Lacybourne Manor (52 page)

“
Not someone I’ve
wronged
, I
wouldn’t say I wronged anyone, though they might not think of it
that way,” Colin answered.

Losing patience, Sibyl cried,
“You’re talking semantics and I’m talking decimated toss
pillows!”

His amusement came back as
quickly as it faded; he put his hand to her jaw and muttered,
“Sometimes, you’re too adorable for words.”

Her eyes narrowed on him as she
grumbled, “You can’t distract me with flattery.”

“At least I tried,” he replied,
still in fine humour and she glared as he turned around again, and,
with a gentle pull on her hand, they headed back down the hall and
she noted, later, that he never answered her.

Apparently, she thought
with disgust, he
could
distract her with flattery.

Promising to see Angie the next
afternoon, if not sooner when Scarlett checked on Marian, they all
left. They went to Brightrose where Colin instructed everyone to
pack in preparation for Heathrow the next day. He also demanded
that Sibyl pack much more than an overnight bag.

“Why?” she asked.

“You’re moving into
Lacybourne,” he answered, completely calmly.

At his words, Sibyl’s eyes
bugged out as her family drifted around them to take in what would
undoubtedly be a fiery show.

“I’m not,” she defied.

“You are,” Colin stated.

“
I am
not
.” She nearly
stamped her foot.

“Until these men are caught,
you’re staying at Lacybourne. The alarm hasn’t been installed at
Brightrose and, even if it were, I don’t want you here by yourself…
at all.”

“I have a business here,” Sibyl
pointed out.

“We’ll move that to Lacybourne
as well.”

As her eyes were as wide as
they could open, her brows shot up.

“You’re… you can’t… I…” she
spluttered then immediately digressed to an eight year old and
turned her eyes to her father and whined, “Dad!”

“He has a point,” Bertie said
quietly.

This time, her mouth dropped
open.

“Pack your bags Sibyl,” Colin
ordered.

She swung from Colin back to
her father and tried again by repeating, “Dad!”

“Pack them, Sibyl,” Bertie
stated in the fatherly tone that, all her life, she could never
oppose.

“Bertie, I don’t think –” Mags
decided to wade into the fray.

“Quiet, Marguerite,” Bertie
demanded.

At that, all three
women’s mouths dropped open (or, more to the point, two as Sibyl’s
was already gaping).

Even so, they stomped up the
stairs with dire mutterings that consisted of such words as
“overbearing”, “chauvinistic” and “tyrannical” but still, they
packed.

None of this affected Colin or
Bertie in the slightest.

Colin went to Lacybourne while
they packed, taking Bertie with him and coming back with the BMW
and the Mercedes. They packed the cars to the brim with bags, pet
supplies, the food that might spoil in the fridge and all were
hauled to Lacybourne.

Then, as if the day couldn’t
get worse, they arrived at Lacybourne to see it crowded with
cars.

It was National Trust Saturday
at Lacybourne Manor.

They dragged in their bags
without incident, putting away the food and leaving the other
luggage in the study which, since it was Colin’s personal office,
was off-limits to National Trust visitors. Upon leaving again to
head out to a late lunch, some of the tourists who’d been in the
house stopped and gawked.

“
Oh my
gawd!”
a
large American woman with dyed-black hair and nicely tailored
clothing shrieked. “It’s the couple from the portraits.”

“Brilliant,” Colin muttered,
starting to assist Sibyl into the BMW and his tone stated he didn’t
find it brilliant at all.

“
I thought you were
dead!” the woman yelled, striding forward quickly. “Inside, they
said you were murdered… oh… my…
gawd!
” Her voice rose even
further as she turned to a harried, embarrassed-looking man beside
her. “They said they’d come back to life. Oh… my…
gawd
,
Harold, look at them. They’ve been
reincarnated!
”

More people were now peering at
them, some of them curiously, others, who had also been inside the
house and seen the portraits, excitedly.

“Did you come to visit the
portraits?” the woman asked.

“
They
live
here,” Mags
offered proudly.

Colin cursed eloquently under
his breath and Sibyl’s eyes sent icicles shafting toward her
mother.

“
Oh… my…
gawd,
” the
American woman breathed before shouting, “
It’s magic!
”

Colin practically shoved Sibyl
into the BMW and once her feet cleared the door, he closed it
cleanly and prowled to the other side while Mags, Bertie and
Scarlett slid into the back.

Colin took them to the village
next to Clevedon, to a lovely, small café nestled into pretty woods
at the back of a garden centre. As the day stayed cold and misty,
they were forced inside to sit amongst the brightly painted tables
and gaily blinking fairy lights. The food there was delicious and,
after they’d finished, Bertie cleared his throat.

“We’ve been talking and we’ve
come to some decisions,” he announced and everyone’s eyes turned to
him. “Scarlett and I have to get back but seeing as things are...
well, the way they are,” he paused hesitantly before he let the
bomb drop, “Mags feels she ought to stay.”

Sibyl looked at Colin who, she
was surprised to see after the recent incident at Lacybourne, had
no reaction whatsoever to this news.

Her gaze slid away from Colin
and the rest of the family glanced at each other then finally
Bertie asked, “If that’s all right with you, Colin.”

Colin looked first at Bertie
then directly at Mags. “You’re welcome at Lacybourne for as long as
you wish to stay.”

Mags beamed then
instantly offered, “I’ll take the bedroom the
farthest
away. Give
you both some privacy.”

Sibyl glanced at the
ceiling, praying to the goddess for patience which, luckily, the
goddess bestowed on her and the rest of the day went without
incident.

* * * * *

Late in the evening, after
their visit to Mrs. Byrne and Angie, dinner and everyone was in
bed, Sibyl found (not surprisingly) she was unable to sleep.
Listening to Colin’s even breathing, she gently slid out of his
arms, out of bed and pulled on the plaid dressing gown her father
had discarded years before but she’d saved from the Goodwill bag
and she’d used ever since.

She stepped over Mallory
whose body was twitching, running after something in his sleep that
he would never chase when he was awake and went to stand by the
window. In order to be quiet and not disturb Colin, she carefully
opened the drapes and stared out into the moonless night. Her eyes
adjusted to the dim light from the streetlamps that barely filtered
through the heavy tree line and tall shrubbery at the edge of the
estate.

She could see the outlines of
the trees and thought of Royce and Beatrice dying hideous, bloody
deaths somewhere out there hundreds of years ago.

She hadn’t been back to see
Royce in her dreams in weeks. Now, she wished to go back, was
desperate to go back so she could talk to him, warn him, tell him
what awaited him and Beatrice. If she was able to convince him, she
could stop the curse before it started. Even though she wanted it,
her nights were dreamless and, it seemed, she realised with a heavy
heart, Royce was lost to her.

“Sibyl, get away from the
window.” Colin’s low voice startled her, she jumped and turned
toward the bed.

“I didn’t know you were awake,”
she whispered as if he was still asleep.

The covers snapped back, he
knifed out of bed, took a great stride toward her (a distance that
would take her at least three), snatched her wrist and yanked her
back to the side of the bed. He then went to the window and slapped
the curtains shut.

“What are you doing?” she
asked, watching him.

“Has it occurred to you that
someone out there wants to hurt you, me or both of us and standing
by the window in the dead of night gives them a clean shot?” he
asked in return, his tone sharp.

The thought jarred her to her
senses and she replied quietly, “I didn’t think.”

“
Sometimes you don’t,” he
muttered this on a weary sigh and she was stunned to hear that this
was said non-judgementally, devoid of insult or even mild annoyance
(well, perhaps, there was mild annoyance but it was
very
mild
annoyance).

And, because of that,
because he understood that failing of hers and accepted it (with
only
very
mild annoyance), Sibyl very nearly blurted out right then
and there that she loved him.

But, luckily, before she could,
Colin pulled her back into bed with him and settled himself behind
her, his arm wrapped around her and his body pressed down her
length.

Then he asked, “Why were
you up?”

His deep, velvet voice rumbled
through her and she decided she loved that too.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she
explained.

“I gathered that,” he muttered
drily in return.

She smiled and she
decided she loved that about him too and she didn’t even know
what
that
was.

Then she whispered, “My family
is leaving tomorrow and it makes me sad.”

“Your mother is staying,” Colin
offered in consolation but his arm tightened comfortingly and his
breath stirred her hair and her love bloomed even more. That thing
inside her she thought was long since ash, she knew now, was alive
and flourishing.

“My mother is staying tomorrow
and that makes me worried,” she replied.

She felt his body shake gently
with his chuckle and her smile deepened at the thought that she was
able to make him laugh and she decided she loved that too.

“At least things will be more
interesting with her around,” Colin remarked.

He had
that
right
and he likely didn’t even know how right he was.

But he would find out.

“I think we can barely cope
with things getting much more interesting,” Sibyl countered.

Colin made no response.

With his silence, she settled
deeper into him and nestled her bottom into his groin. When she’d
done this, finally, she relaxed.

But when he next spoke, all
relaxation fled.

“Now, why don’t you tell me why
you really couldn’t sleep?”

Her eyes grew round in the
dark.

“How did you…?” she
started.

He cut her off before she could
finish. “You’re an immensely bad liar.”

She tensed for a moment then
heaved a sigh but kept her silence.

Maybe (she hoped) she could
wait him out.

“I asked you a question,” he
reminded her.

Apparently, she couldn’t wait
him out.

Sibyl remained silent. She’d
avoided the “Royce Discussion” so far, she wasn’t going to court it
now.

His hand shifted to cup her
breast.

“Do I need to make you talk?”
His voice was silky smooth and utterly dangerous.

She felt whirls of desire, and
dread, spread through her both at the same time. The last time he
did that… well, she didn’t want to think of that.

“No.”

“Then let’s have it.”

She hesitated and then said
quietly, “I was thinking of Royce.”

It was his turn to tense but he
did it better than her, mainly because his hand was still cupping
her breast and the reflexive action caused his grip to tighten
splendidly.

It didn’t last long before he
released her, moved and turned away. She felt some confusion at his
retreat before the dim light on the bedside table came on.

By the time Colin came back to
her, she’d rolled onto her back and he looked down at her from his
position on his elbow.

“Why did you do that?” she
queried.

“I want to see your eyes,” he
answered simply.

“I’d rather talk in the dark,”
she informed him honestly.

Actually, Sibyl didn’t
want to talk at all but, since apparently she couldn’t avoid it,
she would
vastly
have preferred to say what she was had to say in
the dark.

“I don’t particularly care,”
Colin returned.

She gasped at his words. His
face was hard and unyielding and she couldn’t understand it.

“I don’t know why this is such
a big deal to you,” she grumbled, feeling her anger build and
trying to control it.

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You kissed him.”

“It was you.”

His face went from hard
to stony and his voice was a dangerous rumble when he reminded her,
“It
wasn’t
me.”

“
Okay, then, it wasn’t
you but I didn’t kiss him,” she tried and his eyebrows shot up so
she finished, “
He
kissed
me
.”

“It made you cry.” It was an
accusation and somehow she was stung by it.

Because of that, she
retaliated, “Well, it was beautiful. Beautiful enough to…” She saw
his jaw clamp and the now-familiar, telltale muscle leap. “Colin,
it was you…”

“
It
wasn’t
me and we both
bloody well know it,” he bit out.