A Taste of Sin (29 page)

“Sweet Virgin! I cannot continue like this. I’m sorry, Sinjun, so sorry.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she faced Sinjun squarely. Whatever Sinjun thought of her was nothing compared to how she judged herself. “I’ve lied, Sinjun. So many lies. ‘Tis time for the truth. I cannot cheat you of your—”

“Cheat me of what?” His voice was clipped, hard, judgmental. Christy suddenly felt as cold as his voice sounded. Being despised by the man she loved was the worst kind of hell. How could she explain? How could she make him understand that she’d done her best to save his life? Perhaps if he saw his son first he wouldn’t hate her so much.

“I owe you the truth, Sinjun, and you shall have it,” Christy began. “Allow me to return to my lodgings to … get something I left behind, then you’ll know everything.”

Sinjun gave a bark of laughter. “You must think me a fool. Once I let you out of my sight, you’ll disappear again.”

Did it matter to him? “Why do you care?” If he had a wee bit of feeling left for her he might find it in his heart to forgive her.

Sinjun shrugged. That simple, careless act dashed any hopes Christy might have harbored.

“You’re my wife. I have a right to know what you’re hiding before I send you back to Glenmoor. Having a wife in London will restrict my lifestyle. I’ll appoint another bailiff to look out for my interests and keep tabs on you. I don’t ever want to hear that my deceitful wife is cuckolding me with another man.”

“What about the annulment?”

“Forget the annulment. You belong to me whether you’re in London or at Glenmoor.”

“Please let me return to my lodgings, Sinjun. I promise not to disappear. One hour, that’s all I ask,” Christy begged, desperate to return home to nurse her son. “When I return, I’ll explain about the letter and … and everything else.”

Sinjun stared at her, one dark brow arched upward. “Another lie, wife?”

Christy shook her head. “Not this time, Sinjun. Trust me this once.”

Christy held her breath, aware of the struggle being waged inside Sinjun. She knew she’d given him no reason to trust her, but this time was different. She wanted no more lies between them. He must have read the truth in her eyes, for he nodded, though he still seemed a bit skeptical.

“Very well, Christy. I’ll drive you to your lodgings and wait for you inside. If you fail to keep your word, I’ll drag you from wherever you’re hiding. Understood?”

Christy understood more than she wanted to. She had exhausted his patience, and he’d given her all the leeway she was entitled to. “Understood.”

A few minutes later they were tooling down the street toward her house.

“You don’t have to accompany me inside,” Christy said when they reached her lodgings.

“You’ve been living
here?”
Sinjun asked, scowling his disapproval at her choice of living quarters. She saw the shabby facade of the building through his eyes and realized how it must look to someone accustomed to much more.

“It’s not so bad. The neighborhood is still good.”

Sinjun didn’t reply as he handed her down from the carriage and grasped her arm as if he expected her to bolt. He propelled her up the stairs and opened the door. Christy stepped inside, suddenly aware of the difference between the grand foyer of Derby Hall and the dingy entry hall of her own modest abode.

“Christy!” Effie cried, rushing down the stairs to meet her. “Gavin told me about his lordship and we’ve been worried sick. What happened? How did ye—”

Effie’s words halted in mid-sentence as Sinjun stepped around Christy.

“You remember Lord Derby, don’t you?” Christy said, jumping into the void.

Effie bobbed a curtsey. “Good day, yer lordship.”

“Show Lord Derby into the parlor, Effie, and serve him some refreshment while I … pack my belongings.”

“But Christy, I’ve already packed everything ye’ve brought from Glenmoor.”

Christy pretended not to hear as she pushed past Effie and mounted the stairs.

Sinjun was convinced Christy was hiding something … or someone, the Cameron chieftain, perhaps? Hadn’t Effie said she’d already packed? He waited until Effie left the drab parlor before acting on impulse and following Christy up the stairs. He paused on the top landing, frowning when he heard soft crooning coming from one of the rooms. He followed the sound to a closed door, one of three on the upper floor. Not bothering to knock, he turned the knob and barged inside.

What he saw was almost too much for his mind to grasp. The color drained from his face, and he staggered backward against the door. Christy was seated in a chair before the window, holding a bundle in her arms. His gaze riveted on the bundle; it was squirming and making slurping sounds that sounded suspiciously like … a baby suckling. Stunned, he lifted his gaze and met the challenge in Christy’s green eyes.

“Whose baby is that?” He knew, oh, aye, he knew, but he had to hear it from Christy’s lying lips himself.

“I can explain, Sinjun.”

“I doubt that, madam, but proceed anyway.”

“Would you like to see your son?”

“My son?” he repeated, clearly stunned.

“Aye, Sinjun. A wee healthy laddie.”

Rooted to the spot, Sinjun couldn’t breathe, much less move. He recalled all those weeks he’d mourned his dead child, and resentment filled his heart. How could Christy do this to him? Anger propelled him forward, rage made him seize the child from his mother’s breast. Deprived of his meal, Niall opened his mouth and bellowed.

“Give him back to me, Sinjun,” Christy demanded. “He’s waited too long for his meal as it is.”

Sinjun’s dark gaze lingered on her naked breast. A drop of milk clung to the engorged tip, and he felt his loins clench despite his anger. With difficulty he tore his eyes away from the bountiful feast of Christy’s breast and stared down at his squalling son. He opened his heart, and love found its way inside. The pure, melting kind of love he’d never experienced before. His son was the most beautiful child he’d ever beheld. Dark hair, large brown eyes, round little mouth rimmed with the residue of Christy’s milk, and a sturdy little body, what he could see of it.

His child. Not dead, but very much alive. He lifted his gaze from his son and found Christy staring at him. A curious thickening clogged his throat as a myriad of conflicting emotions warred inside him. Though he wanted to flail Christy with angry words, only one word came to mind.

“Why?”

“I’ll explain everything, just give me my bairn. He’s still hungry.”

With marked reluctance, Sinjun returned the child to his mother. The moment she put him to her breast, his plaintive cries ceased. Sinjun watched him suckle for a long, silent moment before dropping down into a nearby chair. He could find no reason beyond hatred for him that would make Christy tell him their child had died. What had happened after he left Glenmoor to change her? Where did the Cameron chieftain fit into all this?

Unwilling to upset his son, Sinjun remained silent while the lad suckled. But as soon as his mouth fell away from Christy’s nipple and his eyes closed, Sinjun took him from Christy’s arms.

“Where is his cradle?”

“Through the door. There’s an adjoining nursery.”

Sinjun settled his sleeping son in his cradle and returned to Christy, all evidence of tenderness gone from his face. He could forgive Christy many things, but this wasn’t one of them. He found her sitting exactly where he’d left her, her breasts decently covered, her head bowed as if meeting his gaze was too painful.

“I’m taking my son,” he said without preamble.

Christy’s head shot up. “No! I won’t let you. What am I to do without him?”

“I don’t give a bloody damn what you do, madam. I’m no angel, but what you did far surpasses anything I’ve done in my lifetime.”

“Niall needs me. He’s still nursing. You can’t take him away from me.”

“Niall, is it? How good of you to give my son a Scottish name. I can do any damn thing I please and there’s not a court in the kingdom that won’t support me. Wetnurses aren’t all that difficult to find. We’ll get by just fine without you.”

“Don’t you even want to hear my explanation?”

He fixed her with a steely glare. “Not particularly. You conspired to keep my son from me, that’s all that matters.” He turned to leave.

“Wait! Niall doesn’t know you. He’ll miss me. Please, Sinjun, don’t do this. Let me go with Niall. I’ll be his nanny. You can pretend I exist only to care for my son. I’ll perish without him.”

“Go home to Scotland. The clan needs you. Take Calum for a lover. Let him get a baby on you.”

“I despise Calum!” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Almost as much as I’ll despise you if you take Niall from me. Maybe if you’d let me explain—”

“It’s too late for explanations.”

Sinjun silently railed at himself for letting her tears affect him. He should take his child and to hell with Christy. But the look on her face cut through his defenses. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let Christy nurse her son until he was weaned. Then he’d ship her back to Glenmoor where she belonged.

“Get Niall ready,” he barked. “We’re leaving immediately.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, dashing away her tears with the back of her hand.

“I’m not doing this for you, Christy. You’re right about Niall being too young to be separated from his mother, so I’m allowing you to stay with him for now. You can live in my home until Niall is weaned.”

“Sinjun, if you’d only listen—”

“I may be in a mood to listen some day, but not now. Get Niall while I inform Gavin and Effie of my decision. After they deliver your belongings to Derby Hall, they can either return to Scotland or become part of my household. It’s up to them.”

Christy watched him walk away. His shoulders were stiff, the tension in his body palpable. She knew he had every right to be angry, but the arrogant knave should have listened to her explanation. What a fix she’d gotten herself into. The very thing she’d feared had happened. Sinjun wanted his son but didn’t give a damn about his son’s mother.

Effie burst into the room, interrupting Christy’s morbid thoughts.

“Och, Christy, what are we going to do? Lord Derby said we were to deliver yer belongings to his townhouse. He told us we could either return to Glenmoor or enter his service.”

“Sinjun is claiming Niall,” Christy said, biting her lip to hold back her tears. “The only reason he’s taking me along with him is to nurse Niall. He hates me, Effie, just as I feared he would.”

“Why didn’t ye tell him the truth? He should know that ye lied to save his skin.”

“He wouldn’t listen.”

“I won’t leave ye, Christy. Neither will Gavin. Someone has to look after ye and the bairn.”

“I wouldn’t ask it of you, Effie. ‘Tis entirely up to you.”

“We’ve already decided. Yer The Macdonald. Ye need us. Now, ye’d best get yerself and Niall downstairs. His lordship is waiting.”

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Christy found Sinjun pacing the hall. He gave her a curt nod and took the baby from her arms. Christy held tight, but Sinjun’s stern look prompted her to accept his authority … for now. But he wasn’t dealing with a weakling, and Christy wasn’t as willing to accept his terms as she’d let on. She grit her teem in frustration as he ushered her out the door and handed her into the carriage. When he placed Niall into her arms, she hugged him close and thanked God that she and her son were still together.

Derby Hall was three times the size of the modest house she’d rented, but Christy wasn’t impressed with the sumptuous appointments and elegant rooms. It wasn’t Glenmoor. Comfortable and unpretentious, Glenmoor was home, and she yearned for the heather-covered hills and green valleys. She wanted to raise Niall far from London’s stink, where he could run free over the land that would one day be his.

“I’ll see about hiring a nurse for my son,” Sinjun said as they climbed the stairs to her chamber.

“No need,” Christy replied. “I’d rather not have strangers taking care of my son. Effie and Gavin have decided to remain in London. Niall knows Effie, and she’s a wonderful nursemaid.”

“I suppose she’ll do,” Sinjun acquiesced. “She and Niall can occupy the small room across the hall from yours. Gavin can stay in the carriage house with my own coachman. They’ll be paid suitable wages.”

“Thank you,” Christy said. “Since my presence seems to offend you, I’ll try to keep out of your way.”

Sinjun sent her a sour look. “I’m not sure how I feel about you right now so ‘tis best we avoid one another for the time being. I will see my son, however, whenever I wish. I’ll either inform Effie or visit his room when you’re occupied elsewhere.”

“Am I to be confined to my room?” Christy asked, not sure she understood him.

“Of course not I’m no monster. You may come and go as you please. I’ll see that you are provided with an allowance to spend as you wish. You may charge whatever you like at the modiste of your choice. No matter how I feel about you, you’re still my wife. When you return to Glenmoor, you’ll be properly provided for.”

“What about you, Sinjun? What kind of example will you set for your son? Will you continue along the path to destruction you’ve set for yourself? Drinking, gambling, whoring, are those the qualities you want your heir to remember you by when you’re gone? Lord Sin might be a fine name for a rogue, but ‘tis hardly acceptable for a father.”