few months. There’s some women don’t never get sick, and then you gots women like Miss Lizzie who threw up for nine months straight with both her young’uns.”

  I looked sharply at Claire, whose eyes had grown round with horror.

  “I am not going to be like this for another six months,” she said emphatically.

  Pandora laughed. “Well now, Miss Claire, you ain’t the one who decides that.”

  Before any of us could comment on that horrendous possibility, a door in the rear of the house slammed and the sound of running feet drew our attention. Michael and I rose quickly from our chairs as the dining room door burst open and the little McCready girl came sliding to a halt in front of Pandora.

  “Pandora,” she said breathlessly. “Mama said she saw you picking strawberries this afternoon!”

  Michael and I looked at each other and sat back down, relieved. Pandora reached out and tweaked one of the girl’s long golden braids.

  “Miss Ginny, where are your manners?” she scolded. “How many times I have to tell you not to run in the house?”

  “I’m sorry, Pandora,” Ginny said. Then she peeked around Pandora’s skirts at us. “I’m sorry for running in the house,” she said earnestly.

  I nodded at her. “That’s quite all right, Ginny.”

  The girl smiled and then beamed up at Pandora. “Can I have some strawberries now?”

  Pandora grasped Ginny’s hands and turned them over. “Not with those hands you won’t. Where you been playin’, child? With the pigs? How you ever gonna find a husband if you can’t keep the dirt out from under your nails?”

  Ginny snatched her hands back and placed them firmly on her hips. “I’m never gettin’ married, Pandora. You know that.”

  I chuckled sadly at her vehement protest. If I’d had a father like hers, I rather thought I’d be sour on marriage too.

  “Well, you might be changin’ your mind about that one day,” Pandora insisted. “In the meantime, why don’t you run on out to the kitchen and wash up, and then maybe I’ll get you some strawberries.”