A Taste of Sin (22 page)

Sir Oswald’s three-day trial went well. Julian’s scrutiny of the ledgers, which showed blatant discrepancies, and Sinjun’s testimony, which included first-hand knowledge of the levies Sir Oswald had raised to fill his own coffers, provided sufficient evidence to convict him of fraud and theft. He was stripped of his wealth and property and sentenced to fourteen years of hard labor as a bonded servant in the colonies. He was imprisoned on one of the floating hulks in London pool until transportation could be arranged. Everything Sir Oswald owned was given to Sinjun in restitution for his loses.

Sinjun spent several days closeted with Julian and his man of business after the trial. For the first time in his recollection he now had a clear picture of his wealth, and it was considerable.

“Things should run smoothly while I’m gone,” Julian said once they were alone.

“You’re leaving again? What about Emma? You know I intend to return to Scotland and won’t be around to see to her welfare.”

“Aunt Amanda has agreed to move into Mansfield Place during my absence.”

“She’s an old woman, Julian. She’s no match for our high-spirited Emma.”

“When I made my plans, I counted on you being here to squire them about.”

“Must you leave now? What mysterious mission calls you away this time?”

Julian’s expression turned deliberately obtuse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is nothing mysterious about being called away on business. I shouldn’t be gone more than a fortnight. How much mischief can Emma get into in a fortnight?”

“You have no idea,” Sinjun said, rolling his eyes. “Be careful, Julian. I don’t know what you’re involved in, but whatever it is, you’re not indestructible.”

Julian sent Sinjun a sardonic smile. “I’ll try to remember. In any event, I’ll be around a few days yet.”

Sinjun was at his own townhouse several hours later when an unexpected caller arrived. Emma was shown into the house, demanding to speak to Sinjun. When she burst into his chamber without knocking, he knew she was angry.

“I tried to stop her, milord,” the long suffering butler said as he followed in her wake.

“It’s all right, Pemburton, I’ll see my sister.”

“Very good, milord,” Pemburton said. His tall, thin frame remained rigidly erect as he exited the chamber and closed the door behind him.

“Well, hoyden, what’s on your mind? You didn’t come alone, did you? You know what a stickler Julian is for propriety.”

“I did come alone, Sinjun,” Emma said. “What Julian doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He’d keep me under lock and key if he could. I’m a woman, Sinjun, not a child.”

Sinjun’s eyebrows quirked upward. He hadn’t given enough attention to Emma. Julian had tried to compensate for Sinjun’s shortcomings by attempting to suppress Emma’s exuberant nature and natural penchant for mischief.

“Sit down, Emma,” he invited, “and tell me what’s troubling you. Are you angry with Julian?”

“I’m damn angry with both of you,” Emma retorted.

“Emma, watch your language,” Sinjun warned.

“I can’t help it, Sinjun. You don’t know what it’s like being kept in the dark all the time. I
am
a member of this family.”

“What in God’s name are you talking about? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m not allowed to get into trouble,” Emma said flippantly. “This has nothing to do with me. Not directly, anyway.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me why you went to Scotland? You let me believe Lady Flora was your mistress when she was really your wife.”

Stunned, Sinjun stared at Emma. “How did you find out?”

“I overheard your conversation with Julian today.”

“You were eavesdropping?”

“How else am I going to learn anything?”

“You’ve grown up,” Sinjun said, suddenly seeing Emma in a way he’d never seen her before.

She was nineteen, deliciously curved and beautiful. He wondered how he had failed to see that she was no longer a child. Like all the Thorntons, her hair was thick and black, her eye-lashes long and curly. Her features were classic. If she had a flaw it was her lips, which were full and lush, not at all acceptable by normal standards. Her eyes, especially when she was angry, were remarkably expressive. Unlike both his and Julian’s midnight blue eyes, Emma’s were a distinctive violet. Vaguely he wondered why, with her looks and generous dowry, she hadn’t found an acceptable young man to marry.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” Emma said with scathing sarcasm. “In any event, I’m old enough to know about Lady Flora. Or should I say Christy Macdonald? She’s expecting your child, is she not?”

There was no help for it. Emma deserved an answer. “Until my recent visit to Glenmoor, I had no idea Lady Flora was Christy, my wife,” he began. Then the whole story came tumbling out in a rush of words. Emma listened raptly, and when he was done, she clapped her hands, obviously delighted.

“You love Christy, Sinjun, admit it!”

Sinjun felt as if his world had just tipped. Love? He knew nothing about love. “I truly don’t know. I do know that I’m anxious to return to Glenmoor. I wrote to Christy and expect an answer at any time. I told her that I plan to return to her as soon as my business here is finished. I’m anxious, of course, to see my child.”

Emma studied Sinjun through a fringe of ebony lashes. “Since I was a little girl, I’ve heard gossip about Lord Sin, his escapades, and his women. Women swoon at the mention of your name and men envy you. All my friends who visited did so with the hope they would catch a glimpse of you. Christy must be an amazing woman to tame Lord Sin. I know your temper. I’m surprised you forgave her her lies. It wasn’t well done of Christy to trick you into giving her a child.”

Sinjun surprised himself by blushing. Young ladies weren’t supposed to be knowledgeable about sexual matters. “Where did you learn such things?”

“For heaven’s sake, Sinjun, I’m not stupid. Julian has never denied me any of the books in his library. I know more than you give me credit for.”

“Enough!” Sinjun exclaimed. “I don’t want to hear my innocent sister talking like that. ‘Tisn’t proper.”

“Just tell me one thing, Sinjun,” Emma said, rising and smoothing her skirts down. “Do you intend to remain in Scotland the rest of your life with Christy and your child?”

“Good Lord, no!” Sinjun blurted out. “I’m hoping to convince Christy to spend at least part of the year in London. I was surprised, however, that I enjoyed the Highlands as much as I did, but I can’t see myself staying there forever. I don’t want my heir raised among Scotsmen who despise the English. My son is going to have all the advantages I did as a child.”

“Thank you for confiding in me,” Emma said, heading for the door. “And in the future, try to remember I’m part of the family.”

“Lord Derby, John Coachman has returned from the Highlands,” Pemburton called through the door seconds before Emma reached it.

Sinjun hurried past her and flung open the door. “Is he still below?”

“Aye, my lord, he’s in the kitchen. He’s nearly prostrate with exhaustion. He asked me to give you this.” Pemburton handed Sinjun several folded sheets of paper.

“Thank you, Pemburton. Ask John to await me in the kitchen. I’d like to speak to him personally after I’ve read my wife’s letter.”

“As you say, milord,” Pemburton said, bowing stiffly.

“Oh, do hurry, Sinjun,” Emma said. She appeared as excited as Sinjun. “Does it say anything about the baby?”

Sinjun’s hands shook as he unfolded the packet. A sheet of paper drifted to the floor, and he let it lay while he devoured the letter Christy had written. Curious by nature, Emma retrieved it, paling when she realized what it was.

“Sinjun, this is a writ of annulment. It bears Christy’s signature. What is going on?”

Sinjun’s complexion turned as pasty as dough, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he read Christy’s letter for a second time. “The baby didn’t live,” he whispered, stricken. A single tear trickled from the corner of his eye, and he dashed it away.

“Oh, Sinjun, I’m so sorry.”

“Christy doesn’t want me to return to Glenmoor,” he continued, his voice as hard and cold as his frozen heart. “She signed the annulment and asked me to legally end our marriage. She intends to wed Calum Cameron.”

“I don’t understand,” Emma whispered.

“Nor I. But it no longer matters. Christy wants to sever our relationship, and I intend to honor her wishes. ‘Tis not the end of the world.”

“But you own Glenmoor. It will always be yours no matter who Christy weds.”

“True,” Sinjun contended. “I can legally remove her from Glenmoor should I so desire.”

“Will you do that?”

“I don’t know. I need time to think this through before I decide on a course” of action. Julian is leaving soon, perhaps I’ll wait until he returns to pursue this.”

“What if Christy marries this Cameron fellow before the annulment is filed with the courts?”

Sinjun gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That would make Christy a bigamist, wouldn’t it? Leave me, Emma, I’m in no mood for company.”

Emma’s eyes sparked with anger. “Christy must be mad! Why would she want another man when she could have you?”

Despite his grief and confusion, Sinjun sent Emma a wobbly smile. “I’m English, Emma. Highlanders hate Englishmen. Christy is a Highlander.” He kissed her nose. “Good-bye, hoyden, try to stay out of trouble.”

Sinjun sat in his dark study until the evening was nearly spent, silently mourning his child. He didn’t even know the sex of the child and wondered why Christy hadn’t told him. When the clock struck midnight, Sinjun shed the cloak of grief, and with it, the man he had tried to become to please his wife. He threw Christy’s letter to the floor, placed the writ of annulment in a drawer, and left the house. He had a lot of hell to raise to make up for the months he’d wasted on Christy.

Lord Sin had returned with a vengeance.

Chapter 11

Glenmoor Castle

F
rom the time little Niall was three months old, Calum Cameron began badgering Christy in earnest to take him as her handfast husband. Thus far she had managed to hold him off, but it hadn’t been easy. She had insisted that they should wait for word that her marriage to Sinjun had been legally severed. So far she had heard nothing from Sinjun after sending her letter off with John Coachman.

She wondered if Sinjun mourned their child, and she was at once filled with feelings of guilt and remorse. He had forgiven her lies once, but she knew instinctively that what she had done this time was unforgivable. Every day since she’d dispatched John Coachman to London with her letter she’d regretted the injustice she’d done Sinjun in order to save his life.

Pacing her chamber, she tried to imagine his response to her letter but knew her mental image probably fell far short of his actual reaction. He hadn’t tried to contact her, so obviously, he believed she wanted to marry Calum. That knowledge brought more pain than she thought possible.

She stopped pacing when Margot walked into the chamber, her arms full of clean linens. She set them down on the bed and wagged her head when she noticed Christy’s glum features.

“Moping again, I see. ‘Tis not good, Christy. Write to Sinjun. Tell him how ye feel, how much ye miss him. He needs to know that.”

“‘Tis too late, Margot.”

Margot sent Christy a sharp look. “What have ye done this time, Christy Macdonald? Both Rory and I know ye’ve been troubled of late. We waited for ye to confide in us, but now I’m demanding ye tell me what is amiss. Ye haven’t been yerself since Sinjun’s letter arrived. Why isn’t he here with ye? And another thing, why is Calum Cameron sniffing around yer skirts?”

Christy sighed despondently. Margot was more than her kin, she was a friend, and she owed her the truth. “Sit down, Margot, you look tired.” Margot was carrying Rory’s child and hadn’t been feeling well. Christy knew that feeling.

“I’m well enough,” Margot declared. She perched on the edge of the bed and took Christy’s hand. “I willna leave here until ye tell me what’s going on.”

Christy sighed. “Very well, but you’re not going to like it. You recall, don’t you, that Calum was here when Sinjun’s last message arrived?”

Margot nodded.

“Calum snatched the letter from my hand and read it. When he learned that Sinjun intended to return to Glenmoor, he threatened Sinjun’s life and vowed Sinjun wouldn’t arrive here alive. He tried once to kill Sinjun and failed, but I feared he’d succeed the next time.”

Margot’s eyes widened. “Why does he want Sinjun dead?”

“So he can marry me. He’s power hungry. He wants to drive the English from the Highlands and needs more power than he has now to rally the clan to his cause. There’s more. He wants to foster Niall with his Cameron kin once we are wed.”

“The bastard!” Margot hissed. “Wait until Rory hears. Our clansmen willna let that happen.”

“You’re not to tell Rory, Margot,” Christy pleaded. “I took care of everything myself. I found a way to save Sinjun’s life without bloodshed.”