A Taste of Sin

by Mason, Connie

  “Every man wants an heir,” Sinjun said lamely.

  “You’re not an old man, Sinjun. Wait until you find someone worthy of your name. Believe me, ‘tis not Alice Dodd.”

  “Did someone mention my name?”

  Lady Alice Dodd’s regal bearing, cool blond beauty, and pale blue eyes concealed a passionate nature that attracted a legion of lovers. A Frenchwoman, she’d met her husband while visiting relatives in Dover and had promptly married him. Poor Viscount Dodd had been killed six months after the wedding, dueling over her honor. The first time she’d seen Sinjun she’d selected him as her next husband. Though her friends told her it was hopeless, Alice didn’t let that sway her.

  “Alice, have you met Lord Blakely?”

  “Oh, oui,” Alice simpered. “So nice to see you again, my lord.”

  Rudy kissed her outstretched hand and dropped it with undue haste. “The pleasure is all mine, my lady.”

  Alice flashed him an insincere smile, then blatantly ignored him as she turned her considerable charm on Sinjun. “I’m bored, Sinjun, shall we leave?” Her sexy purr held a wealth of promise. “You said you’d show me your townhouse tonight. There’s one room in particular I’m interested in.”

  Sinjun frowned at Alice, not too foxed to realize she wasn’t the woman he wanted. She was very much like the other women in whose arms he’d tried to find comfort.

  “If you’d like,” Sinjun said indifferently.

  He stumbled forward, and Rudy caught his arm. “You’re in no condition to show Lady Alice anything but her front door,” he admonished. “Go home, I’ll see to Lady Alice.”

  Alice shot Rudy a look that could have boiled an egg. “There’s nothing wrong with Sinjun, my lord. I’ll take care of him.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Rudy mocked, “but I doubt Sinjun will appreciate your efforts in his condition.”

  “Bloody hell, Rudy,” Sinjun slurred, “who appointed you my guardian?”

  “I’ve done my duty,” Rudy said on a long suffering sigh. “I wish you both good night.”

  “Good night, Rudy,” Sinjun said as he wheeled Alice through the crowded ballroom.

  “Oh, Sinjun, I forgot to tell you,” Rudy called, catching up with him. “Did you know Lady Flora is back in town? I saw her entering a shop on Bond Street.”

  Foxed as he was, Sinjun whirled around so fast that Alice lost her balance. She would have fallen had Rudy not stretched out a hand to steady her.

  “The devil you say! What in bloody hell is she doing in England?”

  “I didn’t stop to ask. I know you were infatuated with her at one time and thought you’d be interested.”

  “Do you know where she’s staying?”

  “I haven’t a clue. What if you run into her?”

  Sinjun’s face hardened, and his dark eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The pain of betrayal was carved in every line of his harsh features, in the muscle that twitched in his jawline, and in the compression of his lips. He looked so fierce that Alice gasped and backed away.

  Bitter words spewed from his throat, raw with barely suppressed anger.

  “The bitch! Let’s hope I don’t.”

  Chapter 12

  Christy bent over her work, adjusting her eyes to the dark velvet she was sewing. After paying the rent on the small house she’d leased in the less than fashionable district south of Bond Street, and hiring someone to do the general housekeeping and cooking, she realized her small hoard of money wasn’t going to last as long as she’d hoped.

  Effie had offered to find work, but Christy decided that since she had brought Effie and Gavin to London it was up to her to provide for them. Shortly after arriving in London she’d found employment at Madam Sofia’s Boutique, one of the better modistes on Bond Street. The work wasn’t hard, but the hours were long. The one thing Christy liked about the work was that she could perform her job out of the public eye, unseen by the prestigious clientele that frequented Madam Sofia’s establishment.

  Christy was hard at work one day when Madam Sofia peeked through the curtain separating the front of the shop from the back and asked her to bring out a bolt of gold tissue she thought one of her customers might fancy. Christy found the cloth her employer wanted, walked through the partition, and set the heavy bolt on the display counter.

  “Spread the cloth out, Christy, while I find the fashion doll Lady Thornton requested,” Sofia directed. “I won’t be gone long.”

  Christy lifted her eyes and saw Sinjun’s sister staring at her with something akin to horror.

  “You!” Emma gasped. “What are you doing in London? Haven’t you hurt Sinjun enough? Why didn’t you stay where you belonged? Wait! I know. Sinjun ordered you to vacate Glenmoor, didn’t he?” she said smugly.

  “I never meant to hurt Sinjun,” Christy whispered, stunned by Emma’s animosity. This was exactly the kind of situation she’d hoped to avoid.

  “You’ve already done my brother irreparable damage,” Emma charged. “Sinjun isn’t the same man I once knew, and ‘tis all your fault. He used to be fun, but now there is no laughter in his soul, no happiness, only darkness. When I look in his eyes now, all I see is a man driven by desperation. A man trying to escape his pain.”

  “I’m sorry,” Christy said for want of anything better. She couldn’t count the times she’d wondered how Sinjun had reacted to her letter, but Emma’s description defied imagination.

  “You should be,” Emma hissed, her violet eyes seething with condemnation. “I’m sorry about your child, but what you did to my brother was reprehensible. He truly cared for you.”

  Christy’s eyes widened. “He told you about … everything? What did he say?”

  “I overheard Sinjun telling Julian about you when he returned from Glenmoor. He was so happy about the baby. He intended to return to the Highlands, you know. I was with him the day he received your letter. He was devastated. You’re a terrible person, Christy Macdonald.”

  Christy nearly buckled under the heavy weight of Emma’s disapproval. She wanted to blurt out the truth but didn’t dare. It had never occurred to her that Sinjun might care for her as strongly as she cared for him. Her only solace was that Sinjun still had his life.

  “Leave Sinjun alone,” Emma warned. “He’s well rid of you. I can’t imagine why you would prefer another man when you had Sinjun.”

  “Is Lord Derby well?” Christy asked, trying to keep the eagerness from her voice and failing.

  “If you can call a man bent on destroying himself well, then I suppose he’s well enough. I heard that Sinjun is going to marry Lady Alice Dodd. I don’t approve of the match, and Julian isn’t here to stop him, but if he loves Alice Dodd, then I suppose I can accept her.”

  Stricken, Christy lowered her gaze. “I wish him well.” She wanted to turn and flee, to hug her son close and tell him about the father he would never know. Instead, she said, “Please don’t tell Sinjun you saw me. ‘Twould be best if he didn’t know I’m in London.”

  “Don’t worry,” Emma sniffed. “I won’t say a word. He hates you as much as I do. I’ll never forgive you for lying to him, Lady Flora. You’ve all but destroyed him.”

  Madam Sofia chose that moment to return from the back of the shop. She sent Christy a sharp look when she noticed Emma’s agitation and immediately sought to placate one of her best customers.

  “Is something wrong, Lady Thornton? Has my employee offended you in some way?”

  “Just the sight of Christy Macdonald offends me,” Emma retorted. “I cannot believe you’d employ a woman of her caliber. I always thought this was a high-class establishment. Perhaps I should take my custom elsewhere.”

  “I beg you to reconsider, my lady,” Sofia pleaded. “I would never knowingly hire someone of questionable reputation, or offend one of my customers. She’ll be let go immediately.”

  Christy’s heart sank. This job had been perfect for her. She hated the thought of going out and looking for another. But neither did
she wish to offend Emma Thornton. She admired the girl for sticking up for her brother. Under any other circumstances they might have been friends.

  “You may leave immediately,” Madam Sofia ordered, scowling at Christy. “Come back tomorrow for your outstanding wages.”

  Christy sent Emma a look of such remorse that Emma had to look away. Though Emma knew Christy didn’t deserve her pity, she hoped Christy wouldn’t starve because of her. Obviously Christy was in London because Sinjun had turned her out of Glenmoor. She didn’t want to think about Christy’s lack of home or funds and had to harden her heart in order to remain loyal to her brother.

  Nevertheless, as Christy sidled past her, Emma suffered a pang of guilt. There was something about Christy’s expression that seemed strangely at odds with the heartless woman Emma had imagined Christy to be. Something was wrong, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine what. She knew what Christy’s letter contained, for she’d read it after Sinjun had wadded it up and tossed it to the floor. Was there more here than met the eye?

  Tears clogged Christy’s throat. If Emma’s words could be believed, and Christy had no reason to doubt them, she had hurt Sinjun terribly. She’d expected him to mourn their bairn, but not excessively.. Not Lord Sin. Lord Sin would never deliberately set out to destroy himself, would he?

  Firming her chin and dashing away her tears, Christy came to a decision. She had to see Sinjun, to judge for herself how accurately Emma had described his frame of mind. And she had to accomplish it without Sinjun’s knowledge.

  The following morning Christy asked Gavin to drive her around Hyde Park. During her previous visit to London she’d learned that the ton usually rode through the park in the morning, and she hoped to find Sinjun among those trotting along Rotten Row. She swathed herself in a veil and widow’s weeds and tried to ignore the curious looks she received. Seeing no reason to deny Niall the fresh air, she brought Effie and her son along on her outing.

  Christy saw nothing of Sinjun that morning or the next three mornings. On the fourth day she saw him, mounted upon a magnificent black gelding. He didn’t appear unhappy … only bored.

  Christy’s hungry gaze devoured Sinjun as Gavin drove the rig past him. That brief glance wasn’t enough. She swiveled her head to watch him until her coach turned a corner and she could no longer see him. As if that wasn’t punishment enough, Christy returned to Hyde Park later that afternoon, when men often took their ladies riding.

  Sure enough, Sinjun was there, handling the ribbons of his high-stepping matched grays with expertise. Sitting beside him was a lovely blond who clung to him with a possessiveness that grated on Christy. Lady Alice? Jealousy choked her; she couldn’t breathe. She paled visibly when the woman leaned close to whisper into Sinjun’s ear. He nodded and smiled, but Christy saw nothing in his conduct to indicate his interest. The sunshine had suddenly gone out of the day, and Christy asked Gavin to take her home. She couldn’t bear the thought of Sinjun belonging to another woman. Christy’s punishment for the terrible lie she had told Sinjun was to return to the park day after day. Seeing Sinjun with another woman was worse than taking a beating. But if the alternative was never seeing Sinjun, her suffering was worth it.

  Sinjun paid little heed to Alice’s chattering. He rarely did. He smiled at the right times and murmured something when it appeared appropriate. Most of the time these drives in the park with Alice were pure torture. He didn’t know why he put himself through it. He supposed it was to keep himself from being eaten up with hatred for the little Scottish bitch who made love so sweetly while stabbing him in the back.

  Thinking of Christy raised his ire another notch and brought a ferocious scowl to his face. If he ever got his hands on her…

  “Sinjun, whatever are you scowling about?” Alice asked. She squeezed his arm. “One would think you weren’t enjoying my company.”

  “How could I not enjoy the company of so lovely a lady?” he answered with little enthusiasm. “Are you ready to leave? I’m to meet Rudy at White’s later.”

  Alice pouted. “I suppose by evening you’ll be too foxed to take me to the opera. I swear, Sinjun, I don’t know why I bother with you.”

  She laid her hand on his thigh. When he didn’t respond like she’d hoped, her hand inched upward, stopping just short of his crotch. Sinjun seemed blissfully unaware until her palm cupped him and squeezed.

  “Bloody hell, Alice!” he roared, flinging her hand away. “Can’t you wait until we’re alone? Anyone passing will get an eyeful.”

  “Since when did Lord Sin care what anyone thought? I want you now, before you get too drunk to do either of us any good. Something always seems to happen to prevent us from being together intimately. I want you to make love to me and remember it the next day, Sinjun.”

  Her hand crept back up Sinjun’s thigh. Sinjun groaned, feeling himself responding. What the hell, he thought as he transferred the ribbons to one hand so he could fondle Alice’s small breast with the other. He was about to turn the carriage toward the exit and find the closest bed when a coach lumbered past from the opposite direction. He had no idea what made him turn away from Alice to watch the coach, or why the woman swathed in a black veil and widow’s weeds caught his eye. Perhaps it was the small child with her. But if he wanted to be brutally honest, he’d admit his attention had been captured by an all too brief glimpse of a shiny copper curl that had escaped from the woman’s veil.

  He had no idea why, but that one bright lock of hair triggered waves of intense longing he’d tried to subdue but usually couldn’t. He’d had but a fleeting glimpse of the child in the coach but it looked to be about the age of his own child had it lived.

  Ever since Rudy had told him he’d seen Christy in London he’d wondered what he would do should he encounter her. Especially since he now knew that a brief glimpse of a woman he thought looked like her could cause him such anguish.

  “Sinjun, you’re not paying attention,” Alice whined. “I hope you’re more attentive after we’re married.”

  Sinjun returned his attention to Alice, suddenly aware that he didn’t give a damn about her. Nor had he any intention of marrying her. The sooner she knew it the better off they’d both be.

  “There’s not going to be a wedding, Alice,” he said evenly. “I’m afraid we don’t suit.”

  Alice’s face hardened, turning almost ugly as she sputtered indignantly, “What do you mean, we don’t suit? I had my heart set on becoming a marchioness.”

  Sinjun swiveled his head for a last glimpse of the coach bearing the widow and silently upbraided himself for being fanciful. Cursing himself for a fool, he tried to concentrate on Alice. She’d expected to become his wife and he’d let her believe it would happen. Normally he wasn’t a cruel man, but since Christy … well, it had amused him to let Alice believe he would marry her. Hell, he’d even convinced himself that marrying Alice was what he wanted. Until he’d caught a glimpse of a shiny copper curl.

  “There won’t be a wedding, Alice,” he repeated.

  Alice’s eyes grew positively glacial, and her voice even more so. “I beg your pardon.”

  “I’m a married man.”

  He tooled the grays through the gate and into the busy thoroughfare. “You, my lord, are a liar. Everyone knows you are no longer married.”

  “Everyone is wrong. I neglected to file the annulment document,” Sinjun muttered, wanting a drink so badly his hands shook.

  She gave him a predatory smile. “I can change your mind. Come home with me now. Let me show you what marriage to me can be like.”

  Sinjun guided the carriage around the corner and pulled up in front of Alice’s townhouse. “Perhaps another time, my lady. I suddenly find myself eager to become hopelessly drunk.”

  Alice allowed Sinjun to hand her down from the carriage, molding herself against him with wanton disregard for propriety. “You and I aren’t finished, Lord Sin,” she murmured huskily as she lifted her face and pressed her lips to his. With a laugh
and toss of her head, she hurried into the house.

  Sinjun climbed into his carriage, Alice already a dim memory. He was going to meet Rudy and drown his anger at a certain Scottish laird in a bottle. If he was still able to stand at the end of the day, perhaps he could sleep without dreaming of Christy in Calum’s arms.

  Christy knew Sinjun had seen her but felt confident the veil had kept her identity a secret. Still, she couldn’t forget the way he’d stared. He didn’t look well, she thought. His heavy-lidded eyes sported purple circles, and he appeared to have lost weight. Christy couldn’t help but notice where Sinjun’s hand had been when they had driven past … on the lady’s breast. The pain it caused her was like a knife in the gut. Christy hadn’t expected Sinjun to remain celibate, they were no longer married, after all, but the searing agony of seeing his hands on another woman sickened her.

  At least Sinjun was alive, a voice in her head whispered.

  The following day Christy set out to look for work. Spending her days in Hyde Park waiting for a glimpse of Sinjun was consuming her life and making her miserable. Gavin drove her to Bond Street, where most of the fashionable shops were located.

  “Return for me in two hours,” Christy told Gavin as she surveyed the various shops just opening for business.

  A shop called Paris Fashions caught her eye, and she marched determinedly toward the exclusive store, which sported an elegantly arrayed mannequin in the window.

  So intent was she on making a good impression that she paid little heed to the man exiting the gentlemen’s tailor shop nearby.

  “Lady Flora! How wonderful to see you again.”

  Christy whirled, startled to see Lord Blakely hurrying to catch up with her. She felt the blood rush from her face and she would have given anything to turn and flee. But it was too late. The viscount had already reached her, his smile warmly genuine.