Lacybourne Manor (57 page)

She went on hurriedly,
“Well, it was Mags’s fault. She went down into the Great Hall first
and was shooting off her mouth. Then
your
mother joined her and I
can’t really say anything to her, because I don’t know her very
well and it isn’t my place. I just went in to try to get
them
out
and then things got a bit out-of-control –”

He opened his eyes.
“
How
out-of-control?”

“I think there might have been
reporters,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

He dropped his forehead to hers
and sighed, “Sibyl, you truly are the most an –”

Before he could finish, she
burst out, “Mags started it!”

He lifted then shook his head,
“What am I going to do with you?”

Her mouth twisted into an
adorable pout before she grumbled, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Darling, do me a favour,”
Colin muttered.

She nodded.

“While I’m trying to save our
lives, could you please try not to further endanger yours?”

She heaved a great breath and
then said, “I’ll try.”

But he knew, and she knew, that
she most likely wouldn’t be very successful.

The next morning, he’d barely
sat behind his desk when Mandy rushed in with his morning coffee
and then slapped a newspaper down on his blotter.

“I thought I’d show you that
first thing, before anyone said anything,” she said in a dire
voice, her eyes so big Colin was concerned they’d pop out of her
head then she mumbled ominously, “I’ll hold your calls,” and
quickly exited the room.

He flipped open the paper to
where Mandy had helpfully folded it back to a page. There he saw a
stock photo of himself, a picture of Sibyl standing in the Great
Hall smiling winningly at two poorly dressed tourists and
replicated photos of the portraits of Beatrice and Royce. The title
of the article read, “Tycoon and Social Worker are Cursed Lovers
Reincarnated.”

He swore under his breath.

By the time he left that
evening Mandy reported, in an extremely harassed way, she’d taken
more calls that day than she usually took in a month.

He decided he’d better give her
a raise in the morning or he’d be hiring a new secretary and that
was a headache he didn’t need at the present time.

And anyway, he liked Mandy.

The three women he was
currently accommodating were saved from his wrath that evening by
the addition of a fourth. Sibyl had brought her elderly friend Meg
over for dinner.

Meg was still in a wheelchair
but recovered enough to get out and about. Sibyl, blatantly
ignoring his orders, arranged it so Rick, her bodyguard, who lived
in Weston (close to Meg), would stay for dinner and afterward take
Meg home.

Meg was a lovely older lady
with a kindly face and clearly a close relationship with Sibyl.

Rick was two inches shorter
than Sibyl but twice her body weight in pure muscle. He had
short-cropped, blond hair and an expression that looked like it
would fell a tree if he just glanced at it with mild irritation.
Rick also had no intention of having a nice, friendly supper with
his employer and pointedly picked up his filled plate and cutlery
and carried it out of the room when dinner was served.

Colin decided he liked
Rick.

Later that evening, he managed
to snare his mother when they were following Meg and the others out
to the car. He fully intended to tell her how he felt about her
behaviour with the tourists the day before.

“About yesterday –” he
began.

“I know!” Phoebe beamed with
happy excitement. “It was in the papers. Did you see it?”

“Yes,” he ground out.

“
You should have seen
her. She was an absolute darling to all those people. The National
Trust volunteers were all gushing about her. She even talked to
some Spanish tourists in
Spanish,
” she said this last as
if it was feat parallel to solving the puzzle of the meaning of
life.

His mother put her hand on his
arm and her eyes were aglow. “Colin, I’m just so pleased for you,
my darling, Sibyl is a delight!” Then she rushed away to say
good-bye to Meg leaving Colin unable and strangely unwilling to
remonstrate her about that day’s papers.

When Colin arrived at Rick’s
car, Sibyl and Rick were having a low-voiced argument.

“You have to watch what I do,”
she hissed.

“I can put an old lady in a
car,” Rick muttered, clearly aggrieved.

“You can’t manhandle her; you
have to do it carefully. Just watch what I do.”

Rick gave Colin a
long-suffering look and Colin wondered how Rick would look on
his
third
day with Sibyl.

Colin watched as Sibyl
positioned Meg’s wheelchair between the car and the door and then
he surged forward and clipped, “Hold on…” when she reached in to
take on the older woman’s considerable weight.

With astounding agility, she
grabbed onto a belt at the woman’s waist, hauled her up, pivoted
with her and then, with control, softly settled her into the car.
She did it all as if Meg weighed no more than a feather.

Colin halted and stared
incredulously as Mags said beside him, “She’s done this before, you
know.”

Colin found himself thinking
the wonders of Sibyl never ceased.

And also hoping they never
would.

After she’d said her good-byes
and closed the door she turned to Rick, “Do I need to go with
you?”

“No!” Rick snapped and stomped
to the driver’s side.

Mags and Phoebe went into the
house while Sibyl waved the car out of sight. She turned to him,
grabbed his arm in both of her hands and leaned into him, her head
pressed to his shoulder. They walked together that way into the
house and Colin wished he could enjoy her casual affection rather
than worrying that a tranquilliser gun, or worse, was trained on
one of them.

The minute he closed and locked
the door and turned to go into the Great Hall, she slid her arms
around his neck, pressed her soft body against his and gave him a
quick, sweet kiss.

When her lips moved away, she
smiled up at him and he felt his gut clench when he saw her face
was awash with an extraordinary light and he realised that she was
happy.

Blindingly, beautifully,
glamorously, unbelievably happy.

Moved by this in a profound way
that was nearly raw, his hand went to the side of her neck and he
positioned his thumb under her chin to keep her radiant face tilted
to his.

“You’re in a rare mood
tonight,” he commented lightly in an effort to hide how her
happiness affected him.

If it was possible, her smile
brightened.

“She’s going to be all right,
Colin. You saw her! She’s nearly back to the same old Meg.” Her
arms tightened with delight around his neck.

He could do nothing but smile
back.

In the middle of the night,
with Sibyl’s naked body pressed heavily against his side as she
slept, his own sleep eluded him.

His thoughts were about finding
a way to make Sibyl that happy always. He wanted her constantly
radiating happiness, peace, warmth and affection and never again
worried.

Never.

And what Colin wanted, Colin
found a way to get. The problem was, he was beginning to be
impatient.

On Wednesday, Colin learned
that Tamara Adams had disappeared and no one had seen her for
weeks. She had not taken Colin’s breaking things with her very well
and had said as much to family and friends, rather vociferously,
according to Fitzwilliam’s phoned-in report. Then she told people
she was going on holiday but didn’t return. Everyone, reportedly,
was concerned.

Colin obviously wasn’t
concerned, he just wanted her found and soon.

He arrived at Lacybourne early
on Wednesday, thinking to work at home and immediately went in
search of Sibyl. He found her in the buttery which had been, the
day before, turned into her makeshift “laboratory”.

She was standing in front of
the window, her back to him, one of the grey, misty days that had
been the incessant weather of late providing weak light for her
work. She was wearing her torn jeans and a fitted, white t-shirt
and her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail at the top back of her
head.

Without a word, he silently
walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. She jumped
in surprise but when his lips touched her neck, she relaxed against
him.

“Hi,” she whispered and he felt
a thrill down his spine at her utterance of that single word.

He lifted his mouth from her
neck and caught sight of her hands encased in gloves that went up
to her elbows, immersed in a huge bowl of glistening, white
goo.

“What is that?” he asked.

She laughed softly before
saying, “That is an experiment. A new face mask. As I don’t do
animal testing and Mallory would likely eat it anyway, Mags and
Phoebe are going to test it for me.”

He was powerless against her
warm voice and soft laugh and he allowed his hands to slide under
her t-shirt and criss-cross on the skin of her midriff. He felt her
muscles tense there but the rest of her body relaxed further into
him.

“
Would you be a test
subject?” she teased for she knew the answer to that would be a
resounding
no.

His mouth descended to her neck
again.

“No,” Colin gave her the answer
she knew she’d get and he said it against her skin then parried her
teasing by drifting his hand up her midriff to cover her breast.
His thumb found her nipple and dragged against it, feeling it
immediately harden.

“Colin,” she admonished softly
without really meaning it, “I’m working.”

His arm at her middle
tightened and his fingers moved to trace the lace at the top of her
bra just as his mouth slid up her neck to behind her
ear.

“Carry on,” he murmured and his
fingers closed around the lace and pulled it sharply down under her
breast.

Sibyl gasped.

“Colin!” This was
half-admonishment, half-whimper.

He smiled against her ear and
then touched his tongue there. She smelled of flowers and musk and
he felt his groin tighten. He found her nipple with his thumb and
forefinger and tugged at it sharply in a rough, gentle demand.

Her head fell back on his
shoulder and she shuddered, her body’s movement absorbed by
his.

“That’s nice,” she breathed and
all admonishment was gone from her tone.

To reward her, he did it again
and her response was so intense, his arm had to tighten around her
waist to catch her as her legs buckled beneath her.

He nipped her ear with his
teeth. “You’re not working,” he informed her helpfully.

She didn’t respond, she simply
trembled and he knew she was ready for him.

As he had her exactly where
wanted her, he pulled the lace back over her breast and slid his
hand down and out from under the t-shirt. He removed his mouth from
the sensitive area of her ear and kissed her neck chastely.

“I’ll let you get on with
it.”

“Colin!” she cried and whirled,
white goo flying everywhere.

He grinned at her.

“Don’t give me one of those
devilish grins, get back here!” she demanded.

He walked away and heard her
growl with frustration.

As he understood when he
started it, he knew he’d pay for that episode later that night and
he was very much looking forward to it.

Later, while he could smell one
of Mags’s vegetarian feasts cooking in the kitchen, he snagged
Mallory’s lead and commandeered the recalcitrant dog to take a
walk. He and Mallory were passing the library when he heard
feminine voices.

He glanced in while walking by
and heard his mother exclaim, “Mine’s tingling.”

He stopped and stared at the
three women sitting side by side on the couch, all of their faces
covered in white goo, their legs stretched out before them, their
heads resting on the back of the couch.

“Is it a good tingle or a bad
tingle?” Sibyl asked with concern.

“Oh, a good tingle, dear.”

“Mine’s not tingling but it
smells good enough to eat,” Mags put in.

“
Don’t
eat it, Mother,” Sibyl warned.

“I wasn’t going to eat it. I
was just saying it smells good enough to eat.”

Colin decided to escape before
the oncoming escalation and he walked the dog.

All the days that followed were
more of the same.

Mandy was taking reporters’
phone calls by the dozens and they’d even found the number to
Lacybourne and were ringing there wanting pictures and interviews
of the reincarnated lovers.

The next two National
Trust days were so crowded, the Trust had to arrange for timed
viewings and had phoned Colin telling him that, if this persisted,
they would have to do visits by booking only. They also asked if he
and Sibyl wouldn’t mind being part of a new pamphlet and helping
with a fundraiser. This he refused, of course, and didn’t even
bother to mention to Sibyl for she would definitely
not
have
refused and the last thing he needed was for her to be gunned down
at a National Trust Ball.

Marian Byrne’s daughter had
left after Marian had sufficiently recovered so, in order for Sibyl
to watch over her, she became a regular guest at dinner. Colin had
come home on Friday evening to catch Marian and Mags in the
kitchen, leaning expectantly over a large pot that was emitting an
foul odour that was (he hoped) not food while his mother sat at a
stool by the counter calmly reading a woman’s magazine.

“Just experimenting with –”
Mags began to explain upon his entry.