A Taste of Sin (9 page)

“Sinjun! What are you doing?”

“What I’ve wanted to do all evening. Don’t worry, I told the coachman to take the long way home. Spread your sweet thighs for me, sweetheart. I need to touch you.”

Christy’s breath seemed suspended. She couldn’t move her eyes from his face. She could almost hear her blood pounding through her veins; every sense seemed intensified, and yet she was aware of little beyond the small, enclosed place that held the two of them. Sinjun required things of her she’d always considered wicked. She knew he was wild, hedonistic, unpredictable, but making love in a traveling coach was beyond anything she had imagined. Closing her mind to the very improper behavior Sinjun demanded of her, Christy realized a mistress would be eager to acquiesce to her lover’s whims, no matter how improper. She spread her thighs.

Sinjun’s hand slid up her stocking-clad leg past the garter. His hand found her, and she jerked in response. Something very strange was happening, and once again she felt the disorienting sensation of losing control of her senses. It was not at all what she was supposed to feel for her womanizing husband.

“You’re already hot and wet for me,” he whispered against her lips. “I have to have you, Flora.” He raised her skirts to bare her thighs and shifted away to release his rigid staff. His member sprang free, and he pulled her astride him. “Ride me, sweetheart.”

Christy rose slightly and impaled herself; the feeling of him sliding inside her was pure bliss. She arched her body and took him deeper. He gripped her bottom, his hands kneading, caressing, urging her to take even more of him. Her body drifted apart from her mind, lost in a sensual haze of pleasure. Excitement raced through her. A sudden jolt of sensation wrung a strangled cry from her lips, brought forth from deep inside her by the man who didn’t know he was her husband. Then she knew no more.

When her wits reconnected with reality, she found herself lying on the seat with Sinjun leaning over her, his dark eyes inscrutable.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered as he hastily pushed down her skirts to cover her legs. “We’re almost home.”

With Sinjun’s help, Christy straightened her dress and patted her hair into place, relieved that Margot wouldn’t be up to remark on her dishevelment.

Sinjun exited the coach and handed her down. She wasn’t sure he intended to go inside until he followed her to the door and held his hand out for the key. She handed it to him and stood back while he opened the door. A moment later she found herself being swept up into his arms and carried up the stairs. He entered her room and slammed the door with his boot heel. Then he set her on her feet, undressed her slowly, and made love to her again. Christy thought she had given her all in the coach, but their loving was as fierce as any storm, battering her senses and leaving her breathless. Afterward, she was more confused by her feelings than ever.

She was enjoying this far too much.

The following days and nights were surprisingly full. Since Sinjun never left until the sun rose high in the sky, Christy slept late. Sometimes he took her to the opera or theater, or riding in the park, but always they ended up in her bed. They ran into Julian a time or two. Stiff with disapproval, he usually acknowledged them with a cool nod but rarely spoke to them. She saw Emma only from afar, for Julian was careful to avoid them when he escorted his sister about.

Christy thoroughly enjoyed the operas and plays, even the rides through the park, but she abhorred the balls, routs, and dances. Sinjun seemed to recognize her reluctance to attend private functions and honored her unspoken wishes by escorting her upon occasions to public affairs.

Christy could not fault Sinjun’s attention to her. His faithfulness never wavered, which surprised her. Sinjun wasn’t known for his fidelity. As for herself, what she feared most was happening. Making love with Sinjun was the greatest pleasure she had ever known. She awaited his arrival each night with breathless anticipation, no matter that he had left her bed scant hours before.

Lust was a powerful emotion.

Christy knew Sinjun wasn’t the kind of man a woman could depend on. His very nature precluded a lasting relationship. Had he wanted a wife, he would have consummated their marriage years ago. Had she wanted an Englishman for a husband she would have done something about it long before now. What she wanted was freedom to do as she pleased without an interfering husband. And she wanted an heir for Glenmoor. If she were clever enough she could have everything she wanted.
But at what cost?
a voice inside her asked. Would her heart survive Lord Sin?

A month sped by. Then another. At the end of her second month as Sinjun’s mistress, Christy had every reason to believe she was pregnant. She had missed her monthly flow by two weeks and there was still no sign of it. But to be absolutely certain, she decided to remain until the end of the third month, just as she had originally planned. As her deadline approached, it became apparent to Christy that if she didn’t remove herself mentally from Sinjun she wouldn’t be able to leave at all. That night, after they returned from the opera, Christy attempted to separate herself from her body’s response to Sinjun’s loving.

After Sinjun had made love to her, he looked at her strangely and asked, “Are you not feeling well tonight?”

Had she been that obvious?
“I feel fine. Why do you ask?”

“You seem distracted. Tiring of me already?” His voice was light and teasing, but his expression was intense.

“ Tis almost time for me to leave,” she reminded him.

She felt him stiffen. “Leave? No!” He went very still. “Are you increasing?”

“Do you really want to know? Let’s just say ‘tis time I leave London and return to my husband.”

“Bloody hell! I’m not ready for you to leave. If you were honest, you’d admit you want to stay.”

“It doesn’t matter what either of us wants,” Christy said in a hushed voice. “I gave my word. Lord Randall expects me home.”

“Promise you’ll give us more time together,” Sinjun pleaded.

Christy couldn’t believe her ears. Lord Sin begging? That was likely to be a first. “I cannot,” she said on a sigh. “Please do not ask it of me.”

Sinjun made a growling sound deep in his throat and pulled her beneath him. What transpired next was so savage, so utterly devastating, that it left her feeling bruised and more than a little frightened of her growing desire for her husband.

Two weeks after their conversation Sinjun felt fairly certain that Flora had abandoned her plan to leave London any time soon. In fact, the subject had not been broached again. Their coupling, as always, was wildly passionate and immensely satisfying for both of them; parting now was unthinkable. There was so much more he wanted to know about Lady Flora Randall. He knew her shapely, responsive body as intimately as his own, but she remained a mystery in every way except sexually.

During his latest visit to White’s, Sinjun learned that a wager had been placed on the betting books as to the date Lord Sin would end his association with his current mistress. It probably would happen, Sinjun supposed, but his passion for Lady Flora was still too powerful to let her slip away.

He began his campaign to keep her in town by giving her emeralds to match her eyes. Next he presented her with a diamond bracelet, then a tiara. Nothing was too expensive for her. The pleasure with which she accepted the gifts warmed his heart, but a certain wariness in her green eyes made him uneasy.

There were no lights in the windows of Flora’s rented townhouse when Sinjun arrived to escort her to the opera one night about three months into their passionate affair. A feeling of dread crawled up his spine as he pounded on the door. When no answer was forthcoming, he turned the knob. The moment the door opened beneath his hand he knew that she was gone. He detected no spark of life, only emptiness, as if the heart had gone out of the house. Unwilling to accept the only plausible answer, Sinjun took the stairs two at a time. The rooms were cold and lifeless. He flung open the wardrobe. Empty. His curses echoed hollowly in the barren chamber when he spotted the gifts he had given her lying in full view on the nightstand. He scooped the jewels into his pocket and stormed out of the house.

Gone! She had left without a word or proper good-bye. Damn her! What kind of woman was she? Did she care nothing for his feelings? Had he not been generous enough with her? His other mistresses had received less from him and hadn’t complained. But the weight of the jewelry in his pocket banished the uncharitable notion that Flora was greedy. It was the old man she was married to, Sinjun thought angrily. Though they had never discussed feelings, the thought that she loved her elderly husband more than she enjoyed his company battered his ego.

Determined to forget the callous Lady Flora, Sinjun headed to White’s, where he proceeded to get roaring drunk and gamble as if his pockets had no bottom. He was well into his cups when Rudy spotted him in the card room.

“Sinjun! I haven’t seen you alone in months. Have you and your mistress parted ways already? I’d be happy to take her off your hands.”

“If you can find her, she’s yours,” Sinjun muttered as he slammed down another losing hand and rose unsteadily. “Good night, gentlemen. It seems the cards are trying to tell me something.”

Rudy grasped his arm to steady him. “I’ll be damned! You’re foxed. This isn’t like you, Sinjun.”

Sinjun shoved him away. “Go to hell, Rudy.”

“Come on, Sinjun. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“The hell you don’t. You can barely stand. Where is your carriage?”

“S-s-sent it home,” Sinjun mumbled, slurring the words. “I’m afoot.”

“I’ll take you in my rig,” Rudy said, guiding him out the door. “You can tell me what’s wrong while I drive.”

“Not a damn thing wrong that a few drinks and a hot woman won’t cure. Drop me off at Violet’s townhouse. I hear her husband is still in Scotland.”

“You wouldn’t do Violet or yourself any good in your condition,” Rudy chided. He picked up the ribbons, and his team lurched forward. “What happened?”

A tense silence followed, then Sinjun growled, “Flora left. Gone without a word.”

“So what? Since when did Lord Sin let a woman disrupt his life? You’ve never had a problem moving on before. You knew she had a husband waiting for her in Cornwall.” He sent Sinjun an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me she stole your heart.”

Mellowed by drink, Sinjun admitted to something he wouldn’t have had he been sober. “Flora was different, Rudy, and that’s all I’m going to say.”

“Bloody hell! You
are
smitten. Tis not like you, my friend. What are you going to do? Will you pursue her?”

Sinjun’s reputation was at stake. He’d never chased after a woman in his life and wasn’t about to start now. So what if he felt at loose ends and without direction? So what if his ego had been battered? There were plenty of other women to take her place, should he want one.

“Hell no! Her husband is more than welcome to her.”

Following Flora’s departure, Sinjun embarked on a path of self-destruction even more dissolute than usual. Though he didn’t take another mistress, he was seen with various women of the
ton
as well as ladies of easy virtue. Lord Sin’s excesses grew even more unpredictable and wild as he tried to purge Lady Flora from his mind and heart. It wasn’t like him to obsess over a woman, and he reacted by embarking upon a life of debauchery that made his previous excesses seem tame by comparison.

Ultimately his libidinous conduct reached Julian’s ears. He stormed into Sinjun’s townhouse one morning about a month after Christy’s departure and pulled him from bed at the ungodly hour of noon. Sinjun glared at his brother through bloodshot eyes.

“I’m not in the mood to be lectured, Julian.”

“You’re going to listen whether or not you like it. You can’t go on like this, Sinjun. Your excesses are getting out of hand, even for a man of your unsavory reputation. Is your parting with Lady Flora the reason you’re hell-bent on self-destruction?”

“I don’t wish to discuss Flora,” Sinjun groaned as he sat on the edge of the bed and cradled his aching head in his hands. “She’s gone. Left a month ago without so much as a good-bye.”

Hands behind his back, Julian began to pace. “The lady is married, Sinjun, what did you expect? What’s gotten into you? Mistresses come and go. What makes this affair different from the others?”

“Dammit, Julian, you have no right to question me. Perhaps you’re more discreet than I, but your own affairs aren’t above reproach. For instance, where do you disappear to several times a year? Everyone thinks you have a woman stashed away somewhere; someone not fit to meet your peers. What is she, a Gypsy? Or someone even worse? At least I’m more forthcoming than you are.”

“More forthcoming and more debauched,” Julian muttered irritably. “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”

“Come back later. I’m not fit company.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll be gone several weeks. That’s another reason I wanted to speak to you. You’ve been avoiding Mansfield Place, I had to come to you.”

“Does Emma know you’re leaving?”

“Of course. I’ve asked Aunt Amanda to move into Mansfield Place to look after Emma during my absence. I expect you to escort them about while I’m away.”