A Taste of Sin (21 page)

“You wouldn’t dare kill Sinjun!” Christy gasped, aware that he would dare anything if it served his purpose. “What would his death gain you?”

“Ye, Christy Macdonald. Through ye I will have the power that should have been mine all along. A woman shouldna be laird.”

“I had the blessing of the entire clan,” Christy exclaimed.

“Not the Camerons,” Calum retorted. “We were outnumbered by the Macdonalds, Ranalds, and Mackenzies. Being chieftain of the Camerons isna enough power for what I have in mind. If it takes Lord Derby’s death to have ye and the power I crave, then so be it.”

Christy knew with cold certainty that she had to keep Sinjun away from the Highlands. Once Calum’s clansmen rallied behind him, Sinjun was in danger of losing his life.

Christy’s expression must have given away her thoughts. “I see that we understand one another, lass,” Calum said, folding his arms over his massive chest.

“I won’t let you kill Sinjun,” Christy declared hotly.

“Ye canna stop me. He’ll never reach Glenmoor alive. As for his bairn, once we wed, he’ll be fostered with a Cameron. ‘Tis my bairns ye’ll be birthing. One every year.” Lust-glazed eyes raked over her body. “Ye can depend on it.” He turned to leave.

“Calum, wait!”

He halted and glanced over his shoulder at her. “What is it now? Ye canna change my mind, ye know. Derby must die.”

“What if Sinjun doesn’t return to the Highlands?”

“He’ll come. Like ye said, he’ll want to see his bairn.”

“What if I can convince Sinjun to have our marriage annulled?”

He frowned. “’Tis too late. Ye have a bairn.”

“No, listen to me. When Sinjun first arrived at Glenmoor he had every intention of having our marriage annulled. It could have happened. Sinjun’s brother, the earl of Mansfield, is an influential man and would have handled the legalities. The writ of annulment is still here, in Sinjun’s trunk. I’m certain I can convince him to proceed with the annulment. I know he’ll act upon it when I return the document with my signature in place.”

Calum shook his shaggy head. “It willna work. He’ll come for his bairn. He can take him away from ye, ye know.”

Christy was desperate. Sinjun couldn’t return to Glenmoor. He had to live. She racked her brain for a solution that would convince Sinjun to remain in London. The idea that popped into her head was so outrageous she thought it just might work.

“If ye’ve nothing more to say, lass, I’ll be leaving,” Calum said.

Christy couldn’t allow Calum to leave before she’d laid her plan before him. “Sinjun won’t come to the Highlands if I sign the annulment and send it to him with John Coachman,” Christy began.

“He’ll come anyway,” Calum insisted.

Christy took a deep breath, but it did little to calm her jagged nerves. What she was about to suggest was sinfully wrong, but saving Sinjun’s life more than made up for it. “Not if I tell him our child died at birth, and that I want to end our marriage and wed you.”

Calum’s attention sharpened. “Yer smart, lass, I’ll give ye that.” He stroked his chin. “How will I know ye’ll do as ye say?”

“I’ll sign the annulment in your presence. And you can read the letter I write to Sinjun.”

“How do I know ye willna compose another letter and destroy the first after I’ve left?”

Calum’s suspicious nature was backing Christy into a wall. “I’ll send John Coachman off tonight, though the poor man deserves a good night’s sleep.”

“Sign the document and compose yer letter,” Calum commanded as he sat down at the table to await Christy’s return. “Ale wouldna be remiss, lass.”

Christy grabbed a cup from the sideboard, drew a pitcher of ale from the barrel, and slammed them down before Calum. Then she hurried upstairs, pausing a moment to look in on her sleeping son. Margot was sitting with him, and Christy asked her to stay until she got rid of Calum. Then she entered her own chamber and went to the corner where Sinjun’s trunk rested. She raised the lid and sorted through his belongings until she found the annulment document he’d left behind. After collecting her writing materials, she returned to the hall and sat down beside Calum.

“Let me see,” Calum said, reaching for the annulment paper. He scanned it quickly and handed it back.

Before she had time to think about what she was doing, she dipped the quill into the ink jar and signed her name. “There, ‘tis done,” she said with bone-deep sadness.

“Now the letter,” Calum directed.

Retrieving a sheet of paper, Christy began to write. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she told Sinjun that his child had died at birth. She prayed God would forgive her for such a reprehensible lie, but Calum had given her no other option. She could barely see through the tears when she wrote that she never wanted to see Sinjun again, that she was signing the annulment document and returning it with John Coachman, that she expected him to file it with the courts. She tried to make her letter sound believable. Sinjun was no fool. If she didn’t keep the message concise and impersonal, he’d know immediately that something was amiss. When she finished, she handed the letter to Calum.

“If Derby comes to the Highlands after this letter he’s more a fool than I gave him credit for,” Calum said, nodding his approval. “Summon the messenger. I’ll hasten him on his way myself.”

Before she could do Calum’s bidding, Rory entered the hall through the front door. He saw Calum sitting with Christy and stiffened.

“What brings ye out this time of night, Calum Cameron?”

“I had business with the laird,” Calum said, rising until he stood nose to nose with Rory.

“Rory, John Coachman arrived with a message from Sinjun. He’s resting in the kitchen. Would you summon him?” Christy asked before the two came to fisticuffs.

“Will ye be all right?” Rory asked, sending Calum a fierce scowl.

“I’ll be fine. Hurry. ‘Tis imperative that John leave tonight with my reply. And Rory,” Christy called after him, “don’t mention the bairn.”

Rory looked as if he wanted to demand an explanation but Christy’s stoic expression must have changed his mind. He strode from the hall with undue haste.

“Yer a smart lass,” Calum said. “I want no trouble with the Macdonalds. Dinna tell anyone about our pact. Feuding among ourselves isna a good thing right now.”

Christy agreed. She had no intention of telling her clansmen about the terrible lies she had told Sinjun.

John Coachman looked dead on his feet when he entered the hall. He stood before Christy with hat in hand, looking for all the world like he considered Highlanders little more than savages. Christy handed him the packet of folded papers and bid him to leave immediately for London.

“Immediately, milady?” John asked, clearly stunned.

“Aye, John. I know you’re tired, but it’s imperative that my reply to his lordship’s letter reach him without delay.”

“Aye, milady,” John said wearily.

“Rory, fill John’s knapsack with food to take with him on his journey.”

“I’ll see the man off myself,” Calum put in.

While Calum was seeing John off, Rory returned to the hall. “What’s the meaning of this, Christy? I smell something rotten. What’s Calum doing here?

Margot shouldna have left you alone with him.”

“Margot is with Niall,” Christy explained.

“What did Sinjun say? Does he know about his bairn?”

“He will as soon as he receives my letter,” Christy said cryptically. “But don’t look for him to return to Glenmoor any time soon.”

Rory gave her a speculative look. “What are ye up to, Christy? I see Calum’s fine hand in this. What did he tell ye to make ye send Sinjun’s messenger out in the middle of the night?”

“‘Tis hardly the middle of the night,” Christy scoffed. “Trust me in this, Rory. I know what I’m doing.”

“I hope so, Christy, I surely hope so.”

Christy paced nervously, aware that Calum had gone to the stables with John, probably filling his ears with falsehoods about the close relationship between Calum and his lordship’s wife.

Mansfield Place, London

“Bloody hell, Sinjun,” Julian said, giving Sinjun a thorough inspection. “I hardly recognize you. What have you done to yourself? I’ve never seen you looking so healthy. Good God, man, your muscles are positively bulging. What have you done to yourself?”

“Working out-of-doors, mostly,” Sinjun allowed. “I had to do something to relieve the boredom. New clothing is being made for me as we speak.”

“Tell me about the unrest in the Highlands you mentioned, in the only letter you saw fit to send me.”

“The Cameron chieftain is preaching rebellion, but I doubt anything will come of it.”

“Tell me about Christy. Obviously you found Sir Oswald’s claim about your wife’s pregnancy false. Doesn’t surprise me, after learning the extent of Sir Oswald’s dishonesty.”

“Sir Oswald was telling the truth,” Sinjun said.

Julian’s jaw dropped. “The devil you say!”

Sinjun grinned. His explanation was going to shock his brother. Julian had been called away to his country estate on Sinjun’s return to London, and he had just returned today. Sir Oswald’s trial was to start tomorrow, and Sinjun hadn’t had the opportunity until now to tell Julian about Christy and his impending fatherhood. Gleefully he launched into the tale that seemed more fiction than truth.

At the end of the telling, Julian plopped down into the nearest chair and stared at Sinjun. “’Tis an astounding story, Sinjun. Nearly beyond belief.” He shook his head. “Seduced by your own wife.”

“‘Tis the truth, Julian, I swear it. Christy posed as Lady Flora in London.” He wagged his head. “Can you imagine? I was besotted with my own wife. Christy carries my child. The birth was imminent when you ordered me back to London. I had every intention of telling you to go to hell and remaining at Glenmoor until after the birth of my child, but Christy talked me into leaving.”

“You? A father? That’s going to take some getting used to. So that’s what kept you in Scotland all these months. You could have written,” he chided.

“I wanted to surprise you. Besides, the roads were impassable during the winter months. You’re lucky your letter ordering me home arrived without mishap.”

“What does the future hold for you now, Sinjun? Christy tricked you into giving her a child, can you live with that? You continually surprise me. I would think you’d be as angry as hell.”

“I was damn angry … at first,” Sinjun admitted. “But Christy and I arrived at an understanding. I couldn’t remain angry forever, could I? I know the child is mine regardless of how it was conceived. I’m waiting for John Coachman to return from the Highlands, hopefully with news of my child’s birth.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to abandon your sinful life and become a husband and father?”

Sinjun studied his hands. Obviously Julian and Christy harbored the same doubts. “Do you think I’m incapable of settling down?”

Julian pushed his fingers through his hair, his doubts clearly displayed upon his handsome face. “I just don’t know, Sinjun. You’ve shown no signs of settling down in the past.”

“I’m going to give it a bloody good try. I intend to return to the Highlands after the trial. I want to see my child.”

Julian rose and helped himself to the brandy. He filled two snifters and handed Sinjun one. “What about the unrest you spoke of?”

“I can handle it,” Sinjun replied, sipping appreciatively of the amber liquid. “The Cameron chieftain is a troublemaker. He’s power hungry.”

“By God, you sound like a changed man,” Julian said, clapping Sinjun’s shoulder—the injured shoulder, the one still bearing a livid scar. Sinjun flinched and cried out. Julian’s hand dropped abruptly. “What happened? Were you injured?”

“‘Tis nothing.”

“Sinjun,” Julian chided sternly. “As head of this family ‘tis my right to know these things.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a meddling fool?”

“You have, plenty of times. Spit it out, Sinjun.”

“If you must know, Calum Cameron took it into his head to rid the world of an Englishman. His arrow found my shoulder. Fortunately it wasn’t serious. As you can see, I made a complete recovery.”

“I don’t like this, Sinjun.”

“Do you think I do?”

“Why didn’t you report the attack to the English garrison at Inverness?”

“I was going to, as soon as I recovered. Then your letter arrived and there wasn’t time. I’ll stop there on my way back.”

“I’ll send a few stouthearted Englishmen along with you. No sense taking chances with your life.”

“We’ll see,” Sinjun replied with little enthusiasm.

Emma hurried away from the study door Julian had left ajar, her ears still ringing with what she had heard. Lady Flora wasn’t Sinjun’s mistress, she was his wife, and she was very near to delivering his heir. The news left her stunned. She’d wondered why Sinjun had gone charging off to Scotland without a word of explanation. She was part of the family, after all, and had a right to know what was happening with her own brother.

She hurried to her room just as the door to the study swung open and Sinjun strode through on his way out the front door.