A Taste of Sin

by Mason, Connie

  Though Belgrave Square was less fashionable these days, it was still respectable. “Is that a problem for you?” Sinjun asked. “Would you prefer to come to my bachelor lodgings in Grosvenor Square? We can’t let this end this way.”

  He turned her into his arms and pressed her snugly against his loins. He heard her draw in a shuddering breath and was surprised by the ragged edge to his own breathing. What in the hell was wrong with him? No woman, and there had been many, had skewered his restraint like Lady Flora Randall.

  “No,” Christy whispered. “It cannot end like this.”

  She couldn’t return to Glenmoor without Lord Derby’s bairn inside her. Birthing her husband’s child was the only way to convince her clansmen that her marriage had been consummated and that she could assure Glenmoor of an heir. Thus far she’d managed to maintain order within the clans, but it had been difficult. The Camerons and other clansmen wanted a male laird. They wanted Calum Cameron. After her grandfather died and she became laird, some of her clansmen were clamoring for her to annul her unconsummated marriage and marry one of their own. Even though Lord Derby had stewardship of Glenmoor, Christy was still laird of the Macdonalds, Camerons, Ranalds, and Mackenzies, a position Calum Cameron coveted.

  But Christy wanted nothing to do with Calum Cameron, the most vocal of her suitors. She had grown accustomed to running her own life and didn’t want to answer to a man’s authority. As far as her clansmen knew, she had come to London to seek an annulment, but her actual mission was to get herself with child by Sinjun, hoping that the consummation of her marriage and a bairn would appease the most vocal of her clansmen.

  And she intended to accomplish this without Sinjun being aware that he was bedding his own wife. Sinjun didn’t want to be bothered with a wife and she didn’t want to be bothered with a husband. Lord knows she had no love for Englishmen.

  “Flora,” Sinjun whispered, interrupting her thoughts, “please don’t keep me in suspense. Where can we meet? I have to see you again.”

  Shoving aside the uncertainty battering her, Christy gave the only answer possible. “Tomorrow night. Number forty-six Belgrave Square. I’ll be waiting.

  She slipped out of his arms and disappeared into the shadows. For better or worse, it was done. She had set the course of destiny, and, come what may, she had to live with the results.

  Chapter 2

  Christy’s hands fumbled as she inserted the key into the door of her rented townhouse. The door swung open, and she stepped inside. She closed the door and leaned against it, dragging in several sustaining breaths. She’d had no idea that meeting her estranged husband would be such a traumatic experience. Though she was safely at home, she still felt the heat of his aroused body, the strength of his personality, the intensity of his dark gaze, and the daunting power of his lust.

  Nothing she knew or had ever heard concerning her husband’s sensual nature had prepared her for Lord Sin. Before arriving in London she’d feared that attracting him might be a problem, but apparently she had worried needlessly. With a single-mindedness that stunned her, he had begun his pursuit the moment he had set eyes on her. Pushing herself away from the door, Christy wondered how many hapless women had been the recipient of Lord Sin’s sensual charm. Too many to count, she was sure.

  Damn the man! He was married. Had he no conscience? No morals? Was seducing women a game with him? Obviously, for he was so good at it. She picked up the candle left in the foyer to light her way and started up the stairs. When she reached the top landing a door opened, revealing a strapping young woman clutching a wrapper to her ample breasts.

  “You didn’t have to wait up, Margot,” Christy said as she drew abreast of the woman.

  “I heard ye come in. Did ye see him? Is that why yer so late tonight? What happened? Did ye recognize him? Did he recognize ye?”

  Christy didn’t want to talk about her encounter with Sinjun, but she owed her cousin a full disclosure of what had happened tonight. Margot had been in on her plan from the beginning, though she had serious misgivings.

  “Come to my room, Margot. I’ll tell you about this evening while you help me undress.”

  Margot followed Christy into her room, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Does Lord Derby live up to his reputation?”

  “Every bit and more,” came Christy’s muffled reply as Margot lifted the dress over her head. “He didn’t know who I was, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Did ye speak to him? Did he seem interested in ye?”

  “More interested than I could have hoped for. Oh, Margot, he’s every bit as handsome as we heard. I remembered so little about him except for his dark eyes. Those I will never forget.”

  “I recall that ye kicked him during the wedding ceremony and stuck out yer tongue at him. And at the dinner following the ceremony, ye refused to sit beside him. Ye called him a murdering English-Christy groaned. She had forgotten that part. No wonder he’d never returned to Scotland to consummate their marriage.

  “Sinjun actually pursued me tonight,” Christy confided as she climbed into bed. “I suppose it was because I was a new face, someone ripe for seduction.”

  “Did he believe yer lies?”

  Christy nodded solemnly. “I have every reason to believe he did.”

  “So, when does it happen?” Margot asked sourly. “He wants to see ye again, doesn’t he?”

  Christy flushed, unable to conceal the tide of emotions racing through her at the thought of what would happen between her and Sinjun tomorrow night.

  “He’s coming here. Tomorrow night. Aye, he wants to see me again. He’s a creature driven by lust. A hedonist who lives for pleasure. Everything we heard about him pales in comparison to the man himself.”

  “Are ye sure this is what ye want?” Margot asked uncertainly. “ Tis not too late to hie ourselves back to Glenmoor.”

  Christy shook her head, sending a wealth of rich copper curls swirling about her head. “Nay. Tis far too late to turn back now. Would you have me wed Calum Cameron?”

  Margot blanched. “Nay, I would not.”

  “If I petitioned the English courts for an annulment, they might deny my request. I’m not even sure Sinjun would let our marriage end, for he seems to enjoy his marriage of convenience.”

  “Oh, aye,” Margot said with a hint of sarcasm. “And he grows rich from our sweat.”

  “An absentee husband is better than a husband who would rule me with an iron hand. At least Sinjun ignores me and allows me to do as I please.”

  “What about love, Christy? What if ye find someone to love?”

  The glow seemed to leave Christy’s face. “Love. I know not the meaning of the word. Tis unlikely I’ll find love at Glenmoor, and I wouldn’t have another Englishman on a silver platter.”

  “So that’s it then,” Margot said, apparently unconvinced that Christy’s course was the right one.

  “Aye. My marriage will finally be consummated, and no one, not even Calum, can argue the fact when I return with Sinjun’s bairn in my belly.”

  “So be it,” Margot said as she let herself out of the chamber.

  Christy’s bravado departed with Margot. Though she had gone over this countless times in the past months, she still wasn’t convinced she was doing the right thing. It wasn’t as if she were committing a sin, for Sinjun was her legal husband despite the fact that there had been no bedding. The bedding would make it legal and binding. And Glenmoor needed a Macdonald heir.

  Those thoughts led her into dangerous territory. To thoughts of Sinjun, and what would happen tomorrow night. That remorseless rake had made no secret of the fact that he wanted her, that he would pursue her until he had what he wanted from her body.

  Sinjun’s kiss had been her first, and she couldn’t deny that she’d liked it. Too much, maybe. She’d had to remind herself that he was English, that the English had murdered her father and brothers and stolen her land. Christy’s unrelenting fear was that Sinjun would claim more than her v
irginity. The only way to resist his charm, she told herself, was to keep reminding herself of Lord Sin’s unsavory reputation.

  Sinjun returned to his townhouse shortly after Lady Flora disappeared into the dark regions of the garden. He’d searched for her both inside and out and wasn’t too surprised when he failed to find her. He had to forcibly restrain himself, however, from following her to her lodgings. Had she not agreed to an assignation the following night he would have thrown caution to the wind and barged into her house uninvited. That’s how much he wanted her.

  What a rare beauty she was, Sinjun thought as he sat in his library sipping brandy from a crystal goblet. She was everything he admired in a woman. More importantly, she was married and would make no demands upon him. She looked so damn innocent and untouched that he found it difficult to believe she was a married woman who had tasted passion.

  He chuckled to himself. Foolish man. Of course Lady Flora hadn’t tasted passion. How could an eighty-year-old man possibly satisfy a healthy, vibrant woman? After she’d admitted she had taken no lovers, he was determined to be the first. That thought brought an immediate and violent reaction. He groaned and shifted uncomfortably, his breeches suddenly too tight, too confining. Tomorrow night couldn’t get here fast enough for him.

  Rarely did Lord Sin have to wait for his pleasure, and he didn’t like the feeling. He should have taken Lady Flora in the garden, but for their first time he wanted more than a quick coupling. Before she returned to her husband he wanted to give her enough pleasant memories to last a lifetime. And if she took another lover after him, he wanted to be the one she remembered when she was old and gray.

  He was still hard, still throbbing when he tossed down his brandy and sought his bed. He undressed quickly and flopped down on his stomach, groaning when his erection refused to be quelled. It was going to be a long night and an even longer day, he predicted.

  He was right. That night her image haunted his dreams, and the following day it teased his waking hours.

  “What shall I wear?” Christy asked as she riffled through her wardrobe. “Oh, Margot, he’ll be here soon. I’m so nervous I can hardly think.”

  Margot crossed her arms over her ample bosom and tapped her foot against the floor. “Wait for him in bed, naked, and I’ll show him up to yer bedchamber,” she said with asperity.

  Christy sent her a censuring look. “Be serious, Margot. Help me pick something subtle, but not too subtle. I want to dazzle without seeming overbold.”

  Margot sent her a sharp look. “Ye truly are excited about this, aren’t ye?”

  Christy flushed and looked away. “Nonsense, Margot. You know me better than that. I’m anxious, that’s all. This has to work. If I’m not pregnant in three months, my future doesn’t bear thinking about. You know Calum won’t rest until he controls the clans who swore fealty to grandfather and me. Sinjun’s bairn will foil all his plans for me.”

  “Very well,” Margot sighed. “Wear the white gauze with a sheer shift and no stays. White makes ye look young and innocent. It might be a good idea to dampen it. Ye did say ye wanted to make an impression, didn’t ye?”

  Christy grimaced. “Aye. Sinjun thinks I’m like him, a pleasure seeker. I might as well live up to his image of me. I fear I was rather shameless with him last night. I would have let him take me in the gazebo had we not been interrupted.”

  Margot stared at her. “Mother of God, lass, that would have been a mistake. After he had his way with ye he would have lost interest. Ye were wise to hold him off. Yer going to have to use all your feminine wiles to keep the rake coming back until he gets ye with child.”

  Margot helped Christy don the white dress, then left. Christy was glad for the time alone. Her stomach fluttered with apprehension and she had these strange, unsettling feelings that seemed to ebb and flow whenever she thought of her husband. And if those discomfiting sensations weren’t bad enough, there were more. She had a disconcerting premonition that Sinjun was more man than she had bargained for. Unfortunately her experience with men was sadly lacking. Sinjun was altogether too daunting. She recalled his kisses and remembered the potently male taste of him. He was too vibrant, too charming, an unrepentant rake.

  Christy sat down at her dressing table and ran a brush through her hair until the golden strands nestling amid the coppery tresses gleamed brightly in the candlelight. She decided to let it hang loose tonight, instead of binding it up in an elaborate coiffure. At home she normally plaited her hair, letting the braids swing loose around her hips. But tonight was special. Tonight she would become a woman. She had to cast aside the restrictions by which she had conducted her life and act the part of wanton for her husband.

  Christy glanced at the clock, saw it approaching ten-thirty, and felt a surge of excitement rush through her. Too nervous to relax, she began to pace, silently rehearsing the lies she must tell Sinjun in order to maintain her deception.

  When Sinjun heard the clock strike eleven-thirty, he drained the last dregs of brandy from his goblet and shot to his feet. He’d intended to wait until midnight, but the interminably long day had worn him down. He’d tried to go about his business, but his mind had been on other things. Things like the delectable Lady Flora and the pleasure awaiting him in her bed. His manhood jerked in response to that thought, and he hastened his steps to the front door. Pemburton, his butler, appeared with his hat and cane.

  “Don’t wait up, Pemburton,” Sinjun said, dismissing the servant with a nod. “I’ll probably be quite late.”

  “Your carriage is waiting, milord,” Pemburton intoned dryly.

  “Very good. Good night, Pemburton.”

  “Good night, milord.”

  Pemburton turned and walked away, his tall, upright figure disappearing into the dark reaches of the house.

  Eager now to reach the woman who had invaded his dreams and made his day unbearable, Sinjun opened the door and stepped outside. He cursed beneath his breath when he saw Viscount Blakely strolling toward him.

  “Ah, Sinjun, going out, I see,” Rudy hailed. “I’m just in time. White’s was damn dull tonight. Thought we might make the rounds of fleshpots in the seamier sections of town.”

  “Not tonight, Rudy,” Sinjun said with an uncustomary lack of patience. “I have an … appointment to keep.”

  Rudy’s sandy eyebrows shot upward. “ Tis no wonder you’re the envy of the ton. Who is it tonight? Lady Violet? A new conquest?”

  When Sinjun remained uncharacteristically silent, Rudy slapped his thigh and crowed, “By God, ‘tis Lady Flora, isn’t it? I wondered where you’d gotten off to last night. You both disappeared at the same time.” He leaned close, though no one was around to hear. “How was she? A veritable tiger in bed, I assume, else you wouldn’t be wasting your time.”

  Sinjun stiffened. For some reason he didn’t want to discuss Lady Flora with anyone, not even his good friend. His thoughts were too private, his conquest too new to share.

  “The nature of my engagement tonight is private,” Sinjun said. He reached his carriage, then turned to inquire of Rudy, “Shall I drop you off someplace?”

  Rudy laughed. “I do love a mystery. I hope you tell me about it one day, Sinjun. Very well, drop me off at Brooks. Perhaps I’ll join in a card game and increase my wealth a bit.”

  “Or lose more than you can afford,” Sinjun muttered as he tooled his matched bays toward Pall Mall, where most of the gentlemen’s clubs were located. He pulled up at Brooks on St. James Street. The moment Rudy stepped down onto the sidewalk, Sinjun flipped the reins against the bays’ backs. A grinding spin of the wheels, and he was off.

  There were few carriages on the street to hinder his progress as Sinjun headed for Belgrave Square. He found Lady Flora’s house with little difficulty and spent an indecisive moment deciding if he should leave the carriage in the street or drive around to the carriage house. The carriage house, he decided as he drove the team to the end of the street and into a rear alleyway. A brawny stableman l
oomed up out of the darkness, holding a lantern aloft. He looked Sinjun up and down, a sneer curving his lips.

  “I’ll see to your rig, milord,” he said, eyeing Sinjun with what could only be described as loathing. Sinjun couldn’t recall having encountered the man before and wondered at his surliness. When he noted a Scottish burr in the man’s speech, he dimly wondered where Lady Flora had found the Scotsman. Since Culloden, most Scotsmen held Englishmen in contempt.

  Abruptly he shoved his mental musings aside as thoughts of the woman waiting for him inside the townhouse took their place. Perhaps, he thought, this affaire de coeur would prove more diverting than others he had conducted in the past. Though he was loathe to admit it, flitting from affair to affair was becoming a burdensome chore. But changing his lifestyle at this point in his life seemed rather senseless. Nor was he ready to claim his Scottish wife, who doubtlessly despised him. No, he wanted nothing to do with his wife, though he appreciated the fact that he was able to use his marriage as an excuse to maintain his lifestyle.

  Meeting the mysterious Lady Flora had been an invigorating experience, Sinjun decided. Beating the competition, the thrill of pursuit, the excitement of the capture, the bedding, all combined to put a fine edge to the game.

  Sinjun reached the front door, mounted the steps, and knocked discreetly. It was opened almost immediately by a tall young woman Sinjun assumed was a maid. She held a branch of candles, the light illuminating her face and figure, and Sinjun couldn’t help gawking at her ample breasts, bright red hair, and wealth of freckles sprinkled liberally across her nose. She said not a word as she motioned him inside and started immediately up the staircase, looking over her shoulder once to make sure Sinjun was following.

  To his dismay, Sinjun felt himself harden in anticipation of the pleasurable hours he intended to spend in Lady Flora’s bed. The thought that she had chosen him to be her first lover was empowering, and his virility had never been more potent.

  The maid reached the top landing and continued down the hall, stopping before a closed door. She knocked once, nodded at Sinjun, then turned and disappeared into another room, plunging the hallway into darkness. Sinjun’s hand curled around the doorknob. He twisted, and the door swung open. He entered immediately and closed the door behind him.