Born in Sin (27 page)

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice breathless.

“I want to try something different.” It was something he had heard of from other men and had seen a few times from men and women who hadn’t been particularly bashful about who saw them flagrante delicto.

Kissing her on the shoulder, he rolled her over until she was on her knees.

Callie frowned at him, but trusted him completely. She knew he would never hurt her.

He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and, holding her back against his chest, he ran his hands all over her body. She sighed contentedly at the warm feel of him. His hot, pulsing shaft rested against her hip as he gently ran his tongue down her neck.

“Oh, Sin,” she moaned, her body on fire from his touch.

“I will never get enough of you, Caledonia,” he said raggedly in her ear.

He ran his hands down her arms until he captured her hands in his. Then he gently pushed her forward until her hands rested on the carved headboard. He laid a tender kiss on her shoulder and spread her legs wide.

Callie bit her lip nervously, not sure what he intended. He pulled back from her and braced his hands
on her hips. Two seconds later, he drove himself inside her, up to the hilt. She cried out at the pleasure of his body so hard and deep inside hers.

Hissing in pleasure, she felt herself go weak from it. Saints, how she loved this man. Loved sharing her body with him and knowing he was hers. All hers.

He buried his face in her neck as he moved against her. Hot and slow. In and out he slid, making her quiver. She loved the way he felt inside and behind her, the way his lips and tongue teased her flesh.

Acting on instinct, she matched his strokes until he paused and held himself still.

“That’s it, my love,” he whispered to her. “Show me what feels good to you.”

Sin ground his teeth as pleasure ripped through him while she rode him slow and easy. She pushed herself away from the headboard until she was leaning back against him while she writhed in his arms. She reached over her head, pulling him closer to her as she claimed his lips with hers.

He gladly obliged, while he ran his hands over her taut breasts and down her soft belly until he reached the moist, tangled curls.

Their tongues danced in time to her strokes as he separated the tender folds of her body and slid his fingers against her.

Callie groaned at the feel of him. This was so incredible. She’d never dreamed such a thing existed. His touch branded her. Made her ache and yet gave her comfort.

And when she came again, she held his head close to hers and screamed out from the fierceness of it.

Sin laughed softly at her hold on him. He could
barely breathe, but he didn’t mind in the least. He waited until the last spasm had left her body before he took control again. Leaning her forward, he thrust himself faster into her warmth. Aye, she was heaven to him.

And when he found his own release a moment later, he held her close and whispered her name.

Entwined and fully spent, they collapsed on the bed.

Sin lay there, holding her back to his chest, his mind wandering. He’d never had an afternoon like this. Never experienced the comfort of loving arms.

He wrapped his arms around her and listened as she quickly dozed off.

Smiling, he leaned over her to watch the tranquility of her features while her breath tickled the flesh of his arms. If he could, he would stay here forever. Lost in this peaceful paradise that was her.

Closing his eyes, he did what he hadn’t done since he was a small boy. He prayed. He prayed for the politics of Henry and her brother not to come between them. Prayed for some miracle that would see them with a future together.

And as he lay there, behind the lids of his eyes he did another thing he’d not done since early childhood. He hoped. He saw in his mind the children he would love to have. Little boys and girls with their mother’s warmth and spirit.

He wanted this dream. With every piece and part of him, he ached for it.

He had to have it.

And yet even as the peaceful thoughts lulled him, in the back of his mind he feared that hope. Because the realist in him knew better. Dermot was out there,
right now, plotting the downfall of his own clan, and if Aster couldn’t put a stop to it tonight, then one way or the other, come morning, Sin would.

He only hoped that when he did, his wife could forgive him.

T
hat night, neither Aster nor Dermot came home. Callie and Morna paced the floors of the great hall, while Sin and his brothers sat at the table, drinking ale and saying little. Simon’s health had improved, but he was still upstairs in his bed.

Sin watched the women as long as he could, but a prickling in his gut told him something was seriously wrong.

“Morna,” he said gently. “I know you have no trust of me. But I really think you ought to tell me where your son might be hiding. I want to go find both of them.”

She shared a nervous look with Callie. The doubt in her eyes was tangible.

Callie patted her arm. “I trust him, Morna.”

Still, the woman looked skeptical, and Sin couldn’t blame her. It was her mother’s love for her sons that he adored most about Morna.

Sin sought to reassure her. “I will take Lochlan with me. He’s a good Highland laird and you know you can trust him.”

Morna hesitated a minute more before she finally spoke. “While my parents lived, they had an old crofter’s hut up in the north hills. It’s dilapidated and aged, but I’m relatively sure he’d be there now.”

Sin rose to his feet. “Lochlan, Braden, we ride. Ewan, stay here and wait for the men. If Dermot returns, make sure he stays put.”

Ewan nodded earnestly while they made for the door.

Callie followed the small group outside and watched as they mounted. Her heart was heavy with fear and worry. It was typical of Dermot to be out and about at all hours, but Aster…

She hoped he was all right.

“Please be careful,” she said to them.

Lochlan and Braden rode ahead, while Sin kneed his horse to the steps where she stood. She could see the dark desire in his eyes as he watched her. “I will return them to you, my lady.”

“I know you will. I’ve never doubted you.”

He closed his eyes as if he savored her words. He moved his horse closer, then reached up and pulled her into his arms.

Callie moaned as he covered her lips with his and gave her a fierce kiss. His tongue stroked hers while she clung to him, needing to feel his reassurance.

He pulled back and brushed his hand over her swollen lips. “Watch over Morna until my return.”

“I will.”

His eyes hungry and tormented, he set her back on the stoop, then kicked his horse forward.

Callie watched him ride out of the bailey, her heart heavy. She had seen something in his eyes. Something dark and evil that scared her.

But she refused to doubt him. He loved her as much as she loved him. She was sure of it. And one day, she hoped he would realize it, too.

Sin, Lochlan and Braden rode for two hours before they reached the hut. As quickly as possible, they dismounted and searched the dark cottage.

It was empty.

“Someone was here,” Lochlan said, his hand on the hearth. “It’s still warm.”

“Where would they be?” Braden asked.

Sin sighed. “There’s no telling.”

Disgusted and weary, Sin led them to the horses, then back in the direction of the MacNeely castle. They hadn’t gone far when they saw a tremendous blaze in the valley far below on the opposite side of the hill.

“Any idea what’s over there?” Sin asked Lochlan.

Lochlan shook his head. “None whatsoever, but it looks like a bad fire. Like an entire village is going up.”

They raced toward the fire as fast as they could.

As soon as they were close enough to see what was going on, Sin reined his horse to a stop. It was unbelievable. Bodies, both Scots and English, were lying everywhere.

This was no village. This was a battlefield.

“What the devil is this?” Lochlan asked, dismounting his ride.

Sin couldn’t speak. He’d seen things much worse than this in his life as a soldier. But what horrified him was the faces he knew so well on both sides of the conflict.

What he couldn’t figure out was how the Englishmen had gotten here without his knowing it.

“They’re royal guards and knights,” Sin said, sliding from the saddle. His heart pounding, he looked to Braden and Lochlan. “Henry is here.”

“The king?” Braden asked.

He nodded.

Lochlan actually went pale at the news. “What do you think happened to cause this?”

Sin closed his eyes as he fought the rage swirling inside him. Unfortunately, he had a really good idea what had transpired this night.

“I would say Dermot led a sortie against the king. I can’t imagine why he would be so damned stupid. Nor do I know why Henry is here in Scotland right…” Sin paused as he recalled the notice from Oxley. The king had been riding to Scotland to survey the damage of the MacNeely rebels. Damn!

And Dermot had been there in the crowd to hear that announcement.

“Henry will want blood for this,” Braden said.

“I know.” And Sin did. Henry would never forgive a massacre like this. He would want to make an example out of everyone who had participated in it.

Lochlan came forward. “Why don’t we stand guard over the bodies while you return to get help so that we can either get these men home or—”

“Nay,” Sin interrupted. “If any more of Henry’s forces return, they will kill you without question. All they will see are the English bodies and your plaid. We have to go back together and let me send word to Henry.”

When Callie heard the horses approach, she thought it was her husband returning. She ran to the door in relief, then stumbled back as she saw Dermot carrying Aster’s limp body in his youthful arms.

She crossed herself. “What is this, Dermot?”

His cheeks were covered in blood, dirt and tears and his eyes were those of an ancient who had seen the devil and left his soul with him. “I killed him,” Dermot wailed. “I killed them all.”

Morna’s scream echoed as she rushed to her son.

Dermot sank to his knees in the foyer and held Aster in his arms. He rocked his uncle back and forth as if willing him to wake up and live again. “I dinna mean it. Oh, God, I dinna want you to die, Aster, you old fool.”

Morna wailed and wrapped her arms around Dermot while he sat there rocking Aster in his arms. Jamie came running down the stairs to see what had happened, but Callie whirled and sent him to his room with Ewan. She didn’t want the lad to see this.

She herself didn’t want to see this, and the last thing Jamie needed was the memory of his brother and uncle wrapped together and covered in blood.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back. She had to understand this event that was completely beyond her comprehension.

She knelt on the floor by Dermot’s side. “Dermot, tell me what happened.”

He was sobbing now.

Callie took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “You must tell me what happened.”

“I just wanted to capture Henry.” His words came out in short staccato.

Her heart shrank. “
Henry…king of England
?”

He nodded.

“What were you thinking?”

Dermot wailed. “Fraser told me he was come to settle this matter once and for all. That the king would have all of us on a gibbet. I thought if we captured him like he did you, we could settle this by forcing him to sign a charter leaving Scotland to the Scots.”

His shoulders shook from the weight of his grief and guilt. “The English are supposed to be cowards. Da always said one Scot could beat ten of them, and they’ve always run from us in the past. Never once did they turn and fight.”

Callie’s tears fell as she felt for her brother’s youthful arrogance. This was a harsh way to grow up and she would sell her soul if she could erase this night and give him back his innocence.

“Before you attacked settlers, Dermot. Not knights trained and sworn to protect their king.”

“They fought like demons. They were everywhere at once. Behind us, in front of us. We couldn’t move for them.”

She brushed his muddy and blood-soaked hair back from his face as he continued his tale. “Aster tried to stop the fighting. He was trying to get me
home, and…” He squeezed his eyes shut as if reliving it. “The cowardly bastards stabbed him in the back while he was reaching for me.”

Callie closed her eyes as her heart splintered.

The door to the hall opened. She looked up, half expecting to see the English king in the doorway, demanding Dermot’s head.

It wasn’t.

Sin stood in the entranceway with his brothers. By the look on his face, she knew he’d already found out about the attack.

Sin stood frozen by the scene before him. Dermot cradled Aster’s body while his mother held onto his shoulders and wept. Callie sat by his side with the weight of grief and fear dark in her large eyes. The tears on her cheeks weakened his anger.

The sound of Dermot’s and Morna’s weeping cut through him.

“It was an accident,” Callie said, rising to her feet. “He dinna mean for any of it to happen.”

Sin looked at her blankly, shielding his own grief from her. “I need to speak with Dermot. Alone.”

Nodding, she pulled Morna away while the older woman protested.

“Me wee bairn needs me,” she wept, reaching for Dermot.

Sin cast a grateful look to Callie, then he took Dermot’s arm and hauled him to the small council room near the stairs.

None too gently, he sat the boy down in a chair, then went to slam the door closed.

“Wipe your face,” Sin said, his voice harsh. “If
you’re man enough to lead an army into battle, then you’re man enough to sit there and not weep like a woman over it.”

Dermot wiped his ragged and torn tunic sleeve across his face, the gesture so childlike that Sin realized just what he was dealing with. At ten-and-six, he had been battle-hardened and empty. Death had meant nothing to him.

But the boy before him had never known such. He’d been pampered and coddled by all of his family and clan. The little raids they had perpetrated had been meant to frighten the English and had amounted to nothing more than sport and property damage.

Tonight had been a hard birth for Dermot.

Dermot sniffed back his tears and drew a ragged breath.

Sin softened his tone as he spoke. “Now tell me what happened.”

To his credit, Dermot pulled himself together and faced him like a man. “We went to capture Henry to use as a hostage.”

“Your brilliant plan?”

Dermot nodded. “We knew he was headed to Oxley and we’d been waiting in the valley, knowing he’d have to come through there to reach it. So we thought we would extend him our hospitality.”

“How did the fighting start?”

The boy’s lips quivered. “We stopped them and asked them to turn Henry over. They laughed at me, and the next thing I knew, the English attacked us.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask him how he
could be so stupid as to think they would just hand over their king, but Sin withheld his caustic sarcasm.

Dermot drew another deep breath. “I tried to tell the others to run, but they wouldn’t listen. They kept yelling to kill the king. I got scared and…”

“Ran?”

He nodded. “I met Aster in the woods. He thought he could stop the others. He thought they would listen.” Tears seeped quietly from his eyes. “You bastards, you killed him.”

“Nay,” Sin said gently, “fate killed him. It wasn’t you, nor I, nor anyone else. You haven’t been in battle to know the mind-set that takes over a soldier. The bloodlust, fear and self-preservation that knot your gut and make you do unspeakable things.”

Unfortunately, the boy knew it now.

Dermot looked up at him with a maturity that surprised him. “What am I to do now? I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Sin drew a deep breath as he considered the matter. God help him, but he saw no other resolution. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

Dermot shook his head. “How do you stand living with the knowledge of the men you have killed?”

“I honestly don’t know. I try not to think about it, but when I do, I try to rationalize it. I tell myself that had I not killed them, they would have killed me. As for the others…Again, I had no choice. Had I not done it, my life would have ended by a means that would make even an executioner have nightmares.”

Sin moved to sit on the edge of the desk and he eyed the boy with compassion. “The cloak of leadership is a hard one to wear. But once donned, you can’t just shrug it off casually.”

“Meaning?”

“You have to bear the consequences of your decisions. Those men believed in you and followed you because they thought you were worthy of leading them. If you choose to run away from this and hide, it will be a slap to every man who was with you tonight. To every man who thought you were worth the cost of his life.”

Dermot sat quietly for a long time, thinking on those words. “I wish I could do this day over.”

“I know, lad. Many are the times I’ve had the same thought.”

He met Sin’s gaze. “If you’ll let me change my clothes and wash my face, I’ll go quietly to your king.”

Sin stood there in silence. In his mind, he could see the way Morna had held on to Dermot. The way Dermot had looked when Sin had first sat him down in that chair.

In the span of the last few minutes, the boy had just become a man.

“Go clean up.”

Dermot nodded and left.

Sin followed and paused as he caught sight of a servant taking Aster’s body upstairs for burial preparation. His wife stood in the foyer, leaning against Lochlan. But as soon as she saw him, she ran to him for comfort.

Sin held tightly to her and felt her shaking in his arms. She didn’t speak, but he knew her thoughts. In
one night, over one act of foolishness, she’d lost her brother and her uncle.

He only prayed she didn’t lose her clan as well.

“Braden,” he said softly to his brother, “I need to get a message to Henry. Will you dress in some of my clothes and deliver it?”

“Aye.”

Sin inclined his head in thanks. Callie lifted her head and it was the look in her eyes that scorched him. She was terrified and grief-stricken.

“You’re going to give Dermot to them.” It was a whispered statement.

“Henry will demand someone be given to him. He can’t let such actions go without punishment. This was an attempt on his life and many men were killed over it. If he does nothing, he will be seen as weak and ineffectual. Two things a king who is fighting for his throne can’t afford.”