“Ye visited the Ranalds,” Calum charged when Sinjun strode into the hall. Sinjun’s nostrils flared with jealousy when he saw Calum sitting beside Christy. Nor did he like the way Calum looked at Christy. Too possessive, for one thing.
“Aye, does that bother you?”
“Yer turning our clansmen against the Camerons.”
“I don’t recall mentioning the Camerons in the course of my conversation with Tavis Ranald. Is there something else you wanted to discuss?”
“Dinna come snooping around the Cameron stronghold,” Calum warned. “We dinna want ye there.”
“Aren’t the Macdonalds, Camerons, Ranalds, and Mackenzies allies? Isn’t Christy your overlord?” Sinjun asked.
“Aye, ‘tis true enough. ‘Tis yer lordship we feel no kinship with. We want nothing from ye, Derby. Highlanders are a proud breed. We want no reminders of our defeat at Culloden.”
“That was fifteen years ago, Cameron,” Sinjun reminded him.
“We have long memories,” Calum retorted. “The day our land is returned to us is the day we’ll stop hating Englishmen.”
With a nod to his clansmen, Calum stormed from the hall. Sinjun glanced at Christy, saw her troubled look, and went to her.
“What did he say to you?” he asked. “If he threatened you in any way—”
“Nothing has changed. He wants power and is angry because I didn’t seek an annulment in London. He considered an unconsummated marriage no marriage at all and was prepared to take me by force. With me as his wife, Calum would be in a position to lead an uprising. He never dreamed I would return with your bairn in my belly. Your heir is a threat to his ambitions.”
“Forget Calum. The Ranalds are still your allies. You have nothing to fear from Calum.”
“You don’t know Calum, Sinjun. You should heed his warnings. ‘Tis not too late to return to London before snow and ice make the roads impassable.”
“Do you want me to go?”
Sinjun held his breath. For the first time in his life he felt needed. Lord Sin was but a distant memory. St.John Thornton was a different man, living in another time and place. Today he’d used muscles he hadn’t even known he had, and it felt damn good. Food had never tasted so good, simple though it was, and the air had never smelled so fresh, not even at his country estate in Kent.
Christy stared at him, finding nothing to remind her of Lord Sin, London’s darling. What she saw was a man whose face was windburned and ruddy from the cold. He had lost his London pallor, and Christy had never seen Sinjun eat with such obvious enjoyment.
“Ye should have seen Sinjun work today,” Rory confided. “He lifted bales of thatch all afternoon. I’ll bet his muscles are aching. Mine are, and I’m no stranger to hard work.”
Sinjun frowned. “You make me sound as if I spent my entire life in useless pursuits.”
Christy smothered a laugh. “Didn’t you?”
A slow smile lit his face. “I suppose you’re right, though I did ride, fence, and box to tone my muscles.”
“Ye’ll be wanting a hot bath, Rory,” Margot said. “Come along, I’ll see to it”
“Ask the kitchen boys to carry up a tub for Lord Derby,” Christy called after them.
“Set it up in Christy’s room before the fire,” Sinjun added. “And ask Mary if she has any liniment for sore muscles.”
Christy cocked an eyebrow at him. “Just because we shared a bed last night doesn’t mean we’re going to do it every night. I meant what I said, Sinjun. If you can’t be the kind of husband and father I need, then I can’t let our relationship become important to me.”
“Many husbands and wives live apart. Tis a way of life.”
That wasn’t what Christy wanted to hear. “Is that Lord Sin talking?”
“Christy, I’m not going to change overnight. Suffice it to say I’m content for the time being. I love seeing you ripen with our child, and I vow I’m eager to see him enter the world.”
“Her,” Christy countered, notching her chin upward. “I’m having a lassie.”
She had decided long ago that she wasn’t going to have a boy. Sinjun might take it into his head to remove his heir from Glenmoor and raise him in England. The thought of being separated from her child was painful.
“If you say so. Shall we go up to your chamber?” Sinjun said, offering his arm. “I can’t wait to soak in that tub. I hope Mary is cooking something good, I’ve worked up such an appetite.”
Sinjun’s ravenous appetite amazed Christy, as did his penchant for hard work. She’d never known Sinjun to do any type of physical labor in London. Fencing, boxing, and riding had kept his figure trim and athletic, but the kind of work he’d engaged in today could bulk up his body quickly, especially if his appetite remained as sharp as it had been the last few days. She smiled to herself, imagining how the ladies would react to a Lord Sin with bulging muscles and ruddy complexion. They’d adore his newly acquired physique, she decided. He’d be a welcome change to his foppish, pallid peers.
“What’s that smile mean?” Sinjun asked.
Christy paused at the top landing to catch her breath. “I just had an amusing thought. It wouldn’t interest you.”
“Are you all right?” Sinjun asked. “I should have carried you.”
“I’m not helpless, just pregnant. You’d best hurry before your bath gets cold.”
The tub sat before the hearth, just like Sinjun ordered. Soap, cloths, and towels lay nearby. Christy turned away as Sinjun threw off his clothing and sank into the water.
“Will you scrub my back?”
“I thought I’d go downstairs and see if Mary needs help with supper,” she hedged.
He handed her the cloth. “I need you more than Mary does.”
Christy sincerely doubted that. “Very well. But I’m just going to scrub your back. You’re a charming rogue, Sinjun, and I’m aware of every one of your tricks.”
She soaped the doth and moved behind him. “Lean forward,” she murmured.
He complied with alacrity. When she finished, she dropped the cloth into the water, straightened, and, with her hands at the small of her back, stretched her cramped muscles. Sinjun must have noticed, for he became immediately concerned.
“What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
Christy would have given the world to believe Sinjun truly cared about her and her child. “I’m fine. The child grows heavy inside me, and sometimes my back aches when I’m weary.”
“Sit by the fire until I’ve finished my bath. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about anyway.”
Against her better judgment, Christy perched on a bench in front of the hearth, her eyes carefully averted from the man in the tub.
“I noticed the children in the village are ill-clothed for the winter,” Sinjun began.
Her gaze swung around to settle on his face, her surprise obvious. “You noticed that?”
“Aye. That and more.”
“I usually provide material for new clothing when I receive my yearly stipend. This year I received less than usual. Sir Oswald said you had cut my allowance. I had to be very careful how I spent the money, and there was wasn’t enough left to purchase material.”
Scowling, Sinjun surged from the tub, dripping water on the floor as he wrapped the towel around his flanks. “I don’t recall cutting your allowance. Julian made sure I was generous with you. It seems Sir Oswald has much to account for.” He sent a sharp look at Christy, who was massaging her back. “Does your back still hurt?”
“A little.”
“Lie on the bed.”
“What?”
“Just do it, Christy. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He was so insistent that she didn’t argue. She lay on her side, her head resting on her folded hands. “Now what?”
“Just relax.”
She felt his hands move down her back, rubbing the taut muscles rising along the valley of her spine. It felt so good that she closed her eyes and moaned with
pleasure. He continued to massage away the ache, his hands firm yet gentle upon her, until she was so relaxed she felt as limp as a child’s rag doll.
“Don’t go to sleep,” Sinjun said.
“Of course not,” she drawled sleepily. “Shall I rub liniment on your sore muscles?”
“There’s only one muscle that needs soothing right now,” he whispered into her ear.
Christy’s eyes flew open when she felt his hands skim along the outsides of her thighs, drawing her skirts up with them. She jerked reflexively when he bent and placed a kiss on her bare bottom.
“Sinjun! What are you doing?” She rolled over on her back.
“Kissing your bottom.”
She tried to sit up, but he straddled her legs, pinning her to the bed. “They’re waiting supper for us.”
“Let them wait.”
He released her legs and lifted her to her knees, kneeling behind her. She choked back a cry when she felt his shaft stroke her buttocks, then dip into the moist crevice between her thighs. She couldn’t help herself. Her hips pressed against his loins, and she felt his body respond with an instant, powerful arousal.
“Let me know if I hurt you.” His voice was gruff with desire as he opened her with his fingers and slowly entered her. A soft sigh hissed through her teeth. Then he thrust himself to the hilt. She groaned, grinding her hips against his loins.
Suddenly he pulled out and sat back on his heels. She gave a cry of protest and collapsed onto her stomach.
“I’m sorry. ‘Tis too hard on you,” Sinjun said, panting. “I want you so damn bad I forget you’re increasing. Turn around, sweetheart. Let me undress you so we can do this properly.”
Dazed, Christy merely stared at him as he skillfully rid her of her clothing. Scant moments later he covered her with his body, kissing her, ravaging her mouth with desperate need. She kissed him back, her arms circling his neck, her legs parting to take him between them.
He covered her breasts with his hands and dropped his lips to her arching throat. His lips slid downward, taking a pouting nipple in his mouth and suckling her.
“Sinjun, please.”
“You ask so prettily, how can I deny you anything?” Sinjun said as he placed her legs over his shoulders and pushed himself inside her.
Surrendering completely, Christy gave herself up to loving. She would have flung herself wildly against him if Sinjun hadn’t been in complete control of both himself and her.
Sinjun was encouraged by the sounds of her pleasure and the sight of her lovely face glazed with passion. He squeezed her buttocks/suckled her nipples; he couldn’t seem to get enough of this complex woman who carried his child. He tried to control his lust but it utterly defeated him as he drove himself deep inside her. He watched her closely for any sign of discomfort and was thrilled to see that she was as lost to passion as he. Her eyes were half dosed, her expression suffused with joy. He pistoned his hips against her, clenched his teeth and concentrated on giving pleasure. He heard her cry out, a sharp, piercing sound of ecstasy, felt her spasm around him, shattering his control. Everything he had to give drained out of him into her body. Had it been within his power, he would have given her more.
Long minutes passed before he found the energy to lift himself away from her. She turned toward him, her eyes dosed, her face so pale a spear of panic shot through him. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I’m tired … so tired.”
He reached down and pulled the blanket over her. “Shall I send a tray up to you?”
“Aye, that would be nice. Tell Margot I won’t need her tonight.”
Sinjun was quiet throughout supper, and no one seemed inclined to disturb him. He’d seen to a tray for Christy, made her excuses, and proceeded to eat with good appetite. Afterward he didn’t linger in the hall. He bid Margot and Rory good night and climbed the stairs to Christy’s chamber. He frowned when he saw her untouched tray on the nightstand. But she was sleeping so soundly he didn’t have the heart to disturb her. Obviously she needed sleep more than she needed food.
Undressing quickly, he slid into bed beside her and took her into his arms. Without awakening, she heaved a sigh and curled up against him.
The following weeks flew by. Christy wasn’t the only one who put on weight. Sinjun found he enjoyed physical activity and joined Rory and the workers nearly every day. His bulging muscles grew apace with his appetite. His torso broadened, his arms strengthened; he had never looked so fit or felt so healthy.
Christy had let out his clothing so many times that he finally had to ask Rory to loan him something sturdy to work in. When the first snow arrived in early December, the cottages were in good repair. Sinjun took great pride in knowing that no villager would suffer because of inadequate housing. Christy had purchased blankets and woolen material from traveling peddlers and distributed them to her clansmen. Since Calum had been so adamantly opposed to accepting anything from an Englishman, the Camerons weren’t as snug and warm as the Macdonalds, Ranalds, and Mackenzies.
Sinjun had taken it upon himself to hire additional help for Glenmoor. Each day four young kinswomen arrived at Glenmoor, and each evening they returned to their homes in the village. December arrived on the wings of a fierce snowstorm, and plans for a Christmas celebration were begun. All the clansmen were invited to participate, and Sinjun promised to provide the Yule log.
Though Sinjun still shared Christy’s bed, he tried to keep his loving as gentle as possible, and many nights he just held her without making love. Her body was heavy now with his child, and he knew that before long it would be injurious to their child to continue sexual relations.
Christmas Day dawned cold and gray. The Yule log burned merrily in the hearth, holly decorated the hall, and spiced ale was consumed in great quantities, creating a feeling of goodwill. Even the Camerons seemed on their best behavior. Sinjun had a gift for Christy and sought her out toward the end of the evening to give it to her.
She was sitting with Tavis Ranald’s wife, and Sinjun motioned for her to attend him. She sent him a puzzled look but rose willingly enough and followed him from the hall into the study.
“Is something wrong, Sinjun?” Christy asked once they were alone.
“Sit down,” Sinjun said, handing her into a comfortable chair. “I wanted to give you my gift without everyone gawking.”
Christy’s eyes lit up. “You have a gift for me?”
“Aye. I bought it in Inverness the day Rory and I went to buy building material.” He opened the desk drawer, removed a velvet pouch, and placed it in her hand.
Christy unknotted the cord and spilled the contents into her palm. Her gasp of delight was all the thanks Sinjun needed.
“Sinjun! Emeralds! ‘Tis too much.” The necklace consisted of a large emerald suspended from a circlet of smaller emeralds.
“I can afford it. They match your eyes, and I wanted you to have them. Will you wear them?”
“Aye. Gladly.” She handed him the necklace and turned her back. Sinjun placed the gems around her neck and secured the clasp, then he turned her to face him.
“They look beautiful on you.”
“I have something for you,” Christy said. “Wait here.”
She was gone before Sinjun could reply. He wasn’t expecting anything and wondered how and where she had obtained a gift for him. He didn’t have long to wonder. She returned a few minutes later carrying a bulky, cloth-wrapped package. Smiling, she placed it in his hands.
“Go on, open it,” she urged when he merely stared at her.
Sinjun didn’t know why his hands were shaking. He’d received gifts before from beautiful women, but somehow they hadn’t meant as much as this crudely wrapped gift from his wife. He set the package on the desk and carefully removed the wrapping. The breath caught in his throat when he saw what was inside—winter clothing fashioned to accommodate his newly acquired muscles. He drew forth woolen breeches, a crisp white shirt, and a woolen
waistcoat. Also included was a tunic like the ones worn by the Highlanders. But that wasn’t all. Beneath all the fine, warm clothing lay a velvet cloak lined in fur.
Sinjun was stunned. “Did you make these?”
“Aye. I bought the material from a peddler, and Rory trapped beaver for the cloak lining.”
“When did you have time?’
“While you were working in the village. Margot helped. You assumed we were making baby clothes. We did make baby clothes, of course, but we made these in our spare time. I seem to have plenty of spare time since you hired extra help.”
After that Sinjun couldn’t have cared less about the Camerons, their disgruntled looks, or their threats. He couldn’t wait to be alone with Christy. Tonight might be the last time they could love without endangering their child. According to Christy, their child would be born in early March. Sinjun knew the child’s birth would require some decisions on his part, but he wasn’t going to let anything destroy tonight.
Chapter 9
January ushered in a deep freeze. Sinjun spent long hours sitting before the hearth, drinking mulled wine and watching his wife sew the countless little garments that would clothe their child. And he grew restless. He knew Christy must have noticed his unrest, for he caught her staring at him with a somber look when she thought he wasn’t looking.
He couldn’t help thinking about the Season his friends were enjoying now in London; the fancy balls, the theater, the opera, the galas. It wasn’t as if he had been unhappy these past few months, it was just that he didn’t know if spending his life in the Scottish Highlands was what he wanted to do. Inactivity had given him too much time to wonder what he might be missing in London.
Shortly after Christmas a message arrived from Julian, hand delivered by John Coachman. After receiving Sinjun’s earlier missive, Julian had delved into Sir Oswald’s accounts and found that the bailiff they had all trusted had been skimming funds and illegally raising rents and taxes in order to keep an expensive mistress. Julian wrote that the man had been caught boarding a ship for France and was now in Newgate prison awaiting trial, and that he would notify Sinjun when the trial was to be held, for his testimony would be required. Julian also demanded to know why Sinjun had decided to remain in Scotland without a word of explanation.
A Taste of Sin Page 13
