"In good time, my lady, in good time."

They had reached the doors. Christy would have loved a breath of fresh air, but not with Sinjun. She couldn't risk being alone with him no matter how she longed for his company.

Gripping her elbow, Sinjun pushed her through the doors onto the veranda. Couples taking the air gazed curiously at them as Sinjun dragged her down the stairs and into the dark garden.

Chapter 13.

"My lord! Stop right now!" Christy demanded, trying without success to pull free of Sinjun's grasp.

Sinjun ignored her. Christy didn't realize how foxed he really was until he staggered drunkenly, nearly spilling them both to the ground. He righted himself and tugged her along with him, until the lights from the house appeared like twinkling diamonds in the distance. Then he pulled her behind some bushes and swung her roughly into his arms.

"Now, my lady," he said raggedly, "I'm going to kiss you. I find you utterly irresistible."

"You find all women irresistible," Christy flung back.

He merely chuckled. Christy's last thought before his mouth slammed down on hers was that this couldn't be, shouldn't be, happening. Then coherent thought fled as his tongue parted her lips and he deepened the kiss. His unique taste, his heady scent, forced a response, and her mouth opened beneath his.

His arms tightened around her; her b.r.e.a.s.t.s flattened against his hard chest and her loins meshed with his. She heard him groan; a sound so raw that, had she not known better, would have indicated pain. He whispered something against her lips; she thought it was her name and prayed it wasn't. She had no idea how it happened, but suddenly she found herself flat on her back on the unyielding ground. The pungent scent of earth and male musk lulled her into complacency, until his hands moved determinedly to her face.

"Remove your mask. I want to see your face," he whispered.

Her hands flew upward to stay his hands. "No, please."

He sighed heavily, the sound a combination of impatience and frustration. "I've never made love to a woman whose face I couldn't see. But if you insist..."

"I've never made love with a man as foxed as you are," Christy shot back.

He stiffened. "Are you afraid I can't please you?"

"I ... we are strangers, my lord. Please let me up."

Sinjun went still, his head c.o.c.ked to one side. "I know you, my lady, I just can't place you. Your kisses, that mouth ... d.a.m.n this befuddled head of mine. I'll remember you tomorrow, depend on it."

Christy sincerely hoped not. "I must return to Lord Blakely before he comes looking for me."

"Let him look," Sinjun muttered against her lips. "Serves him right for refusing to tell me your name."

His knee slid between her legs. Panic shuddered through her. "Stop!"

"Tell me your name and where I can find you tomorrow and I'll let you go."

"No, I cannot."

"Nor can I stop," Sinjun said, giving her a lopsided smile.

Christy tried to push him away, but he was too strong for her. He lowered his body atop hers and pressed his loins into the cradle of her thighs, giving her the full benefit of his aroused s.e.x.

"I'm going to have you, my lady. I may regret this tomorrow, but tonight I'm too foxed to care."

Slowly he raised her skirts, his hands skimming her thighs, stroking, kneading, burning her flesh with his heated touch. Her heart jumped violently, banging against her ribs. This was Sinjun, the man she loved. The man who was no longer her husband. Then her thoughts scattered as he set his hands on either side of her head, holding her still as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. His tongue drove past her lips, filling her mouth with his taste and scent.

His kiss was neither gentle nor tender. He took her mouth hungrily, almost savagely. Christy moaned into his mouth and kissed him back, pa.s.sionately, suddenly needing this man as desperately as he seemed to need her. For the first time in months she felt vibrantly alive. Mouths locked together, they rolled on the ground, legs tangling, hands clutching, the friction of their heated bodies wildly arousing.

His hands found her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he dropped his lips to her arching throat. Needing to feel more of him, she tore open his shirt, ripping it downward from his neck and slipping her hands inside. The heat of his bare flesh scorched her palms, the pleasure of it raw and profound. He must have felt it too, for a ragged moan rumbled in his chest. When his lips traveled downward to caress the rounded tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her breath hitched, then hissed from between her lips.

"You're driving me mad," he gasped.

Christy decided it must be the full moon, for she was as mad with desire as he. The only difference was that she knew exactly who he was, while Sinjun had no idea he was making love to his own wife. How ironic, she thought, that they found themselves in the same situation as when they first met. Yet the circ.u.mstances were different this time. In the end it didn't matter. Call it moonlight madness, call it insanity, there was no stopping the pa.s.sion building inside her.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," Sinjun muttered as he jerked down the neckline of her gown. "Too many clothes."

Christy felt the material stretch, then rip, as cool air kissed her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His lips brought back warmth as he drew a sensitive nipple into his mouth. Christy arched against him as liquid fire raced through her. His tongue was a hot brand, searing her nipples with moist heat. And his hands. Oh, G.o.d, they were between her legs, his fingers probing, caressing, finding that sensitive nub and rubbing until shock waves racked her body.

Then his mouth replaced his fingers, laving her swollen nub with rough, swirling strokes of his tongue. She gave a frustrated cry when he abruptly lifted his head and grinned down at her. She didn't want him to stop. It felt too good.

"Spread your legs for me, sweetheart. Foxed or not, I've yet to have a lady complain."

The words brought Christy to swift reality. How had she let this happen? Wild, hedonistic, unpredictable, Lord Sin could make a statue want him.

"No, stop!"

Her protest came too late. The engorged tip of his shaft was already probing her pa.s.sage. He poised above her a brief moment, frowning, as if trying to see the woman beneath the mask. Then he pressed himself down upon her. She arched wildly, trying to buck him off, but his weight trapped her. His legs on either side of hers held her immobile, granting her no relief from the incredible heat building inside her. He flexed his hips and surged inside her, allowing her scant time to catch her breath as he thrust hard and deep, driving his thick length to the hilt.

Christy surrendered to the tension humming through her, rocking against him, arching her back for deeper penetration. Caught in pa.s.sion's throes, she felt something inside her break free and soar.

His loving was as fierce as a summer storm, battering her senses, leaving her feeling bruised and breathless as her body convulsed. She whispered his name and shattered, surrendering to ecstasy. Moments later she heard Sinjun's exultant shout and felt his seed bathe her womb.

When her wits reconnected with reality, Christy realized this wanton coupling could result in another child. That staggering thought cooled her pa.s.sion as nothing else could. With a cry of dismay, she shoved him away.

Unprepared for her a.s.sault, he fell back, staring at her, his expression a mixture of shock, confusion ... and sudden knowledge. "Christy ... my G.o.d, it's you!"

Stunned that he had recognized her despite her disguise, Christy leaped to her feet, holding her ruined bodice together at the neckline. She had to flee before Sinjun regained his senses.

He must have surmised her intention, for he suddenly came alive. "Christy, wait! Don't go!"

Her throat clogged with terror, Christy backed away, still shaking from the aftermath of their loving. "I'm not. I'm not who you think," she cried as she turned and raced toward the house. She glanced over her shoulder once and saw Sinjun sitting on the ground, his forehead resting on his knees. When she realized he wasn't going to give chase, she rested a moment against a tree to catch her breath and to think.

Glancing down at her ruined dress, she realized she couldn't go back inside the house without causing a scandal. Tears of anguish slid down her cheeks. How in the world was she going to get back home?

"Flora, is that you?"

Christy spun around, ready to flee again. Then she recognized Rudy coming down the path toward her, and relief shuddered through her. She choked out his name. Then she was in his arms, shaking like a leaf in the wind on an autumn day.

He held her at arm's length and stared at her, his brow furrowed in concern. "My G.o.d, what happened to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Christy said on a shaky sigh. 'Take me home."

Rudy's expression hardened. "d.a.m.n Sinjun to h.e.l.l! He did this to you, didn't he? Look at you, you're a mess. I'll kill him."

"Rudy, no! Just take me home. I'm as much to blame as Sinjun."

"No woman should be treated like he treated you," Rudy railed. "I'll call him out, I swear it."

She pulled on his arm. "I want to leave, Rudy. Please."

"Your wrap."

"Forget it."

"I'll settle you in my coach, then go back for your wrap and make our excuses to my grandmother." He placed an arm around her shoulders and led her off, carefully skirting the puddle of light spilling from the ballroom.

Christy cast a furtive glance over her shoulder, relieved that Sinjun wasn't following. She was in no condition for lengthy explanations, which she was sure Sinjun would demand. She didn't breathe easily again until Rudy returned and the coach pulled away from the townhouse.

She had to have been out of her mind to come here tonight, she scolded herself. But the last thing she'd expected was for Sinjun to recognize her so easily. How had he known?

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Rudy asked when silence stretched out between them.

Christy dropped her gaze and pulled her wrap closer around her. "I can't."

Gently, he removed her mask. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, really."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "You don't look fine."

Her relationship with Sinjun was too complicated to explain. And Rudy wouldn't understand. No one would understand why she had lied to Sinjun about their bairn.

"I'll call on you tomorrow," Rudy said as the coach pulled up before her front door.

"I wish you wouldn't," Christy demurred.

"Soon then. Rest a.s.sured I'll bring Sinjun to task for what he's done to you."

Panic rose inside her. "Remember your promise, my lord. You said you wouldn't tell Sinjun where to find me. No matter what, I pray you will not betray my trust."

Rudy grasped her small, cold hand and kissed her knuckles. "I'd never betray so lovely a lady."

Christy. Still sitting on the ground, Sinjun was too stunned to mink beyond the fact that he had just made love to his wife. He'd taken her on the ground like an animal, using her like he would a dockside wh.o.r.e. He was suddenly stone cold sober. As sober as he'd ever been in his life.

Christy. Her name tasted like fine wine on his tongue. He should have known her immediately. d.a.m.n his fuzzy head and d.a.m.n his inability to see beyond her mask and wig. But it hadn't taken him long to recognize her once he'd started making love to her. No other woman in the world made love like the Macdonald chieftain. Her sweet taste, the subtle scent of her flesh, the sweet curve of her lips, the intense green of her eyes. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he'd recognized her; perhaps he'd known her all along and had refused to believe what his mind told him.

His eyes darkened with anger when he recalled the cold words of her letter, and how little she'd told him of their child's death. So many questions and so few answers.

Why was she with Rudy? What had happened to Calum Cameron? What in G.o.d's name was she doing in London?

Needing answers, he straightened his clothing and stumbled back to the house. The moment he blundered into the ballroom through the French doors he realized he'd made a mistake. Christy wouldn't have returned to the party. Not in her state of dishevelment.

He strode through the crowd of amused faces, aware that he'd become the center of attention. He groaned inwardly and glanced down at himself. His clothing was gra.s.s-stained and covered with loose twigs. His neckcloth was awry, his hair messed and his coat unb.u.t.toned. Thank G.o.d he'd had the sense to fasten his breeches.

Odd bits of conversation followed him out the door. "A wastrel. Out of control. Shouldn't be allowed in polite society. Debaucher of young women. Blackguard. Scoundrel."

Sinjun paid them little heed as he made his excuses to his scandalized hostess and took his leave. It was imperative that he find Christy.

Sinjun rose early the following morning. His head felt swollen to twice its size and his tongue felt furry, but his mind had never been clearer. He rang for Pemburton, and when the butler appeared with a bottle and gla.s.s on a tray, Sinjun waved them away.

"I won't need that this morning, Pemburton. See to my bath. I have urgent business to conduct."

Though Pemburton's long face remained stoic, the twitching muscle in his chin revealed his shock. "'Tis early, my lord. 'Tis not like you to arise before the sun. Is something amiss?"

"Everything is amiss, Pemburton," Sinjun said shortly. "But it won't be once I speak to Lord Blakely."

"Shall I bring your breakfast, my lord?"

Sinjun's stomach gave a rumble of protest. Yesterday's excesses still plagued him.

"No breakfast, Pemburton. I'll stop at one of my clubs should I require food later. Have the grays. .h.i.tched to the carriage and brought around."

An hour later, bathed, shaved, and dressed, Sinjun left the house. The carriage was waiting just as he had ordered, and he waved the driver off as he climbed onto the seat, adjusted the ribbons in his fingers, and drove off down the street with reckless haste.

The carriage had scarcely rolled to a stop before the Blakely townhouse when Sinjun leaped to the ground and sprinted up the stairs to the front door. Several minutes pa.s.sed before his insistent knocking brought an answer.

"Ah, Carstairs, good morning," Sinjun said, pushing past the startled butler. "Please inform Viscount Blakely that I am here and wish to see him."

Carstairs's eyebrows lifted nearly to his hairline. "Lord Blakely won't be up for hours yet."

"Wake him," Sinjun said as he strode into the study. "I'll wait for him here."

"But ... but, my lord," Carstairs sputtered, following close on his heels, "the master never arises before noon."

Sinjun rounded on him. "The devil take you, Carstairs, just do as I say."

Shaking his head and muttering something about the impetuousness of youth beneath his breath, Carstairs took himself off to awaken his master.

Sinjun paced impatiently while he waited for Rudy; his friend had much to explain. Sinjun's patience was all but shot when Rudy, his hair tousled and his eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, walked into me room.

"What in b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l are you doing here at this unG.o.dly time of day? You have a lot of nerve, Sinjun. What you did to Lady Flora last night was unforgivable. Name the weapons. I intend to defend my lady's honor."

"Don't be stupid," Sinjun retorted. "Defend her honor my a.r.s.e. What were you doing with Christy last night?"

"You're still foxed, Sinjun. Go home and sleep it off. I don't know any Christy."

"The devil you say! You escorted her to your grandmother's ball last night."