Lacybourne Manor (19 page)

In her absence, Colin looked
around the room. Even though he’d been in it for an hour, he was
seeing it for the first time.

It was supremely feminine and
somehow so personal he felt he was trespassing on some kind of
sacred ground.

Colin saw a photo on the
bedside table and he rolled to pick it up then studied it in the
bedside light.

There were four people in the
picture, the gorgeous woman from the portrait in the dining room
(but older), a rather funny-looking, thin, bald man, Sibyl and what
had to be her sister, almost her equal in magnificence, with red
hair instead of blonde, blue eyes instead of hazel.

His gaze moved over Sibyl’s
face in the photograph. He noted the colour of her eyes and it came
to him there was another reason he knew she’d climaxed. Her eyes
shifted to the colour of sherry the moment before it happened. He
knew, he’d watched in triumphant satisfaction.

He mentally shook off the
pleasant memories of watching Sibyl’s orgasm and focussed again on
the photo.

The family was obviously
loving, their arms thrown around each other. Sibyl and her father
were caught amidst laughter (something he had still never seen,
although he’d heard it) while the two red-headed women, old and
young, were making faces at the camera.

Colin put the frame down and
his eyes moved to glance around the room. They stopped at the
window seat which had a book sitting in it like someone had just
been interrupted while reading. Then they went to the dressing
table which had a feminine mess of cosmetics but also held a
variety of delicate, exquisite bottles, all with no labels.

As he was studying the bottles,
the cat jumped agilely on the bed and surveyed him curiously for
about two seconds then lay gracefully on his side and started
cleaning his back foot.

Colin had the distinct feeling
that something was not right with this picture.

Before he could decide what
that was, there was a clamour somewhere in the house and he knew
that Sibyl and Mallory were back.

The clamour spread, Colin heard
it come up the stairs and then the dog bounded in the room and
stopped clumsily at his side of the bed. He lifted Colin’s hand
with his nose and bumped it up so it was resting on the dog’s
head.

“Do you want something to eat?”
He heard Sibyl ask.

Colin’s attention turned from
the dog to see Sibyl was standing at the door. Regardless of her
makeup, she looked about sixteen years old.

He felt his gut clench with
unease.

When he didn’t answer, she went
on, “Drink?”

“I’m fine, Sibyl,” Colin
answered, surveying her closely.

He fought his body’s demand to
drag her back into bed while she looked over her shoulder and out
the door.

“Do you want a…” she hesitated,
looked back at him and then tossed her head in an act of
frustration, about what only she was privy, “tour of my house?”

There was something meaningful
to that offer, something outside the realm of their bargain,
something that made that unease in his gut spread.

He forced his tone to be
gentle. “I’d very much like a tour of your house but later. Now I
want you to come back to bed.”

She hesitated then walked to
the side of the bed. Her hands at the waistband of her jeans, she
kicked off her shoes.

Something made him ask quietly,
“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Her eyes flew to his. They were
back to the colour of sherry, with but a hint of green close to the
pupils.

Without a word, she shook her
head.

Then she took off her clothes
swiftly and, with a graceful gesture of her arm, tossed them across
the room. Then even more swiftly, she lifted the covers and slid
under them.

She resumed her position on her
belly, her head turned away from him. Even naked in bed at his
side, her position closed her off to him, removing herself from him
and Colin didn’t like it.

At all.

He slid the covers down again
to expose her back and ran the flat of his palm up from the gentle
curve of her rounded bottom up to the expanse of smooth skin
between her shoulders.

And again, as he did, Sibyl
trembled.

He stared at her back, her hair
and realised she was all his.

For two months.

And he gloried in that
thought.

He pulled her hair away from
her neck and kissed her between her shoulder blades.

Then he lifted his lips to her
ear. “You’re doing very well.”

She didn’t hesitate in her
response.

“Thanks.” Her voice betrayed
she meant none of the gratitude that word meant. “Just what every
girl wants to hear.”

That feeling of unease spread
precariously close to his cold heart.

“Sibyl,” he called.

She didn’t turn to him and
sighed before asking, “Can’t we just go to sleep?”

“No,” he answered honestly.
Sibyl Godwin, Colin had long since decided, would not get very much
rest that night.

Nor, likely, for the next two
months.

She rolled, dislodging his hand
and lay on her side, up on her elbow. He settled on his elbow
facing her while she pulled the covers over her breasts. He noticed
her eyes were no longer sherry, they were back to emerald. The
effect of the colour change was extraordinary.

“Well, of course, you have to
get your money’s worth,” she snapped tartly after she caught his
eyes.

“I’ve already had it,” he
replied truthfully.

At his remark, her eyes rounded
and he watched in fascination as she pulled her lips between her
teeth for a moment as if literally biting back words she wanted
desperately to say.

And her eyes melted back to
sherry.

That’s when he knew he could
kiss her.

Much later, when he lifted his
head and she followed it with hers to keep in contact with his
mouth, he finished what he meant to say.

Smoothly, in one fluid
movement, he slid inside her magnificent, tight wetness and, while
he did, she exposed her throat to him as she arched her back and
neck in an open demonstration of the pleasure she felt at allowing
him inside.

Her legs lifted up, her knees
at his sides so high they were nearly tucked into the pits of his
arms, and her thighs tightened against him. This action drew him
exquisitely deeper into her.

“Sibyl,” he called her name as
he settled inside her, not moving and practically gritting his
teeth with the effort, she was so splendid.

Her head righted, hair wildly
tumbled on the pillows framing her passion-filled face.

“Colin,” she whispered, his
name from her lips, said in that husky tone of sex, caused his body
to twitch involuntarily.

He fought back his response and
warned, “I may have had my money’s worth but you still owe me two
months and I’m going to have them.”

Her eyes rounded again but her
hips moved, inviting the movement of his.

“Sibyl –” he started but her
hands were urgent on his waist, her nails digging into him.

“
Yes, Colin, yes,” she
breathed, impatient. “Two months. Now, will you just please
move?
”

Colin grinned.

Then he did as Sibyl asked.

Danger

The phone was ringing.

Sibyl decided to ignore it, her
answerphone would get it. She was too deliciously tired to
bother.

When it stopped ringing,
abruptly, she smiled sleepily but her smile was short-lived.

“Hullo?”

She heard this said in a husky,
baritone voice.

Instantly awake, she twisted
violently in the bed, pulling the covers over her breasts, just in
time to hear Colin say, “She’s right here.” His clay-coloured eyes,
rimmed with their lush lashes, slid to her. “It’s for you.”

Ignoring the rush of
warmth in her belly at the sight of his eyes
and
him in her bed,
she snatched the phone out of his hand and covered the mouthpiece.
“Of course it’s for me, who would it be for? Mallory?”

He smiled.

This smile was again lethal but
not with danger, instead with the heady, pleasant aftermath of
sex.

A lot of sex.

A lot of really,
really
good sex.

She ignored that too (and what
it did to her belly, namely, making it flutter) and lifted the
phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“
Who was
that?
” her
mother asked.

Sibyl sat bolt upright in bed,
still holding the sheets to her chest.

“Mom?”

“
Yes, baby, it’s your
mother. Your sister phoned and told me you had a sure thing so
I
had
to call.”

Sibyl dropped her forehead into
her hand, rested her elbow on her thigh and closed her eyes in
despair.

Her bloody,
bloody
sister.

Her bloody,
bloody
mother.

Who else on earth had two
relatives that were so interested in their daughter/sibling’s sex
life?

“It appears she was right!” her
mother crowed ecstatically.

“What time is it there? It has
to be…” Sibyl twisted around to look at the clock on the bedside
table.

What she saw was Colin on his
side, resting with his head in his hand and watching her, his eyes
soft with interest.

And his eyes looked good soft
with interest.

She twisted back so fast she
was pretty certain she pulled something.

“It’s midnight, baby, and I’m
about to go out and commune with nature,” her mother answered. “I
thought I’d give you a buzz before I draw down the moon to see how
your night went but I guess I don’t have to ask.”

“Mom –”

“Is he cute?”

“Mom –”

“Did you have an orgasm?”

“Mom!”

“What? Oh, yes, you probably
can’t talk now, since he’s there. And if I take up your time, you
might miss a morning quickie.”

Sibyl returned to her
defeated position of head in hand and she expelled a frustrated
sigh. She loved her mother, she’d lay down her life for her but
sometimes she was just too much. And now was
definitely
one of
those times.

Her mother continued. “Just
know I’m glad your dry spell is over and I hope your father and I
meet him in April. Will we meet him in April?”

Sibyl’s body went rigid.

In all the emotional drama,
she’d forgotten about her parent’s visit in April. Their visit was
smack in the middle of Colin’s two months. Two months where he was
to have her when he said, where he said.

The very thought of those
words made her shiver and, she had to admit, this shiver had not a
thing to do with fear or gloom.

Sibyl powered through the
shiver and began, “Mom –”

“I know, it’s too soon. I hope
to meet him though. He must be something special to catch your
fancy. See you soon, baby.”

Then she rang off without
giving Sibyl a chance to say good-bye.

Sibyl pressed the phone off
with her thumb and sat staring at it, thinking maybe she should
throw it through the window.

Sibyl was not a morning person
and this morning was no exception. Her mother only exacerbated the
problem.

Before she could engage in her
violent act against the phone, Colin slid it out of her hand.

She didn’t watch him replace it
in the receiver; she just plopped back on the pillows with a heavy
sigh.

Her life was completely
out-of-control and she only had herself to blame.

“That sounded like an
interesting conversation,” Colin remarked.

Considering the fact that she’d
only uttered a handful of words, and most of them were “Mom”, she
threw him a killing look where only her eyes moved sideways but she
didn’t speak.

When she didn’t, he did. “I
imagine she wasn’t too thrilled when a man answered the phone first
thing in the morning.”

“Oh no,” Sibyl replied, slowly
closing her eyes. “One could say she was beside herself with
glee.”

No response.

Sibyl opened her eyes
again.

He was back to resting on his
elbow, watching her with warm, inquisitive eyes.

She decided to ignore the warm,
inquisitive eyes too. She didn’t want to think of a warm,
inquisitive Colin. If she did, she might shiver again.

“My mother is…” How could she
put it? “Odd.”

He decided that the
conversation was finished and she knew this because his head began
to descend.

“Colin, we have to talk,” Sibyl
blurted.

The descent stopped.

“That doesn’t sound good.” His
voice was guarded.

“My parents are coming to visit
me,” she told him.

His eyebrows came up lazily.
This, for some reason, made her stomach do a flip flop.

Regardless, Sibyl persevered,
“In April.”

He still simply regarded
her.

“For two weeks,” she
finished.

“And?” he prompted.

“And, well… you and… well…
me...”

He grinned. This grin was
wicked.

She was beginning to realise
Colin liked the upper hand, which he had a great deal with regard
to her.

His head descended again and he
brushed his lips against hers before saying, “I see.”

“We’ll need to take a little
break for two weeks and –”

“Oh no.” His lips brushed hers
again, his tone firm, and he finished. “A deal’s a deal.”

“
Colin!” She pulled her
head away (as far away as it could go, resting on a pillow). “I
can’t exactly say, ‘Sorry, Mom… Dad, gotta go meet my lover for a
rousing round of bed play’. I don’t
think
so.”