A Taste of Sin (16 page)

“Too damn many clothes,” he whispered as he raised his head from her breasts and made swift work of her clothing. When she was naked, he sat back on his heels and stared at her.

She tried to cover her stomach with her hands, but he pushed them aside. “No, don’t try to hide yourself from me.” Reverently he ran his fingertips over her distended stomach. She wasn’t large enough, he thought, and vowed to make her eat more for the sake of their child.

“The bairn is small yet,” she said shyly. “She will grow during the next four and a half months.”

Sinjun’s elegant brows shot upward. “She?”

“I’m hoping for a daughter.”

Did he detect a hint of challenge in her voice? He spanned her hipbones, shaking his head in dismay. “You’re too narrow. I’m a big man. Are you sure you’re capable of birthing this child?”

“ Tis rather late to question my ability to deliver. I’m determined to have this child.”

“Aye, I know. You’re beautiful. More beautiful than the first time I saw you.” He lowered his head and kissed her stomach.

She appeared surprised. “I don’t disgust you? Most men can’t stand the sight of their pregnant wives.”

“Do I act like you disgust me? Your body is lovelier than I remember. I’ll be careful. Let me know if I do anything to hurt you.”

“Why are you being so nice? When you arrived you acted as if you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

“Each in our own way, we must bear the burden of guilt for our past actions.”

“I have little faith in you, Sinjun. I warn you, I’m not letting you steal my heart; you cannot be trusted with it. Come spring, Lord Sin will hie himself back to his decadent life in London.”

Sinjun supposed he deserved that, but it still hurt to have his sins laid bare before him. “I can’t promise it won’t happen just as you say, but I can say with complete honesty that you are the only woman in my life right now.”

“There has
never
been another man in my life,” Christy whispered against his lips.

He kissed her hard, then rose quickly and began pulling off his clothing, ignoring the flying buttons and ripped material in his haste to render himself as naked as Christy. Then he covered her with his body, gazing intently into her expressive green eyes.

She wrapped her long legs around him, groaning in frustration when he made no move to enter her. Instead, he trailed his mouth down her throat to her breast, sucking a ripe nipple into his mouth.

Then his mouth moved lower, to her waist, her belly, trailing burning kisses down her trunk until he found her center. A jolting thrill of pleasure danced through her body, searing and shocking and wonderful. She gasped, arching upward into his caress.

When his tongue stroked her there, she moaned and thrashed wildly against the heat of his mouth as waves of sensation rocketed through her. His tongue parted her, explored the moist folds, dipped into her heat. The tension that had been building inside her uncoiled in a burst of ecstasy, the explosion rendering her mindless and boneless.

When she floated back to reality, she saw Sinjun leaning over her, gazing into her unfocused eyes. “Open for me, sweetheart.” His eyes were so dark, so drenched in desire, that she felt herself drowning in them. Her legs parted, and he pushed inside her. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Hurt her? The pleasure of having him inside her again was so incredibly wonderful that she nearly swooned. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, meshing their bodies; nothing had ever felt so right, so complete. His hardness filled her, possessed her, enchanted her. Her hips rose upward to meet his slow, deep thrusts, drawing him deeply inside her.

She heard him whisper her name, heard his long drawn out sigh, and felt him grow and throb within her. And it began again, that feeling of helplessness, that swiftly gathering heat that drained the strength from her limbs and scalded her body, that sweet, intense feeling she couldn’t contain.

“Christy, come now, love … now.” His voice sounded hoarse, as if his throat were raw.

She felt his body convulse, felt his sex expand and contract inside her, and her body shattered around him.

“Christy, are you all right?”

She was floating, lost somewhere in that blissful void where pleasure had taken her. She heard his voice as if from a great distance.

“Sweetheart, was I too rough? Forgive me. I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?”

Somewhere in the fog of her mind she registered Sinjun’s concern and smiled. He sounded as if he truly cared about her and her bairn.

“Thank God,” Sinjun said when she opened her eyes.

“You weren’t too rough,” Christy said on a sigh. “It’s been so long…”

He gave her a disarming grin. “Much too long. No other woman makes me feel like you do.”

Christy stared at him, stunned. “No other woman?” He must have had dozens. “Surely you jest. You’ve had scores of women more experienced than I.”

“Scores,” Sinjun agreed, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Men aren’t interested in their wives that way.”

“True.”

“Why are you being so agreeable?”

“I’m an agreeable fellow.”

“Sinjun, be serious. Tell me why you’re helping the crofters.”

“Now?”

“What better time?”

“I want to love you again.”

“Now?”

He threw her words back at her. “What better time?”

He loved her slowly, with such tender care that Christy felt truly cherished. His thrusts were slow and measured, his excitement carefully banked, and then Christy’s patience snapped. Grasping his hips, she pulled him deeper, showing him without words what she wanted from him. Only then did he unleash the full potential of his passion, thrusting them both to completion. Afterward, she spooned herself against his back and dozed.

She was nearly asleep when she felt a tiny fluttering in her abdomen. An unmistakable movement. She cried out, waking Sinjun. He reared up, his eyes wild as he sought the reason for Christy’s alarm.

“What is it? Are you ill?”

“Feel,” she said, grasping his hand and bringing it to her stomach.

“Feel what?”

“Wait.”

The bairn moved again. Sinjun must have felt it, for his hand tensed and his eyes widened with pleasure.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Aye. Our bairn. ‘Tis the first sign of life I’ve felt.”

The flutter came one more time before the baby settled down. Christy thought it appropriate that her child’s father was with her the first time she felt life. She wondered if he was as awed as she by their bairn’s first feeble movement.

“Sinjun.”

“Aye.”

“I know you don’t want this child as desperately as I do, but I hope you won’t close your mind against her.”

Sinjun was silent a long time. Then he said, “I never gave it much thought. Lord knows I’m not the best person to preach responsibility, but when you hatched your plan to carry my child, was it because you truly wanted a child or because you needed an heir for Glenmoor?”

Christy stiffened. Sinjun had come too close to the truth for comfort.

“The truth, Christy,” Sinjun prodded.

How could she explain that his bairn was the clan’s future without sounding cold-blooded? Before she’d met Sinjun and fallen in love with him, giving Glenmoor an heir and thwarting Calum had been her primary goal. But the moment she learned she carried Sinjun’s child, everything had changed. She loved Sinjun’s bairn. Fiercely. She wanted the babe. Desperately. Her bairn would be a part of Sinjun. The only part she would ever have. How could she explain that to Sinjun?

“I cannot lie. At first, having your bairn was something I needed to do for the clan. To save Glenmoor for future generations. Later, your child became very real to me and I realized I wanted it for myself.”

Sinjun chewed that over and realized he had acted irresponsibly in London. He bore half the blame for making a baby. He could have taken precautions instead of agreeing to the terms Christy had set forth for their affair, but at the time he’d been crazed with lust and would have agreed to anything Christy wanted.

“Don’t worry, Sinjun,” Christy said, rushing into the void left by his silence. “Your bairn will never lack for love. Nor will I make demands on you, if that’s what you’re concerned about. We don’t need you. You can leave Glenmoor without regrets.”

Bloody hell! Hearing that he wasn’t needed did nothing for Sinjun’s deflated ego.

Chapter 8

S
injun was up at dawn. Christy was sleeping peacefully, so he tried not to awaken her as he tiptoed from her chamber and returned to his own room to wash, shave, and dress. Rory was already in the hall when he arrived. He seated himself at the table just as Mary bustled in with Rory’s oats. She glared at Sinjun, her usual cheerful mood replaced by a sour look.

“What will it be this morning, yer lordship?”

Sinjun eyed the oats Rory seemed to be enjoying and swallowed his distaste. “Perhaps I’ll try oats this morning, Mary. And maybe a couple of eggs to go with it.”

Mary’s mouth twitched suspiciously, but she left too quickly for Sinjun to tell if she had actually smiled.

“Ye made Mary happy this morning, yer lordship,” Rory said between mouthfuls of oats.

“If we’re to work closely together, Rory, perhaps you should call me Sinjun.”

“‘Tisn’t right,” Rory muttered.

“It’s right if I say it is.”

“What is right?” Margot asked as she slid into a seat beside her husband.

“His lordship asked me to call him Sinjun,” Rory explained.

She eyed Sinjun with a healthy dose of suspicion. “Why would ye do that, yer lordship?”

“All this ‘your lordship’is daunting. My friends call me Sinjun, or Derby, and I’d feel more at home if both you and Rory called me Sinjun.”

“If ye say so, yer … Sinjun,” Margot said, clearly uncomfortable using his name. “Where is Christy? She’s usually down before now.”

Sinjun assumed an innocent look. “Still abed. She must have had a restless night.”

Margot and Rory exchanged knowing looks, then Margot shot to her feet. “Perhaps I should go up and see if she’s all right.” She rushed off in a flurry of petticoats.

Sinjun was all too aware of Rory’s censuring look. “Spit it out, man. If you’ve anything to say, get it off your chest.”

“Verra well, yer lordship, I mean Sinjun. We all love Christy. None of us wants to see her hurt.”

Sinjun saw Mary approaching. He waited until she set his bowl of oats and plate of eggs before him and marched away before answering. “Christy carries my child. What makes you think I’d harm her?”

“I ken how angry ye were with her when ye arrived at Glenmoor.”

“I’ve forgiven her for tricking me. Perhaps I deserved it. Ask Christy if you don’t believe me.”

“Ask me what?”

Sinjun swiveled around at the sound of her voice. She and Margot had entered the hall so quietly that he hadn’t heard them. She looked tired but radiant nevertheless. Pregnancy agreed with her.

“Tm having the devil’s own time convincing your kinsman that I mean you no harm.”

“Sinjun isn’t going to hurt me, Rory,” Christy said. “At least not physically,” she added in an undertone that didn’t reach Rory.

Sinjun heard and decided to ignore it. Instead, he lifted a spoonful of gruel to his mouth and swallowed before he had time to think about it. Though the taste almost gagged him, he managed to keep it down.

“Sinjun! You’re eating oats,” Christy exclaimed, clearly amused. “I thought you didn’t like oats.”

“Sometimes one has to swallow things one doesn’t like,” he said as he choked down another spoonful of gruel. Somehow he managed to finish the entire contents of the bowl, washing it down with generous gulps of ale. Then he attacked the eggs, which were more to his liking.

“I thought we’d inspect the sheep today,” Sinjun said, eager to enjoy the fine, brisk day. It had been a long time since he’d risen early and ridden for the pure joy of it in so invigorating an environment.

“Bring something along to eat in case we don’t make it back in time for the noon meal, Rory,” Sinjun added as he scraped his chair back.

“Dress warmly,” Christy advised. “And watch your back for Camerons,” she added.

Sinjun sent her a cocky grin. “I have my bodyguard, remember?”

The hills and moors were white with frost; Sinjun’s breath hung in the air like heavy mist. The day was dismal with the promise of snow, but Sinjun’s exuberance couldn’t be dimmed this morning. Christy had spent the night in his arms.

They found the sheep huddled together in a sheltered valley. Sinjun reined in his horse and took pleasure in watching them. Though he’d had nothing to do with their care, pride swelled his chest. The flock was a large one, several hundred, he estimated, and each and every one wore a thick coat of wool. Come spring and shearing, profit from the sale of the fleece would be substantial. Sinjun had paid little heed to business in the past, but he did know that the price of wool hadn’t slackened in several years and wondered why Sir Oswald had said otherwise. It just didn’t make sense. Somewhere in the far reaches of his brain he began to suspect that Sir Oswald might be lining his own pockets while robbing the estate and its shepherds of their fair share.