Lord of Sin

by Susan Krinard

  A strange expression crossed his haggard face, one she almost might have called distress. Then his mouth set in a grim line, and all traces of drunkenness vanished.

  “You had better sit down, Nuala,” he said.

  “To what purpose? You have won. They have agreed to stop seeing each other.”

  He took her arm in an iron grip and pulled her toward the drawing room. “You are going to listen to me, even if I have to tie you down to a chair.”

  “If you try, Donnington, you will regret it.”

  His eyes glinted. “Don’t test me, Lady Charles.”

  “Or you shall try to hurt me again?”

  He winced, but he didn’t let her go. He steered her into the room and set her firmly in a chair. “I have something to say to you, Nuala.”

  “If you think you can explain…”

  “I can’t. But I can apologize.”

  His words stopped her short. “Deborah and Felix—”

  “Hang Deborah and Felix.” He knelt before her, his hands gripping the armrests. “I did nothing to interfere with either of them. It’s you I…” He glanced away. “What happened that night…I wasn’t myself. You must believe that.”

  The anger drained out of her, leaving her hollow with shock. He was apologizing to her.

  “I don’t know what came over me,” he continued, looking up into her eyes. “It was as if someone else were talking, doing things I…” He moved his hand over hers. “I don’t have an explanation. My behavior was unforgivable. Unconscionable.”

  She remembered to breathe. “Are you saying…Do you wish to make me believe—”

  “For God’s sake, Nuala. I wanted you. I wouldn’t have done anything to drive you away.”

  Surely he was playing with her again, attempting to win her trust before betraying it once more. Yet her heart insisted that he was sincere, that his eyes held a deep regret and tenderness that couldn’t be feigned, even by such a practiced schemer.

  But that other voice, that other face, so twisted with naked hate…

  “Someone else?” she whispered.

  “Maybe I am going mad.” He pushed away and stood, his jaw working with emotion. “That was how I felt. Mad.”

  Nuala closed her eyes. Was it possible? Could Sinjin make himself so vulnerable and not mean what he said?

  Was she going mad along with him?

  “I would never harm you,” he said. “Never.”

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  “Nuala.” He knelt again, humble as he had never been humble before. “I don’t ask you to understand. I only ask that you not despise me. I assure you…” He swallowed. “I assure you that I will discover the root of this madness and drive it out. I won’t touch any woman until I can trust myself again.”

  Any woman. Of course. And why not? Their coming together had been strictly a matter of business.

  “Has this happened before?” she asked in a still voice.

  “No.” He seemed even more distressed than he had a moment ago. “Not before we…met in London.”

  “Then some part of you must hate me.”

  His jaw set. “You are not being reasonable, Nuala.”

  “It seems we have both made mistakes,” she said, rising. “You in attempting to defy your natural contempt for me, and I in hoping that there might be peace between us.” She rose and walked swiftly toward the door.

  Sinjin was there before her. “Don’t go, Nuala.”

  His breath was warm on her face, his superbly masculine body too close, too powerful. “What is left to say?”

  He lifted his hands, then let them fall. “What do you see when you look at me, Nuala? An enemy? Someone to hate?”

  She raised her eyes to his face. “Do you truly care?”

  “Haven’t I made that clear enough?”

  “Why?”

  He continued to gaze at her with an earnestness and intensity that held her more surely captive than his body did. “Answer my question,” he demanded softly.

  “I don’t hate you, Sinjin. Only what you can become.”

  “I swore that I would root out this…thing within me. Isn’t that enough?”

  How could she expect him to succeed in such a project when she had been unable to root out her own memories, her own anger? “We are not meant to be in one another’s company,” she said, fighting the urge to touch his haggard face. “I should never have come to London.”

  “Do you think I still blame you for what happened at Donbridge? I don’t, Nuala. I admit my own responsibility in what happened to Giles. I was blinded by my…” He shook his head. “Will you accept that apology, at least?”

  Nuala had to lean back against the door to stay on her feet. “No. I was arrogant. I made mistakes that cost a man his life and a woman her sanity.”

  “Are we to argue about it again? Can we not both admit that we are far from perfect?”

  Nuala struggled to still the mad whirling of her thoughts. She no longer knew who the real Sinjin was: this quiet man who, against his nature, humbled himself to her, or the violent devil she had met six nights ago.

  She wanted to believe he was this man, that the other had been a reflection of some darker part of himself that he would swiftly overcome.

  Oh, how she wanted to believe.

  “Are we really so different, you and I?” he asked, caressing her fingers. “Can we not come to some accommodation?”

  “Even if you and I…Even if we reach this accommodation, Felix and Deborah will continue to suffer.”

  “I swear that I had nothing to do with their current separation. But if you are so certain that they belong together, I’ll help in any way I can.”

  What came over her then had no explanation. She kissed him. It was meant to be a simple kiss of gratitude and friendship, but it remained so only for the instant before Sinjin pulled her into his arms.

  She told herself that she acted in defiance of her fear, and to prove that she was not ruled by anger and resentment. But when Sinjin took her hand and led her up the stairs, such rational convictions ceased to have any meaning. She was scarcely aware that he guided her to a different room this time, a room without a single exotic pillow. A place that was a refuge, a sanctuary, not the replica of a pasha’s harem bedchamber.

  Nuala was sensible of the supreme vulnerability he was displaying in bringing her to his private chambers. As if he realized how much he might reveal of himself in the spare furnishings and decoration, he hesitated inside the door and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “We need not continue,” he said very quietly. “You owe me nothing.”

  “I know.” She drifted closer to him, touched his hand, his cheek. “No more negotiations, Sinjin. We meet here on equal terms.”

  Standing on her toes, she kissed him again. He closed his eyes, brushed her lips lightly with his. The bed was only a few steps away. Somehow they made their way there, though Nuala could not remember how she had come to cross the room. Sinjin breathed into her hair and then nuzzled her ear as he began to unfasten her bodice. His fingers were expert on the hooks, and she knew he had done this countless times before.

  But those times would not be like this. They could never be like this.

  He laid the bodice on a chair and returned, his eyes hot with desire. Her skirts came next. They fell into a pool at her feet. Sinjin put his hands around her waist and lifted her free of them. She felt light as down in his grasp. Because she had not expected to come to him tonight, she had worn her corset; he turned her about and smoothly unlaced it. It joined the bodice on the chair. He turned her round again, his hands resting just at the top of her hips.

  “I want to see you naked,” he whispered against her ear.

  She was already growing wet, but his seductive voice brought on an ache that she was certain must match his own. She slid her hand down the front of his trousers and cupped it over the hard ridge beneath the wool. His hands tightened on her waist. She eased the buttons
from their buttonholes and massaged him lightly.

  Sinjin was having none of it. He pulled her hard against him and kissed her neck, sucking lightly on the skin until it began to tingle. Inch by inch he made his way down to the upper curve of her breasts. Nuala gasped in anticipation of feeling his mouth and tongue on her nipples. But he released her just long enough to pull the chemise over her head and toss it aside.

  Nothing now stood between him and her naked flesh. He cupped her breasts in his palms, lifting them like ripe fruits to his lips. His tongue slid over her nipples with tantalizing slowness, tracing a path around the aureoles. Nuala heard her own breath catching in her throat, her low moan of pleasure as he sucked her into his mouth. With quick, hungry tugs he suckled her, first one breast and then the other, rolling his tongue around and around her nipples.

  “Sinjin,” she panted.

  His mouth was too full to answer.

  “I want…I don’t want to wait.”

  He glanced up with a sly, secret smile. “You must be patient, my little witch.”

  It was an endearment this time, not a curse. He continued to lick and suckle her while he unfastened her drawers. They fell, and he kicked them aside. Then he knelt and removed her shoes. The act was every bit as sensual as anything he had done before. She expected him to dispose of her stockings, as well, but he left them alone. She barely had a moment to register the thought when his pressed his mouth between her thighs.

  His tongue was agile. Oh, how agile. It found its way between her folds, teased and flicked, slid over the center of her need. She was afraid she was about to come then and there, but he stopped just in time, came to his feet, and lifted her onto the bed. Without pause he spread her legs wide, knelt again, and took up where he had left off.

  If he had not been so skilled, she would have lost herself completely. But he knew just how to keep her on the edge without letting her fall. He explored every wet, swollen inch of her, licking up the hot liquid that spilled out of her, circling her entrance until she could think of nothing but having him fill her up. When he thrust his tongue inside her, she reached down for him and pulled him away.

  “I need…I need all of you,” she gasped.

  “You’ll have it,” he murmured.

  “But you…you must be—”

  “Hush.” But he rocked back, rose, and stripped off his shirt with an almost violent motion, never looking away from her face. He shed his trousers and drawers with equal alacrity.

  He was…magnificent. There was simply no other word to describe his body: the broad shoulders, the well-defined muscle of his arms and chest, the lean waist and hips. And what displayed itself so boldly, arced high against his stomach. No, astonishing might be a better word.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asked without an ounce of modesty.

  “Oh…oh, yes. Do you?”

  “I have never seen a woman like you.”

  She wet her lips. “That is quite a compliment.”

  “No.” His voice had grown hoarse. “It is the truth.” He moved to put his knee on the mattress, but she was faster. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, set her hands on his hips and took him into her mouth.

  He stiffened and released a slow, harsh breath. He tangled his fingers in her hair as she kissed his silky head, slid her lips over it and curled her tongue over the remarkably smooth flesh. His breath hitched again when she took all of him into her mouth and suckled him, rendering him helpless under her caresses.

  “Nuala…”

  “Hmm?”

  “I think you ought to…stop now.”

  She chose not to take his suggestion, but continued to explore with the greatest satisfaction. When he began to tremble with the effort to control his body’s instinctive response, she withdrew with a final kiss.

  “My God,” he said roughly. He stood very still a moment longer, his eyes tightly closed, and then bent to gather her up, laying her on the bed.

  “Do you know what you’ve done to me?” he asked, stretching out beside her.

  “No more than you’ve done to me.” She ran her palm over his muscular back.

  He was clearly not satisfied with her answer. He trapped her mouth with his own, eased his body over hers, and settled between her parted thighs.

  “I shall win this war,” he murmured, licking her neck as his hard, hot shaft slid along the inside of her thigh. She swallowed, determined not to beg him again. He was intent on tormenting her, rubbing himself against her without allowing so much of the tip of his erection to touch her wetness.

  Part of her was braced for that evil voice to condemn her again. But it was Sinjin’s voice murmuring endearments, Sinjin’s breath caressing her face as he eased into her…an inch, no more, teasing her until she could no longer silence her desperate cries.

  With a sigh he slipped deeper, little by little, until he was fully inside her. Then he stopped, barely breathing, letting her feel him, reveling in her tight heat clasping him like a gentle fist. When he withdrew, Nuala gasped in protest.

  Perhaps he decided to take pity then. Perhaps he could no longer bear the waiting himself. He lifted her bottom with one hand and plunged into her, so very fast and hard that she half rose from the bed with a cry of surprise. Then the rhythm took her, and she became a creature of pure sensation, feeling herself as much the possessor as the possessed.

  Overcoming her shyness, Nuala watched Sinjin’s face as he moved inside her. There was nothing of the sophisticated, cynical rake in him now. He met her gaze, and all she saw was tenderness, a vulnerability he had so seldom revealed to her before.

  And though his body trembled with the effort, Sinjin held back, focused on her pleasure, giving way only when she began to throb with her own release. Then he began to move urgently, almost violently, thrusting impossibly deep until he stiffened and shuddered and found his completion.

  He remained inside her for a time, his face pressed into her shoulder. Only after his breathing had slowed did he ease himself away and lie beside her, his hand trailing over her waist. Nuala savored the heat of his body against hers, the overwhelming feeling that she had found her home at last.

  “Sinjin,” she whispered. The words were so close, so very insistent. It would take so little effort to say them. So little courage, now that he had given her such a gift.

  She turned toward him and lifted her hand to his face. “Sinjin,” she murmured. “There is so much…so much I would like to…”

  He leaned up on his elbow, staring down into her face with an almost grave expression. She faltered and gathered her courage again.

  “Sinjin—”

  Abruptly he rolled off the bed, flung on his dressing gown, and turned his back on her.

  Nuala sat up, pulling the sheets up to her shoulders. “Sinjin?”

  He didn’t turn. Nuala’s elation melted away. Something had gone wrong, but not with Sinjin’s behavior. He had been the perfect lover. Not once had that “other Sinjin” invaded their bliss.

  It must be her. She had failed in some way she didn’t comprehend. She had disappointed him. She had not been a perfect lover, not like the experienced women he was used to dealing with.

  Or perhaps he had taken what he wanted and had no further use for her. Their bargain was complete.

  Silently she slipped from the bed, pulling the sheets with her, and searched for the undergarments Sinjin had flung on the floor. She prayed he would keep his back turned long enough for her to dress, or at least until she had put on sufficient clothing to shield her nakedness from his gaze.

  She had pulled on her chemise and had just fastened her drawers when Sinjin spun to face her.

  “This cannot continue,” he said roughly.

  Nuala reached for the abandoned sheet. “I know.”

  “No. You don’t.” He started toward her. She looked for the stranger in his eyes, but it wasn’t there.

  “I realize that you have little regard for your reputation,” he continued, “but som
eone must.”

  She nearly dropped the sheet. “When have you ever had regard for a woman’s reputation?”

  “I’ve never ruined any woman’s good name,” he said. “The ladies I’ve known have been mature, free-willed and capable of being discreet.”

  “As I haven’t been.” She draped the sheet over her shoulder and snatched up her petticoats. “Perhaps it is your own reputation you fear for.”

  He laughed, little more than a bark. “Oh, yes, I fear for it. Damn Erskine.”

  “What has Leo to do with—”

  But he was moving again. He came to a halt within arm’s reach and dropped to one knee.

  “Marry me, Nuala.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE SHOCK ON NUALA’S face was so profound that Sinjin was half-convinced she might actually swoon.

  “Marry you?” she whispered. “Marry you?”

  Heat rushed into his face. He rose, his heart a leaden weight beneath his ribs.

  “Did I not make myself clear?” he asked. “I am asking you to be my wife.”

  Her gray eyes were all pupil, her skin pale enough to match the sheet she had dropped to the floor. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Don’t I?” He attempted a smile. “Is the idea so repulsive to you?”

  She stretched out her hands, found the hassock in front of his favorite chair and collapsed onto it. “Repulsive?” she echoed. Color flooded back into her skin. “You cannot have changed so much.”

  Pride was no easy thing to swallow. “Changed from our last meeting? Have I not proven—”

  “You are…you were everything a woman could desire.”

  “Then what is it, Nuala?” He held her gaze, refusing to let her escape. “Are you still afraid of me?”

  She trembled. “No.”

  “Do you doubt my sincerity?”

  It was a question he should never have asked. The answer was plain in her eyes.

  “Are you not the confirmed bachelor,” she said, “sworn not to bind yourself to any woman until you pass the age of forty?”