Sin: A Taste Of Sin Part 8

Christy locked Sinjun out of her bedchamber that night. After turning the air blue with profanities, he followed a silently gloating Margot to an unoccupied room, cursing Christy Macdonald and Flora Randall and any other name she chose to use. He didn't need this. He'd been happy and carefree in London, maintaining his reputation and using his G.o.d-given talents to pursue his hedonistic lifestyle. He wanted to leave these cursed Highlands, but how could he? Christy was carrying his child, and he had the compelling urge to remain long enough to see what he or she looked like.

Sinjun found his belongings piled against the wall in the chamber a.s.signed to him. Two trunks and a small bag. He didn't know how long he'd be required to stay, so he'd brought nearly his entire wardrobe. He'd also had the foresight to bring a small casket of gold sovereigns, and another with silver coins, hidden inside one of the trunks.

Before retiring that night he spoke with John Coachman about the return trip to London early the following morning. He had composed a letter to Julian and gave it to John to deliver to his brother. Weather permitting, the letter should reach Julian within a fortnight. That meant it would be at least four weeks before he received Julian's reply, which he hoped would clear up the mystery of the increased levies. If things continued as they were, a rebellion would result. Christy wasn't strong enough to control the Cameron chieftain.

Yet he had to admire Christy for the way she'd held her clan together since old Angus's death two years ago. It had never occurred to him that she might have needed him. He'd left her on her own, thinking he was doing them both a favor, while in reality he had left her to deal with things that needed a man's firm hand. When he compared Christy's problems to the profligate lifestyle he enjoyed, he felt inadequate and shallow. And he didn't like the feeling.

For the first time in years, Sinjun had a glimmer of what Julian had been trying to drum into him. When he'd heard about his nickname, he'd actually been pleased. Lord Sin. Delightfully wicked, marvelously decadent, and he'd spent his adult life living up to its promise.

Lord, what an absolute a.s.s Julian must think him.

The following morning, after a night of intense introspection, Sinjun saw John Coachman off and went to the hall in search of food. Christy was already breaking her fast with Margot and the young man he recognized as Christy's London coachman.

"You remember Rory Macdonald, don't you?" Christy asked, nodding toward the sullen young man who was regarding him with resentment.

"I remember the face but not the name," Sinjun said, taking a seat beside Christy. Immediately a short, round woman came in from the kitchen. She paused beside Sinjun, scowling unpleasantly.

"Do ye want something to eat, yer lords.h.i.+p?" she asked curtly.

"I'm sure Lord Derby is hungry, Mary," Christy said reprovingly. "Bring him what we're eating."

Sinjun grimaced at the oat gruel Christy was spooning into her mouth. He didn't like pap. "I'd prefer eggs and steak," he said, smiling at Mary.

"Ye dinna want oats?" she asked, clearly affronted.

Sinjun shook his head. "I don't like oats."

"Did ye hear mat, Christy? The mon dinna like oats. All Scotsmen worth their salt eat oats in the morning."

"Bring Lord Derby steak and eggs, Mary," Christy said on a sigh. " Tis his home, he can have what he wants for breakfast."

Mary sent him a disgruntled look, then, with a swish of her skirts, stomped back to the kitchen.

"I trust you slept well, my lord," Christy said.

"So I'm 'my lord' now, am I?" Sinjun replied, scowling. "I'm your husband, remember? You used to call me Sinjun."

Color pinkened her cheeks. "Your coach left this morning without you, Sinjun. We have a few spirited horses in our stables, perhaps you'd prefer to ride one of them back to London."

"Why are you so anxious to be rid of me?" His face darkened. "Is there another you would prefer to call husband?"

Her reply was forestalled when Mary appeared with Sinjun's steak and eggs. He jumped when she banged the dish down in front of him. "Dinna choke on the steak, yer lords.h.i.+p," she said sweetly. Then she whirled and marched back to her domain.

Neither Margot nor Rory did anything to hide their amus.e.m.e.nt. "Enjoy yer breakfast, yer lords.h.i.+p," Margot said, rising. "Duties await me." She sent Rory a speaking glance. "Are ye coming, Rory?"

Rory sc.r.a.ped back his chair. "Aye."

"Wait," Sinjun said around a mouthful of steak. "Since there are horses in the stables, I'd like to inspect my land and perhaps ride through the village today. I'll require Rory's a.s.sistance. Can you be ready in an hour, Rory?"

Rory slid an inquiring glance at Christy before answering. It galled Sinjun that Rory needed Christy's approval when he was the lord of the manor. But he supposed it would take time for the Macdonalds, Camerons, Ra.n.a.lds and Mackenzies to accept his authority as landowner. Winter was swift approaching and he doubted he'd be traveling until spring thaw made the roads pa.s.sable again. According to his calculations, Christy would deliver his child sometime in March. He still had several months yet in which to decide what his future would hold where Christy and the child were concerned.

"I'll go with ye, yer lords.h.i.+p," Rory said, sounding pleased despite his scowl. "I'll saddle the horses and meet ye outside in an hour."

Rory left immediately. Sinjun devoted his attention to his food. His healthy appet.i.te surprised him. In London he rarely rose before noon. Since his stomach was never at its best after a night of carousing, he ate sparingly during the early part of the day. Dinner was usually very late, possibly a midnight buffet at some social event or other. He couldn't explain his appet.i.te this morning, unless it was due to his enforced abstinence during his trip to the Highlands. He hadn't touched a drop of anything stronger than ale since he left London.

"How long do you intend to honor us with your presence?" Christy asked as she pushed her empty bowl aside.

"Be careful, wife, I'm still b.l.o.o.d.y angry at you. I'll let you know when I decide to leave. Did it ever occur to you I might want to learn more about my holdings?"

"No. That thought never occurred to me,"

Christy said bluntly. "You're staying to punish me."

His gaze raked her. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm staying because 'tis time I took an interest in my holdings."

"d.a.m.n interfering Englishman," Christy muttered beneath her breath. "I don't need you. I've never needed you."

Sinjun dropped his fork, his anger mounting as he sc.r.a.ped his chair away from the table. "You needed me for one thing, madam." He gazed purposefully at her stomach.

Christy faced him squarely, fists clenched, chin firmed, eyes blazing hotly. "Aye, my lord. Had I not wanted something from you I would never have debased myself. Do you know how embarra.s.sing it was to play your wh.o.r.e? I'm your wife! Such subterfuge wouldn't have been necessary had you been a proper husband to me. You wore me like a trophy upon your sleeve for the benefit of your friends. All of London whispered about Lord Sin's latest mistress. G.o.d, how I hated it!"

Her outburst stunned Sinjun. She sounded as if she were the wounded party. Didn't she know he had cared for her more than any other woman of his acquaintance? Had that been her plan all along? Make him care, then leave him to wonder why she had abandoned him? Was that to be his punishment for ignoring her all these years?

"You used me!" Sinjun charged.

"I took nothing that wasn't rightfully mine," Christy contended. "Is your pride wounded, Sinjun? Perhaps it was time a woman gave you your comeuppance. Lord Sin. Bah! Lord Decadence more aptly describes you."

Rage seethed through Sinjun. He didn't lose his temper often, but Christy was sorely trying him. It took all his willpower to keep from exploding. Mouth taut, expression stiff and cold, he turned his back on her and walked away.

d.a.m.n him! Christy silently ranted. Why couldn't he have remained in London? She had already set her mind to live the rest of her days without Sinjun. Then he'd barged into her secure life, bringing turmoil, along with painful memories of the man who had made a woman of her and taught her pa.s.sion.

Her clansmen were more than a little disturbed over Sinjun's arrival. Calum had even threatened his life. Why had Sinjun come alone, without guards or soldiers? He was but one Englishman among scores of Highlanders who hated the English pa.s.sionately.

Christy sighed. She knew Sinjun would never forgive her for lying to him, and she really couldn't blame him. But, oh, he made her so angry. The world didn't revolve around Lord Sin. Had he expected her to welcome him into her bed last night? She grinned as she recalled his colorful curses when he'd tried to enter her chamber and found the door locked. What really galled was the knowledge that she had had to force herself to lock him out of the room. From the moment he'd entered Glenmoor, she'd hungered to touch him, to get close enough to inhale the male muskiness of his scent, which had haunted her dreams. The need had been so compelling that she'd had to force her anger to keep from surrendering to him.

If Sinjun had wanted her because he loved her, she would have welcomed him into her bed and into her heart. But Sinjun wasn't a man easily satisfied by one woman. She might satisfy him while he remained at Glenmoor, but when he returned to London, Lord Sin would continue his wicked ways.

Her hand went to her stomach, where his bairn grew. He might not want the child, but she did, fiercely. The future Macdonald. He or she would inherit Glenmoor and give the clan back its pride, its heritage. Sinjun's heir was the clan's salvation, its destiny. More importantly, the child would be a part of Sinjun, someone to love after he was gone. It would be so easy to give Sinjun her heart were he of a mind to remain faithful to one woman. She vowed to raise her bairn to live up to the potential Sinjun himself would never attain.

Sinjun's mount delighted him. He had no idea Glenmoor possessed a stable of such fine horseflesh. His stable, he reminded himself. Everything he'd just seen-the land upon which he rode, the village, the church, the fat sheep being driven down to the valley for the winter, was his. His chest swelled with a pride he hadn't felt in a very long time. He'd never liked the wild, windswept Scottish Highlands, or its savage inhabitants, but now, a strange sense of peace, of possessiveness, made him see it differently.

"The moors are nay so beautiful this time of year, yer lords.h.i.+p," Rory said by way of conversation. "In the spring they are covered with heather. 'Tis a wondrous sight."

Sinjun thought the hills and moors rather desolate this time of year, but no less beautiful. It was a different kind of beauty. Stark, comfortless ... compelling. The trees had lost their leaves and the air was crisp with the promise of winter. He could hear the rush of water in the nearby loch and feel the salt spray upon his cheeks. It was so invigorating that Sinjun wasn't surprised to discover he was hungry again.

Sinjun loved horses, and he rode in the park daily for exercise, but loping over leagues of open land, beneath a sky so blue it dazzled the eyes, was exhilarating. He wondered now why he'd taken such a strong dislike to the Highlands.

"Are those Glenmoor sheep grazing in the valley?" Sinjun asked.

"Aye. Clansmen tend the sheep for ye and receive a portion of the profit when the wool is sold. Some of the sheep will be butchered for meat and shared with the crofters."

"Were the shepherds paid after the shearing this year?"

"Aye, but Sir Oswald said the market wasn't good and they received less than they had expected. Then rents and taxes were raised. 'Twas what started talk of rebellion. The Cameron urged everyone to protest by withholding the quarterly dues, and we all agreed."

Sinjun mulled that over for a while, until they reached the village perched on a hillside below Glenmoor. There couldn't have been more than two dozen stone cottages cl.u.s.tered together haphazardly. It was a poor village, Sinjun noted. The thatched roofs of nearly every cottage were badly in need of repairs.

People stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Their silent animosity was so potent that Sinjun was glad Rory was riding at his side. He stopped often to converse with the people, but most turned their backs and refused to acknowledge him.

"Not a very friendly lot, are they?" Sinjun said.

"Can ye blame them?" Rory replied. "An Englishman now owns them and the land they once called their own. The Macdonald does all she can to ease their suffering, but their children are still dying from starvation." He sent Sinjun an aggrieved look. "And ye wonder why we hate Englishmen. When the land belonged to us we only fought amongst ourselves. We stole our neighbor's livestock and they stole ours, it was a way of life. But we never went hungry."

Sinjun took a closer look at the cottages and decided that something would have to be done before first snowfall.

"Can men of the village make the necessary repairs to the cottages?"

"Aye, but there isna enough thatch to go around and the homeowners canna afford to buy material. Many will die of ague when the winter snows come."

"I will pay for repairs and give the workmen a decent wage," Sinjun said, grateful for the gold sovereigns in his trunk. "Can you arrange it?"

"Ye want to pay for repairs out of yer own pocket, yer lords.h.i.+p?"

" Tis what I said." A pa.s.sel of ragged children stopped their game of tag to stare at him. Sinjun was appalled at their lack of proper doming. Some even wore animal skins fas.h.i.+oned into tunics and breeches. He made a mental note to speak to Christy about the situation in the village.

"This village is the Macdonald stronghold, yer lords.h.i.+p," Rory said. "Would ye like to visit the Cameron, Ra.n.a.ld, and Mackenzie strongholds?"

"Tomorrow, Rory, I've seen enough for today. Let's head back to Glenmoor. I'm hungry enough to eat a horse."

"Why dinna ye say ye were hungry?" Rory asked as he reached into the bag he carried at his waist and pulled out a bannock. "Have a bannock, yer lords.h.i.+p. Nothing like an oatcake to stave off hunger pangs. I never leave home without a few in me vittles bag."

Sinjun accepted the oatcake with misgiving. He'd never liked oats in any form, considering it food fit for horses, not for humans, but he was too hungry to argue. He paused but a moment before biting off a chunk and chewing. Though somewhat dry, the taste wasn't at all bad. In fact, he finished that and accepted another as they rode back to Glenmoor.

"Did ye mean what ye said about repairing the cottages?" Rory asked, as if unable to credit Sinjun's generosity.

Sinjun sent Rory a sharp look. "What made you think I was lying?"

Rory shrugged. "Yer English," he said, as if that explained everything.

Sinjun chewed that over for a moment, then said, "You don't like me, do you? I sensed that in London."

"Ye've given me no reason to like ye, yer lords.h.i.+p."

"You knew what Christy intended, didn't you?"

"Not at first. She told me after I spoke out about yer visits to her townhouse in the middle of the night. I dinna like it, but 'twas not my place to question the laird. Margot and I are handfasted, she would have had my hide if I betrayed the laird."

"Tell me about the Camerons," Sinjun said.

"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, Ra.n.a.lds, 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 lords.h.i.+p."

"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 d.a.m.n 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 a.s.sessing 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the way the taut muscles of his b.u.t.tocks 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s, 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.