A Taste of Sin by Connie Mason

heavy wooden door open and encountered pure chaos. The main hall was packed with men, women, and children. A cacophony of angry voices bounced off the walls. Curious, he moved closer. No one noticed him as he paused just inside the hall to listen.
    “Our people canna survive the winter if we pay the levies demanded of us!” one man loudly proclaimed.
    “Our children will starve,” a woman interjected. “What kind of monster would condemn innocent children to death?”
    “Lord Derby, that’s who!” another man roared as he jumped onto a table to be better heard. “The English have raped our land, married the orphan daughters of our noblemen, and left us with nothing but our pride. When the tax collector comes around again we must defy his authority.”
    “Sir Oswald has returned to England,” a man exclaimed. “And good riddance.”
    “He’ll send the king’s soldiers,” a woman said on a sob. “Lord save us all.”
    “What the clan needs is man to lead them,” the Highlander standing on the table charged. “The Macdonald is too weak to lead the clan.”
    As if on cue, people began to shout, “Calum! Calum! Calum!”
    Calum held up his hands for quiet. “Aye, tell The Macdonald who ye want for laird. The English lord hasna set foot in Glenmoor since he was wed to The Macdonald.”
    “Calum! Calum! Calum!”
    Sinjun watched in astonishment as Calum jumped down and lifted a woman onto the table where she could be seen. Her back was to him as she confronted her angry clansmen. So this was his wife, he thought dispassionately as she raised her hands for quiet. Then she spoke, and a roaring began in his ears.
    “I am The Macdonald,” Christy said when the angry chanting subsided. “We must not lose our heads. Tis not the time for rebellion. There will be bloodshed. Women will lose their men, perhaps their own lives. Children will be without fathers and mothers. As long as I am laird, there will be no rebellion.”
    “We carina support the high levies,” a man shouted.
    “Are you willing to sacrifice your life, Donald Cameron?” Christy challenged. “Your wife and children will go hungry should they lose your support.”
    “‘Tis easy for ye to say,” came Donald’s angry reply. “Ye have an allowance from yer husband. Ye dinna have to pay taxes or rent. I say we set aside The Macdonald and choose another laird from our ranks.”
    “Listen, all of you.” She touched her stomach. “I carry the Macdonald heir. He or she will be your protection for the future. For now, all I can say is that Lord Derby has promised to look into the unfair levies.”
    Sinjun sucked in a startled breath. He knew that voice! Little by little he recognized other things about The Macdonald. The shimmering waves of copper-colored hair, the trim curves, the regal bearing. Bloody hell! Flora. No, not Flora, but Christy Macdonald, his very own wife, and she was carrying his child! His fists clenched at his sides and his face grew mottled. How dare she do this to him! How dare she plot behind his back!
    Everything she’d told him had been a lie. Who she was, where she lived, her elderly husband. She had a husband, all right, but he was neither old nor senile. Had he wanted to impregnate his own wife he would have done so long ago, but to be tricked like this was unconscionable. And more than a little disturbing.
    He stared at her in silent fury. His eyes froze into chips of ice, and his gaze raked her from head to toe. Did she have to look so beautiful? A length of Macdonald plaid was slung over her shoulder. Her copper hair was plaited into a single braid, and her head was topped with a chieftain’s cap adorned with a single feather.
    He felt used, helpless, as if he’d lost control of his life. He wanted to storm through the throng of people and shake her until her teeth rattled. The conniving little witch had gotten under his skin as no other woman ever had. When he recalled how distraught he’d been after she’d left