A Taste of Sin (2 page)

“Tis common knowledge,” Renfrew said.

“Where does he keep his wife hidden? The way he carries on, you’d think he was footloose and fancy free.”

“Ha! And so he is. I had it directly from one of his confidants that he actually likes the idea of being married. Marriage places him off limits to matchmaking mamas trying to find husbands for their marriageable daughters. Or from being eyed as a prospective husband by marriage-minded young misses. His wife is safely tucked away in Scotland, don’t you know? What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Lord Sin takes his pleasure where and when he finds it without fear of entanglements or repercussions.”

“Lucky bastard,” Seton said.

Renfrew leaned close. “Believe it or not, Lord Sin hasn’t seen his Scottish wife since their marriage was ordered by George II fifteen years ago. ‘Tis rumored the marriage was never consummated. Can you imagine? The woman is laird of some wild Highlander clan.”

Seton gave a hoot of laughter. “Lord Sin might not have consummated his marriage with his bride, but he certainly has cavorted with enough women to make up for the lack. Don’t know how his brother the earl puts up with his shameless debauchery.”

“Lord Mansfield seems preoccupied these days. Don’t see him around much. Damn shame about his betrothed dying before their wedding.”

“Shhh, here comes the notorious Lord Sin now,” Renfrew hissed as Sinjun and his friend, Rudolph, Viscount Blakely, approached.

“What a crush, Sinjun!” Blakely said as he shouldered his way through the crowd. “Don’t know why you insisted on coming out tonight. I’m accustomed to your avoiding these public gatherings.

Sinjun Thornton and his good friend headed directly for the card room. Dressed to the nines in modified riding clothes, which had recently become all the rage, Sinjun, more commonly referred to by the
ton
as Lord Sin, wore tight black breeches with tall boots over them, pristine white shirt and stock, purple brocade waistcoat, and black dress riding coat cut high up and double-breasted, with wide lapels in the front and long-tailed in the back.

“Boredom, Rudy, sheer boredom,” Sinjun said, surveying the crush of people with a jaundiced eye. “So far I’ve seen nothing here to interest me.”

“Not even the lovely Lady Violet?” Rudy asked, calling Sinjun’s attention to a striking brunette wearing a thin gauze gown with minimal stays and dampened to show her extraordinary figure to the best advantage. “Brace yourself, she’s seen you.”

“Drat!” Sinjun muttered beneath his breath. “I was hoping to avoid her tonight”

“Trouble in paradise?” Rudy guffawed.

Sinjun shrugged. “Our affair has run its course.”

“Obviously the lady doesn’t think so.”

Sinjun nodded to his two acquaintances, Renfrew and Seton, as he pulled Rudy through the thick of the crowd. But it was not to be. Lady Violet honed in on him and finally caught him.

“Sinjun, I hoped you’d be here tonight. What happened to you last night? I waited ever so long for you.”

“Your husband was home, Lady Fitzhugh, or have you forgotten?”

“Whenever did that make a difference?” Violet challenged. “Besides, Fitzhugh always finishes off a bottle of port before he goes to bed. He wouldn’t have heard a herd of elephants were they to stampede up the stairs.”

Rudy coughed, reminding them of his presence. “I’ll leave you two to your … er … conversation. I’ll catch up with you later, Sinjun.”

Sinjun tried to stop Rudy from leaving, but Lady Violet had other ideas. “Let him go, Sinjun. Will you come to me tomorrow night? Fitzhugh is leaving in the morning for his hunting lodge in Scotland. He expects to be gone a month or better.”

Sinjun tried his damnedest to be polite, but Lady Violet was making it difficult. She didn’t seem to know when something was over. And as far as he was concerned, their affair had ended the night he met Lord Stanhope sneaking around to the back door as he was leaving by the front. When he took a lover he liked to think he was the only one, but now that the affair was over, it no longer mattered how many men she took to her bed. So tonight he was at loose ends, seeking new diversions.

Sinjun was preparing to tell Violet they were through when a ripple of excitement captured his attention. Everyone seemed to be looking toward the entrance, and he followed their gaze. He inhaled sharply when he saw what, or rather who, had everyone agog. Sinjun was positive he’d never before seen the woman poised just inside the entrance, for he would have remembered her.

“Who is she?” he asked, thoroughly intrigued by the exceptional beauty who had just graced the ballroom with her auspicious presence. “I can’t recall seeing her before.”

“She’s new to town,” Lady Violet said coolly. “From Cornwall, I understand. No one seems to know much about her except that she’s married to some elderly viscount who conveniently remained behind in Cornwall.” She sniffed disdainfully. “She has shown up without a proper escort at three of the last four public social events. She stays a short time, then disappears. Had you attended some of those events you would have seen her. Strange,” Violet mused, “but I’d swear she is looking for someone.”

“Her name. Tell me her name,” Sinjun demanded. “She’s a rare beauty.”

“Her name is Lady Flora Randall.” She gave the mystery lady a disparaging glance. “Her husband must be as understanding as your wife.”

Sinjun stared at the young beauty, struck speechless by an indefinable sensation that nagged at his memory. For the life of him he couldn’t recall ever meeting Lady Randall before. Though she could not in any sense of the word be described as a redhead, her hair was a striking color, somewhere between cinnamon and copper, with just enough gold thrown in to make an interesting contrast.

She was small-boned and petite but had a presence about her that made her seem taller. As she lingered near the entrance, every unattached man in the room gravitated toward her. Sinjun’s legs moved unerringly in her direction.

“Where are you going?” Lady Violet asked shrilly.

“To see what I’ve missed by not showing up at the other social events these past weeks,” Sinjun threw over his shoulder as he strode purposefully toward Lady Flora Randall.

Sinjun pushed his way through the tight ring of smitten men, admiring the way the lady handled the young dandies of the
ton.
The young fops must have realized who was pushing them aside, for Sinjun heard someone whisper his name. Immediately a path was cleared for him, allowing him into the inner circle. Then he was standing before her, staring into the perfect oval of her flawless features.

Her eyes were green, he noted, as green as sparkling emeralds. Her lips were full and red, her lashes long, dark wings that curled upward at the edges. Her glowing, sun-kissed complexion surprised him. Ladies of the
ton
religiously avoided the sun. Yet everything about the mystery woman was exquisite.

She wore a green gauze gown that, though not dampened, revealed every curve of her lush figure. Sinjun seriously doubted she wore even light stays beneath her chemise. Though her décolletage was not severe, it revealed enough of her magnificent breasts to make staring worthwhile. And he’d wager he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Sinjun felt himself harden and was shocked to the core. Bloody hell! He wanted her and he didn’t even know her!

“I believe this is my dance,” Sinjun said in a sensual drawl that would normally send most women into a veritable swoon.

Slowly she raised her eyes to his, and Sinjun was struck by the strangest feeling of déjà vu. He searched his memory and came up blank.

“Do I know you, my lord?” Flora said in a slightly husky voice that teased Sinjun’s senses and made him aware of other more prominent places on his body.

“No, my lady, but ‘tis easily remedied,” Sinjun said. “I am St.John Thornton, Lord Derby. My friends call me Sinjun.” Sinjun thought he saw something stir in the clear depths of her eyes, but it was too quickly gone for him to be sure.

“His friends call him Lord Sin,” someone nearby whispered in an aside loud enough for the lady to hear.

Flora’s elegant brows inched upward. “Lord Sin?”

“Pay them no heed, my lady. You may call me Sinjun. And you are—”

“Lady Flora Randall,” she said, offering her hand.

Sinjun clasped her small, warm hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. Then, giving her a bewitching smile, he turned her hand, drew her glove back, and kissed her wrist. He felt a shudder go through her and drew her forward. “Ah, a quadrille is just beginning. Shall we join in?”

Before she had a chance to protest, he led her out on the dance floor.

“So you are the Lord Sin I’ve heard so much about,” Lady Randall said as the opening strains of music filled the room.

“My friends exaggerate,” Sinjun demurred. “Pay them no heed, my lady. Is this your first time in town?”

“Aye, and I admit it’s far different from what I’m accustomed to.”

The dance steps separated them, and when they rejoined, Sinjun asked, “Is that an accent I detect, my lady?”

“Just a country accent, my lord,” she murmured.

Christy Flora Macdonald, laird of the Macdonald clan since the recent death of her grandfather, stared at the man she hadn’t seen since their marriage fifteen years ago and nearly choked on her anger. Truth to tell, she wanted Lord Derby no more than he wanted her. But circumstances had changed. Her English husband had raised rents and taxes to unconscionable levels, and her clansmen, especially the Camerons, had insisted that she seek an annulment in the English courts and wed Calum Cameron.

Christy liked Englishmen no better than her clansmen did, and she resented the fact that after the Battle of Culloden disaster her family’s holdings had been confiscated, and she had been forced to marry a hated Englishman. But she had no desire to marry Calum Cameron. Nor did she have any intention of obtaining an annulment. She had her own reason and a private agenda, and she was determined to succeed.

Christy liked her life the way it was. Having an absentee husband allowed her to do as she pleased without restrictions. She didn’t want a husband making decisions for her. Everything had been perfect until Calum and his kinsmen had decided the time had come to make changes, citing the fact that an unconsummated marriage was no marriage at all.

“You’re very quiet, my lady,” Sinjun said, recalling her to the present.

“What would you have me say, my lord?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m married.”

“Where is your husband?”

“In Cornwall. Though he is not well enough to travel, he insisted that I come to town and enjoy myself. He … is much older than I,” she lied.

“Ah,” Sinjun said with a wealth of understanding.

Christy studied Sinjun from beneath long, feathery lashes. She saw a tall man, large but lean, loose-limbed and sleekly muscled. A superbly put together figure. He had always been handsome, even as a lad, but maturity had given him a certain edge other men lacked. Oh, aye, maturity agreed with him. His shoulders had broadened and his chest had deepened. His exquisitely tailored jacket fit him like a glove, and his tight breeches left little to the imagination.

She searched his face and decided that no one had a right to be as devastatingly handsome as Lord Sin. He wore his shiny black hair long and unpowdered, tied back with a thong. Even though she hadn’t seen him in fifteen years, she’d know him anywhere by those dark, mesmerizing eyes. They weren’t black, nor were they brown. More like deep midnight blue. His full, sensuous lips and languorous smile gave mute testimony to his hedonistic nature.

She couldn’t blame him, however, for not recognizing her. In fact, she had counted on it. The last time he’d seen her she had been a seven-year-old hoyden who played at wooden swords with her cousins, rolled in the mud, and had garish red hair that had miraculously darkened into the rich copper hue it was now.

Sinjun’s wicked reputation and womanizing ways were legendary. Rumors of his romantic intrigues and excesses had reached her even at remote Glenmoor. Society called him a notorious rake, a connoisseur of beautiful women who savored his conquests to the fullest. She’d heard he liked women, enjoyed the chase and capture, but stayed with none of them long enough to form a lasting relationship.

“You have beautiful green eyes,” Sinjun said when the dance brought them together again.

Christy blinked up at him, forcing herself to concentrate on her reason for coming to London. She had a mission, and if she hoped to succeed she had to focus on making Sinjun believe her lies. Failure was unthinkable.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling demurely.

The dance ended. Moments later Christy was surrounded by eager young men vying for her attention. Sinjun bowed and left her to her admirers, but his gaze remained riveted on her as she danced the evening away with a variety of eager partners. It wasn’t conceit that told Sinjun she wasn’t unaffected by him, for her overt glances gave mute testimony that she was as interested in him as he was in her.

Rudy found him leaning against a pillar, a slight ‘frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I saw you dancing with the mysterious Lady Randall,” Rudy said. “Is she to be your next conquest?”

‘Tonight, if I have anything to say about it,” Sinjun said, sending him a determined grin. “I don’t know when I’ve been so taken with a woman, Rudy.”