A Taste of Sin

by Mason, Connie

  “I’ll pray for that, too,” Emma said, giving her a hug. “I must go now or Julian will be wondering what’s keeping me. May I come back to see Niall?”

  “Any time,” Christy said warmly.

  Alone in the study, Julian was taking Sinjun to task.

  “I vow, Sinjun, you do tend to surprise me. Not long ago you were well on your way to perdition. Now here you are, a father and husband. Have you forgiven Christy?”

  Sinjun’s mouth flattened. “No, I haven’t forgiven her. The only reason she’s living in my house is because Niall is too young to be separated from his mother.”

  “Are you sure that’s the only reason? Are you saying you have no real marriage?”

  Sinjun sent him a mocking grin. “Oh, it’s real enough, if you’re referring to the sexual aspects of marriage. Christy is a beautiful woman, and she is my wife.” He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Dammit, Julian, call me a fool, but I still want her.”

  Julian grinned. “’Tis obvious you love Christy.” Julian ignored Sinjun’s snort of derision as he blithely continued. “A pity you wasted the first fifteen years of your marriage on mistresses and wild pursuits. Had you and Christy gotten together sooner there would have been no need for lies or subterfuge. Think of all the years you’ve squandered earning your reputation as London’s finest wastrel. Lord Sin, indeed. Rake, scoundrel, reprobate. Those are but a few of the names you’ve collected over the years, Sinjun.” He shook his head. “What a waste.”

  “Maybe I’ve changed,” Sinjun allowed. “I have a son now.”

  “And a wife,” Julian reminded him.

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “Did Christy offer a satisfactory explanation as to why she lied to you about your child? What about the Cameron chieftain?”

  “Bloody hell, Julian, leave off. If you must know, I’m in no mood to hear Christy’s explanation. Perhaps one day I’ll listen, when I can do so objectively.”

  “You know what I think, Sinjun?”

  “I don’t really care, but I suppose you’ll tell me anyway.”

  “Your feelings for Christy are stronger than you care to admit. I recall how excited you were about having a child, and how eager you were to return to Christy and pick up where you left off.”

  “Things have changed. I’m not sure how I feel about Christy now.”

  “Another word of advice. Take care of Niall. He’ll inherit my title one day.”

  Sinjun frowned. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re still young. One day you’ll wed and have your own son.”

  Julian’s gaze drifted away. “No, I’ll never wed.”

  “Your intended wife died over two years ago. The time for mourning is over. Find another woman, Julian. I know you have a mistress, maybe more than one, so you’re not indifferent to women.”

  “I loved Lady Diana very much,” Julian acknowledged. “You didn’t know what was going on because you were oblivious to everything except maintaining your reputation as a rakehell. Diana and I became intimate. She was carrying my child when she died in that carriage accident two days before our wedding.”

  He paused, his eyes narrowing into glittering slits, his voice shaking with barely controlled violence. “It was no accident, Sinjun. She was riding in my carriage. I was supposed to be inside, not my innocent Diana. I should have died that day.”

  Sinjun stared at Julian as if seeing him for the first time. Julian was right. He’d been so immersed in hedonistic pursuits that he’d been oblivious to Julian’s pain following the accident.

  “Why would anyone want to kill you? Does it have anything to do with your penchant for disappearing for long periods of time? You’ve been mighty secretive these past few years.”

  Julian helped himself to brandy from the sideboard, fortifying himself with a long sip before answering Sinjun’s questions.

  “I’m working for the government, Sinjun. Have been for years. My trips are directly related to whatever undercover work Lord Pitt considers worthy of my talents. I have been onto something important since before Diana’s death, so I suppose I’ll be leaving London again soon.”

  “Bloody hell, Julian, this is astounding! Why have you taken on such dangerous work? You must resign immediately.”

  Julian’s expression went cold as death. “I won’t stop until I find Diana’s killer. The man who killed her is still out there. Someday I’ll come across him, and when I do, he’d better be prepared to die.”

  Sinjun was stunned by the dark menace in Julian’s voice. He’d known Julian and his betrothed had been close, but he’d never suspected how close. Suddenly all Julian’s unexplained absences made sense.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone this time,” Julian continued. “If something unforeseen should happen to me, I want your promise to see that Emma marries well.”

  “Damnation, Julian—”

  “Your promise.”

  “You have it.”

  “You’ll inherit, of course, then your son after you.”

  Sinjun was appalled by Julian’s sense of fatalism. “This conversation is moot as far as I’m concerned. You’re going to live to a ripe old age, and when you do meet your maker your eldest son will inherit.”

  Julian’s hand came down on Sinjun’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you, Sinjun.”

  “What are you counting on him for?” Emma asked as she glided into the room.

  “To do what’s right for Christy and his son,” Julian improvised.

  Emma sent Sinjun a penetrating look. “My sentiments exactly.”

  “It’s time we were off,” Julian said, gathering his hat and cane. “Don’t forget your promise, Sinjun. And think about what I said.”

  Sinjun stared after Julian with renewed respect. He’d had no idea his brother was involved in dangerous work. But then there had always been a scent of danger about Julian. Aye, a dangerous man, Sinjun mused thoughtfully. And a potent enemy.

  Christy made Niall her priority during the following days. She took him on outings in the park and for carriage rides. He was crawling now, requiring extra attention. The wee lad readily recognized his father, holding out his arms to be picked up whenever Sinjun entered his line of vision. Sinjun seemed to revel in his son’s adoration and spent a great deal of time in his company.

  The relationship between Christy and Sinjun remained awkward. Whenever Christy caught him staring at her with a puzzled expression on his face, she wondered if he was trying to decide where she fit into his life. She waited impatiently for Sinjun to ask for an explanation of the lies she’d told him and was disappointed when he appeared indifferent to anything she had to say on the subject.

  Though their daytime relationship was strained, their nights were everything a wife could ask for. Sinjun came to her each night, making passionate love to her. Sometimes more than once. His ardor never faltered, no matter how distant he’d been during the day. With the room blanketed in darkness, he whispered love words to her. He called her sweetheart and other intimate names that melted her bones. When she awakened the following morning, Sinjun was always gone. And so the days flowed one into another. But since Sinjun never mentioned sending her away, Christy began to hope things would work out between them.

  Sinjun decided that his son should be christened, and that the christening should be a grand affair. Plans were immediately undertaken to make it a huge event. Emma and Julian were to be his godparents. Christy had no objections and threw herself into the planning.

  The day before the christening, a surprise visitor arrived at Derby Hall. Rory Macdonald, looking haggard and exhausted after a ten-day ride from Glenmoor, nearly collapsed on the doorstep when Pemburton opened the door to him. He asked for Christy and was shown into the back parlor.

  Fear laced through Christy when she heard that Rory had ridden all the way from Scotland to see her. Nothing but trouble of the worst kind could have brought Rory to London.

  “Christy, thank God I’ve fo
und ye,” Rory said, jumping to his feet when she entered the parlor.

  “Did you receive my letter?” Christy asked. “I sent it with a messenger after I moved in with Sinjun.”

  “Aye, that’s how I knew where to find ye.”

  “What’s amiss, Rory? Is it Margot? Or your bairn?”

  “Nay, lass. I have a fine braw son. We named him Angus after yer grandsire. Margot is well. We were married by the priest when he made the rounds a few weeks ago.”

  “The news must be grievous to bring you to London.”

  “The Cameron chieftain is feuding with the Macdonalds and Ranalds and has drawn the Mackenzies to his cause. They’ve already fired several cottages and stolen livestock. The clan needs ye, Christy. We canna fight without our laird to give us heart.”

  “What’s this?” Sinjun asked, strolling into the room. “Pemburton said we had company from Scotland. ‘Tis good to see you, Rory. Are the clans fighting among themselves again?”

  “Aye, that’s the gist of it, yer lordship.”

  “I assume Calum Cameron is the instigator.”

  “Aye, right ye are.”

  “What do you expect Christy to do about it?”

  “The clan needs their laird,” Rory explained. “The feud is getting out of hand.”

  “I’ll send word to the garrison at Inverness,” Sinjun said. “English soldiers are in the Highlands for the purpose of keeping order among the clans. If there’s fighting going on, they’ll put a stop to it.”

  “No!” Christy protested. “The Englishmen don’t care who they kill. Macdonalds or Camerons, ‘tis all the same to them as long as they stop the fighting. I won’t have my kinsmen killed by English butchers.”

  “Bloody hell, Christy! What can one woman do that an army can’t?”

  “They’re my clansmen, Sinjun. They need me. Perhaps I can talk some sense into Calum.” She sent him an anguished look. “I have to return to Glenmoor. You do understand, don’t you?”

  “Rory, Pemburton is stationed in the foyer. Have him show you the way to the kitchen. I’m sure you must be starving. Christy and I will settle this and let you know what we decide.”

  Rory sent Christy a bolstering look and rose immediately. “Aye, I could use something substantial in my stomach.”

  “This is nonsense, Christy,” Sinjun said once they were alone. “I refuse to let you place yourself in danger.”

  Christy assumed a defiant stance. “You can’t stop me, Sinjun.”

  “If you persist with this, I’m going with you.”

  Panic raced through Christy. She hadn’t forgotten Calum’s threat. She had a strong suspicion that this feud was being waged with a specific purpose in mind. Calum still hadn’t given up on her. She knew exactly what Calum was doing. He was using a clan war to lure Sinjun to Glenmoor so he could kill him. She loved Sinjun too much to let that happen.

  “No, Sinjun, your presence can only make matters worse. You know Highlanders have little use for Englishmen.”

  Sinjun’s eyes narrowed. “What are you proposing, Christy?”

  “I propose to leave immediately for Scotland. Gavin and Effie can accompany me and Niall. I’m sure I can stop this foolishness without bringing English soldiers to Glenmoor. The disaster at Culloden isn’t far from the Highlanders’ minds. The situation could be explosive, resulting in bloodshed. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  Sinjun’s expression turned stony. “What did you say?”

  Christy went still. “About what?”

  “There is no way I will allow you to take my son into a potentially dangerous situation. You don’t want me to go with you? Fine. But if you persist with this folly, my son stays in London with me. Is that clear?”

  “Sinjun, you can’t mean—”

  “Every word I just said.” Sinjun’s voice softened. “Despite everything, I can’t stop myself from caring about you.” He ran his hands up her arms and slowly brought her into his embrace. “I don’t want you involved in your clansmen’s squabbles. I cannot make my meaning any clearer, Christy. Stay here and let our relationship develop. I’ve been thinking that the time has come for me to hear your explanation. Tell me, Christy, make me understand why you wanted me to think Niall had died at birth.”

  A groan of frustration slipped past Christy’s lips. After all the weeks of waiting for this opportunity, why did Sinjun want an explanation now? It wasn’t the right time. He might insist upon confronting Calum, and that would be a mistake.

  “I’m sorry, Sinjun, there isn’t time. There’s so much to be done. Niall has to be made ready for the trip and—”

  His eyes glinted dangerously. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? Go if you must, but Niall stays here. ‘Tis your choice, Christy. If you return to the Highlands, you go alone.”

  Chapter 17

  In that timeless void between one heartbeat and the next, Christy felt her world crumble beneath her feet. “Sinjun, don’t make me choose. I’m The Macdonald. Grandfather trusted me to do what was right for the clan when he named me his heir.”

  Sinjun’s eyes narrowed into glittering slits. “You have a son who needs you.”

  “Do you think I want to leave Niall behind? Tis you who are forcing me to leave without him.”

  He pulled her against him. His eyes seemed to blaze as he lowered his head and kissed her. His kiss was harsh, demanding, as if the sheer force of his will could change her mind. She felt him grow thick and harden against her and wanted desperately to yield, but she knew where her duty lay.

  She whimpered a protest as Sinjun swept her into his arms and carried her from the room, past a pair of giggling maids polishing the woodwork, and up the stairs. The door to her chamber stood open, and he carried her inside, slamming the panel shut with his boot heel. Then he slid her down his body until her feet touched the floor.

  “Sinjun, what—”

  He reached behind him and locked the door. “I’m going to make love to you, Christy. I want you to remember what you’re leaving behind, because once you leave this house you’ll never enter it again.”

  Despair rode Christy. Surely Sinjun didn’t mean what he’d just said. He wouldn’t keep her away from her bairn, would he? He wasn’t a cruel man. He’d spoken in anger, hadn’t he?

  “I will return, Sinjun, never doubt it. Niall is my life. I will remain in the Highlands just long enough to settle the feud between the Camerons and the Macdonalds. Don’t you understand, Sinjun? I am The Macdonald.”

  “And I am your husband.”

  “You’re English. That makes all the difference in the world. My kinsmen will listen to me, they respect me.”

  “Go then, Christy, but you’ll carry the memory of our last time together with you.”

  He reached for her, and Christy couldn’t have resisted had she wanted to. This was Sinjun, the man she loved. Though he insisted he would deny her her son if she left, she refused to believe he meant it.

  He grasped her bodice in both his hands and would have rent it down the middle had Christy not grasped his hands and pulled them away.

  “I’ll do it.”

  His eyes were watchful as she peeled away her dress and laid it carefully over a chair. Her shoes and stockings went next. When she would have left on her shift, he grasped the hem and pulled it over her head. Then he undressed himself, tossing his clothes aside haphazardly.

  Christy looked her fill, admiring the width of his shoulders, the taut flesh stretched across his belly, his rampant manhood. He was magnificent, every glorious inch of him. He was Lord Sin now, fiercely predatory, powerfully seductive. Her gaze riveted on his arousal, rigid and brazenly erect, rising majestically between the columns of his thighs. She flushed and looked away.

  “Don’t turn away, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “We’ve always had lust between us, that was one thing we could always count on. You want me, don’t try to deny it.”

  He traced the shape of her breast with a blunt finger, and she shivered.
“I’ve made no secret of the fact that I want you, Sinjun. I’ve always wanted you, even when you professed to hate me.”

  Sinjun made a harsh noise in his throat. “You have a strange way of showing your affection. Your web of lies and deception make me wary of anything you say.”

  Christy’s throat thickened with tears, but she refused to let them fall. Everything she’d done had been for a good reason. “Perhaps you should leave now and let me prepare for my trip.”

  “Oh, no.” He glanced down at his erection, then grasped her hand and placed it on his turgid flesh. “This isn’t going to go away.”

  Her hand closed around him. Sinjun spit out an oath, swept her into his arms, and carried her to the bed. “You may be laird of your clan but you’ll always belong to me. I’ll not divorce you, Christy Macdonald. Though you’ll never become a part of my life if you decide to leave, no other man will ever have you.

  “I never wanted a wife, if you recall. We’ll go on as before. You’ll remain in Glenmoor with your kinsmen and I’ll take up where I left off before you arrived to make a shambles of my life.”

  “What about our son?”

  “Niall will want for nothing. He’s my heir. He’ll always have a father to see to his welfare.”

  And a mother, Christy silently vowed. “Can we not discuss this?”

  “The time for talk is long past. I can think of far better things to do with those lush, lying lips.”

  Sinjun pulled her against him. If he couldn’t move her with words, perhaps he could show her with his body that she belonged with him and Niall in London. The Highlanders could go to hell for all Sinjun cared. His mouth seized hers in an ungentle kiss that spoke eloquently of his harsh disapproval, of his need. His breath rasped through his lungs, heavy and labored. There was a primitive pounding in his loins, in his head, in his blood. Desire swelled thick and hard in his shaft and stirred his body.

  When her arms locked around his neck and pulled him closer, hope blossomed in his chest. Had she changed her mind about leaving? He secretly gloated as Christy arched beneath him and melted into his kiss. With their bodies locked together, Sinjun let her wildness seep through to him. He wanted to give her pleasure, so much pleasure that she’d remember it for the rest of her days, no matter what the future held for them.