“And nothing.” Sibyl answered, “He doesn’t love me back.”
It was Marian’s turn to give a hoot of laughter (a hoot that lasted a good while). When she had her mirth under control she actually wiped her eyes.
Then she said, still chuckling, “Oh, my dear, that’s too much. Do you think Colin Morgan would sit and be sprinkled with magic dust for just anyone?”
Sibyl bit her lip but replied, “He cares about me, I know he does. He wants to keep me safe. He’s very patient with me but if he loved me, he’d tell me.” Marian smiled kindly but Sibyl shook her head, feeling tears stinging the backs of her eyes, tears she refused to shed, for now. “No, Marian, I told him last night and he could have… there’s no reason why he didn’t tell me so he must not feel it. Maybe one day, I can hope but we need time and someone’s trying to kill him.”
“They’re trying to kill you both, you must remember that.” Marian warned softly. “You are in just as much danger as Colin is.”
“I had a dream where his throat is slit, his, not mine. And I have these dreams –”
“I know, my dear Sibyl. You’re clairvoyant.” Marian waved that strange fact away as if it meant nothing. “But we can change what you saw.”
Sibyl felt all hope leave her. They couldn’t change it, she knew it, she felt it.
So she had to leave even if it meant going back to America. She had to keep Colin safe.
And even though she’d been waiting her whole life for him, in order to save his life, she had to leave him.
It was the only way.
If he loved her then they’d surely consummated it so many times that they’d have an iron-clad shield around them so strong a nuclear bomb would have left them unscathed.
But they were obviously still vulnerable.
“Thank you for everything, Marian,” Sibyl muttered with finality trying to hide her dejection but she couldn’t.
Marian tried to reassure her. “It will all work out. I feel it. Stick in there, dear, we’ll get them this time.”
Sibyl nodded but she wasn’t convinced.
And she certainly was not going to risk Colin’s life, stand aside and see his motionless and lifeless body loaded into an ambulance.
* * * * *
Phoebe and Mags were happily preparing dinner in the kitchen and Colin was working in the study so Sibyl took her chance and crept up to the bedroom with Mallory and Bran.
With tears silently rolling down her cheeks and a heart so heavy it felt like a load bricks weighing down her entire body, Sibyl pulled out her suitcase and started to pack.
If she was quick, she could get out without anyone noticing. Colin nearly always worked the weekends and he hadn’t had a moment to spare, what with being shot with a tranquilliser dart, a visit to the A&E, being outed publically as a reincarnated knight, getting saddled with Mags, having Mags ask Phoebe along for their roller coaster ride and being sprinkled with magic dust, so she figured he’d be occupied for at least several hours. Who knew how long it would take Phoebe and Mags to make dinner? It took Mags forty-five minutes to make toast, dinner would definitely be delayed.
So she had time to pack her things, pack her animals and she would leave a note.
She had no idea what she was going to do, where she was going to go.
She could stay with Jemma tonight or find a B&B that took pets. She might be able to lose herself in Bristol. Colin might try to find her, he might not. She didn’t know and the fact that she didn’t know made each piece of her shattered heart break into tinier pieces.
Quickly she shoved clothes into the suitcase willy nilly, not bothering to fold them (which was a mistake because they were certainly not all going to fit in a jumble). She decided that she’d have to leave some things behind and swiftly sorted through what was essential and what was not.
“What are you doing?”
She yelped, jumped and whirled, all at the same time.
Colin was leaning in the doorway, his arms folded on his chest, one foot crossed at the ankle clay-coloured eyes narrowed on her. Mallory gave a woof of greeting but didn’t move when Colin sliced a warning glance at him before his gaze snapped back to Sibyl’s face.
“I thought you were working,” Sibyl whispered.
“I was.” His face was blank, his voice was smooth, his eyes never left her.
“Why…” she swallowed, “why did you stop?”
Without delay, Colin answered, “It occurred to me that I hadn’t made love to you yet today and as our mothers are systematically destroying the kitchen by the sounds of it, I thought I’d take the opportunity when we have the upstairs to ourselves.”
She just stared at him, those tiny pieces of her heart broke another time. Soon, they’d be grains of sand.
“You’ve been crying,” he noted blandly.
“I stubbed my toe,” she lied.
This, for some reason, made him smile. Then he pushed away from the door and strode into the room.
“I would ask why you would lie about stubbing your toe but you’ve already left one of my questions unanswered and I’d much prefer to have a response to that.”
He seemed to be heading for her so she backed away. The backs of her thighs hit the bed so she changed direction and scuttled around it.
“I’m sorry,” she started and then fibbed again (as she knew perfectly well) by asking, “What question is that?”
He was still stalking her, definitely the big cat had gotten out of the cage and she was his first victim. She felt her heart skip a few beats before beginning to pound.
“What are you doing?” he repeated patiently.
Her glance flew to the semi-packed suitcase on the bed and then back to him. She was close to the wall, she knew, so she changed directions and headed toward the fireplace.
“Doing?” She needed to stall and decided to act stupid, it shouldn’t be that hard.
Colin, however, was losing patience.
“Sibyl,” was all he said and her name was loaded with meaning.
“I was packing.” She pointed out the obvious and rounded a chair. He stopped at her new direction, changed his and she realised why even if she hadn’t noted it before, if she had, she might have been able to make a getaway, but, alas, her flighty mind worked against her, again.
With quick strides, he made short work of heading for the door. Upon arrival he closed it, walked calmly to a dresser by the door, opened one of the drawers and took something out. Then he walked back to the door and she watched him turn a key in the lock.
Her eyes rounded in alarm.
He turned back to her, rested his shoulders against the door and slid the key in his pocket.
Then he asked, “Why were you packing?”
His voice stayed bland, casual, as if they were having a friendly conversation over coffee and he hadn’t just locked her in his bedroom.
She’d stopped behind a chair. She decided, vaguely, lost in the intensity of his eyes, it was not nearly enough protection.
Her mind whirled and she tried to read the situation.
He seemed quite unaffected by the sight of her packing. That, in a way, was good.
He also seemed not to care much that she’d been crying. That wasn’t really good but, for her current purpose, she’d count it as good.
Regardless of this, he’d locked them in the room. That was very, very bad.
When she didn’t speak, he did. “Have you decided to go on holiday?”
She pulled both her lips between her teeth, wondering if she should say yes or no.
He didn’t give her a chance to say either.
“I think that’s an excellent idea, where are we going?” He pushed his shoulders off the door and started after her again.
She couldn’t take much more of this.
“Colin, stay where you are,” she demanded, unfortunately in a shaky voice that made it sound more like a plea.
“I’ve a friend who owns an island. No way on or off without us
knowing about it. It would be hard to find us, let alone kill us. You’ve hit on the perfect solution.”
Maybe she had misread the situation, he no longer seemed unaffected by her packing.
At all.
“I’m leaving,” she blurted out when he was not two of his great strides away. She lifted up her hand, palm out. “Colin, please stop.”
To her surprise, he did.
“Where are you going?” His voice was low and even and she forgot how much it scared her when he used it on her.
“I don’t know. I haven’t figured that out yet.”
He nodded, once, sharply then asked, “For curiosity’s sake, why are you going?”
She blinked.
“For curiosity’s sake?” she echoed.
“Since you aren’t going anywhere, it’s a moot point. However, I’m curious so humour me.”
She squared her shoulders and announced, “I’m leaving,” and she was pleased to hear her voice sounded stronger.
“Tell me why,” Colin demanded.
She shrugged, trying to seem unconcerned. “Things aren’t working out between us.”
Without hesitation, he immediately fired back, “That’s an interesting assessment of our situation. Would you care to elaborate?”
She was beginning to realise why he was so successful. He wasn’t just ruthless, he was merciless.
“I…” she began, her mind trying to find a lie he’d actually believe, “well…”
He smiled but instead of being ruthless or belittling, it was magnetic and her stomach lurched pleasantly.
He settled into his stance and crossed his arms on his chest.
“Take all the time you need,” he offered magnanimously. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
In an instant, she did.
“We don’t suit,” she informed him, tossing her hair mutinously because he was beginning to make her mad.
His brows lifted. “And how’s that?”
“You are… well… you.”
“Indeed I am.” His smile returned, deeper, more electric and her stomach pitched then melted with warmth.
“And I’m me!” she snapped when she saw that he was very close to laughing at her. “We’re from entirely different worlds, have different viewpoints. You’re probably a… a… Tory!” she burst out, making the word “Tory” sound like the words “axe murderer”.
“Actually I am,” he admitted without apology.
She threw her hands up. “That in itself makes us impossible,” she announced dramatically.
He shook his head. “You’re forgetting a few very crucial things.”
She didn’t want to know so she didn’t ask. She started to slide away from him to put more space between them but she, of course, had nowhere to go but it gave her something to do.
He didn’t wait for her request to elucidate. “There is the fact that we’re spectacular in bed together.”
“I –” she started to lie.
He chuckled and she could have thrown something at him. “If you tell me you’ve had better, you’re lying. I know you haven’t and neither have I.”
She stopped creeping around the chairs and stared at him in wonder. She could not imagine she was the best Colin had ever had and the very thought made her stomach do a cartwheel of happiness. Then she shook off the result of what that titbit did to her stomach and she said, “That isn’t enough.”
“No?” he asked as she began creeping again. “Then, sweetheart, you force me to play my trump, so I’ll have to remind you that you’re in love with me.”
She halted.
Bloody hell.
Bloody, bloody hell.
She was stupid, definitely stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d led him straight to throwing that in her face and she had no retort. She couldn’t exactly force him to declare his love for her, especially if there was no love to declare.
So she did the only thing she could do, she kept silent.
Colin didn’t. “That fact makes you mine and I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
She noted he didn’t mention love but possession. Her heart ground to dust as the tears pricked her eyes. She told herself not to cry but she felt the wetness balancing on her lower lids and then sliding down her cheeks.
“You don’t own me,” she said quietly.
“Yes I do, sweetheart, and you know I do.” His tone was gentle and she found it far more difficult to handle than the game they’d been playing. “Why were you packing?” he asked softly.
She could no longer bear up so she gave in.
“I don’t want you to die,” she whispered, her voice broken and small. “If I leave, they’ll let you alone and I’d rather have you alive without me than dead…”She lost her train of thought but soldiered on. “Than just plain dead,” she finished lamely.
It was then he leapt out of his casual stance and, with another surprised yelp, she backed away, all the way to the wall. She slammed against it and before she could flee in another direction, his hard body was pressed against her.
“Colin, I have to go,” she begged, staring at his throat.
“You’re not going.” His voice was uncompromising.
“I have to!” she cried and his hands came up to either side of her face, forcing it to tilt back to see his.
“Darling, I’m going to ask you this once and you have to answer me and then stick by your answer no matter what happens in the coming weeks.” His voice was both sweet and grave and her eyes riveted on his beautiful face. “Do you trust me?”
She gawped. “Of course I trust you. I mean, how could you even think…?”
She stopped when she felt the tension ease out of him and realised what he was asking and how, exactly, what she had been doing appeared to him.
She closed her eyes and all the fight left her.
“I’m an idiot,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he agreed, “but you’re my idiot.” His voice was full of humour, her eyes flew open and all the fight came back into her.
“You think I’m an idiot?” she snapped.
“You’re just spoiling for a fight, aren’t you?” His eyes were dancing and she let out a huffy breath.
“Well, pardon me. No one gave me the etiquette book on how to behave when you’re the reincarnated soul of one of a pair of dead lovers, you’re living under a five hundred year old curse and have lunatics with knives and tranquilliser guns chasing after you with deadly intent. Perhaps I’m not thinking too clearly. Perhaps I’m just a wee bit stressed.”
His hands slid from her jaw to lift her hair at the back of her head and as he did this Sibyl noted his eyes were so intense, they were liquid.
Then, his gaze on her mouth, he murmured, “I know a much better way to deal with stress.”
“I’m sure you do,” she noted crisply, “you know everything.”
Colin’s head dipped and he smiled against her lips and there he whispered, “Just remember that.”
Then he kissed her.
Then he helped her work out her stress, succeeding spectacularly.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Settling In
The next week and a half with Sibyl was eventfully uneventful.
Although they had no attempts on their lives, Colin found his turned upside down.
Lacybourne was an enormous manor house that, since he’d moved in, had always seemed empty, even when he was occupying it. Now, every corner seemed filled with Sibyl, her pets, her mother, his mother and anyone else the trio deemed fit to add to the mix.
Sibyl had taken the news of a bodyguard watching after her very well. Colin inadvertently hit on the perfect way to break news that she may not like and avoid her formidable temper in the process.
After her rather endearing yet entirely unacceptable bid to save his life by leaving him, he’d punished her. For anyone else but Colin Morgan, inflicting punishment for such a selfless act would seem a strange reaction. However, he didn’t particularly like ho
w he felt when he’d walked to their bedroom with the purpose of making love to her only to find her packing a suitcase. Therefore, when he’d finally subdued her impulsive, hilarious and ill-conceived flight and taken her to bed, he’d spent a good deal of time using most of the weapons in his rather honed sexual arsenal to drive her mad with desire.
When he had her wrists imprisoned over her head and after he’d lavished a goodly amount of attention on her lovely, responsive breasts, he surged over her. Thinking, finally, she was going to get what she’d been begging him to give her for at least fifteen minutes, she opened her legs to receive him.
“By the way,” he muttered against her mouth and felt her hips tilt upward in invitation, at this act, his control slipped and he finished through gritted teeth, “I’ve hired a bodyguard for you. Starting tomorrow morning, he’ll be with you every minute when I’m not.”
Sibyl’s eyes focussed on him but Colin realised by their dazed quality she wasn’t hearing a word he said. Her mind was definitely elsewhere.
“Okay,” she mumbled without hint of protest and wrapped one long, shapely leg around his hip. Ever the practised negotiator, he decided to stop while he was ahead and slid slowly, deeply inside her and then his mind went elsewhere as well.
Later, he was sitting at the head of the dining room table, Sibyl to his left. They were all eating her mother’s vegetarian lasagne, homemade garlic bread and a salad that was so big it had to be served in two bowls.
Colin turned to Sibyl. “About Rick.”
Absorbed in eating her mother’s admittedly delicious meal, she munched a piece of bread and asked, “Who’s Rick?”
“Your bodyguard.”
Her head didn’t move but her eyes shifted swiftly to the side to stare at him and her mouth froze mid-crunch.
Unaffected by her response, he carried on, “He’s being paid to protect you, not to be your friend, not to be your project. This is a professional relationship, he drives you, watches you, guards you, keeps you safe. If he has a girlfriend he isn’t getting along with, that’s none of your concern. If his mother has terminal brain cancer, you don’t bake her cookies and hold her hand during chemotherapy.”
Lacybourne Manor Page 40
