Lacybourne Manor (51 page)

Regardless of all that, it was
still morning and she was still very grumpy.

“No. My head’s pounding and I’m
in a very bad mood.”

He gave her one of his
lazy smiles while noting, “You’re
always
in a bad mood in the
morning.”

“Stop being all teasing and
sweet. I’m telling you, I’m not in the mood,” she warned.

“Am I being teasing and sweet?”
he asked, while, she noted, being teasing and sweet.

In answer, she growled.

“Sibyl, come here,” he
ordered.

“Why?” she shot back.

“So I can help with your mood,”
he tempted, his eyes, if possible, growing warmer.

“How are you going to do that?”
she queried warily, even as she moved forward. She didn’t allow him
to answer because she knew by the look in his eye what the answer
was. She tried to change the subject. “And who were you talking to
on the phone?”

“A private investigator.” Colin
arms stole around her when she arrived within reaching distance and
she lifted her hands to rest on his upper arms.

At her wide-eyed look at his
statement, he continued, “I’ve engaged him to put a team together
to find the men from last night.”

“The police –” she started.

“I want them first,” Colin
stated, the warmth in his eyes gone in a flash, they were
glittering like shards of ice.

“Colin.”

“Quiet Sibyl, we’re not
discussing this. I’m handling it. You’re not to interfere.”

This was not what Sibyl wished
to hear at the best of times but certainly not in the morning.

Therefore her eyes narrowed
dangerously. “I beg your pardon?”

“They held a knife to your
throat,” he reminded her curtly, clearly not used to explaining
himself and only doing so because he knew she’d rocket to the moon
on the fuel of her anger if he didn’t.

“You can’t circumvent justice,”
Sibyl pointed out impatiently. “The police will deal with
them.”

“The police can have them after
I’m done with them.”

Her eyes widened before she
asked, “What do you mean to do?”

“It’s none of your
concern.”

Sibyl stiffened to the
approximate pliability of a two by four.

“Excuse me?” she whispered
angrily. “But my rich and powerful boyfriend is threatening
vigilante justice and it’s none of my concern? I beg to
differ.”

His hands tightened on
her waist and the ice shards in his eyes polarised. “One of them
stood in front of me and held a knife to your throat while I was
powerless to do a thing. He touched you, and
no one
touches
you,
no one
but
me
. He yanked your goddamned
hair, the most beautiful hair I’ve seen in my life, using it to
cause you pain.” He was using his low, even voice and she knew he
was very close to losing control.

Sibyl also knew every minute,
every sound, every word, everything he saw and experienced last
night was seared into his memory. She knew it at his words. And
last night for brief moments in time, Colin Morgan had been
powerless. Men like Colin were not used to being powerless and it
dawned on Sibyl, belatedly, that he did not like it.

At all.

He continued, “I’m going
to find them, have a chat with them to express how
unhappy
the events of last night made me and then I’ll turn them
over to the proper authorities.”

“You won’t hurt them?” Sibyl
asked quietly, hoping the lowering of her tone would soothe
him.

It didn’t.

“Are you asking for mercy for a
man who put a knife to your throat and has you wound up so tight
you fly through the house in a panic when I do something innocent
and absolutely normal, like leave you alone in bed?” he demanded in
exasperation.

Putting it that way, she had to
admit, it sounded rather silly.

She decided she better stop
talking.

He sighed an enormously patient
sigh before saying, “I promise I won’t hurt them…” She began to
smile, “unduly.” Her smile turned to a frown.

“You frighten me when you’re
like this,” she told him and his face shifted but he did not
relent.

“I’m trying to make it so
you’ll never be frightened again,” Colin explained.

“But –”

He cut her off to inform her,
“I’m going to do this, Sibyl, whether you like it or not, so I
suggest you accept it because it’s going to happen.”

She blinked at his words and
his tone then muttered, “You’re ruthless.”

At her comment, he leaned
closer and his hands slid over her bottom and then suddenly down to
grasp the backs of her thighs, lifting her up. She gave a shocked
gasp and had to clamp her thighs around his hips and hastily grab
his shoulders for support as he carried her to the desk.

“
Yes,” he agreed amiably,
all
his
mood gone, “I am.”

He settled her bottom on the
desk and Bran scattered. Colin kept himself determinedly positioned
between her legs as he tilted her chin up with one hand and his
other hand drew lazy circle on the top of her thigh.

“Now, what shall I do about
your morning mood?” he asked conversationally, gently rubbing his
thumb across her lower lip.

“I take it we’re done talking,”
she guessed.

“Oh, we’re definitely done
talking,” he stated, his voice sexy low and she knew what that
meant and she also knew, acutely how it made her belly feel.

“My family –” she started to
say but his lips took hers in a slow, soft, mind-numbing kiss.

When he was done, against her
lips he murmured, “For a daughter born of Mags, you’re amazingly
prissy.”

Her eyes flared. “I
am
not
prissy.”

“Prove it,” he dared on a
whisper.

“You aren’t going to goad me
into –”

He moved into her and she was
forced to lean back, resting her hands behind her on his desk as
his hands slid inside the t-shirt and up the skin of her back,
sending shivers through her against her will and he quieted her by
kissing her. This was not soft or slow but hard and demanding and
she couldn’t help but respond.

So she did.

Many minutes later, her breath
coming fast, her hands buried in his hair, his lips at her neck,
her body throbbing, his hands spread her legs further apart and his
fingers expertly delved inside her panties.

Her head rolled back.

And there was a knock on the
door.

Her head snapped up.

“Breakfast in five minutes,”
Scarlett called jovially through the door.

Sibyl made a trapped
noise that, mid-way out of her throat, changed to a loud moan as
Colin’s finger slid inside her just as his thumb hit her in
a
very
good spot.

“Colin,” she whispered, caught
between mortification and desire, his head came up and he looked at
her.

“Hurry up, darling, breakfast
is nearly ready.” He grinned wickedly but his eyes were dark and
his voice was husky.

“Aren’t you going to –?”

“I’m going to watch.”

“But –”

“
I
like
to watch. You’re
beautiful always but you’re fucking breathtaking when you
come.”

She couldn’t help it, she
melted at his words and his thumb, still at the right spot,
starting pressing and rolling in circles as his finger inside moved
out and was joined, delightfully when it returned, with another
one. At their skilful manoeuvring, the throbs turned to jolts and
she bucked against his hand as the incredible heat shot through
her.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he
encouraged when he knew she was close, his deep voice beyond husky
straight to throaty, the sound of it undid her, her neck arched
back again, she pulled in a ragged breath and let go.

Still in the throes of her
resplendent climax, he slid her off the desk and sat in his chair,
pulling her into his lap so her legs were over the arm of the
chair. Then with his hand cupping the back of her head, Colin
buried her face in his neck and she clutched his shoulders as he
held her trembling body and stroked the soft skin at the side of
her breast with the other.

“You’re ruthless,” Sibyl
whispered again when she had the strength to speak and anyone could
tell she didn’t really care.

“Yes,” Colin agreed roughly, “I
am.”

Sibyl Bares Her Soul

After breakfast, they all went to the
hospital to visit Mrs. Byrne. They met her exhausted from her all
night drive daughter, Angie, who shrugged off her fatigue at
meeting the entirety of the legendary Godwin clan
and
the
fabled Mr. Colin Morgan, the vision of the dead warrior, Royce.

They were all delighted to hear that Mrs.
Byrne was to be released that afternoon. She had a concussion but
was told she was fine to go home if she rested, took it easy and
had someone to watch over her.

Sibyl thought she looked far better and much
more herself than the night before. Scarlett read her chart and
agreed, promising to stop in and check on her that evening and the
next morning before going to Heathrow.

Marian asked to talk to Sibyl
privately and allowed (because she was given no choice) Colin to
sit in on their discussion.

When they were alone, Marian
wasted no time and began her recitation of the “dark soul”, the
name given by Esmeralda Crane to the unknown and never discovered
murderer of Royce and Beatrice. Marian spoke of unconsummated true
love, the power of consummation (which was the only comment she
uttered that made Colin grin), protection spells and other powerful
binding magic.

Marian told them that just
their being together put them in danger. That the dark soul could
not countenance their relationship and certainly not their
happiness and would stop at nothing, even murder, to drive them
apart.

She spoke of how the line of
Crane Witches had known that the dark soul would follow Royce and
Beatrice’s line and eventually threaten the reincarnated lovers
once they found each other again. She was adamant that this was the
person who nearly ran over them with the car outside the
restaurant, shot Mallory, vandalised Sibyl’s cottage and attacked
the three of them the night before.

She did not know who it
was but Marian
felt
them and knew they were there.

The only way to break the curse
was to consummate true love and, if Sibyl and Colin didn’t do it,
then there would be two lovers down their line to whom this task
would fall. It was fate, it was destiny and their story would be
told again and again until the curse was lifted.

It all came down to love.

At this fervid
pronouncement, Colin glanced her way but Sibyl kept her eyes
carefully averted. She hadn’t shared her feelings for Colin
with
Colin
mainly because she had no clue as to his. He certainly
acted
loving but being loving and being
in
love
were two different things. With everything else
going on, she couldn’t cope with being in love with a man, a
wonderful (albeit hopelessly irritating) man, her soulmate, the one
she’d been searching for a lifetime and having that love be
one-sided.

When no immediate assertion
that true love was glimmering in the very air was made by either
Colin or Sibyl, Marian demanded to settle protection spells on them
the minute she felt up to it, which, by her estimation, was the
very next afternoon when they arrived back from Heathrow.

Sibyl dutifully promised to be
at her house as Colin gazed at the two women, making no promises of
his own, his expression carefully blank.

After she’d given Marian’s
cheek a kiss, Sibyl left with Colin to find her family.

They walked down the hall
together and she tried to act casual and steady her rapidly beating
heart when Colin laced his fingers in hers.

“You don’t believe her,” Sibyl
noted as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s nonsense,” Colin stated
firmly.

She stopped, tugging at his
hand to halt him too as she saw her family with Angie at the end of
hall.

“It makes sense,” she defended
her friend.

He shook his head slowly but
his lips were twitching. “You think it makes sense that some
unknown entity is stalking Beatrice and Royce’s souls through
eternity?”

“
What do
you
think
it is?” she demanded in exasperation.

Before he spoke, Colin turned
so that his back was to her waiting family and hiding her from
them. “I don’t know what to think. I’m prepared to believe, just
barely and only because of the dreams, that we’ve been drawn
together by something that goes beyond lucky coincidence but not
that some unknown person has murderous intent simply due to a
longstanding curse.”

She felt her stomach
lurch hopefully at the words “lucky coincidence’ but she hid it by
querying, “Okay then,
who
do you think it
is?”

His shoulders stiffened and all
humour fled. “Sibyl, you haven’t…” He stopped and dragged his hand
through his hair in agitation and she saw, with some surprise, it
was because he was trying to find the right words. After some
thought, he continued, “I’ve not exactly led the life of a
choirboy. My family is wealthy but the kind of wealth I have comes
from…” He stopped again and finished shortly, “I’ve made
enemies.”

“You think it’s someone you’ve
wronged who’s doing this? And, if so, why would they shoot Mallory
and attack my toss pillows?” she asked.