Authors: Connie Mason
Sinjun sent her a chilling glance. “How dare you preach to me! Your whole life is built on fabrications. You’ve not told the truth since the day we met.”
“I can explain all that.”
“I’m not interested. I’ll let you settle in now. I’m rarely home for dinner, so I suggest you dine alone in your room. I’ll instruct the staff. If there’s anything you wish, inform Pemburton. He runs things around here.”
Christy spent the rest of the day settling into her new living quarters. She directed the placement of Niall’s cradle in his room and asked Pemburton to provide a cot for Effie. Peggy brought her lunch, and after she fed Niall and put him down for a nap, Pemburton asked if she’d like a tour of the house. Christy had no idea whether Sinjun would approve and she didn’t care. If she was going to live here she might as well get acquainted with her surroundings.
The staff was far more accepting than Sinjun had been. In fact, they were downright friendly. Mrs. McBride, who it seemed had been with Sinjun forever, expressed her hope that the master would settle down now that he had a family. Even staid old Pemburton kept grinning at her, as if expecting her to perform miracles. And everyone, down to the lowliest maid, was enthralled and delighted with Niall.
Sinjun’s townhouse was magnificent. Each room was richly furnished and sparkling clean, due mostly to Pemburton’s supervision, she supposed. Christy was more than a little surprised to learn that Sinjun’s chambers adjoined hers. She hadn’t noticed the cleverly concealed door. She gave a small, deprecating laugh, knowing that door would never be used. Sinjun didn’t need her in that way. He had women aplenty to satisfy his lust. She was here merely to nurture his son. He had made it clear that when she was no longer necessary to his son’s well-being, he would ship her off to Glenmoor.
Dinner arrived on a tray that evening. Christy barely touched it though it looked and smelled delicious. It wasn’t food she yearned for, it was Sinjun’s love.
Sinjun made his usual rounds that night. He went to White’s, found nothing to interest him, attended a fete given by the Hamptons, and ended up at Brooks, where he sat in for a few hands of whist. Toward midnight, when most considered the night just beginning, Sinjun was sober as a judge and bored out of his skull.
Truth to tell, it had been an effort to tear himself away from Niall tonight. Everything about the boy intrigued him. That he’d had a part in producing so perfect a human being boggled his mind. That Christy had intended to deprive him of his son still rankled. He couldn’t look at her without being reminded of her duplicity.
And to think he had once fancied himself in love with her. He’d been eager to return to Glenmoor after Sir Oswald’s trial, and then that damn letter had arrived. He should have listened to Christy’s explanation, he supposed, but he couldn’t bear to hear more of her lies.
On his way home he decided to stop in at Almacks and partake of the buffet. It had been a mistake. Lady Violet accosted him the moment he walked in the door.
“Sinjun! I hoped you’d stop in tonight,” she gushed. “Are you aware that Lord Fenton and I had a parting of the ways? I’m free again, and quite eager to renew our friendship.” She leaned close, so close her cloying perfume assaulted his senses. “Fenton couldn’t compare to you as a lover. No one can.”
Sinjun stared at her, not the least bit tempted. “I’m married, Violet, or have you forgotten?”
Violet shrugged. “I really don’t care, do you?”
Sinjun’s eyes took on a curious light as he pictured his innocent son lying in his cradle, and suddenly he cared very much. Having a rather steeped in debauchery was not the legacy he wanted to leave his son. Perhaps it was time for Lord Sin to retire.
“Actually, I do care,” Sinjun said. “Did you know I had a son?”
“With your wife?” Violet asked, clearly stunned.
“If you’re insinuating my son is illegitimate, you’re wrong. Niall is legitimate,” Sinjun informed her.
“But how—”
“Surely I don’t have to explain the mechanics to you, my lady,” Sinjun said with a hint of sarcasm. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I must speak with.”
Sinjun could feel Violet’s eyes boring into his back as he walked away. There was really no one he wanted to talk to, it had just been an excuse. He wanted to go home. He felt a sudden need to look upon his son’s sleeping face. A terrible thought occurred. What if Christy had taken Niall away? Should he have set guards on her? He’d never let her take his son away from him. Never!
A short time later Sinjun let himself into the house. He was taken aback to find Pemburton waiting up for him, something he rarely did anymore.
“This is a surprise, Pemburton,” Sinjun drawled. “Is something amiss?”
Pemburton sent him a censuring look. “Lady Derby dined alone in her room and retired early. Hardly a proper homecoming for a bride.”
Though Pemburton said nothing more, his displeasure was evidenced in the angle of his head and the stiffness of his thin shoulders. Sinjun’s first inclination was to take Pemburton to task for his temerity, but his staff had been with him so long that he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by anything Pemburton said.
“You forget, Pemburton, Christy is hardly a new bride. We’ve been wed over fifteen years. Certainly long enough to have a son together.”
“As you say, my lord,” Pemburton sniffed. “Shall I help you undress?”
“I’m perfectly capable of undressing myself,” Sinjun returned shortly. “Good night, Pemburton.”
“Good night, my lord. Oh, should you care, Lady Derby didn’t eat a bite of her dinner tonight.”
Sinjun started up the stairs, wondering how Christy had won the staff’s loyalty after being in his home less than twenty-four hours. His steps slowed when he reached her door, pausing when he saw a thin line of light escaping from beneath it. He hadn’t expected her to be awake and almost made the mistake of turning the knob and stepping inside.
Instead, he turned toward his son’s room across the hall. Then he remembered that Effie shared Niall’s room and thought better of awakening her at this late hour. He continued on to his own chamber.
Once inside, his gaze kept straying to the door connecting his chamber with Christy’s. Deliberately he turned away and undressed. He donned his robe and walked to the sideboard for a nightcap. He reached for the decanter. His hand wavered, and he spun around to stare at the connecting door. Compelled by a force stronger than the beat of life inside him, he walked slowly to the door and turned the knob. It opened noiselessly, and he peered inside.
His gaze found Christy immediately, and his body jerked in violent response. She was seated in a chair before the hearth, nursing their son, her alabaster breasts gleaming palely in the firelight.
S
injun dragged in a slow breath. Desire, raw and explosive, shot through his body and hardened his loins. A groan caught in his throat when Christy moved Niall from one breast to the other, exposing both full white mounds to his hungry gaze. He watched his son’s mouth latch onto the nipple, his tiny hands kneading her tender flesh as he suckled. Sinjun swallowed convulsively. His shaft surged upward against his stomach as he imagined his own mouth suckling her, his own hands fondling those perfect breasts. The truth was, he wanted her, craved her, had to have her.
How was he expected to resist so fetching a woman when all he had to do was walk into the room and take her? She was his. They had been married for many years. So what was stopping him? The answer to that question was not as simple as it sounded. Why had Christy come to London if she intended to keep his son from him? Why did she want him to believe his son had died? Nothing made sense. Perhaps, he thought again, he should have listened to her explanation when she’d offered one.
He watched, enthralled, as Christy stood up and shifted a sleeping Niall to her shoulder. The top of her nightdress slid down, clinging precariously to her hips. Firelight turned her body a shimmering gold. She appeared more ethereal than human; a goddess whose mouth spewed lies, he thought bitterly. Frustration rode him ruthlessly when she left her chamber and walked across the hall to Niall’s room.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the throbbing in his loins as he waited for her to return. He was still standing in the same place when Christy reentered her chamber. She had adjusted her nightdress back over her shoulders and fastened the ties holding it together with neat little bows. He had to forcibly restrain himself from advancing upon her when she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck.
Still throbbing, still needy, Sinjun fought down his clawing lust and returned to his chamber. He jerked off his robe and stretched out naked on the bed. He truly did try to sleep, but desire still thrummed through his body and his erection throbbed painfully. He spied the brandy decanter on the sideboard and found himself suddenly in need of a drink. He rose and poured a generous portion into a glass, tossing it down in one swallow. It slid smoothly down the back of his throat, the heat nearly as potent as the burning in his loins.
He poured another, then another, but sleep eluded him. He wanted the woman in the adjoining chamber as desperately as he had ever wanted anything in his life. The more he drank the more reasons he invented for making love to Christy, until he convinced himself it was something he had to do. Tossing back the last drop of brandy in his glass, Sinjun donned his robe and walked somewhat unsteadily through the connecting door. He didn’t bother tying the sash as he stepped into Christy’s bedchamber.
His gaze fastened on the bed. The cozy fire dancing in the hearth cast enough light for Sinjun to make out the outline of Christy’s slight form beneath the covers. Determination firmed his jaw as he approached the bed. For a long time he stood over her, staring down at the bright halo of hair visible above the bedcovers. His hand was unsteady as he reached out to touch it. Abruptly he drew his hand back. Tenderness had no place in his heart for the woman who had lied and manipulated him, he told himself. All he wanted was her body. He removed his robe and tossed it aside.
Christy awoke with a start and lay very still. She wasn’t alone. She had no idea what had awakened her—a sound, a familiar scent. She opened her eyes and peered into the darkness from beneath a crescent of lashes.
He stood by the bedside, flames from the hearth casting a bronzed glow over his naked body and reflecting off his ebony hair. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat as her startled gaze slid over him. His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, his mouth taut with determination. An intriguing combination of shadows and light played over the muscular contours of his body and the hardened ridge of his arousal. A slow heat warmed her skin.
“Sinjun. What are you doing here?”
“This is my house, remember?”
She sat up, pulling the sheet up to her neck. “How could I forget?” Her thoughts scattered. Did Sinjun’s presence in her chamber mean he wanted them to have a real marriage? Did he suddenly realize he loved her, needed her, couldn’t live without her? Or did he simply need a woman and she was handy?
The bed ropes protested his weight as he pulled the sheet from her nerveless fingers and stretched out beside her. His body felt warm against hers, and the skin across her breasts tightened in anticipation. She tried to control her response but was utterly defenseless where Sinjun was concerned. Then she caught the scent of brandy on his breath and realized he was drunk.
“You’re foxed.”
“Not
too
foxed,” he assured her.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t … we shouldn’t…”
He pulled her roughly against him. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re mine, Christy, and I need a woman.”
Christy had hoped for something more, anything but the casual sex he offered. She wanted to deny him, to tell him to go to hell, to find another woman, but she couldn’t. To her everlasting shame, her traitorous body needed him.
He cupped her bottom and pulled her against his hard body. She felt his thick sex prod between her legs, and she sucked in a shallow breath. He stared at her parted lips a long moment, then his mouth swooped down to claim them. She tasted his brandy-scented breath and felt herself drowning beneath the overpowering intensity of his hunger. She didn’t want this to happen, not this way. She wanted Sinjun’s love, his regard, not his lust. Not that lust was a bad thing when love was involved, but love had yet to find its way into Sinjun’s heart.
He whispered her name against her lips; she felt herself softening, her body melting. How she had missed him. Missed this. She sighed with pleasure when he cupped her breasts and raised them to his mouth. He suckled her gently until her milk began to flow. Abruptly he raised his head and stared intently at her breasts. She looked down and saw a drop of milk clinging to her taut nipple.
“Do you know I was jealous of my own son when I saw him suckling at your breasts?” he drawled.
Christy fought for breath, surprised by his bald statement. “Why are you jealous? You don’t even like me.”
He chuckled. “I like your body. Pleasuring women is what Lord Sin does best.”
Christy winced, hurt by his callous words. “Conceited wretch. Lord Sin can go to Hades for all I care.” She shoved against his chest. “Leave me alone.”