A Taste of Sin (14 page)

“They’re warriors, not sheepherders or farmers, though ’tis how they earn their keep. They’ve been angry ever since old Laird Angus made Christy his heir and successor. Calum Cameron has been plotting ever since to cast Christy aside and make himself laird of the clan.”

“Could he have done mat?” Sinjun asked.

“He needed the Macdonalds, Ranalds, and Mackenzies behind him. Fortunately, most, except maybe the Mackenzies, are loyal to Christy and thwarted Calum’s efforts. Then Calum decided he would become laird through marriage to Christy. But he couldna convince Christy to seek an annulment. Then the quarterly levies were raised again and those originally opposed to Calum agreed with him that the clan needed a male leader. They wanted a warrior who would fight for their rights. That’s when Christy and Margot hatched the plan to seek ye in London. Ye know the rest, yer lordship.”

“Indeed,” Sinjun said dryly.

Though he understood Christy’s motives for pursuing him in London, he had a hard time forgiving her for lying. She had tricked him to get her with child, and that hurt his pride. She had wanted him for only one thing, while he had truly desired her. It had all been a clever ruse, and he had landed in her bed. Well, things had changed. He was at Glenmoor now, and whether Christy liked it or not, he was going to make damn sure she and her clansmen knew he was in control.

Sinjun breathed deeply of the cold, crisp air, rather enjoying the outing. His mount was spirited, the company wasn’t bad, considering his lack of popularity among these Highlanders, and Christy was waiting for him at Glenmoor.

Christy was sweeping the cobblestones in the courtyard when Sinjun and Rory returned. As Rory led the horses away, she leaned on the broom, watching Sinjun. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully when she saw him gaze intently at Glenmoor’s ivy-covered walls, as if assessing their worth. She knew Glenmoor meant nothing to him, but to her it was everything. She still couldn’t conceal the surge of pride she felt for her ancestral home.

He saw her then, and she walked over to join him. His negligent posture in no way concealed the tension in his coiled muscles, or the way he looked at her, like a predator focusing on his prey. Her steps slowed as she recalled the intimate details of their affair in London. She sighed expansively, remembering how the crisp hair on his chest teased her naked breasts, the way the taut muscles of his buttocks flexed beneath her hands, his hard, hair-roughened thighs. Nothing had prepared her for Lord Sin’s devastating charm. For three wonderful months she had known both desire and fulfillment. And now she knew despair. Sinjun hated her, and she had to harden her heart against him before she yearned for things that could never be.

“Did you enjoy your ride?” Christy asked when Sinjun continued to stare at her with a curious glint in his eye.

“Aye, most enlightening. Rory made an excellent guide.” He stared at her breasts, then let his gaze wander down to her stomach. “Are you well?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Come inside with me.” It was more an order than a request.

“Now?”

“Now,” Sinjun said. “We need to talk. Your chamber will do.”

Christy had to run to keep up with him. “Can’t we discuss whatever it is you wish to talk about in the hall?”

“No.” He started up the stairs and didn’t stop until he reached her chamber. He opened the door and waited until she went inside. Christy’s heart began to pound. Being alone with Sinjun was dangerous. His potent sensuality had led lesser women than her to perdition.

She walked to the window and gazed out over the land that had been in her family for generations. Sinjun came up to stand beside her. She felt his heat, sensed his anger even before he spoke.

“You locked me out of your chamber last night.”

“You were angry. Did you expect me to welcome you?”

His voice was clipped, taut with tension. “I liked Flora better.”

Christy shrugged. “Flora was a myth. I gave you what I thought you wanted and…” Her words fell away.

“… I gave you what you wanted.”

Her jaw firmed. “Aye. I won’t deny it. I’m sorry if it distresses you, my lord, but do not concern yourself with the child. Our bairn will not lack love.”

“A child needs a father,” Sinjun said. She saw his clenched fists and wondered what he expected from her. Not love, obviously. The world was filled with countless women Sinjun had yet to meet and love.

“I … assumed you wouldn’t want to be bothered.”

“You assume wrong. I intend to be at Glenmoor for the birth of my child. Then perhaps I’ll take him to London, where he’ll be raised among civilized people. I daresay Julian will stop carping at me if I become a family man.”

Christy gasped and flung herself at him, her eyes wild, fierce, her small hands beating against his chest. “No! You can’t do that! I won’t let you.”

“Cease!” Sinjun said, grasping Christy’s flailing wrists. “We’ll discuss this when you’ve calmed down. I’m probably stuck here for the winter anyway. Come spring, I should have a better understanding of the unrest I’ve witnessed at Glenmoor.”

“I warn you, Sinjun,” Christy hissed, “take my bairn and you’ll live to regret it.”

An elegant brow shot upward. “You should have considered the consequences before you hatched your scatterbrained plan to become pregnant.”

“You were never supposed to know! Or care,” she added.

Still holding her wrists firmly within his grasp, Sinjun pulled her against him. He felt her heat, inhaled her tantalizing scent, and his shaft jerked in response. The hard little swelling below her waist intrigued him. He wanted to see her naked, to touch the place where his child grew. Her breasts were larger than he remembered, and the need to explore them was so urgent that he released her wrists and cupped them. He felt her nipples pebble beneath his palms, and his eyes darkened with desire.

No matter how angry he was at her for deceiving him, he couldn’t stop his body’s response to her soft, fecund curves. As swiftly as it had come, his anger dissipated. He ached to push himself into her tight sheath, to taste her sweet passion, and to give them both what they so obviously needed.

Christy must have read his mind, for moments before he would have swept her into his arms, she pulled away, her face set in stubborn lines.

“No! I won’t let you do this! I’m nothing to you but a warm body. You’ve never wanted a wife or family. What kind of man are you? If you recall, you agreed to my terms to end the affair when the time came for me to leave. Whether or not I became pregnant during that time was a problem I would handle alone.

“I cannot count the times you told me how well your marriage suited you because your wife made no demands upon you. All I wanted from you was an heir for Glenmoor, and someone of my own to love.” She touched her stomach. “Through your bairn, a Macdonald heir will regain ownership of Glenmoor.”

“Damn you!” Sinjun snarled.

“No! Damn
you
! You lied to me.”

Sinjun could find no fault with Christy’s logic. He had indeed agreed to her terms. He’d wanted her so badly he would have agreed to anything. It was a devil’s pact he’d made. He remembered thinking that her husband had even less morals than he did. His conscience had pricked him, but lust had won out. He realized too late his thinking had been faulty.

Sinjun’s introspection was interrupted when Christy fled through the door. Muttering to himself about the failings of women, he followed her down to the main hall, where he found Rory waiting for him.

“When do ye want the workmen to begin the repairs?” Rory asked.

“As soon as possible,” Sinjun replied. “I understand winters in the Highlands can be harsh.”

Rory nodded and left the hall. “What repairs?” Christy wanted to know.

“I’m paying for repairs to be made to the cottages in the Macdonald stronghold. There is much to be done and the need seemed urgent. I haven’t visited the Camerons, Ranalds, or Mackenzies yet, but I’ll get to them as soon as I can.”

“There is no coin for building materials,” Christy demurred.

“Let me worry about that.” He sniffed appreciatively of the tempting aroma coming from the kitchen. “I’m hungry. What time do we dine? Will I have time to bathe?”

“We eat early, but there’s sufficient time for a bath. I’ll send the kitchen boys up with the hip tub and hot water. Excuse me, I’ll see to it now.”

Sinjun caught her wrist. “I’ll need help bathing. I left my valet behind.”

“Everyone at Glenmoor helps themselves,” Christy informed him.

“Will you scrub my back? Tis no more than any husband would expect of his wife.”

He watched her face turn red and hoped she wouldn’t refuse. Her answer, when it came, was grudgingly given. “Aye. I’ll ask Mary for the stiff wire brush she uses to scrub pots.”

Her parting shot brought a shout of laughter. No matter how angry he was at Christy he knew she would never bore him. More to the point, he didn’t know how long he could keep his hands off her. After experiencing Flora’s uninhibited passion, he couldn’t wait to discover if a difference existed between Flora the mistress and Christy the wife.

After his initial anger had dissipated and calmness prevailed, he saw no reason why he and Christy shouldn’t enjoy one another in the same way they had in London.

He wondered how long it would take him to persuade Christy to let him share her bed. He chuckled to himself. It wasn’t going to be easy, but nothing worth having was ever easy.

Chapter 7

S
injun’s mind drifted as he leaned his head back against the rim of the tub and waited for Christy. He wasn’t certain she would come, but the thrill of anticipation was worth the wait. Pregnancy hadn’t dimmed her beauty. If anything, it had enhanced it. And to think he had avoided Christy all these years because he’d remembered her as a nasty, red-haired hoyden with little to commend her. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t wanted a wife intruding upon his lifestyle. He’d wanted freedom.

It was hard to imagine himself as a father. The idea was going to take some getting used to. But the longer he thought about it the more it grew on him. A son and heir or a daughter who looked like Christy. He hadn’t mentioned in his letter to Julian that Lady Flora and Christy Macdonald were the same woman. He thought he’d save that for when he could tell Julian in person. Wouldn’t his brother be surprised? And Emma. She’d be ecstatic to learn she was going to be an aunt.

A knock on the door brought a smile to Sinjun’s sensuous lips. Christy. She’d come. His shaft gave an involuntary jerk, and he wondered how long it would take him to coax Christy into his bed.

“Come,” he called.

His smile faltered when Rory entered the chamber. “Where is Christy?”

“Entertaining Camerons. She sent me to tell ye they await ye in the hall.”

“Did they say what they wanted?”

“Nay. With Camerons ye can never tell. Christy invited them to share our meal.”

Sinjun spit out an oath. “Tell them I’ll be right down.”

Disgruntled at the untimely interruption, Sinjun entered the hall a short time later. Christy, Margot, and Rory were seated at the table with Calum, Donald, and an assortment of Camerons.

“I understand you wanted to speak with me,” Sinjun said, seating himself beside Christy.

“Aye,” Calum said. “We understand ye were nosing around Glenmoor village today.”

“If you call inspecting my property nosing around, then, aye, I was doing just that. I intend to visit the Cameron, Ranald, and Mackenzie strongholds in the coming weeks.”

Calum’s furious gaze rested on Christy a moment before returning to Sinjun. “’Tis true, then. We heard ye were settling in at Glenmoor for the winter.”

Knowing it would annoy Calum, he placed his hand over Christy’s. “Aye, ‘tis my intention to remain for the birth of my child.”

Calum’s ruddy features grew mottled, and Sinjun tensed, waiting for the expected outburst. Mary and her helpers chose that moment to carry in trays of food. Calum dismissed Sinjun with an angry glare and fell upon the food with gusto.

Ravenous, Sinjun devoted the next hour to his stomach. He sampled oyster soup, roasted mutton, poached trout, hare, boiled root vegetables drenched in butter, and the inevitable bannocks. Dessert consisted of pudding made from apples. Sinjun ate generous portions of everything set before him, amazed at his appetite. At this rate he’d lose the slim figure the
ton
so admired.

Replete at last, he sat back and waited for the Cameron chieftain to air his grievances. He didn’t have long to wait. Calum pushed to his feet and said, “Shall we continue our conversation in private, yer lordship?”

“Fine with me,” Sinjun replied, scraping his chair back.

Christy rose. “We can converse right here.” Immediately the hall cleared.

Calum sent Christy a disgruntled look. “What I have to say is for his lordship’s ears. ‘Tis no concern of yers.”

Christy squared her shoulders. “As laird of the clan, ‘tis my right to hear whatever it is you have to say to Lord Derby.”

“Christy, I’m going to speak to Calum alone,” Sinjun said, brooking no argument. “Let me handle this.”