A Taste of Sin

by Mason, Connie

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like … bloody hell. What … happened?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “You beat Calum fairly in a duel and gave him the choice of swearing fealty or accepting death. He knelt at my feet as if to swear fealty, but grabbed his dirk instead and stabbed you. The button on your shirt deflected the blow away from your heart but the wound was still a grave one. You were very lucky, Sinjun.”

  “Who do I have to thank for saving my life?”

  “Mary, mostly. She knows a great deal about healing.”

  He stared at Christy in rapt silence. She fidgeted beneath his probing gaze, wishing he’d just come out and say what he was thinking.

  “What is it, Sinjun? Is something wrong?”

  “You look exhausted. Are you well?” He massaged his temples. “I can’t seem to think straight. I seem to recall…” His voice faltered. “I thought I told you I didn’t want you…”

  She placed a finger against his lips. “Say no more. I know what you’re going to say.”

  He looked confused. “You do?”

  “I don’t wish to discuss this now. You’re too weak yet for a serious discussion. I know exactly what you’re trying to tell me, Sinjun, and one day soon we’ll talk, but not now.”

  “You’re not making sense, so perhaps you’re right I’m not thinking clearly enough to understand you. Just tell me this. What happened to Calum?”

  “Rory killed him. If he hadn’t, Murdoch would have. It turned out all right, though. Donald is the Cameron chieftain now, and he’s not as hotheaded or as ambitious as Calum. There will be no more feuding.”

  Christy realized Sinjun hadn’t heard her, for his eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in an even cadence. She tiptoed from the chamber and closed the door behind her.

  “Ye can’t be serious, lass,” Margot argued as Christy stuffed clothing into a valise.

  “I can’t wait any longer, Margot. The only reason I stayed this long was to make certain Sinjun was going to recover. He said nothing to indicate he wants me or cares about me.”

  “Has he told ye he doesna want ye?”

  “Aye. He said the words loud and clear. Once Sinjun recovers and returns to London, I’ll be barred from entering his house. I’ll never see my son again.”

  “What mischief have ye hatched now, lass?”

  “No mischief, Margot. This is survival. I can’t live without Niall. I’m going to London and that’s final.”

  “Where will ye and Niall go?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll think of something. Sinjun won’t look for us forever. He’s easily distracted in London. A new woman. A gambling hell. The races. He’ll soon pick up where he left off, racketing around town with a new mistress.”

  “Are ye sure, Christy? Did ye ever find out what brought Sinjun to Glenmoor?”

  “I … there wasn’t time. I have to do this, Margot, for my son’s sake. He needs me, and I need him.”

  “Do ye love Sinjun?”

  Christy gave a bitter laugh. “Love him? I’m head over heels, for all the good it does me. I’ve hurt him, lied to him, deceived him. How can I expect him to forgive me? He’ll never understand my loyalty to my clan, for he’s never taken responsibility seriously. It’s not that he shunned responsibility, it’s that he simply could not summon enough interest to care about anything except his own pleasure. Few legitimate pursuits held his attention for long, unless they earned him some form of wicked delight.”

  “Ye judge him harshly, lass.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek. “Don’t you see? I have to judge him harshly else I wouldn’t be able to leave him. That’s how much I love him. I’m almost packed, would you ask Rory to bring the coach around?”

  “Aye, I’ll tell him.”

  “Margot, wait. I regret taking Rory away from you and Angus again, but it won’t be for long this time. I’ll send him back as soon as I reach London.”

  “What am I to tell his lordship?”

  “The truth. Tell him I missed Niall. There’s nothing more he needs to know.”

  “Will ye send word when ye settle some place?”

  “Aye. Don’t worry, Margot, Niall and I will be just fine. This time I won’t make the mistake of staying where Sinjun can find us.”

  “God go with ye, Christy.”

  Sinjun was restless and strangely disturbed. He hadn’t seen Christy all day and hoped it was because she was resting. She’d spent too many hours caring for him, and it showed. Her face was pale and drawn, and the fragile skin beneath her eyes was bruised with dark shadows.

  Both Mary and Margot had bustled in and out of his chamber at various times, but neither seemed inclined to stay and chat. He supposed he wasn’t the best of patients. He was so weak that he couldn’t accomplish for himself even the most menial of tasks, which was embarrassing in the extreme. Though the thought galled, he feared he was in for a lengthy recovery. He hated to leave Niall without either of his parents for so long a time, but there was no help for it. When he and Christy returned to London, they would start over and become a real family.

  Taking on responsibility was new to Sinjun, and having a son had changed his entire outlook on life. It didn’t matter to him that Calum had forced himself on Christy, for he knew it wasn’t something she had wanted. He prayed that one day she could forget that terrible ordeal. Christy had been unwilling to discuss what had happened between her and Calum, and Sinjun couldn’t wait to tell her it didn’t matter to him. He even understood now why she had left London against his wishes.

  He understood a great deal, thanks to Emma’s enlightening lecture. He and Christy had a lot to resolve if they wanted to salvage their marriage, but Sinjun felt their future happiness was worth the effort.

  Sinjun felt somewhat stronger the next day and waited anxiously for Christy’s visit. He felt the first stirrings of misgiving when Margot, instead of Christy, brought his breakfast of broth and gruel.

  “Is Christy ill?” he asked after he dutifully swallowed the spoonful of gruel Margot offered.

  “Nay.”

  He swallowed another spoonful. “I can feed myself.”

  “Yer not strong enough yet.”

  “Bloody hell! Will you stop pampering me? Where’s Christy? Tell her I want to see her.”

  Margot’s lips thinned. “She isna here.”

  “Not here!” Sinjun tried to rise, but pain and weakness forced him back down. “Where is she?” he asked more reasonably.

  “She missed her bairn.”

  Sinjun felt as if his world had been ripped apart. “Are you saying Christy went to London? Without telling me?”

  “Yer as quick-witted as ever,” Margot said dryly.

  “Did she leave a message for me?”

  Margot shook her head and tried to shove another spoonful of gruel between his clenched teeth. Cursing, Sinjun flung her hand aside. Gruel splattered everywhere.

  “Bloody hell! Take that damn gruel away and bring me something substantial to eat The sooner I regain my strength the sooner I can leave this bed.”

  “Yer stomach carina handle it.”

  “Blast my stomach! Blast this entire household and blast my wife! How could one small woman cause so much turmoil in my life? Christy has been nothing but trouble since the day she walked into that masked ball in London. She’s intrusive, contradictory, maddening.”

  “‘Tisna an unusual feeling for someone in love,” Margot observed.

  Sinjun spit out a curse. Love! What good was love, when his headstrong wife defied him at every turn? When he caught up with her he’d shake her until her teeth rattled; he’d blister her beautiful bottom … he’d make love to her until she couldn’t walk. He knew exactly why she had left so abruptly for London. She intended to take his son and disappear again. Bloody hell!

  Sinjun’s recovery progressed far too slowly for his liking. A fortnight passed before he could move about wi
thout undue pain. Another week elapsed before he felt strong enough to leave Glenmoor.

  Christy reached London without mishap, surprised to find Emma and her aunt in residence at Sinjun’s townhouse. Even more surprising was the warm welcome she received from Sinjun’s sister.

  “Christy!” Emma squealed. “You’re home! Niall will be so glad to see you. Where’s Sinjun?”

  “Sinjun is still at Glenmoor,” Christy said, returning Emma’s exuberant hug. “I need to see Niall first, then I’ll explain everything. I hope he remembers me.”

  Niall was shy at first, but it wasn’t long before the familiarity of his mother’s voice broke through his reticence and he was clinging to her as if he never intended to let her go.

  “I’ve enjoyed taking care of him, Christy,” Emma said. “Effie has been a big help, and so has Gavin. Niall’s not nursing much now, so the wetnurse moved back into her own home. She only comes in the evenings for his bedtime feeding. Oh, look, the little lamb has fallen asleep on your shoulder.”

  Christy’s tears flowed freely as she patted Niall’s back and crooned to him. “I can’t bear to put him down.” She eased into a rocking chair and cradled him in her arms. Emma pulled up a stool and sat at her feet “What happened at Glenmoor?” Emma asked eagerly. “Where is Sinjun? Why didn’t he return with you?”

  Christy knew she owed Emma an explanation but feared Sinjun’s sister would condemn her as Sinjun had. She dragged in a steadying breath. “Sinjun suffered a grave wound. I remained with him until I was assured of his recovery.”

  Emma shot to her feet “Wounded! By whom?”

  “Calum Cameron. The Cameron chieftain kidnapped me from my bed and kept me locked in his house. He intended to make me his mistress and claim leadership of the clan. He assumed Sinjun wouldn’t want me after he … after he defiled me.”

  Emma’s mouth flew open. “How terrible for you!”

  “Highlanders play by their own rules,” Christy explained. “Most husbands refuse to take their wives back after they’ve been ravished by their captors.”

  “But that’s so unfair,” Emma argued.

  “Aye, but ‘tis how the system works despite the fact that most stolen wives are unwilling victims.”

  “Sinjun isn’t like that,” Emma insisted.

  “Calum Cameron bragged to Sinjun that I was his mistress.”

  “Were you?”

  “No. Had Calum taken me by force, I would have found a way to end his miserable life. Whether or not it was true didn’t matter; Sinjun believed him.” A sob caught in her throat. “Sinjun doesn’t want me, Emma.”

  “Oh, pooh, that doesn’t sound like Sinjun at all. He knows why you lied to him about Niall. I explained everything. I’m sorry I had to break a confidence, but the situation called for it. Why do you think Sinjun arrived at Glenmoor when he did? He was worried about you.”

  Christy’s heart soared. Could it be true? “Sinjun couldn’t have arrived at a better time, though he paid dearly for it. His life hung in the balance for more days than I care to count. But he’s well on the road to recovery now, thank God.”

  “Why aren’t you with him?”

  “I told you. Sinjun doesn’t want me. I had every reason to believe he intended to cut me out of his and Niall’s life once he returned to London, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

  “Did you discuss this with Sinjun?”

  “He was very clear when he told me didn’t want me. What is mere to discuss?”

  “Obviously you misunderstood,” Emma contended. “Sinjun loves you. Why do you mink he left Niall and rushed off to Glenmoor? You didn’t see him before he left, Christy. He was so worried and so anxious to get to you he refused to wait for Julian’s help. I know my brother. Even if Calum had forced you it wouldn’t have made a difference to Sinjun. His life is far from exemplary.”

  “That’s not the same and you know it. Society has different standards for men and women.”

  “Aye, I know it too well,” Emma huffed. “One day someone is going to set London on its ear. All that aside, you can’t leave, Christy. You owe it to Niall to try to save your marriage. Do you intend to run the rest of your life? That’s what will happen, you know, for Sinjun won’t rest until he finds you.”

  Christy remained thoughtful, mulling over Emma’s words. Sinjun had come to Glenmoor, and he had rescued her from a dangerous situation. His courage had healed the rift between clans, and he had suffered a grievous wound on their account.

  Could it be true? Had she misunderstood Sinjun? He’d been very ill. Perhaps she had wrongly interpreted his words because of her own guilt. How could their marriage work when she deserved so little of Sinjun’s trust?

  Miracles did happen, however. If Sinjun truly loved her as Emma said, then a chance for happiness existed, for she loved Sinjun beyond all reason.

  “I’m not going to let you leave, Christy,” Emma said with firm conviction.

  “I cannot bear to lose Niall.”

  “You do love Sinjun.”

  “With my whole heart and soul.”

  Emma sighed dreamily. “I wish to experience a love like that just once in my life. Julian is already talking about finding me a husband.”

  “He won’t force you to wed someone you don’t approve of, will he?”

  “He says not, but he doesn’t want me to end up a spinster.” Her chin notched upward. “I won’t marry any man I’m not in love with. But enough of me. Leaving now would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

  Christy would give anything to believe Emma. It wasn’t too farfetched to believe that Sinjun loved her, was it? Dreams sometimes came true, didn’t they?

  “Aye, I’ll stay, Emma, though I may live to regret it.”

  Sinjun arrived in London without mishap. It had been a long, difficult journey, given his recent injury and diminished stamina. He had refused both Murdoch’s and Rory’s offer of company and undertaken the journey alone.

  Sinjun couldn’t bear the thought of going to his own empty house, so he reined his tired mount toward Julian’s townhouse. He wanted to speak to Emma anyway, in the unlikely event she knew where Christy had taken Niall.

  Sinjun didn’t believe for a minute that Christy had come to London simply because she had missed Niall. His gut told him that he’d find Derby Hall deserted except for servants. He had no idea why Christy had left him again. He thought he’d made it clear that he didn’t care what Cameron had done to her, but his memory was still fuzzy about what he’d actually said to her. It hadn’t been the best time to engage in serious conversation. Obviously he’d said something to send her fleeing.

  Sinjun dismounted, looped his reins around the iron fence post, and climbed the front steps to Mansfield Place, Julian’s elegant townhouse. His first knock brought an immediate answer. Julian’s dignified butler held the door open as Sinjun strode inside.

  “Good day, milord. Lord Mansfield is not at home, but Lady Emma is in the drawing room with her aunt.”

  “Thank you, Farthingale. I’ll see myself to the parlor.”

  “As you wish, milord.”

  Sinjun paused in the doorway, not surprised to see Emma pacing the room in great agitation and expounding animatedly to Aunt Amanda, who nodded her head from time to time in placid agreement.

  “What can be keeping him. Aunt?” Emma exclaimed. “Oh, how I wish Julian wasn’t off on one of his mysterious trips. He’d know what to do. What if Sinjun’s wounds were more serious than we were led to believe?”

  “Worried about me, Emma?” Sinjun said, strolling into the room. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

  “Sinjun!” Emma cried, throwing herself into his arms. “I thought you’d never get here.” She held him at arm’s length and studied him with a critical eye. “You don’t look fine. You’re pale and far too thin. Christy told us you had been wounded.”

  “What else did Christy tell you?” Sinjun asked harshly.

  Emma gave him a quizzical look. �
��Have you been home yet?”

  “No. I couldn’t bear the thought of an empty house waiting for me. Strange, it never bothered me before.”

  “Have you dismissed the servants?”

  “You know darn well what I mean.” He searched her face. “Do you know where Christy took Niall? How could you let her take him away?”

  “Sinjun, you’re overwrought. Sit down, I’ll ring for a bottle of Julian’s best brandy.”

  Sinjun plopped down into the nearest chair, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re well, dear?” Aunt Amanda asked solicitously. “Shall I send for a physician?”

  “I am fine, just tired,” Sinjun assured her as he accepted the snifter of brandy Farthingale had brought him. “I’d hoped to find Julian home. I may need his help finding Christy and my son.”

  Emma and Amanda exchanged knowing glances over Sinjun’s bowed head.

  “Julian hasn’t returned yet,” Emma said. “I’m really worried about him. He’s been gone longer than usual and no one has heard from him. I’m concerned about the mysterious business that calk him away so often.”

  “He’ll turn up soon,” Sinjun predicted.

  “Go home, Sinjun,” Emma advised. “You look exhausted.”

  “I don’t want to go home to an empty nursery and no wife. But you’re right, Emma, I am tired. My problems are none of your concern.” He tossed down the brandy and heaved himself out of the chair. “Good night, ladies.”

  “You should have told him,” Amanda scolded after Sinjun had left.

  Emma sent her a mischievous smile. “I’d like to see Sinjun’s face when he walks into the house and discovers Christy and Niall.” She clasped her hands together and sighed. “Isn’t it romantic? Do you suppose a handsome prince charming will come along and sweep me off my feet?”

  “Wishful thinking, my dear,” Aunt Amanda chided. “Women have to be practical. You’ll marry someone notably suitable. Someone with good bloodlines who knows how to handle both your fortune and his.”

  Emma sent her an enigmatic smile. Not if I can help it, she silently vowed. If I marry at all, the man can be a peasant as long as I love him. He will sweep me off my feet and pledge his undying love. I won’t settle for a stodgy duke or earl in need of a brood mare.