Colin looked her directly in the eye. “It will be from me and for that reason I have every faith in you.”
Her eyes slid back into her head, no longer popping out in an alarming fashion and then they filled with tears. “Oh, Mr. Morgan. I would be delighted… honoured… thrilled.” Then her body jumped and she whirled. “I’ll go now,” she announced to the other side of the room and rushed across it then stopped and whirled around again. “The phone is ringing off the hook.”
“Let it, you’ve more important things to do than talk to reporters.”
She nodded in happy agreement and ran out of the room.
The minute the door clicked behind her, Colin wasted no time and picked up his phone and called Sibyl.
“Colin!” she cried out his name as greeting. “You would just not believe what’s happening here. Rick has barricaded us in the house. The reporters are storming the door as we speak!”
Colin mentally added something else to his to do list.
“Don’t talk to anyone,” he ordered.
“I can’t,” she told him. “Rick won’t let me, he’s been entirely obnoxious. He’s bossier than you. I thought, after yesterday, that he’d…”
Colin cut in to her tirade. “Let me talk to your mother.”
“Mags?”
Colin was silent for he needn’t answer, Mags was, indeed, her mother.
There was a pregnant pause and then, “What has she done now?” Sibyl’s voice was leery and more than slightly annoyed.
“Pass the phone to her,” Colin ordered.
Surprisingly without further comment, Sibyl did as she was told. He heard a rustle and then a quiet, “Mother, what have you done?”
Without answering her daughter, Mags came on the line. “Colin! It’s all adventure here. I must say, you live an exciting life.”
“Marguerite, have you been talking to the reporters?”
“Me? No siree. Especially not today, your beefcake bodyguard will only allow us out of the library for bathroom breaks and even then, he’s escorting us. I tried to shock him during my last one but he’s unshockable.”
Colin mentally added a rise to Rick’s salary to his to do list. He thought, vaguely, that this feminine trio was going to bankrupt him.
However, he’d heard Mags say something damning.
“What about yesterday?”
“Sorry?”
Colin prayed for patience. “Yesterday. Did you talk to the reporters yesterday?”
“Me?”
Colin’s prayers went unanswered.
“Yes, you.”
“No, no, er… not me. I didn’t talk to the reporters yesterday. They came to the Centre, after the police but I didn’t talk to them and I know Sibyl didn’t and… well it was all a big hustle and bustle about the carrier bags and…”
She’d left someone out.
And she was a worse liar than her daughter.
“Put my mother on the phone,” Colin ordered.
“Phoebe?”
He ground his teeth.
Then through them, he remarked, “Yes, Phoebe does happen to be my mother.”
“I can’t imagine why you’d want to talk to Phoebe,” she declared with sham innocence.
“Put her on the phone.”
“I think she needs a bathroom break,” Mags stalled.
“Put her on the phone.”
There was a pause and then a grumbled, “Oh, all right.”
Then there was another rustle and he heard, “It’s your son,” and then more in the background as the phone was passed, “You’re right, Billie, he is ruthless.”
Colin again gritted his teeth.
“Hello Colin,” his mother greeted him. “How’s your day?” Before he could answer, she nervously continued, “We’re in the library because Rick thinks one of the reporters could be a murderer in disguise. It’s like he wasn’t even there yesterday and doesn’t know we have the all clear. He’s instructed us not to stand by the windows and…”
He cut her off, his patience at an end, “Mum, did you talk to the reporters yesterday?”
“Why, yes. I do believe I had a word,” she said lightly, too lightly.
“Don’t do that again,” he commanded.
“Colin, you shouldn’t talk to your mother that way,” she courageously scolded, looking into the eye of the tiger and thinking he was a pussycat. “There is certainly no reason why your extraordinary story shouldn’t be told. It’s beautiful and I’m so happy for you, I want the world to know it. True love reigns…”
“We aren’t out of danger, the person who ordered the man to hold a knife to Sibyl’s throat is still out there. We don’t need to be goading them with stories of true love, exposing our defences or making them think our defences are down so they’ll act before we’ve caught them. I’m asking you, don’t do it again.”
She was silent.
Then she said a shaky, “Okay.”
“I don’t want Sibyl to know that she’s not out of danger.”
“You have to…”
“Don’t say a word. I’ll speak to her when I get home.”
She was again silent.
Then she let out a breathy, “Okay.”
“There will be someone there to clear the reporters within half an hour and they will remain there to watch the house. If Sibyl sees them, make something up but carry on as normal.”
“Oh…kay.” This was even shakier.
“Give the phone to Rick.”
She didn’t hand the phone to Rick. Instead she asked nonsensically, “Colin, are you, I mean, are they… and are you?”
But Colin understood her. “Nothing is going to happen to Sibyl or me,” and when he said this his voice was far quieter and definitely gentler.
Hers was no less tremulous. “Okay.”
“I’m asking her to marry me,” Colin found himself saying, simply for the sake of giving his mother a happy thought instead of leaving her with images of possible murder and despair.
There was silence again and then, “Okay,” and this time he heard tears in her voice.
“Don’t tell her that either.”
A sharp gasp then, “I wouldn’t dream of…”
“Put Rick on the phone.”
“Colin?”
“Yes?”
“I’m so proud of you, my darling. You’re a good man.”
He’d heard that before recently from Sibyl and he feared his carefully cultivated reputation as a ruthless bastard was soon to be in tatters.
She gave the phone to Rick and Colin related the current situation and gave him his instructions. Then Colin rang off, called Robert and ordered men to oust the reporters and watch the house.
Then the clock hands approaching noon, with an immense effort of will, he set all of his current situation aside and set about making back some of the money he was losing in this travesty.
At a quarter to four, Rick phoned and without preamble announced, “She’s having a barbeque.”
Colin couldn’t believe his ears. “What did you say?”
“I should have confiscated her mobile,” Rick muttered under his breath. “I thought she might need it in case of emergency. I should have –”
“Tell me what’s happening,” Colin demanded.
Rick didn’t delay. “Ten minutes ago, a minibus loaded with old people and kids drove up and unloaded. They all carried in a mass of grocery bags and even a charcoal grill and now they’re in your back garden preparing for a goddamned barbeque.”
“Is the team there?”
“Yes.”
Colin took in a steadying breath and ordered, “Just watch them.”
“Mr. Morgan, I know this’ll get me sacked but I got to tell you that your girlfriend is the most annoy…”
Colin felt Rick’s pain, acutely but he interrupted him before he said something Colin could not ignore. “I know.”
Then Colin again rang off from Rick and went back to work.
At ten t
o five, displaying an amazing swiftness he’d never have expected when a woman was shopping and had a great deal of money to spend, Mandy came back to his office.
She set a small, glossy, burgundy bag with expensively corded handles in the middle of his blotter and stood back with her hands clenched in front of her.
When he just stared at it, she jumped forward and grabbed the bag, upended it and then carefully, even reverently, placed a small, burgundy, velvet box in front of him. Then she resumed her position of hand clenching.
He opened the box. Then he stared at the ring.
And it was perfect.
He looked his secretary directly in the eyes. “Well done, Mandy. I knew you could do it.”
Mandy beamed.
And then Colin did something that he did not know and likely would never know (or even understand), assured his secretary’s employ for the next twenty years.
He snapped the case shut, stood and rounded the desk to her. He then wrapped his hand gently around the back of her head and, bending low (because she was quite petite), he kissed her forehead like a loving older brother.
And then he went back around his desk, grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair and he walked out of his office.
And Mandy thought, watching him go, that no matter what everyone else said, Colin Morgan really was a good man.
* * * * *
Nearly five hundred years earlier, at exactly ten to five in the evening, while Royce and Beatrice danced at their wedding feast, the dark soul sharpened the blade of a knife against a whetstone.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, Royce watched Beatrice’s smiling face as she beamed at her father and mother (then mock-scowled at her younger sister) as he whirled her in a dance.
She had done the change again this morning, turning into a different person, yet the same. He could not put his finger on how he knew she was not her, she just was not. She had done it before dozens of times but this time instead of being oddly not the same, she was both not the same and completely terrified. For him, for them and because of tonight.
One second she was so afraid, she was nearly in tears, the next second she was confused and blushing at standing before him in her dressing gown, having no idea how she got from her bed to the Hall, standing in his arms.
Something was amiss and, as usual when he felt something was amiss, Royce Morgan was on his guard.
* * * * *
It should be noted at this juncture, there was some pretty hefty magic flying back and forth across nearly five hundred years.
The good kind.
And the bad.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Proposal
As instructed, at five thirty, Colin met Rick in the Great Hall.
“What’s happening?” Colin asked, throwing his suit jacket over a four hundred and fifty year old chair with a dry, preserved oak leaf sitting in its seat, The National Trust’s indication that tourists were not permitted to sit there.
“They’re barbequing sticks with vegetables on them. No meat, just vegetables. Vegetable sticks. On the barbeque. Who does that?” Rick answered, completely at a loss.
Colin speared Rick with at glance. “I was referring to the imminent threat on my girlfriend’s life,” he drawled.
“Oh right. That.” Rick said with a jerk of his chin. “No activity. We’ve got a bloke doing the perimeter just in the woods beyond the cleared grounds and garden. Got another bloke patrolling in the wood, another at the gatehouse. I’ve got the house. Someone’s relieving me at eight.”
Colin nodded.
Rick kept speaking. “Your alarm men started yesterday. As you instructed me, I instructed them to install the warning light and panic button first. They did that yesterday and tested it today. All is a go. Left side of the bed, like you asked. That is, left side when you’re lying in it.”
“Good,” Colin muttered.
Then he turned to go and change his clothes so he could join his guests at the impromptu vegetable barbeque but Rick stalled him by continuing. “Mr. Morgan, you should know, what I said earlier…” He stopped, searching for the right words. “Any other time and I’d think your bird was…” He stopped again then shrugged. “Whatever, she’s a little mad but she’s all right.”
Colin nodded again, indicating he held no ill-will against Rick’s unsuitable but understandable statement about Sibyl earlier.
He then went to his bedroom to check the work of the alarm company. While there, he changed into jeans and a grey, lightweight, v-necked sweater and walked down to the Great Hall. He heard laughter and the drone of happy, relaxed conversation drifting in from outside. He found it strange that he’d lived at Lacybourne for over a year and that was the first he’d ever heard those sounds in the house.
Because of that, before he joined his guests, with curiosity, he went to one of the two semi-circular windows on the outer wall and looked into the terraced garden.
At the paved area close to the house, chairs and tables had been set up. Kyle was manning the barbeque and his daughter Jemma stood beside him, holding a basting brush. Meg, Mrs. Griffith and Annie were all seated together with Mags and just watching them, Colin could not tell which ones were talking and which ones were listening as all their mouths were moving. Mrs. Griffith had Bran curled in her lap and Mallory was lying at her feet. His mother, Tina and Marian were in another group of chairs and Tina was relating some story that made the other two women smile.
Colin’s eyes searched for Sibyl and found her, two terraces up, racing in a patch of lawn with Flower, three younger boys and Jemma’s two children. They were kicking a football in a rag tag game of soccer.
Sibyl nearly collided with one of the younger boys and instead of falling on him, she threw her body forward in a graceful dive to avoid him. Correcting herself swiftly, she burst up from her reclining position and grasped him at his waist, pulling him down to the turf to tickle him.
The other children took this as an invitation to pile on top of Sibyl, a huge wrestling match ensued and Colin could hear the giggles and high-pitched screams through the window.
And then, right before his eyes, the scene melted.
It was the same garden but the colours of the flowers were different, the garden was less formal, it looked wilder and immensely more beautiful.
There were fewer children, only four. One boy, perhaps eight years old, tall and straight with leonine hair but, aside from his hair, he was a replica of Colin at that age. He was standing partially away from the mess with an expression on his face that clearly showed it was beneath him but regardless of that fact, he still wished to join in. Colin saw two girls, both rolling all over Sibyl. One had dark, nearly black hair and Sibyl’s features, another had leonine hair and a pleasing mixture of both Colin and Sibyl in her face. And the last was a very young lad of about two with dark hair and a face that nearly matched his older, blonde sister. He was partially cradled in Sibyl’s arms but struggling against her hold and her fingers at his sides.
Sibyl giggled, tickled and was tickled in return and then, for no apparent reason, she stopped abruptly, her head turned and she stared at Colin straight through the window.
Then she smiled at him with all the love of the world shining clearly in her eyes.
He saw it as distinctly as if she had been standing right in front of him.
And he felt it like it was a physical touch.
And then the scene melted back to the present time and Colin found himself shaken so deeply he had to put his hand to the window to steady himself.
He was in love with her.
Christ, he was in love with her.
He had no idea what just happened and he blinked to try and clear the vision from his mind.
But he couldn’t.
He was in love with Sibyl.
He had been in love with her since he saw her that first night under the copse of the trees with Mallory at her side and Bran in her arms.
And he would be
in love with her until the day she died.
If he was a different type of man and believed in things like magic or destiny, he might have believed he loved her since before he was born.
For Colin Morgan had been born with a broken heart, the broken heart of a long-dead warrior, a warrior who lost his love and his life at near the same exact time.
Though Colin didn’t know that and wouldn’t believe it if someone told him.
Colin turned from the window and walked into the Great Hall, looking up at the portraits and seeing Royce and Beatrice with new eyes.
He had been avoiding this knowledge for weeks, with the pursuit of Sibyl and then her safety uppermost in his mind. If he had allowed himself to think about how he felt about her, it would have made him vulnerable.
Which he was now.
And he decided, since he’d never felt it before in all of his years, that he absolutely detested the feeling.
There was someone out there who wanted to slit their throats, wanted them to watch while it happened, just like the dream.
Colin stared at Royce and Beatrice, wondering if that was how they died. Bile rose up in his throat as it hit him and he believed, for the first time, that something so vile could live for centuries and curse anyone involved in it.
And he couldn’t, wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
* * * * *
At five forty five, nearly five hundred years earlier, the dark soul let the accomplices into the kitchen at Lacybourne.
Much coin changed hands.
And together, they went over the plan.
* * * * *
And at the same time, in William Godwin’s hall, Royce Morgan’s mother sat next to Beatrice Godwin’s mother.
“I congratulate you, Penelope,” Beatrice’s mother, Mary, stated.
“On what, Mary?” Royce’s mother, Penelope, asked.
“Fine meddling, that.” Mary nodded at the beautiful couple whirling before them, the dark-haired lass smiling so brightly up at her golden-haired warrior, it veritably lit the room.
“I congratulate you in return,” Penelope said generously for she secretly thought it was mostly her doing.
“Thank you,” Mary murmured with humble dignity, even though she wasn’t humble at all, as she thought it was mostly her doing.
Lacybourne Manor Page 45
