A Taste of Sin (26 page)

Sinjun’s wishes were granted. When he staggered into the ballroom that night, wearing a half mask and resplendent in evening clothes, he was foxed, but not as drunk as he would have liked.

Sinjun made straight for the dowager and bowed low over her hand.

“I wondered if you’d appear,” the elegant, white-haired lady said with asperity.

“I promised your grandson,” Sinjun slurred. “By the way, where is Rudy?”

The dowager, an erect little woman in her seventh decade, sent Sinjun a reproving look. “Foxed again, Lord Derby? If I didn’t like you so well I’d be angry. Rudy will be here directly. He said you would make an appearance tonight, but he has more faith in you than I do. One never knows what Lord Sin might do these days. You simply must learn to control your excesses, Derby,” she scolded. “I’ve known you a long time and I don’t like what I’ve been hearing about you.”

Sinjun was spared from further censure when a pair of masked guests came up to greet her. Bowing, Sinjun made a hasty retreat. The dowager’s words had sparked a simmering anger inside him. If not for Christy he wouldn’t be treading upon the path to self-destruction. His child’s death had created an emptiness within him, and he did whatever it took to forget. He hurt, truly hurt inside. Christy had told him so little about his child’s death. Had he lost a son? Or had his child been a daughter?

Sinjun wandered aimlessly around the ballroom, encountering no one he cared to engage in conversation, completely unaware of the number of women staring at him with speculation. Before long he found himself surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women eager for his attention. Despite his less than pristine reputation, women still found Lord Sin irresistible. Perhaps it was
because
of his reputation that he was so popular with the opposite sex.

Though his heart wasn’t in it, Sinjun ventured onto the dance floor, idly wondering if he was attracted enough to one of his dance partners to bed her. These days he rarely found an interesting woman, and his bed had remained appallingly empty.

Sinjun was resting against a pillar with an empty glass in his hands when he saw Rudy enter the ballroom with a masked lady on his arm. He watched as they joined the promenade around the room, his bleary gaze settling on the woman. She wore a powdered wig, and though her mask covered all but her mouth, Sinjun felt an immediate attraction, as if he were drawn to the mysterious lady by an irresistible force too strong to resist.

He pushed himself away from the pillar, refreshed his drink at the refreshment table, and strode briskly toward Rudy and the masked beauty with him.

“Rudy, what kept you?” Sinjun drawled.

“You’re foxed again,” Rudy chided. “I don’t suppose my grandmother is too awfully pleased with you.”

“You suppose right,” Sinjun drawled. “Are you going to introduce me to your lady?”

“I don’t think so, Sinjun,” Rudy said. “I’m not going to lose this one to you.”

The sound of Sinjun’s voice nearly drove Christy to her knees. She adjusted her mask and clung to Rudy as if he were her lifeline, for Sinjun had never looked so splendid to her. His superbly fashioned evening clothes fitted him like a glove, and Christy tried not to think about the magnificent body that lay hidden beneath those clothes. Without volition she remembered his stunning passion as he’d loved her with his hands, his body, his mouth. She recalled how those sensual lips had explored every inch of her flesh, and she felt herself flush at the memory. She stared at him through the eye slits of her mask, thinking that he carried himself well despite being noticeably foxed.

When she’d walked into the ballroom on Rudy’s arm, Christy had seen him surrounded by adoring women, and she wondered how many of the nubile beauties he had bedded since he left Glenmoor.

“What harm can it do to introduce the lady to me?” Sinjun persisted.

“More than you know,” Rudy muttered, giving Christy’s hand a squeeze.

Sinjun raised an elegant eyebrow. “You’re being deliberately cruel, Rudy.” He took Christy’s hand, turned it palm up, and pressed it to his lips. “I am St.John Thornton, Lord Derby, my lady. My friends call me Sinjun.”

Christy felt a shock travel clear up her arms from where his lips touched her palm. “My lord,” she murmured in a husky whisper as she quickly withdrew her hand from his grasp. Did Sinjun recognize her?

“Do I know you, my lady?”

“No, my lord, I would have remembered had we met before.”

“Your charm won’t work this time,” Rudy said. “Go find your own lady. Didn’t I see Lady Alice a few minutes ago?”

Sinjun shrugged. “Alice and I had a parting of ways.”

Christy sucked in a startled breath. Had she heard right? She thought Sinjun and Lady Alice Dodd were to be married.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone to replace her,” Rudy said, sounding not at all sympathetic to Sinjun’s plight.

“Ah, a quadrille is starting. Do you mind if I dance with your lady?”

“Back off, Sinjun,” Rudy warned. “This dance is promised to me.”

“Isn’t that your grandmother signaling for you to attend her?” Sinjun asked, calling Rudy’s attention to the dowager, who was indeed waving at Rudy. “Go ahead, I’ll keep your lady company.”

“No, I’ll go with Lord Blakely,” Christy said, edging away from Sinjun.

“Nonsense,” Sinjun said, taking Christy’s hand and leading her off toward the dance floor while Rudy stood helplessly by, obviously torn between rescuing Lady Flora and attending his grandmother. Then it was too late to intervene as the couple joined the dancers on the floor.

“Who are you?” Sinjun asked when they met during one of the intricate steps of the dance.

“My name is of no import,” Christy murmured. “You are exceedingly bold, my lord.”

Sinjun gave her a crooked smile. “You must indeed be new to London if you haven’t heard of Lord Sin.”

“Oh, I have heard of you, my lord. Are all those things they say about you true?”

“Most of them,” Sinjun allowed.

The dance parted them again, and when they finally reunited, the last notes of the music faded away. Christy looked for Rudy, saw he was still talking with his grandmother, and started in his direction.

Sinjun had other ideas. “What a crush of people,” he said, steering her toward the open French doors. “I find myself in desperate need of air.”

“Take your air, my lord, but release me first,” Christy demanded. “I must return to Lord Blakely.”

“In good time, my lady, in good time.”

They had reached the doors. Christy would have loved a breath of fresh air, but not with Sinjun. She couldn’t risk being alone with him no matter how she longed for his company.

Gripping her elbow, Sinjun pushed her through the doors onto the veranda. Couples taking the air gazed curiously at them as Sinjun dragged her down the stairs and into the dark garden.

Chapter 13

“M
y lord! Stop right now!” Christy demanded, trying without success to pull free of Sinjun’s grasp.

Sinjun ignored her. Christy didn’t realize how foxed he really was until he staggered drunkenly, nearly spilling them both to the ground. He righted himself and tugged her along with him, until the lights from the house appeared like twinkling diamonds in the distance. Then he pulled her behind some bushes and swung her roughly into his arms.

“Now, my lady,” he said raggedly, “I’m going to kiss you. I find you utterly irresistible.”

“You find all women irresistible,” Christy flung back.

He merely chuckled. Christy’s last thought before his mouth slammed down on hers was that this couldn’t be, shouldn’t be, happening. Then coherent thought fled as his tongue parted her lips and he deepened the kiss. His unique taste, his heady scent, forced a response, and her mouth opened beneath his.

His arms tightened around her; her breasts flattened against his hard chest and her loins meshed with his. She heard him groan; a sound so raw that, had she not known better, would have indicated pain. He whispered something against her lips; she thought it was her name and prayed it wasn’t. She had no idea how it happened, but suddenly she found herself flat on her back on the unyielding ground. The pungent scent of earth and male musk lulled her into complacency, until his hands moved determinedly to her face.

“Remove your mask. I want to see your face,” he whispered.

Her hands flew upward to stay his hands. “No, please.”

He sighed heavily, the sound a combination of impatience and frustration. “I’ve never made love to a woman whose face I couldn’t see. But if you insist…”

“I’ve never made love with a man as foxed as you are,” Christy shot back.

He stiffened. “Are you afraid I can’t please you?”

“I … we are strangers, my lord. Please let me up.”

Sinjun went still, his head cocked to one side. “I know you, my lady, I just can’t place you. Your kisses, that mouth … damn this befuddled head of mine. I’ll remember you tomorrow, depend on it.”

Christy sincerely hoped not. “I must return to Lord Blakely before he comes looking for me.”

“Let him look,” Sinjun muttered against her lips. “Serves him right for refusing to tell me your name.”

His knee slid between her legs. Panic shuddered through her. “Stop!”

“Tell me your name and where I can find you tomorrow and I’ll let you go.”

“No, I cannot.”

“Nor can I stop,” Sinjun said, giving her a lopsided smile.

Christy tried to push him away, but he was too strong for her. He lowered his body atop hers and pressed his loins into the cradle of her thighs, giving her the full benefit of his aroused sex.

“I’m going to have you, my lady. I may regret this tomorrow, but tonight I’m too foxed to care.”

Slowly he raised her skirts, his hands skimming her thighs, stroking, kneading, burning her flesh with his heated touch. Her heart jumped violently, banging against her ribs. This was Sinjun, the man she loved. The man who was no longer her husband. Then her thoughts scattered as he set his hands on either side of her head, holding her still as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. His tongue drove past her lips, filling her mouth with his taste and scent.

His kiss was neither gentle nor tender. He took her mouth hungrily, almost savagely. Christy moaned into his mouth and kissed him back, passionately, suddenly needing this man as desperately as he seemed to need her. For the first time in months she felt vibrantly alive. Mouths locked together, they rolled on the ground, legs tangling, hands clutching, the friction of their heated bodies wildly arousing.

His hands found her breasts as he dropped his lips to her arching throat. Needing to feel more of him, she tore open his shirt, ripping it downward from his neck and slipping her hands inside. The heat of his bare flesh scorched her palms, the pleasure of it raw and profound. He must have felt it too, for a ragged moan rumbled in his chest. When his lips traveled downward to caress the rounded tops of her breasts, her breath hitched, then hissed from between her lips.

“You’re driving me mad,” he gasped.

Christy decided it must be the full moon, for she was as mad with desire as he. The only difference was that she knew exactly who he was, while Sinjun had no idea he was making love to his own wife. How ironic, she thought, that they found themselves in the same situation as when they first met. Yet the circumstances were different this time. In the end it didn’t matter. Call it moonlight madness, call it insanity, there was no stopping the passion building inside her.

“Bloody hell,” Sinjun muttered as he jerked down the neckline of her gown. “Too many clothes.”

Christy felt the material stretch, then rip, as cool air kissed her bare breasts. His lips brought back warmth as he drew a sensitive nipple into his mouth. Christy arched against him as liquid fire raced through her. His tongue was a hot brand, searing her nipples with moist heat. And his hands. Oh, God, they were between her legs, his fingers probing, caressing, finding that sensitive nub and rubbing until shock waves racked her body.

Then his mouth replaced his fingers, laving her swollen nub with rough, swirling strokes of his tongue. She gave a frustrated cry when he abruptly lifted his head and grinned down at her. She didn’t want him to stop. It felt too good.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart. Foxed or not, I’ve yet to have a lady complain.”

The words brought Christy to swift reality. How had she let this happen? Wild, hedonistic, unpredictable, Lord Sin could make a statue want him.

“No, stop!”

Her protest came too late. The engorged tip of his shaft was already probing her passage. He poised above her a brief moment, frowning, as if trying to see the woman beneath the mask. Then he pressed himself down upon her. She arched wildly, trying to buck him off, but his weight trapped her. His legs on either side of hers held her immobile, granting her no relief from the incredible heat building inside her. He flexed his hips and surged inside her, allowing her scant time to catch her breath as he thrust hard and deep, driving his thick length to the hilt.

Christy surrendered to the tension humming through her, rocking against him, arching her back for deeper penetration. Caught in passion’s throes, she felt something inside her break free and soar.