“Do I know you, my lord?” Flora said in a slightly husky voice that teased Sinjun’s senses and made him aware of other more prominent places on his body.
“No, my lady, but ‘tis easily remedied,” Sinjun said. “I am St.John Thornton, Lord Derby. My friends call me Sinjun.” Sinjun thought he saw something stir in the clear depths of her eyes, but it was too quickly gone for him to be sure.
“His friends call him Lord Sin,” someone nearby whispered in an aside loud enough for the lady to hear.
Flora’s elegant brows inched upward. “Lord Sin?”
“Pay them no heed, my lady. You may call me Sinjun. And you are—”
“Lady Flora Randall,” she said, offering her hand.
Sinjun clasped her small, warm hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. Then, giving her a bewitching smile, he turned her hand, drew her glove back, and kissed her wrist. He felt a shudder go through her and drew her forward. “Ah, a quadrille is just beginning. Shall we join in?”
Before she had a chance to protest, he led her out on the dance floor.
“So you are the Lord Sin I’ve heard so much about,” Lady Randall said as the opening strains of music filled the room.
“My friends exaggerate,” Sinjun demurred. “Pay them no heed, my lady. Is this your first time in town?”
“Aye, and I admit it’s far different from what I’m accustomed to.”
The dance steps separated them, and when they rejoined, Sinjun asked, “Is that an accent I detect, my lady?”
“Just a country accent, my lord,” she murmured.
Christy Flora Macdonald, laird of the Macdonald clan since the recent death of her grandfather, stared at the man she hadn’t seen since their marriage fifteen years ago and nearly choked on her anger. Truth to tell, she wanted Lord Derby no more than he wanted her. But circumstances had changed. Her English husband had raised rents and taxes to unconscionable levels, and her clansmen, especially the Camerons, had insisted that she seek an annulment in the English courts and wed Calum Cameron.
Christy liked Englishmen no better than her clansmen did, and she resented the fact that after the Battle of Culloden disaster her family’s holdings had been confiscated, and she had been forced to marry a hated Englishman. But she had no desire to marry Calum Cameron. Nor did she have any intention of obtaining an annulment. She had her own reason and a private agenda, and she was determined to succeed.
Christy liked her life the way it was. Having an absentee husband allowed her to do as she pleased without restrictions. She didn’t want a husband making decisions for her. Everything had been perfect until Calum and his kinsmen had decided the time had come to make changes, citing the fact that an unconsummated marriage was no marriage at all.
“You’re very quiet, my lady,” Sinjun said, recalling her to the present.
“What would you have me say, my lord?”
“Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m married.”
“Where is your husband?”
“In Cornwall. Though he is not well enough to travel, he insisted that I come to town and enjoy myself. He … is much older than I,” she lied.
“Ah,” Sinjun said with a wealth of understanding.
Christy studied Sinjun from beneath long, feathery lashes. She saw a tall man, large but lean, loose-limbed and sleekly muscled. A superbly put together figure. He had always been handsome, even as a lad, but maturity had given him a certain edge other men lacked. Oh, aye, maturity agreed with him. His shoulders had broadened and his chest had deepened. His exquisitely tailored jacket fit him like a glove, and his tight breeches left little to the imagination.
She searched his face and decided that no one had a right to be as devastatingly handsome as Lord Sin. He wore his shiny black hair long and unpowdered, tied back with a thong. Even though she hadn’t seen him in fifteen years, she’d know him anywhere by those dark, mesmerizing eyes. They weren’t black, nor were they brown. More like deep midnight blue. His full, sensuous lips and languorous smile gave mute testimony to his hedonistic nature.
She couldn’t blame him, however, for not recognizing her. In fact, she had counted on it. The last time he’d seen her she had been a seven-year-old hoyden who played at wooden swords with her cousins, rolled in the mud, and had garish red hair that had miraculously darkened into the rich copper hue it was now.
Sinjun’s wicked reputation and womanizing ways were legendary. Rumors of his romantic intrigues and excesses had reached her even at remote Glenmoor. Society called him a notorious rake, a connoisseur of beautiful women who savored his conquests to the fullest. She’d heard he liked women, enjoyed the chase and capture, but stayed with none of them long enough to form a lasting relationship.
“You have beautiful green eyes,” Sinjun said when the dance brought them together again.
Christy blinked up at him, forcing herself to concentrate on her reason for coming to London. She had a mission, and if she hoped to succeed she had to focus on making Sinjun believe her lies. Failure was unthinkable.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling demurely.
The dance ended. Moments later Christy was surrounded by eager young men vying for her attention. Sinjun bowed and left her to her admirers, but his gaze remained riveted on her as she danced the evening away with a variety of eager partners. It wasn’t conceit that told Sinjun she wasn’t unaffected by him, for her overt glances gave mute testimony that she was as interested in him as he was in her.
Rudy found him leaning against a pillar, a slight ‘frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“I saw you dancing with the mysterious Lady Randall,” Rudy said. “Is she to be your next conquest?”
‘Tonight, if I have anything to say about it,” Sinjun said, sending him a determined grin. “I don’t know when I’ve been so taken with a woman, Rudy.”
Rudy rolled his bright blue eyes heavenward as he tapped a finger against his lips. “Let me think,” he said dryly. “Not since Lady Violet. Or perhaps Lady Scarlet. Or was it Lady Ellen? Nay. I think it was Lord Dunsley’s little parlor maid you dallied with a few weeks ago. If I recall correctly, you couldn’t wait to get her into your bed. That affair lasted no longer than any of your other affairs of the heart.”
Sinjun’s frown deepened. “Look at her, Rudy. Do you think Lady Randall favors young Fairfield’s suit? Or that bounder Crumley? Now she’s dancing with Overton, the rotter.”
“My God, you are smitten!” Rudy exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Poor Lady Randall. She doesn’t stand a chance with Lord Sin in hot pursuit.”
“I’ll have her, Rudy, she can’t escape me.”
“You don’t have to convince me, old chap. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your games. You’re not the only one in need of female companionship tonight. Lady Grace is at loose ends. Her husband is out of town and she’s consented to favor me with her company for a few hours.”
Sinjun laughed. “Be careful of that one, my friend. She’s a man eater. You’ll be lucky if you can hobble out of her bedroom when she’s finished with you.”
Rudy returned his grin. “I’m quite looking forward to it.”
Sinjun returned his attention to Lady Flora and spotted her descending the staircase, probably going to the ladies powder room. He pushed himself away from the pillar and followed at a discreet distance, determined to intercept her on her way back to the ballroom. He concealed himself in a shadowy corner and waited for her.
While he waited, Sinjun spent a pleasant few minutes considering the places best suited for an assignation. There were several curtained alcoves off the ballroom, but they were not private enough for what he had in mind. Nor were the upstairs rooms where couples sometimes met in secret. He had used them all at one time or another, but somehow they didn’t seem right for the exquisite Lady Randall. Then he remembered the elegant garden on the grounds, with the gazebo situated at its center, and he smiled.
Perfect
Sin’s patience was rew
arded when the lady in question came out of the powder room alone. She started violently and uttered a small cry of fright when he stepped from the shadows.
“Lord Derby, you startled me.”
“I’ve been waiting for you, my lady.”
Christy frowned. “Whyever for, my lord?”
His dark gaze flowed over her face and settled on her bosom. “I think you know.”
The sound of voices near the staircase forestalled Christy’s answer.
“We can’t talk here,” Sinjun said as he grasped her hand and pulled her down a dark passage. She resisted. “Where are you taking me?” He gave her one of his charming smiles, put off not at all by her token resistance. “Where we can have some privacy. There is a rear exit. It leads to the garden.”
“I cannot, my lord. We just met. What will people think?”
“I don’t give a damn and neither do you.”
He found the exit and pulled her out into the star-studded night. It was warm for May, exceptionally pleasant for what he had in mind. The garden was rich with foliage and redolent with the smell of spring flowers and wet earth. As he inhaled the heady scent and felt himself swell with anticipation, Sinjun couldn’t recall when he’d last been so excited. He led Christy unerringly to the gazebo. It was unoccupied, and he whispered a heartfelt thanks to the goddess of love, for if any night was made for amour, it was this one.
Christy had heard about her husband’s madcap escapades with women, but until this moment she hadn’t realized how finely honed his talents were. He ushered her into the gazebo and kicked the door shut. Moonlight filtered through the shutters, starkly etching Sinjun’s intense features, and Christy inhaled sharply. There was a predatory set to his mouth and dancing flames in his eyes. As if nothing occupied his mind but seduction. Her seduction. She took a deep, steadying breath. Was she ready for this? She hadn’t expected it to go so fast. Still, she didn’t intend to make this easy for him. Husband or no, he was still an Englishman and an enemy.
“We should return to the ballroom, my lord,” she whispered.
“Don’t try to deny that you’ve had your eye on me all night, for I won’t believe you. You’ve bewitched me, my lady, and well you know it.”
“That’s a powerful statement, my lord.”
“My name is Sinjun. May I call you Flora?”
“If it pleases you.”
He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him in an onslaught of lust so startling that she felt him shaking from it. “Everything about you pleases me,” he whispered against her lips. “I wonder…”
Christy’s thoughts scattered. The feel of her husband’s arms around her and the heat of his aroused male body affected her strangely. She hadn’t expected to feel any kind of response for the hedonistic man that St.John Thornton had become. Her personal agenda was to get herself with child quickly, thus assuring Glenmoor of an heir.
“What do you wonder?”
“I wonder if you know how very much I want you.”
She lowered her eyes. “We just met.”
He pressed his open mouth to her cheek, her hair, her neck, her chin, and finally her lips. “Have you never heard of destiny?” he whispered against her lips. “The moment I looked at you I knew we were meant to be together.”
Oh, he was good. Very good. Did he say that to all potential lovers? “I understand you’re married.”
He shrugged. “So? You have a husband. Neither one of us is looking for permanency in a relationship. I have not seen my wife since the day we were wed. Ours is a marriage of convenience. What else do you wish to know? Do I love my wife? How can I love someone I haven’t seen in over fifteen years?”
His callous words had a chilling effect. “How very cold-blooded you are, my lord.”
He smiled. “Not really, just practical. The marriage works exceedingly well for both of us. As for being cold-blooded, I intend to prove tonight that my blood runs hot, not cold.”
Christy stared at him. His features, defined in shadows and angles, were sharp with desire, almost feral, a predator who has singled out his prey and is ready to move in for the kill. Now she knew how a snared rabbit felt.
His eyes were golden pinpoints of light as he pressed his open mouth against hers. The sudden bolt of sensation shocked her. She could feel his body heat mingling with hers, and it was not an unpleasant feeling. His mouth was warm and soft, his lips pliant. The musky scent of his arousal overwhelmed her, his taste a powerful aphrodisiac that sent her senses reeling. This wasn’t what she wanted from her husband.
His kiss seemed to go on and on, stealing her breath and turning her legs to rubber. Her husband was said to be a master at seduction, but in her innocence she’d thought she could resist his seductive wiles. Obviously her experience with rakes left much to be desired. In fact, she knew nothing about men like Lord Sin, or what drove them to behave as they did. She considered herself lucky to have been spared his attention these past fifteen years.
Beneath Sin’s expert tutelage, her lips softened and she felt herself opening to him, returning his kiss with an exuberance that defied explanation. When she grew dizzy from lack of breath, Sinjun abruptly released her lips and stared at her, a puzzled expression marring his brow.
Christy dragged in a sustaining breath. “Is something wrong?”
“You kiss like an innocent.”
She flushed and looked away. “I’m sorry if I displease you.”
“You do not displease me. I’m merely curious.” He led her to a padded bench, eased her down, and sat beside her. “Tell me about your marriage.”
Christy lowered her gaze to her lap. She had never been a good liar and feared her eyes would give her away. “My husband and I live quietly in a remote corner of Cornwall.”
She could feel his dark eyes boring into her. “Yet he let you come to town. Rather strange,” Sinjun mused. “You said he was elderly. Just how old is he?”
Christy considered her answer carefully, reflecting on ages between fifty and eighty to assign to her fictitious husband. She finally settled on eighty, for surely a man of eighty was too old to maintain sexual relations or father a child.
“He’s quite elderly,” Christy said. “He was eighty on his last birthday.”
“Eighty!” The word exploded from Sinjun’s lips. “What kind of parents would force a young woman to marry a man of eighty?”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.”
He caressed her face with his knuckles, then slowly slid them down her neck, to where the décolletage of her dress met the rounded tops of her breasts. She sucked in a startled breath. No man had ever touched her there. But it didn’t escape her that if Sinjun was to become her lover, he would be touching her in far more intimate places.
“Do you like that?” Sinjun asked in a sensual purr.
She thought a moment, then nodded jerkily.
“Let’s see if we can get this dress off of you. Then I’ll show you the difference between an eighty-year-old man and one in his prime. Have you had other lovers?”
“Other lovers?” Christy squeaked. “N … no, no other lovers.”
Sinjun gave her a feral smile. “I’m honored, my lady. Why have you chosen me to be your first?”
Because you’re my husband! she wanted to shout. Aloud, she said, “Because I heard you’re a man without principles, one who won’t demand more of me than I’m willing to give.”
Sinjun stilled, apparently stunned by her harsh appraisal. “Who told you I am without principles?”
She shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
He chuckled mirthlessly. “Perhaps you’re right, my lady. Giving pleasure is my forte. If you want more, you will be disappointed, for I can offer neither marriage nor permanency in a relationship.”
What a conceited oaf, even for an Englishman, Christy thought. “Since I already have a husband, I’m not interested in permanency.”
Sinjun grinned,
pleased that they both wanted the same thing. “Then we’re of one accord. You’re a pleasure seeker, just as I am. You have chosen wisely, even if I say so myself. I will not disappoint you, my lady. No one cares more about a lady’s pleasure than I. I foresee a long and mutually beneficial association. Now,” he drawled, turning her away from him so his nimble fingers could undo the tiny buttons marching down the back of the dress, “about that dress. It will have to go, along with everything else you’re wearing.”
“Wait!” Christy choked out.
Her words crept through the red haze of his lust and struck a discordant note. His brow furrowed, for he was annoyed at the interruption. “What’s wrong? Not having second thoughts, are you? It’s a little too late for that. Never tell me you’re a tease who enjoys leading men on.”
“No, it’s not that There … there’s something you should know before … before we … begin.”
He nuzzled her neck. “I know all I want to know. You’re soft and sweet-smelling and willing. And I want you. What else is there to know?”
“I’m a—” Her words skidded to a halt, and she glanced furtively toward the door. “Someone is coming.”
A curse exploded from Sinjun’s throat. “Bloody hell! What rotten luck.”
He grasped her hand and pulled her through the door into the dark garden, scant seconds before another couple appeared on the path. They hid behind a row of hedges as the couple disappeared into the gazebo.
Sinjun glanced at Flora and suddenly knew a physical yearning so deep he was literally shaking from it. She was standing so close he could feel her body heat through their layers of clothing, and his reaction was somewhat startling for a man of jaded appetites. Sinjun couldn’t remember when a woman had affected him so profoundly. He blessed the darkness, for he had grown hard as stone, and his tight breeches would have hidden nothing.
“We can’t do it here,” he whispered. “There isn’t enough privacy. I want to take my time with you. You deserve to be loved properly. Where do you live?”
She was so long in answering that Sinjun feared she was going to refuse him. “I rented a house in Belgrave Square.”
A Taste of Sin Page 2
