Lacybourne Manor (22 page)

“Colin?” Her voice was
hesitant.

He turned on the bedside lamp,
settled his eyes on her but didn’t answer and started to unbutton
his shirt.

She stood across the room from
him nervously then started to speak.

“You should know something
about me,” she announced.

He stopped unbuttoning his
shirt to study her, wondering what she had to say. Wondering if
he’d believe what she had to say. Wondering if he’d be further
annoyed by what she had to say. And thinking that he likely would
not (to the former) and definitely would (to the latter).

Then, to his surprise, she
crossed the room and halted not a foot away from him.

She lifted her beautiful face
to his and her eyes were sherry. When she spoke her voice was low
and intent and almost urgent.

“My mother and father are both
redheads, I didn’t get their hair but I got their temper. I always
say things I regret when I lose my temper and I’m always in a foul
mood when I wake up. I’m so sorry I was such a terrible shrew this
morning. Please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

When he didn’t reply to this
stunning announcement, an announcement that, backed by the shade of
her eyes (something she likely couldn’t control), he believed for
they were a warm sherry, she closed the distance between them and
hesitantly rested both her hands on his chest.

“
I like it when you’re
yelling at me or ordering me around a
lot
better than this. Not
that I like you ordering me around but I couldn’t bear five months
of this,” she declared and at the earnest look on her face he
finally felt his chest, which had been tight since the moment he
saw her smile at the waiter, relax. He also felt the anger ebb out
of him and decided on the best course of action to work the rest of
his tension at the evening out of his system.

Therefore, he ordered, “Take
your clothes off, Sibyl.”

She nodded, her shoulders
drooped, she dropped her head and began to step away from him.

“No,” he changed his mind, “I
think tonight I’d rather do it.”

Her head snapped up and his
hands went to her hips, sliding around, pressing in to pull her to
him and she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders.

“Can I take it that since
you’re ordering me around again that you aren’t mad at me anymore?”
she asked, her alto voice sweet and, if he heard it correctly,
hopeful.

Colin studied her.

Sibyl Godwin was definitely an
enigma and this was a new, enchanting element to her puzzle.

He bent his neck and brushed
his lips against hers.

Then he said against her mouth,
“No, Sibyl, I’m not mad at you anymore.”

And that’s when it
happened.

She relaxed, leaned into him,
locked her sherry eyes with his and smiled.

And Colin knew, in that
instant, he’d never forget that smile for the rest of his life.

* * * * *

Much later, Colin woke from a
deep sleep, mainly because Sibyl had kicked him violently in the
shin.

He pulled himself onto his
elbow to see she was still asleep. They hadn’t closed the shutters
and he could see her in the moonlight, she had moved away from him
in the night and was lying on her stomach. He could tell she was
agitated, something wasn’t right.

“Sibyl?” He reached out to
touch her, to wake her from what was obviously a nightmare.

Before he made contact with her
body, she reared up violently then she flew from the bed and raced
across the room.

Colin noted distractedly that
Mallory, who had been lying on the floor by Colin’s side of the
bed, was now up as well, standing still and fierce and not barking
or vibrating with his usual big dog energy.

But Colin’s attention was
focussed on Sibyl, she’d halted by the window and stood panting as
if she’d just run a race. Her body was tense, her arms held out,
bent at the elbows, palms up in a defence posture. She was looking
around, her head tossing this way and that, like she expected
someone to attack her.

On guard at her strange
behaviour, Colin exited the bed and approached her slowly.

“Sibyl,” he murmured quietly
and her head jerked to him.

“Colin,” she whispered achingly
and he felt his gut clench at the terrible tone of her voice. She
sounded sad and defeated and, somehow, lost.

He reached her and slid his
hands carefully around her waist, slowly drawing her body to his
and wrapping her in his arms.

“It’s all right, you had a
nightmare,” he told her and she shook her head, tossing her mane of
hair. “Sibyl, it’s all right,” he assured her firmly.

She pulled back slightly and
gazed at him. He could not see her eyes in the moonlight but he
could feel their intensity.

Then she did the strangest
thing, something that moved him at the same time it sent a sense of
fear searing straight into his soul.

Lifting a trembling hand, she
touched his throat in a feather-light caress and his body
completely stilled. The light touch was somehow fervent, even
reverent. Then she leaned forward, pressed her lips against his
throat and kissed him there.

At her kiss, his still body
froze.

Except for when she’d laid her
hands on his chest in apology and, after, on his shoulders when he
held her, she’d not touched him, and definitely not kissed him,
unless he’d commanded it or they were having sex.

But he knew, instinctively,
this was not a game, this was not an act, this was something else
entirely.

“Sibyl, what’s happened?” he
asked.

“It’s just a nightmare,” she
whispered in a way that sounded like she was trying to convince
herself of the truth of her words. She tucked her head under his
chin and wrapped her arms around him so tightly that it almost felt
as if she wanted him to absorb her into his body.

It went without saying that
she’d also never hugged him and this embrace was not simply an
embrace, it was profound and it was desperate.

Automatically, his arms
tightened around her.

“It’s all right,” he repeated,
not knowing what else to say, completely at a loss of what to make
of this latest, spectacular event.

She nodded her head against
him, causing her hair to slide against his chest and, even though
he would not have thought it possible, her arms tightened further
around him. He reciprocated, pulling her even deeper into his body
and resting his chin on her head.

Colin opened his mouth to
speak, to ask her questions about her nightmare but he felt a
tremor go through her and decided against it. It was not for
tonight, when it was dark and whatever dream she had was fresh. He
would ask her in the morning. Now, he needed to take the fear
away.

And therefore Colin Morgan and
Sibyl Godwin stood by the open window, their naked bodies bathed in
moonlight, holding each other.

* * * * *

The dark soul stood hidden in
the trees and watched the cottage. The soul saw the flash of
movement as the body came flying to the window, a woman’s body, a
woman with unforgettable hair.

Then a man come to her to hold
her, gently, carefully, as if the naked woman was an exquisite,
fragile piece of priceless crystal.

At this sight, the dark soul
seethed.

Perfect Fit

Marian was not cheerful when
she entered her house after Colin brought her home.

Marian was frightened.

What she witnessed outside the
restaurant was no accident; it was not an impatient driver.

It was something else.

She’d followed Colin and Sibyl
there and she’d been watching the restaurant (in between bouts of
doing her grocery list and writing a letter to a friend) for over
an hour. She saw the car drive up, she noticed that it didn’t park
or turn off its motor but she didn’t know it was waiting to run
down her precious charges.

She did know it was a black BMW
although she had not seen the driver (who never exited the car), if
it was a man or a woman and she did not note the number plate.

She’d let down the side.

Marian should have been
watching carefully, she should have had her eyes peeled for
anything, however, she had no idea that dark soul would make a move
so soon.

It had been only at the
last second, when she
felt
the malevolence, that she
used some of her cheapest magic and blinked her eyes to light the
headlamps of the car in warning to the couple. If she hadn’t,
likely the two, who both seemed deep in thought, would have been
mowed down.

Marian herself had no idea of
the state of play between Colin and Sibyl. Sibyl had been pretty
adamant about her feelings regarding Mr. Morgan a few days before
at breakfast (these feelings were that he was a raving madman).
Marian was relatively certain that they were still in combat mode
from what she saw in her crystal ball. She was pleased as punch
that they seemed to be out on a date though Colin’s stony face was
a bit unwelcoming, that wasn’t exactly unheard of with Mr. Morgan
and Sibyl looked bemused, poor girl.

But that car had been waiting
for them and aiming at them with the desire to run at least Sibyl,
but likely both of them, down.

Marian was going to have to
work faster. She was going to have to get some charms together to
protect both Lacybourne and Brightrose. She’d likely have to do
something to protect both their cars. And she needed to get to work
on some potions that took time to mature, just in case she needed
them. On top of all this, she was going to have to be very
vigilant.

She really hoped that Mr.
Morgan was the charmer that many of the National Trust volunteers
gossiped to her that he was. He was going to have to make swift
work of it with Sibyl.

Why Colin didn’t tell Sibyl
about the ill-fated lovers, Marian could not understand. Sibyl’s
kind heart would have melted straight away.

He didn’t though and she was
willing to give him his lead, for awhile.

But if this dragged on, and
they didn’t realise they were destined for each other, destined to
fall in love and then consummate it after that realisation, they
were in big trouble.

* * * * *

Sibyl woke up, aroused.

Not just aroused,
highly
aroused.

And the reason for this was a
light touch at the skin of the small of her back, an area always
sensitive, an area that no lover had ever truly discovered or, when
they did, made appropriate use of.

Until now.

She was on her side, facing the
fireplace, away from Colin, and her eyes fluttered open.

She could feel the heat of his
body even though only his fingers were touching her, drawing
delicate figure eights and zig zags on the small of her back,
dipping tantalisingly every once in awhile to her bottom.

This light touch caused waves
of glorious sensation to shoot down the insides of her thighs, up
her back and zoom straight between her legs.

“Are you awake?” Colin’s husky
voice sounded in her ear.

She nodded her head against the
pillow and could only say, “Mm hmm.”

She did this because didn’t
trust her voice. She was about to whirl and attack him. She clamped
her legs together and tried to think unsexy thoughts but the
pulsating heat between her legs made this task impossible.

He kissed her shoulder
lightly.

“How are you feeling?” he
asked.

Oh goddess, he knew, he knew
exactly what he was doing to her.

“Fine,” she muttered but the
word was shaky.

His body moved closer, his hand
at the small of her back flattened, smoothing over her bottom and
she felt a sense of relief that he was going to stop. Then it
started its distracted figure eights and zig zagging again.

Her body tensed.

“Tell me about it,” Colin
encouraged.

“About what?” Sibyl answered
quickly, confused and wondering what he meant. Did he want her to
explain how it felt, what he was doing to her?

“About your dream,” Colin
murmured in her ear, using his stubble-roughened chin to move the
heavy hair away from her cheek.

“
What dream?” she
whispered, her mind not processing anything but the fact that her
bones had melted to water and her blood had heated at least one
hundred and fifty degrees. Even her breasts had swelled and were
aching for his touch, though he hadn’t even so much as looked at
them.

She was beginning to panic.

Did he know about her dream
man? Did he know about her idea of one true love?

“Your nightmare last night,” he
answered and went on. “It’s all right, Sibyl, it’s over, it’s
daylight now and you can talk to me about it,” he assured her
gently.

Even the reminder of the
horrible nightmare didn’t distract her from what his hand was
doing. The nightmare was the same one she’d had over a week ago,
before meeting him.

Her body continued to
react to what she realised now was what he intended to be a
soothing touch, though it very much was
not
.

“Colin?” she asked, and she
heard the tremor going through his name.

She had wanted to ask him to
stop, but his lips were close to her ear and he mumbled a
vibrating, “Mm?” and, already aroused, the sound of it thundered
through her and she was done.

Before she could stop
herself (or even
think
of stopping herself), she whipped around, pushed
him on his back and attacked him.

She manoeuvred her body,
swinging her leg over his hips to straddle him and before he had a
chance to react, she leaned into him, tilted her head and kissed
him,
hard
.