Born in Sin (20 page)

The full depth of his loneliness slammed into her. Dear saints, he had never been intimate even on the most basic level with another person.

It was unheard of for a man of his stature and prowess to remain untouched.

“I can’t believe you haven’t—”

“What kind of craven bastard do you think I am?” he asked, his eyes angry. “After all I have been through in my life, think you I would
ever
take a chance on leaving behind a baby to a woman who would hate it because of my actions? I would sooner have died celibate than learn a child of mine was in this world suffering because I was a selfish ass who couldn’t control myself.”

And yet he had taken a chance with her. After tonight, it was quite possible that she could have his child inside her. Which meant that he trusted her, at least on some level.

Touched by his words, she pulled him into her arms.

Sin held her close and hoped in his heart that he was sterile. He hoped there would be no issue from this night. He couldn’t stand the thought of a child being born to the hardship and heartaches of this world.

He never should have touched her. It was wrong and he wished the arrow that afternoon had pierced his heart. He should have let her family defeat him and returned to England.

He should have done anything other than make love to her.

And yet even as these thoughts whirled through his mind, he looked into her angelic face and saw what he had waited a lifetime for.

All he had to do was find the courage to take it.

To his chagrin, he who had stood strong and alone all his life was now a coward who was terrified of a mere woman. Because she did scare him. She and these unknown feelings inside him. When he looked at her, all those long-buried dreams surfaced and made him wish for things he had no right to wish for. Home. Family…love.

Be grateful for what you have, boy. All bastards like you are fit for is wiping the asses of your betters
. Harold’s angry voice tore through him.

Unable to breathe, he reluctantly withdrew from her, got up and dressed.

“Sin?”

The sound of her voice sliced through him. He paused at the door, torn between the need inside him to return to bed and take her into his arms and hold her forever, and the fear of her eventual rejection that made him want to bolt like a frightened animal.

For the first time in his life, he chose retreat. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

With no direction, Sin headed down to the great hall, where he found his brother Ewan still sitting at the table, drinking ale alone.

“Why are you still awake?” Sin asked as he took the vacant seat next to his brother.

Ewan drained the cup and poured more. “I’m not dead with exhaustion yet. You?”

“Same.”

Sin grabbed a cup and poured it full.

Ewan grunted at him as Sin downed the contents in one gulp. “What a pair we make, eh?”

Sin poured another goblet full. “How so?”

“Both of us tormented by our pasts.”

Sin fell silent as more memories surged. He knew the guilt and pain of his brother. Knew how much the past wore on Ewan’s battered conscience. “Thinking of Kieran tonight?”

Ewan nodded. “Every night. His face haunts me each time I try to sleep.”

“Aye, I well understand. I see the men I’ve killed.” He took another swig of ale. “I never knew most of their names.”

“That would be easier than knowing you killed your own brother.”

Sin pushed his chair back so that he could level a glare at Ewan. “Kieran killed himself.”

“Aye, over what
I
did to him.”

“It’s still not your fault.” Ewan had been nothing more than the pawn of a beautiful woman who had possessed no heart. Kieran had made his own decision and poor Ewan had been left behind to suffer for both their actions.

Sin felt for him and would give anything to alleviate Ewan’s pain. But he doubted if there was enough time in infinity to ease his brother’s heart.

Ewan started to pour more ale, then tossed the goblet over his shoulder and drank from the pitcher instead. “Damned cups are never large enough,” he muttered. He tilted his head to look at Sin. “So, why are you here, when you have such a beautiful bride warming your bed?”

That was an easy question to answer. “Because I’m a hypocritical fool.”

“Well, at least you know it.”

Sin smiled wryly. “You know, I’m thinking tonight that I owe Braden an apology.”

“For what?”

“Words I said to him while we were in MacDouglas territory with Maggie. I’m finding it much easier to give advice than to live it.”

Ewan frowned. “Remember, brother, that I am drunk and none of that made a bit of sense to my fogged mind.”

Sin took a deep breath. “I told Braden that he should take a chance with Maggie and find out if they were meant to be together. Now I find myself unable to live up to those words.”

“You want to take a chance with Maggie?”

Sin tossed a small loaf of bread at his brother. “Why don’t you go to bed and sleep it off?”

“I will eventually. Not drunk enough yet.”

Sin arched a brow at that. The entire time he’d stayed in Scotland with his brothers while he healed his burn wounds, he’d noted how often Ewan stayed up well into the night, drinking alone. “Tell me, does Lochlan know how much you drink?”

“No one knows. Not even me.”

Sin grabbed Ewan’s arm before his brother could take another drink. “Maybe you should refrain some.”

Ewan growled and shrugged his hold off. “Since you can’t live by your own advice, then don’t try to be giving it to me.”

Sin shook his head as Ewan finished off the entire pitcher, then got up to find more.

Ewan had believed Isobail ingen Kaid had loved him. First he had fought Kieran to possess her, even to the point where they had almost killed each other over her, then Ewan had defied their father and brothers to run away and marry her.

Before Ewan could marry her, she’d run off with another man and left him all alone in northern England. Heartbroken, Ewan had returned home to find his family mourning the death of Kieran, who had committed suicide the day Ewan had left with Isobail.

The double blow had ruined Ewan.

Ewan had taken that chance for happiness and he had ended up embittered and alone, living in a cave in the hills with no one to care or notice how much ale he consumed.

Sometimes the chance for happiness wasn’t worth taking.

Sin stared at his own cup. He could count his pleasant memories on the fingers of one hand. Happiness had always been beyond his reach.

He was a fool to think otherwise.

His heart heavy, he knew he couldn’t keep Caledonia for his own. Come the morrow, he would con
centrate on finding the rebels and then he would leave her.

Surely the pope would grant her an annulment. The man hated him with enough venom to gladly dissolve a marriage that should never have been.

Aye, he would set her free. It was the only decent thing for an indecent man to do.

B
y midmorning of the next day, Sin was painfully aware of the fact that this might be the first time in his life he would actually fail his mission. None of Callie’s people would speak to him. The instant he approached, they stubbornly set their jaws and hastened away.

Not that they were the first to treat him that way. But if he were to find the ones responsible for the attacks, he would need them to at least open their mouths in his presence.

He sat in the hall with his brothers and Simon, eating while he told them of his morning misadventure.

“Well,” Braden said, “if you’d take to wearing Scot’s clothes it would help. It’s hard to warm up to a cold English knight.”

Lochlan froze at his youngest brother’s thoughtless words. Unlike Ewan and Braden, he knew the reason Sin disdained Scots attire. In his mind, he saw his fa
ther returning from the Kilgarigon fair with matching plaid cloth for him and his sons.

Braden had still been in swaddling. Their mother had wrapped the infant up in a portion of green and black plaid, while he, Kieran and Ewan had proudly donned plaids that matched their father’s.

“There’s my boys,” his father had announced proudly as he looked them over and ruffled their hair.

Lochlan had been smiling until he caught sight of Sin in a corner. In their excitement, they had forgotten all about him, and as he typically did, Sin had withdrawn into the shadows, where he stood sullenly with his arms crossed over his chest.

Lochlan would never forget the look on his older brother’s face as Sin watched them. Sin’s young eyes had been filled with envy and pain.

Lochlan had turned to their father. “Da? Where is Sin’s plaid?”

His father had ignored the question and continued to play with Ewan and Kieran.

His young mother had not been so kind. “Plaid cloth is for people of true Scots blood, Lochlan. They are not for half-blooded Sassenachs.”

If he lived forever, Lochlan would never understand his mother’s cruelty toward Sin. Nor his father’s complete lack of regard.

He had found Sin later that day, alone in their room. Sin had been sitting in the middle of the floor with his arm cut open while he let blood trail from the wound into a bowl.

Horrified, Lochlan had run to him and covered the wound with a cloth to stop the bleeding. “What are you doing?” he’d asked.

“I’m trying to get rid of the English blood in me, but it doesn’t look any different than yours.” Sin’s eyes had been hollow and empty. “How can I make it go away when I can’t find the difference?”

Lochlan had bandaged Sin’s arm, and they had never again spoken of that moment. But it had haunted Lochlan ever since.

Now Lochlan looked to Sin, who sat beside Simon. In truth, Sin’s strength awed him.

“I’ll not ever put another plaid on my body,” Sin said to Braden.

“I’ll do it,” Simon volunteered cheerfully while he ate. “What the hell? I even have the red hair for it.”

Lochlan smiled, even though he still ached with the pain of his memory. “I think we need to adopt Simon as an official MacAllister. What say you, brothers?”

Braden nodded. “I think he fits right in. Ewan?”

“I would nod, but my head hurts too much for it.”

Sin snorted. “Given how much ale you consumed last night, I’m amazed you can even sit upright.”

“How much did you drink last night?” Lochlan asked, suddenly concerned.

“Somewhere between too much and not enough.”

Lochlan rolled his eyes, wishing he knew what to do to return Ewan to the man he’d been before Isobail had changed him.

“Back to the rebels,” Lochlan said, trying to focus on an issue he could actually help with. “If they’re no longer raiding Henry’s people, why bother?”

Sin looked at him drolly. “Because they could start again at any time.”

Suddenly a cry of alarm rang out.

The men ran for the door, with Ewan cursing every
step due to his head. Braden swung the door wide to show an English messenger entering the bailey on the back of a brown stallion.

Sin shook his head at the sight. By the faces of the Scots around the herald, it was obvious he was the only person they welcomed less than they had him.

As soon as the man spotted Sin and Simon, he relaxed a degree. If Sin hadn’t been concerned about what brought the man into their midst, the gesture would have amused him, since it was the first time in his memory that anyone had actually been relieved by his presence.

The herald dismounted and brought a sealed parchment to him. “From my Lord Ranulf, who holds the lands of Oxley.”

Sin popped the seal and read the message. His vision turned dark with every word he read. “Did he send word to Henry?”

“Aye, milord. And the king sent word that he will be headed this way to inspect the damage himself.”

“What is it?” Lochlan asked.

Sin looked up to see his wife approaching them from the direction of the kitchens. He waited until she stood before him before he answered Lochlan’s question. “It appears a group of MacNeelys raided Oxley’s lands. He lost almost a score of cows and his village was burned to the ground. His people lost all their harvesting and now will be hard-pressed to make it through the winter.” He gave Callie a hard stare to make her realize the exact gravity of the situation. “On a nearby tree they found a note saying:
English be gone from Scots soil
. And it was signed,
The MacNeely
.”

Callie’s face paled. “Aster didn’t do that. He would never condone such.”

“I know,” Sin said sincerely, folding the message back up. “He knows better than to bring down the wrath of Henry on his head.”

He looked to the messenger. “Tell your lord I shall personally see to the matter and find the man who did this.”

The herald nodded.

“What do you intend to do?” Callie asked.

“I want you to round up every male in your clan over the age of ten-and-four and have them here by day’s end. I want to have a word with them.”

He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she actually paled even more. “I think that would be most unwise. They might attack you.”

Lochlan stiffened. “They attack my brother and they attack us. You let them know that. I doubt there’s a man born in your clan who wants to go to war with the MacAllisters.”

She nodded. “I will do it.”

Sin watched as his wife left to do his bidding. She wore her hair plaited today. Even so, tendrils of it had escaped the tight braids and were curling in a becoming fashion all around her face. As typical, she wore her father’s plaid and made quite an appealing sight as she walked across the yard.

And with every step she took that swayed her hips, he felt himself growing harder and harder for her.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Lochlan asked.

“Like the first day of spring after a long, harsh winter.” The words were out before Sin realized it.

Four pairs of eyes turned to him in astonishment.

“Poetry?” Ewan burst out laughing.

Sin shoved him.

Still, his brothers laughed. “Methinks Sin is smitten,” Braden teased. “Lochlan, you’d best fetch a priest and exorcise him.”

Sin growled at him. “He’d best fetch a priest to perform Last Rites for you before I kill you.”

Braden laughed even harder.

“Oh, come now,” Simon said to them. “Let’s be kind to poor Sin.”

“Thank you, Simon.”

“After all, I think ’tis sweet.”

Sin groaned as they continued to harass him.

“Sweet!” Lochlan howled. “Oh, aye, like a ferocious little lion cub.”

Sin snorted. “I don’t want to hear it from a man who parades himself around in a skirt.”

His three brothers stiffened.

“Beg pardon?” Ewan asked.

“You heard me.” Sin looked to Simon and smiled devilishly. “Now, I ask you, who is sweeter? The man in breeches or the geldings in skirts?”

They lunged for him.

Sin ducked and rolled out from under their feet.

“He’s mine!” Ewan snarled.

Sin ran before they could catch him.

Callie looked up as her husband entered the stable behind her. He was running so fast, she barely recognized him. Two seconds after he entered the stable, she saw why.

His brothers and Simon were hot on his heels like a group of children playing chase.

“What is this?” she asked.

Sin ran behind her and put her between him and his brothers. “’Tis nothing,” he said, trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably.

The five men were panting from their exertion.

Lochlan caught his breath first. “Hiding behind a woman, are you? Since when did you turn craven?”

She looked over her shoulder to see the taunting look on Sin’s face. “Not hiding. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Ewan scoffed. “Aye, like we’d be the ones hurting.”

The three MacAllisters lunged, but Callie brought them up short before they could reach her husband. “He is injured.”

Braden narrowed his gaze on Sin. “Not half as injured as he’s going to be.”

Callie spread her arms wide to keep the brothers from her husband. “What is all this about, then?”

Lochlan drew himself up indignantly and appeared to be greatly offended by her question. “He insulted us.”

“And so you’re going to pummel him?” she asked incredulously.

“Aye,” they answered in unison.

She ran her hand over her forehead. Already she could feel an ache there from trying to deal with the hotheaded group. She directed her stare to Lochlan. “And you are laird of what again?” She paused and clucked her tongue. “Oh, I forgot, a respected and feared clan.”

Lochlan cleared his throat.

“That’s right, my love,” Sin said from behind her, “you tell him.”

“And you…” She turned to face her husband. “King’s advisor, was it?” She shook her head at them, even though inside she found their behavior charming and refreshing.

Sin cast them a sullen glare. “They started it.”

“Oh, well, that makes it right, then.” Tsking, she cast a chiding look to all of them. “Now, children, I have work to be about. What say the five of you make nice and return to your food?”

“My stomach votes for food,” Simon said, stepping forward. Something in his demeanor reminded her of a lad trying to make amends for his wrongdoing. “For the record, I wasn’t in on this. I was merely an innocent observer.”

She fought down her smile. “I am quite sure, Simon, thank you.”

He nodded and left.

Reluctantly the MacAllisters followed, but they kept glancing back over their shoulders as if to see if Sin would follow. No doubt, they intended to renew their bloodlust at first chance.

As Sin started to go, Callie caught his hand and pulled him back toward her. She reached up and brushed her hand through his tousled hair. “You know, I think I like this teasing side of you.”

Immediately she saw a shadow descend over his eyes. He pulled away, but didn’t go far.

“Where were you last night?” she asked. “I know you didn’t return to bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.

Callie moved toward him, wanting him to open up
to her again like he’d done last night. “Sin, why must you withdraw from me? I thought we had settled some of this last night.”

Sin swallowed as he saw the hurt in her eyes. He wanted desperately to reach out, pull her into his arms and kiss her until they were both blind from the pleasure of it. He wanted to feel himself inside her again. To hold her for the rest of eternity…and yet he dare not.

This morning had taught him well the depth of her clan’s hatred for him. They would never accept him and he would never ask her to leave them. They were her family, and thought she might call him that, too, he didn’t believe it.

She barely knew him.

She’d spent her life caring for her clan, having them care for her. There was a bond between her and her people he refused to shatter.

What the two of them had…

It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, but that didn’t really mean much to a man who had seldom had anything at all.

It was lust he felt for her. Petty and sordid. There was nothing more to it. He was incapable of anything better than that and he knew it.

“I’d best be getting back to my brothers.”

Callie sighed wistfully as her husband left. He hadn’t bothered to answer her.

“How can you stand to let that Sassenach touch you?”

She gasped in startled alarm as she heard Dermot’s voice from the loft above. She looked up, trying to see him through the breaks in the wooden planks, but
couldn’t find him. “What are you doing up there, Dermot MacNeely?”

She heard a soft, girlish giggle, followed by him shushing the lass. Callie’s face flamed at the thought of what they had overheard and what the two of them had been doing up there.

Dermot jumped down from the loft. Belting his plaid, he approached her. “You need to send him back to England where he belongs.”

She glanced to the ceiling, where the lass was still hidden but obviously would have little trouble overhearing them. “This is not a discussion I plan to have with you. Most especially not here.”

Dermot grabbed her arm and hauled her outside. “There is talk in the clan. If you don’t send that Sassenach home, there are those who will do it for you. And he’ll be going back to Henry in pieces.”

She pulled her arm from his grasp. “Who is saying that?”

“You know who.”

“In that case, you’d best be telling your Raider to leave my husband alone. If he is harmed again, I won’t rest until I have every one of your rebel hides in the stocks.”

He gaped in disbelief. “You would choose a Sassenach over your own brother?”

“I would not want to, but I won’t have him hurt. Now tell me who shot him yesterday.”

He jutted his jaw out defiantly, and by the light in his eyes she could tell he knew the answer but would sooner die than tell it to her. “It was only a warning. Next time, they won’t miss his heart.”

Callie removed the anger from her tone and tried to
appeal to him more calmly. She loved her brother more than anything, and the last thing she wanted was to see him hurt for so foolish a cause.