Then, for some reason, the words flew out of her mouth, almost against her volition, and she said something truly stupid, “It was between him and me.”
His eyes darkened dangerously and a muscle leaped in his jaw and she knew in that moment that she was really in trouble.
Before he could say anything, or worse, do anything, there came another knock on the door.
Colin closed his eyes in angry frustration.
When he opened them, they were blazing and Sibyl held her breath at the sight of them.
“Do… not… bloody well… move,” he bit out, shoved away from her and stalked to the door.
She thought it best to do as he said. The caged lion had definitely been freed.
He pulled the door open and, luckily, it swung in such a way as to hide Sibyl from whoever was on the other side. Sibyl closed her eyes as she heard the conversation.
“If anyone else comes up here –” Colin’s voice was barely controlled.
“Your mother, Claire and I are going to Walton Park Hotel. I’m going to take the Godwin’s home first.” Sibyl heard his father’s voice speaking, his tone indicating solemn understanding at Colin’s plight.
“Fine,” Colin gritted out.
Sibyl sat up and looked across the room at the back of the door, her face flaming.
“Is Sibyl all right?” Mike asked quietly, his voice now filled with concern.
“She is right now,” Colin answered his father, his words filled with foreboding.
There was a hesitation and then muttered good-byes.
Colin closed the door with a finality that rocked Sibyl and caused her to scramble to her knees as Colin angrily moved toward the bed.
And, in an extreme act of self-defence, she blurted out a semi-fib that was part truth and part lie, “I’m not telling you about what happened between Royce and me because…”
He stopped at the side of the bed and stared down at her, his face a mask of fury. “Yes?” he prompted.
“Because of Royce, he wasn’t even kissing me. He was kissing her.” She wasn’t entirely certain that was exactly true, but she thought it sounded good. “It was his moment to say good-bye and it seemed…” She stopped, not able to find the word as Colin’s angry face didn’t change one iota. She finally found it. “Private.”
“Sibyl.” He voiced her name quietly.
“Yes?” she asked hopefully, wishing very much to get in the car with Mike and her family and go home to her bed, her thoughts and figure out what was to become of her future.
“You’re a very bad liar.” His voice was lethal.
Gone was her dream of escape.
Especially when his arm shot out and dragged her forward.
“Colin.”
He didn’t answer. To her disbelief, he’d located the zipper at her back and, expertly, slid it down.
“Colin!” She pushed against the arm that was still around her waist as his other hand pulled her dress up. She could just not believe he was undressing her. They were arguing, for goddess’s sake!
His eyes locked on hers. “If you fight me Sibyl, I swear to God –” he started.
“What am I to you?” She had to know.
“Until you decide to start talking, our deal stays as it is, you’re mine, for five months.”
Her mouth dropped open.
Nothing had changed.
Not one thing.
Except, she knew she was the one who could stop it if she just told him who she was, what she was, why she took the fifty thousand pounds and all about her dream of a true love.
And none of this she could tell him. Not now, and, until she could trust him, maybe not ever. She’d rather him leave her later, than now. She’d rather have a few months of him, even angry, then just a few weeks. She couldn’t bear to think of how he’d react if he knew the truth.
“It’s four months,” she retorted as the skirt of her dress slid over her hips.
“Now, it’s six.”
She gasped.
“It’s four!”
“Seven,” he bit out.
She clamped her mouth shut and he pulled the dress over her head, forcing her arms up with it. He tossed it aside, his hands settled on her waist and then slid, sending tingles in their wake, up her sides. He watched his hands move on her as she struggled valiantly against the tingles (and still lost).
“Are you stopping at seven?” he enquired with mock politeness as if he was an auctioneer and she was deciding what to bid.
She nodded, her head jerking angrily.
“I bet Royce didn’t do this to Beatrice.” She had no idea what drove her to say it, it was ugly (not to mention stupid) and it didn’t sound right on her lips.
But Colin reacted strangely, he chuckled but instead of sounding amused, it sounded grim. “He should have, if he had, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.”
Then he pushed her to her back and landed on top of her.
And then he did a variety of delightful things to her where she didn’t have to think anything at all.
Chapter Nineteen
The Storm is Over
Colin awoke before dawn knowing something wasn’t right.
He rolled from his back to his side and opened his eyes to see Sibyl sleeping all the way across the expanse of the large bed, her back to him.
Regardless of the fact that he was still half asleep, this annoyed him immensely. In the beginning she had always slept with her back to him. However, since Mallory had been tranquillised, she’d taken to curling her warm, soft body against his every time they’d been together.
This was not a step in the right direction.
Last night had definitely not gone to plan mainly due to Sibyl’s extraordinary temper (even though he knew this about her, he still underestimated it) and her refusal to trust him with the truth about herself.
Colin was not about to take any responsibility for what happened, he had kept Royce and Beatrice from her for a reason which she had cottoned on to quickly and his sister had helpfully, if rather irritatingly, confirmed and then explained.
He, however, had taken great pains to break it to her gently, with her loved ones around and Marian Byrne there to impart the whole story (or the parts Colin felt Sibyl should know). Not to mention, Colin showing her that she had his family’s full support as well. None of which, he marked with irritation, she actually noticed.
He couldn’t understand her reaction because he knew she didn’t have a thing to hide. This was something, however, he’d never tell her. If she found out he’d investigated her, there would be hell to pay. He felt no compunction at keeping this from her. He felt no compunction about doing anything that would make this rough ride smoother, for both of them. The fact that she had nothing to hide made it further difficult to understand why she continued to keep it from him.
This, he could only assume, meant she didn’t trust him.
Which meant he had more work to do.
Luckily, he now had seven months in which to do it. She seemed willing, with only the mildest form of protestation (something that he found very telling) to allow him to demand further time from her. He pinned his hope on this.
Her refusal to discuss Royce was a different story. How Colin could feel such searing jealousy for a dead man, he could not fathom, but he did. She’d shared something with Royce in her chalet and Colin damned well wanted to know what it was.
And what Colin wanted, he found a way to get.
He reached out and dragged her across the bed. She made an endearing, sleepy mew in her throat but didn’t wake. The moment she hit his warmth, she turned and curled against his side, wrapping her arm around his waist.
This was much better.
Then, listening to the soft rain against the windows for a few moments while Sibyl nestled deeper into him, Colin fell back to sleep.
* * * * *
Colin woke again, hours later, to an empty bed.
Instantly alert, he nearly threw the covers bac
k, thinking she’d crept away while he was sleeping and determined to find her (wherever she was) and drag her back and keep her there until they had things sorted. The way things were, obviously, could not go on. He wouldn’t allow it. They needed to straighten everything out between them; he didn’t need to battle her while protecting her against whoever was out there trying to kill her. He still took the threat seriously even though there had been no further contact and no report of suspicious activity from the team that was following her.
Then he saw her coming from the bathroom wearing the green shirt he’d worn last night. His body momentarily stilled at the sight and then he settled back into the bed and allowed some of the tension to ease out of him. He watched her without saying a word, deciding that he liked, very much, the look of her in his shirt.
She was holding it together with one hand at the front and looking about the room with what appeared to be confusion. He watched with interest, wondering what she was up to as she walked to one of his dressers, pulled open first one drawer then closed it then another then she found what she was looking for. Closing the drawer quietly with her thigh, she shed his shirt with her back to him. Then she pulled one of the t-shirts he used to work out in over her head. As she was quite tall, it engulfed her in width but barely covered her rounded bottom.
There was something profoundly intimate about her wearing his clothes, not only wearing them but rooting around in his dresser to find them. If any other woman had dared to do this, he would have found it an unacceptable invasion. With any other woman, it would have been a line not to be crossed.
With Sibyl, he not only accepted it, he welcomed it and decided he liked this item of his clothing on her even better than the other.
She walked back to the bed, clearly preoccupied. She didn’t even look at him to notice he was watching her openly, lying on his side and up on his elbow. She slid between the covers, close to the edge of her side and settled with her back to him.
The instant she was settled, Colin’s arm shot out, hooked around her waist and dragged her (again) across the bed.
This time, awake, she made an angry mew of protest and whirled mid-drag so she faced him head on.
“You’re awake!” she cried, accusation in her voice, as if he was trying to keep this fact from her, which he was not.
“I thought you’d left,” he returned.
Expressions chased across her face from surprise to exasperation.
“I didn’t think of that,” she muttered and he could tell she was cross with herself.
He nearly smiled at the thought of her absentmindedness finally working in his favour.
Instead, he kept his mind steadily on his latest task.
“Are you ready to talk this morning?” he enquired smoothly.
Her eyes shifted to his face and they narrowed just as her lips puckered. The room was dim with early morning light but he could still see they were growing emerald. Quickly.
He had long since found her transforming eye colour a boon. She wasn’t likely ever to be able to hide anything from him when it was written, so clearly, in her eyes. Not to mention the fact that she was an incredibly and often hilariously poor liar.
“No,” she answered abruptly, everything about her showing she was definitely deep in her early morning grouch.
It was then the idea came upon him. A very pleasing idea. An idea that would make this morning’s anticipated skirmish go in Colin’s favour, and, likely, be immensely enjoyable in the process.
And Colin wasted no time putting it in action.
One of his arms was under her body; he wrapped it around her waist and bunched the material of the t-shirt up in his fist so it slid slowly up her bottom. He felt her tense as he ducked his hand under the shirt while his other arm went around her back, pulling her even closer to his chest. Before she could try to escape, he threw his leg over both of hers.
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously, moving her legs under his thigh and he knew she was trapped when she made an aggravated noise in the back of her throat.
He didn’t answer as his hand started to move on the soft skin at the small of her back, leisurely forming figure eights on her body’s (nearly) most sensitive area, and her head snapped back to look at him just as her frame froze.
“Colin, what are you doing?” she repeated.
Her voice was now slightly desperate, definitely tinged with panic and she lifted her hands to press them against his chest.
“Making you talk,” he answered lazily.
“No!” she cried, realising his intent.
“Yes,” he retorted.
She moaned, it was partially a frustrated sound but partially something else. He felt his own body begin to respond to the moan, not to mention her fidgeting.
Christ, but no woman had ever had this effect on him. The sight of her, the feel of her, the smell of her never ceased to make him nearly desperate with wanting her.
Resolutely keeping his mind on his aim, he dipped his hand to smooth it over her lushly curved ass and suggested, “Let’s start where we left off last night, hmm?”
She closed her eyes, bit her lip and pressed against him. She didn’t say a word, just shook her head on the pillow.
“Sibyl, look at me,” he commanded.
Her eyes flew open and they were no longer emerald but changing swiftly to sherry.
He grinned in anticipated triumph and went back to his figure eights.
“The fifty thousand pounds, what did you need it for?” he asked, his voice low and, not giving her time to answer, he brushed his lips against hers and, tasting a hint of toothpaste, but mostly Sibyl, he felt himself start to harden with need.
She remained silent.
“The fifty thousand?” he prompted relentlessly.
She shifted and dipped her chin low, nearly knocking his with her head as she did so. He could feel she was no longer trying to escape but instead trying to control her body’s reaction to him. He moved his other hand up under the t-shirt and brushed his knuckles on another sensitive area he discovered, the satiny skin beneath her breast, and he heard her suppressed moan.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered to her chest, her voice breathless.
“I’ll stop when you talk to me.”
She shook her head and he didn’t know if she was shaking it to tell him not to stop or that she wasn’t going to talk. Either way suited his purpose. He was vastly enjoying this sensual torture and he moved his hand to cup her full breast, softly brushing his thumb over a nipple and feeling it harden in response. All the while, his hand moved languidly and tantalisingly at the small of her back.
Her head fell back and she licked her lips then pulled them between her teeth.
Still, she remained silent.
“Not talking?” he queried.
She shook her head stubbornly, her hair fell into her face, sliding gorgeously down his chest and his already stiffening body turned rock hard. He recognised then that he wasn’t going to be able to play this game very long. Heightening her arousal was doing the same to him.
He needed answers from her. He needed her to trust him with those answers, and, as she writhed against him, he felt the blood pound through his veins, quickening his own breath and licking fire through his body. He decided he didn’t much care how he got those answers just that he got them soon.
Colin dropped his head, pulled the t-shirt up to her chest and lifted her breast to receive his mouth. The minute his lips closed around her nipple, drawing it in gently, she made an appealing sound deep in her throat and he smiled as desire strummed through him.
“Do you like that?” he asked against her nipple and then blew on it, watching in fascination as it rose and puckered, tremendously satisfied that he could illicit the same easy reaction from her that he felt for her.
He heard her head move on the pillow again and lifted his to watch her.
“No?” His tone was teasing.
“I’m never going to f
orgive you,” she whispered, her eyes sherry and her face flushed.
“I think you will,” he countered and then dropped his head again and pulled her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it. Gratified when he felt her body buck and jerk against him, he drew her nipple in further, sucking gently, then more adamantly, demanding a further response and she didn’t disappoint him. She arched her back, forcing herself deeper into his mouth. This caused havoc in his own body, her squirming against him and her mute, seductive displays of desire. He had a pressing urge to plunge his hand between her legs to see how ready she was for him.
When her hands slid into his hair, holding his head to his task, he realised he was finally getting somewhere.
He lifted his head and she made a noise of disappointment that thrilled him in an almost primitive way and he interrupted his game by crushing his mouth to hers. He needed to taste her, allowed himself this moment of sheer pleasure before carrying on with his goal. She opened her lips immediately, inviting his tongue inside and, happily, he obliged. The kiss was hot and wild and he pressed his hips against hers, showing her his blatant arousal. She groaned into his mouth the moment she felt his need and her hand slid down his back, over his ass then fluttered around his hip to find him.
He caught it easily and shifted it behind her back.
“Not yet,” he warned. “Not until you talk.” This he said against her mouth, his breath was coming fast but hers was faster. His hand at the small of her back never ceased moving and she was, of her own accord, pressing her body against him, pushing her hips insistently against his.
He let go of her hand and before she knew what he was about, he lifted his leg off hers, pulled one of hers up to hook around his waist and slid his hand between her legs, finally touching her right where she needed it.
The minute he did, she gasped deliciously and his own body jerked at the sound and the evidence of her need.
Christ, she was amazing.
Colin lost several notches on his control.
“Talk,” he growled impatiently, needing this to end soon so he could take care of the both of them. He pressed his fingers against her, wanting his cock to be where his fingers were, just as she pushed her hips against his hand.
Lacybourne Manor Page 31
