A Taste of Sin (17 page)

Sinjun made an effort to speak with the shepherds. They answered his questions readily enough but appeared wary of his interest. He learned that not all the sheep belonged to Glenmoor. Some were owned by clansmen and tended along with Sinjun’s flock. After he’d seen how well the flock was being cared for, Sinjun decided to visit the Ranald stronghold.

“The Ranalds are loyal to Laird Christy,” Rory explained. “They accepted Laird Christy without question. Tavis Ranald, the clan’s chieftain, and old Angus Macdonald had been fast friends. Except for a few of the younger, more militant Ranalds, they are farmers and sheepherders, unlike the thieving Camerons, who make their living stealing their neighbors’ livestock.”

“I thought the Camerons were your allies,” Sinjun said. He would never understand these Highlanders and the workings of the clans.

“Aye. They are our allies but we know better than to turn our backs on them. Tis no secret that Calum Cameron expected to become laird when Angus left no male heir except for some distantly related Macdonalds like myself. They complained bitterly when Angus named Christy their overlord. There was even talk of joining the Campbells, our sworn enemies. But nothing ever came of that.”

“Forget the Camerons,” Sinjun said. “’Tis the Ranalds I’m interested in now. Is that their village up ahead?”

The Ranald stronghold consisted of an assortment of stone cottages not far from the Macdonald stronghold. As Sinjun expected, his appearance caused quite a stir. A sturdy old man who, Sinjun imagined, would have been a force to be reckoned with at one time, stepped out of his cottage to greet his visitors.

He nodded to Rory before directing his words at Sinjun. “I am Tavis Ranald, chieftain of Clan Ranald. What business do ye have with the Ranalds, yer lordship?”

“You know who I am?” Sinjun asked.

“Aye. I was at Glenmoor the day ye arrived. We heard ye were staying. Is it true?”

There had been so many people gathered in the hall the day Sinjun had arrived he hadn’t had time to sort them out yet. Besides, he’d only had eyes for Christy that day. “I’m staying for the time being,” Sinjun allowed. “I wanted to thank you for defending Laird Christy when the Camerons tried to force a rebellion.”

“I wouldna flout Angus’s wishes. Laird Christy is his granddaughter and that was good enough for Ranalds.”

Sinjun had made a hasty inspection of the cottages as he’d ridden in, and he’d noticed they were in no better repair than those at Glenmoor village.

“As I speak, workmen are repairing the cottages at Glenmoor village. I couldn’t help noticing that some minor repairs wouldn’t be remiss here. After the work is finished at Glenmoor I could send the workmen here, at my expense, of course.”

Tavis’s eyes narrowed. “Why would ye do that, yer lordship? To my knowledge, ye have never cared for yer wife or yer holdings. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Sinjun knew these Highlanders had no reason to trust him. The Crown had taken their land, forbidden them to wear kilts or play the bagpipe, and married the daughters of their noblemen to Englishmen. He knew he had instilled scant trust in these Highlanders throughout the years. He had ignored his Scottish wife and taken little interest in his holdings.

“Let’s just say it’s time I devoted some attention to my holdings.”

“Did ye mean what ye said about the quarterly levies? ‘Twould ease our burden considerably if we didna have to pay them.”

“I meant every word, Tavis Ranald. I’ve asked my brother to look into the recent increases. I’m beginning to suspect there is more involved than meets the eye. I intend to adjust the future levies as soon as I hear from Lord Mansfield.”

“Would ye and Rory like to take a bite with me and me wife, yer lordship? We’d be pleased to have both of ye share our meal. Nothing fancy, but Meg is a good cook.”

“What say you, Rory?” Sinjun asked, pleased with Ranald’s invitation. It was the first tenuous sign that he might find acceptance among his tenants.

“My stomach is touching my backbone. A bite to eat wouldna be remiss,” Rory said, grinning. “Meg Ranald is the best cook around. Dinna tell Mary I said that”

Sinjun laughed. “Mary wouldn’t believe anything I said. I don’t think she likes me.”

The meal was simple but ample and well prepared. Cold mutton, coarse bread, boiled potatoes. Everything tasted so good, that Sinjun embarrassed himself by cleaning his plate and asking for more. He supposed the cold air had sparked his appetite.

Before Sinjun and Rory left, Tavis agreed to let Sinjun finance repairs to the cottages. They parted on friendly terms, considering he was an Englishman.

After they left the Ranald holdings, Sinjun decided to visit Glenmoor village. Repairs were well underway when they arrived. Rory was greeted with enthusiasm, and Sinjun, with cautious optimism. A few shy smiles were directed at him by the ladies whose homes would receive new roofs and other amenities, and Sinjun considered that a very good beginning.

On impulse, Sinjun dismounted, hefted a bale of thatch over his shoulder, and carried it up a ladder to one of the workmen. When Rory saw what Sinjun was doing, he joined in. They didn’t leave until the first glimmer of darkness fell over the land. Then, tired, aching in every muscle yet feeling a sense of accomplishment he’d never felt before, Sinjun returned to Glenmoor.

A contingent of Camerons was waiting for him in the hall. Sinjun groaned aloud. Camerons were the last people he wanted to see right now. He wanted to soak in a tub, eat, then make love to Christy. His loins stirred and his breeches suddenly felt too tight. Thinking about Christy always brought the same heady response, and he wondered why Lady Violet, or any other woman of his acquaintance, had never affected him in the same way.

“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.”