Born in Sin (15 page)

Not even his brother’s clan had been able to do that. He’d stayed with the MacAllisters for a brief time after Braden and Maggie’s wedding while his burns had healed. And though all had been coolly cordial, he had still seen the way the servants and villagers had shied away from him. The way no one wanted to spend more than a fleeting moment in his presence.

Even his stepmother, Aisleen, had been very coldly polite to him during his stay. Not once had she been able to meet his gaze. Of course, her cold aloofness was a vast improvement over the contempt and repulsion she’d shown him in his youth. Still, he had refused to stay where he was unwelcome.

He had to do that enough at Henry’s court.

Sin looked back at the bed where his wife waited, his stomach hurting. No one had ever welcomed him before Caledonia.

She would give herself to him if he asked it.

And he wanted to ask. So much so that he burned with the yearning.

Don’t do this to her or to you. Leave, Sin
.

No good could come of tasting heaven when he couldn’t stay in it. He’d learned that early in life. Memories of happiness only stuck the barb in deeper.

And he had been barbed enough.

Callie held her breath in nervous anticipation as she heard her husband leave the tub. He would come to her now, she was sure of it.

While the men had been fighting outside, Emily had told her much about how hard Draven had fought against the love Emily had offered him.

She took courage in hoping that if Emily had bent her stubborn husband to accept her, perhaps there was a chance for her and Sin as well.

Perhaps.

At least she thought that until she heard Sin walk across the floor and out the door.

Stung, she rolled over to make sure she had heard correctly.

Aye, she had. Her husband was nowhere to be found.

Grinding her teeth in frustration, she lay there and let the pain of rejection wash over her.

Very well, then, if he didn’t want her, so be it. She wasn’t going to lie around and ache like this. She had made her offer. He had rejected it.

He had no use for her. Fine. She would be home in a few days and then she could do as he did and just pretend he didn’t exist. Fine. Wonderful.

If that was what he wanted, she would give it to him.

And yet, even as her anger spoke loudly in her head, there was a tiny part of her that wanted the kind of marriage her parents had shared. The kind of marriage Morna had had with Callie’s father. The kind Emily shared with Draven. One of love and respect.

“I know not what to do,” she breathed. But inside
she did. She would have to continue the fight for his heart.

She only hoped he didn’t fight her with the same determination he’d shown with Draven. If he did, then she would have no hope whatsoever of winning.

T
hey left early the next morning. Callie barely had time to say good-bye to Emily and Draven before Sin whisked the four of them back on the road to Scotland.

The next few days were eventless and marked only by her husband’s reluctance to acknowledge her presence in any way.

By the time they reached the border of the MacNeely lands, she was ready to strangle him. But the sight of her home eclipsed every bit of her irritation at her husband.

She was home! Spurring her horse, she raced ahead of the others.

Sin caught up to her and pulled her to a stop.

“What is it you do?” she asked.

“We’re being watched.”

She frowned at his words. “By whom?”

He didn’t answer. “Simon, put the boy on your horse and stand ready to get him and Callie to safety.”

Simon obeyed without question.

No sooner had Simon placed Jamie before him than a cry went up through the forest. Callie’s heart hammered as two score men surged out of the trees to surround them. But it wasn’t fear that made her heart race. It was joy. She knew these Highlanders. Knew and loved each and every one of their blessed faces.

Faster than she could blink, Sin dismounted to stand before her horse and unsheathed his sword, ready to take them all on. Her heart swelled at the sight. He might have been cold toward her the last few days, but he was still willing to fight and protect her. It was a good sign.

“Release the lass and lad or die!”

Sin took a step forward.

“Aster, please,” Callie said, trying to diffuse the passionate nature of her kinsmen. “They have returned me.”

Aster’s gray hair was a bit shaggy and his face had new wrinkles to it. He looked at Sin and Simon skeptically. “Are you sure, turtledove?”

“Aye.” She wanted desperately to tell them who Sin was, but thought better of it. Let them meet as friends and then she would deliver what was sure to be a cutting blow to her uncle.

Aster signaled the men to sheath their weapons. “Then it appears I owe you an apology, English.”

Without speaking, Sin sheathed his sword and returned to his horse. Callie noticed the rigid way he sat. This was the Sin she had met on the turret stairs. A man of suspicion and danger.

Her own family held the same guarded nature. No one, not even Dermot, greeted her openly. All of them
eyed Simon and Sin, ready to grab swords at any provocation.

“Uncle Aster, Uncle Aster,” Jamie shouted excitedly, “Lord Sin married Callie and he disarmed her, too.”

She cringed at Jamie’s words. Especially when Aster cut a killing glare at the two knights. “And just which one of ye be this Lord Sin.”

“I am.”

The air between the two men was rife with antagonism.

“We were married a week past, in accordance with the Church,” she said, hoping to allay some of the tension.

Aster became even colder than before. “Were you forced to it, lass?”

She saw the look in Sin’s eyes, but he said nothing. He expected her to betray him, to leave him at the mercy of her kinsmen. “Nay, Uncle. I married him willingly.”

“Are you mad?” Dermot snarled. His green eyes snapped with fury as the wind tugged at his long, dark brown hair. “To be bringing a Sassenach here? Where’s your head, woman?”

“My head is fine, Dermot MacNeely, and I don’t be needing to hear it from the likes of you. Sin is my husband and you’re honor-bound to show him respect.”

Dermot spat on the ground. “I’ll die before I show respect to any S—” His sentence stopped as a dagger whizzed past his face, narrowly missing him.

Sin eyed him harshly. “Call me that one more time, boy, and you will die for it.”

Dermot unsheathed his sword, but before he could ride forward, Tam grabbed his horse. “Calm down,
lad. Your sister’s home. Let’s let Aster and Callie sort this through.”

The look on Dermot’s face should have splintered her husband into oblivion. Sin appeared immune to the hostility and yet something told her he wasn’t.

Everyone’s mood was subdued as Aster led them back to her family’s castle. If not for Jamie’s rapid chatter, the ride would have been in complete silence.

As soon as they entered the hall, Jamie’s mother came running toward them. Morna was a beautiful, slender woman with long, dark brown hair the same shade as Dermot’s. Her kind blue eyes were filled with joy at the sight of them.

“Och, my wee bairn!” Morna screamed, scooping Jamie up in her arms and holding him tight to her ample bosom. He kicked his legs in protest as she squeezed and kissed his face over and over again.

Sin watched the woman, who probably wasn’t any more than a year or two older than him, greet her son. There had been a time once, long ago when he’d dreamed of coming home to such a welcome. But when the other boys who had been taken from Scotland had been sent home by Henry, all that had greeted him had been a curt, cold note sent by his father:

The old wounds inside tore open, spilling aching pain throughout his entire body.

“My lord?”

He turned away from Callie and removed his gauntlets from his hands.

Callie frowned at Sin’s back. The raw anguish in his eyes haunted her. When she stepped around him, she saw his face held its usual stoic expression.

Morna took Jamie upstairs, while Aster led her, Sin, Simon and Dermot into his counsel room.

“I dinna want him here,” Dermot said in Gaelic.

Callie saw red. “’Tis not your decision.”

“The hell it’s not. He’s English.”

“Dermot, Callie, settle down,” Aster snapped. “This won’t get any of us anywhere. Now then, tell me, Callie, what do you intend for us to do with him?”

“I intend for you to make him welcome.”

Aster ran his hand through his graying hair. “Now, that’s asking a wee much, don’t you think, lass? I spent the best part of me youth fighting his kind. As did your dearly departed da. I want peace with them as much as you do, but not at this cost.”

She glanced to her husband, who exchanged a peeved glare with Simon. “We are being rude by discussing this in front of him when he knows nothing of our language.”

“He’s a whoreson and if he can’t understand us, then you’d best be sending him home.”

“You’re right about one thing.” They all froze as Sin’s flawless Gaelic rolled like thunder through the room. “I am a whoreson, but I have no intention of going home until there are no more raids against Englishmen.” He stalked toward Dermot until they were toe to toe. “So if you want me to leave, then all you have to do is make peace.”

“Wherever did you learn to speak our language, lad?” Aster asked. “I’ve never known a Sas…Englishman to speak it so well.”

Sin cast a glance over his shoulder. “I’m just full of surprises.”

Callie held her breath as the two men sized each other up. Like Sin, her uncle wasn’t used to anyone questioning his supreme authority. He ruled their land with the power of a king, and all the clan owed their blood loyalty to him.

She cast a pleading look to Simon, hoping that if a battle ensued, he would help her break them apart.

Aster narrowed his gaze. “If you think for even one instant that I will let you capture any of my people and hand them over to your king, you are sadly mistaken.”

Sin turned to face him. “Then I would caution you to make sure the rebels raid no more.”

“How can I do that when I have no idea who they are?”

“You are laird of this clan. Don’t tell me you don’t know every man, woman and child who inhabits it. If you don’t know the rebels by name, you most certainly know them by reputation and you know which of the men are most likely guilty.”

Dermot raked a sneer over Sin and Simon. “There are only the two of them here, Uncle. I say we cut their throats and bury them.”

Sin actually smiled at Dermot’s threat as Simon cocked an amused brow.

When Sin spoke, his tone was low and lethal. “Better men than you, whelp, have tried, and they are all lying in their graves for it.”

Dermot stiffened to his full youthful height, which was still a full head shorter than Sin. “You don’t scare me.”

“Then you are too foolish to live.” Sin pulled a dagger from his boot. “Come here, boy, and I’ll cut
your
throat and gladly put you out of both our miseries.”

For the first time in her life, Callie saw her brother pale. “Sin,” she said, in a teasing tone she hoped would lighten their moods and stave off their fighting. “Put that away before he thinks you mean it.”

“I do mean it.”

She rolled her eyes as her own temper ignited. “Och now, you men. Always bragging and bullying.” She took the dagger from his hand and sheathed it back in his boot. “Next time, I’ll confiscate it from you.”

The incredulous look on Sin’s face was laughable. In fact, Simon did laugh.

She turned on Dermot. “And you…you ought to be ashamed. Now go upstairs and say hello to your brother and let me speak with Aster without your hotheadedness interfering.”

That only made Dermot madder. “I’ve as much right—”

“Dermot, obey!” she commanded.

Grumbling, he stalked from the room. “I’m not a child!” he snapped before slamming the door shut behind him.

Callie took a deep breath. Finally, a moment of peace to try and negotiate a miracle.

She turned back to the men. “All right, now, where were we?”

“Your uncle was telling you why he and the rest of your clan can’t welcome me into their midst.”

“It’s nothing against you personally,” Aster said. “I have finally succeeded in quieting down the rebels. Your presence here will no doubt set them off again.”

Sin crossed his arms over his chest. “Was it your leadership that quelled them or the fact that Henry held Callie?”

Aster turned a peculiar shade of red. “Now, see here, I dinna have time for this. I have an envoy of allies coming in from a northern clan. The last thing—”

Sin stiffened. “To what purpose do they come?”

Aster blustered even more that Sin would dare question him about clan concerns. “It’s none of your bloody damned English business.”

Sin took a step forward, his face dark with warning. “As an advisor to Henry—”

“Great Peter’s knucklebone, Callie!” Aster cried, turning on her with a fierce glower. “It’s not bad enough you bring back an Englishman? Did you have to find one who is an advisor to the king?”

She disregarded his question. Much like Sin, she wanted to know who was coming and why. “Who is coming, Aster? I don’t see the harm in his knowing.”

A tic formed at Aster’s jaw. For several minutes, he said nothing at all as he looked back and forth between them.

Finally he spoke. “The MacAllisters are coming.”

Sin frowned. “Lochlan MacAllister?”

“You know of him?” Aster asked.

Callie arched a brow in surprise. The MacAllisters were a strong clan who wielded a tremendous amount of power over their fellow Highlanders. Their leader, Lochlan, was said to be wiser than King Solomon and the most skilled fighter in all of Scotland.

Ewan MacAllister was more myth than real. Legend said he’d taken to the hills, where he practiced ancient and black arts that called forth the souls of dead warriors to inhabit his body. A giant among men, Ewan had never been defeated in battle.

And Braden MacAllister…there wasn’t a lass in all of Scotland who didn’t know of him. More handsome than sin itself, he was said to be able to seduce any woman he met. When it came to fighting, everyone agreed the only person to match his skill was one of his brothers.

No one ever wanted to cross a MacAllister.

Sin snorted. “Aye, you could say that.”

“Why are they coming?” Callie asked.

Aster took a seat at his desk and shuffled through papers. “Since they are on friendly terms with King Henry, I sent for them hoping to work a peace that would bring you home. Now I fear they will have wasted their journey. But no matter, I shall make them welcome and then send them back.”

It made sense to her and she was relieved Aster had sought a peaceful way to get her back as opposed to marching himself down to London and getting killed. “When will they arrive?”

“Tomorrow or the next day.”

Callie gathered Simon and Sin to her. “Come, gentlemen, let me show you both where you may wash and rest. Aster, would you please have food sent to my room and to the one across the hall from it?”

Rage suffused his face at her words. Aster growled low in his throat. Then he fairly shouted, “You canna be putting one of them in your room, lass! ’Tis indecent!”

She gaped at him. “My husband?”

Aster’s face turned another shade of red. He blustered. “Aye, I forgot that. All right, then, I shall send Aggie up with food for all of you.”

“Thank you.”

Sin didn’t speak as she led him across the hall and to a set of stairs. He saw the hate-filled stares they collected as they moved through the castle.

“You know,” Simon said from behind him, “I haven’t felt this much animosity since the last time I went to Paris.”

“I told you to stay home.”

“No doubt I shall wish I had listened.” Simon cleared his throat. When he spoke next, it was in a deep, mocking tone. “Oh, but Simon, I am so glad you came along. Imagine, here I would be with only Callie and Jamie to befriend me.” He changed his voice back to its normal tone. “Think nothing of it, Sin. My pleasure, really. ’Tis what friends are for.”

Sin paused on the stairs and turned to face him with a droll stare. “Are you quite through?”

“Not really, why?”

Sin shook his head and laughed. “You’re right, Simon. Thank you for coming.”

Simon threw himself against the stone wall, his face a mask of shock and dismay. “Callie, quick, take cover, love. The castle is doomed. Sin said thank you to me. The end of the earth is upon us.” He crossed himself. “Hail Mary full of grace.”

Callie laughed while Sin glared.

“You are such a buffoon,” he said. “You should have been a jester instead of a knight.”

“True, but jesters don’t get to carry a sword. Person
ally, I like my sword. You know, the whole knight image really makes the ladies lust for me. Not that any have lusted for me recently, since I have only been in the company of married women, but one is ever hopeful.”