“They’ll have fine children,” they said at the very same time, turned to look at each other and then burst out laughing.
Their laughter died when they saw Old Lady Griffin tap her cane none-too-gently on a young lad’s shoulder and said loudly, “I say, I would like to dance.”
Then the two happy mothers burst out laughing again.
* * * * *
It’s not only star-crossed lovers who are reincarnated, you know.
* * * * *
“Food’s ready!” Kyle shouted and the children tore away from Sibyl and rushed down the garden’s terraced steps in such wild abandon, she feared for a moment they’d all end up in a heap of broken bones at the bottom.
Luckily, fate was smiling down on them and this did not happen.
Sibyl followed at a much slower pace and then, as if by magic, she felt Colin’s eyes on her. She actually felt them before she even knew he was there.
And halfway down the steps, she turned and saw him striding out of the backdoor from the kitchen, striding purposefully with all his masculine grace, all the while looking at her.
Without hesitation, she ran down the steps, across the paved slabs and threw herself into his arms. He also didn’t hesitate and those arms closed fiercely around her.
“We’re free!” She smiled as she turned her face up to his. “Rick’s no longer holding us captive in the library, the sun is shining, a bunch of people I love are sitting in the garden and the shish kebabs are ready.”
He was staring down at her, a peculiar look on his face and his hand came up to the side of her neck, his thumb at the soft skin under her chin.
Something in his eyes made her toes curl.
And her stomach pitch.
And, if that wasn’t enough, her heart skipped three beats.
Then it started racing.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“I love you,” he said quietly in return.
And then the world fell away and there was only the two of them, alone together, and all time and place faded.
* * * * *
Marian was not the only one to notice the gold shimmer in the air intensify to the point that it seemed as thick as treacle.
Mags noticed it too.
As did Phoebe.
And Jemma.
And, of course, Tina and Kyle.
The kids didn’t notice anything.
Annie murmured, ‘I’m finding it a bit hard to breathe,’ as the golden air caught in her lungs. This, somehow, caused her no fear. She thought it felt rather pleasant actually.
Meg’s face collapsed in a smile for she was looking to her left and seeing Colin holding Billie in a way so tender and true, it could only be love.
Mrs. Griffith missed it all; she was looking around on the ground by her chair.
She couldn’t find her cane.
This was because Mallory was lying on it.
* * * * *
“Oh my goddess.”
Colin smiled.
Sibyl’s eyes were wide. The colour drained from her face and then just her cheeks suffused with warmth.
“Oh my goddess.”
Colin’s arms tightened.
“Say it again,” she demanded.
“You heard me,” he growled low.
“Oh… my… goddess!”
Colin’s smile widened before he asked, “Is that all you have to say?”
She pulled her lips between her teeth and then let them out. “No.”
His eyebrows rose arrogantly.
“I love you, too.”
And then her face split into a smile that if she had known, she would have been devastated but still wouldn’t have been able to stop herself, had an ever-so-slight negative effect on the ozone layer.
And just as incapable of stopping himself, Colin kissed her.
It was sweet and wild and beautiful and absolutely everything a kiss should be.
When he lifted his head, he was shaken to his soul.
“Oh my goddess,” Sibyl whispered reverently.
Apparently, so was Sibyl.
She blinked and then tore out of his arms but not away. She grabbed his hand and with all her strength, started pulling him towards the house.
He followed for three steps and with a slight tug of his hand in hers, brought her to a halt and she whirled back.
“Colin! We have to go inside.”
“Why?”
She walked back to him, closing the short space between them, grabbed his other hand and exerted pressure on both, trying to walk backwards and pull him with her.
“We have to…” she explained, “you know… do it. Break the curse. Like… now!”
He grinned again and she felt her heart skip three more beats and her legs start to wobble.
“Darling, we have guests,” Colin pointed out.
She glanced quickly at their audience and caught their knowing smiles then back to Colin.
“They won’t mind,” she assured him.
His grin broadened to a wicked smile but he didn’t move.
“It’ll only take ten minutes,” she cajoled.
His eyebrows rose again.
“Okay… fifteen,” she amended.
The smile turned lethal, her stomach did a somersault as his head tilted.
“Twenty?” she tried.
He shook his head and she stomped her foot.
“Colin!”
He lifted one of her hands up, brushing his lips on her knuckles and as he did this, never once did his eyes leave hers.
She stared at him, mesmerised. Just that morning, Royce had done the same thing.
“Colin,” she said far more quietly.
“Marry me, Sibyl.”
Her breath caught.
Her mind stilled.
All thoughts of Royce flew into the atmosphere.
She couldn’t have uttered a word if she’d learned at that moment that the World Health Organisation had been given a gazillion dollars to socialise healthcare globally.
He didn’t wait for an answer, just dropped her hand and put one of his in his pocket. Then there was an extraordinary, princess cut, diamond ring being slid on her finger.
She knew just by looking at it that it was exorbitantly expensive.
And she didn’t care one bit.
“Oh my goddess!” This was said (more like screeched) from behind them, coming from Mags.
Sibyl finally found her voice.
“Does this mean you think you can boss me around for the rest of my natural born days?”
He tugged sharply at her hand, Sibyl fell into him and his arms closed around her.
“And through eternity,” he promised against her lips, this said in his low, effective, deep, rich voice.
She was powerless against it and therefore instantly agreed.
“Okay.”
* * * * *
While Sibyl and Colin ate vegetables on sticks and were given pats on the backs, hugs, kisses, handshakes and many congratulations through smiles and tears…
Nearly five hundred years earlier, at the same precise time, Royce helped Beatrice onto Mallory’s sleek, dark, back.
They were going home to Lacybourne.
He swung into the saddle behind her and the moment he settled, he felt her tremble against him.
“Nerves, my sweet?” His voice rumbled deliciously in her ear.
She shook her head and looked back him, pressing her chin endearingly against her shoulder. “I just can’t wait to be home.”
Then she smiled, a lovely, inviting, slightly anxious smile.
And at the sight, his guard lowered.
And Royce Morgan, for the first time in his life, became vulnerable.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Real Consummation
“What are you doing?”
Sibyl whirled then with an obviously guilty movement shoved behind her back the small, pink box with glossy, intricate writing embossed on top.
&nb
sp; They’d just finished their vegetable shish kebabs and she’d ducked upstairs to begin planning her first night with her new fiancé, who also just happened to be in love with her.
In love with her.
It was, maybe, the most important night of her life.
And it was, definitely, the happiest.
That fiancé was now standing in the door to their bedroom but he didn’t look happy. His face was like the thunder beginning to threaten outside.
“What are you doing up here?” she asked, her voice just as guilty as her posture.
“I asked you a question, you disappeared.”
No, he was definitely not happy.
“I told Mags and Phoebe where I was,” Sibyl explained.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Colin was a dog with a bone.
“And Jemma,” Sibyl continued, for good measure, as he clearly still was not happy.
“Sibyl,” he growled.
She finally gave him an answer, though not enough of one for his liking. “I needed to check something.”
“What?” he asked instantly.
She hesitated.
“Some… thing,” she stalled, drawing out the word for as long as she could.
Slowly he moved into the room and slowly he closed the door.
And also, very slowly, he turned the key which now sat in the lock on a permanent basis.
And then he slowly turned and put the key in his pocket.
“Explain,” he said curtly when he again caught her eye.
“I… can’t,” she whispered.
“And why is that?” He didn’t allow her to answer but kept talking. “Do I have to repeat that I very much do not like it when you disappear?”
She was silent, she felt this was the best course of action until she actually could explain or think of a creditable lie she might be able to impart without getting caught out in it.
She thought, rather hysterically, that the happy, euphoric tone of the evening that followed his vow of love and marriage proposal was sadly brief.
“Explain,” he repeated.
She decided she couldn’t keep her silence (because, obviously, he wasn’t going to let her) and he’d never believe a lie, so she gave in.
“I can’t explain…” she rushed on when he opened his mouth to, what she was sure would be, bark at her, “I have to show you. I was just getting ready for later.”
He was silent but his silence was not hesitant or anxious. It was expectant.
Impatiently expectant.
“Just… hold on,” she said and then she ran to the bathroom and shut the door, praying he wouldn’t follow.
Luckily, he didn’t.
And she loved him a little bit more at that show of trust.
And if she loved him much more, she’d explode with it.
What was in the box was Mags’s present that she brought Sibyl from America. Not any of Sibyl’s favourite treats that she couldn’t get in England, like spiced, black corn chips or grape jelly. But instead, a nightgown so racy that when Sibyl had opened it, Bertie had stood abruptly and left the room on an expletive.
Now Sibyl folded back the pale pink tissue, looked at the contents of the box and wondered if she had the guts to do this. And she wondered also if Colin was right and maybe she was a tad bit prissy (but only a tad).
She heard a soft noise from in the bedroom and she immediately rushed to take off her clothes.
This was because she really didn’t want to keep Colin waiting.
Then she donned the nightie which was made of stretchy, lavender-coloured lace, hugged her body everywhere it touched, hit her just below where her thighs met her bottom in a lovely scalloped hem and had underwire that pushed her breasts up rather suggestively. It also had a pair of lavender satin string-bikini bottoms.
She stared at herself in the mirror in the bathroom and thought, perhaps, she couldn’t do this. That perhaps, she was a bit of a priss (and maybe more than a tad) and she ran her hands through her hair in anxious frustration.
Then she caught sight of the ring on her finger. She dropped her hands but also dropped her head to gaze in wonder for a moment at the sparkling diamond on her left ring finger and that was when decided she could, most definitely, do this.
She opened the door and entered the bedroom and Colin, who was impatiently snapping the drapes shut on the windows, whirled around when he heard her.
Then he froze at the sight of her.
“It’s from Mags,” Sibyl whispered.
Colin didn’t say a word.
“I… um, thought it would be a nice celebratory gesture, you know, get into the swing of things while we’re breaking the curse.”
“Get over here,” Colin snarled in a tone so savage, she didn’t know if he was angry or… something else.
“I’ll take it off,” she offered, “we have guests…”
Colin’s response, “They can wait a couple of hours. Get over here.”
Sibyl’s body jerked and her eyes grew wide.
“A couple of hours?” she breathed.
The room was huge; it would take a normal person twelve, maybe thirteen strides to get across it.
Colin made it in five.
* * * * *
Mallory pulled out of his early evening nap, got to his feet far more gracefully than he had ever done in his whole doggie life and he walked into the house, following the last person of the party to enter as they all went in to escape the oncoming storm.
He walked directly to his master and mistress’s bedroom and sat properly, not lounged, at the door.
And thus he stood sentry.
* * * * *
It wasn’t just people who were reincarnated, you know.
* * * * *
After Mrs. Griffith had risen to hug Sibyl and Colin upon their engagement, Bran leapt from her comfy lap to the ground and stayed in the shadows most of the evening.
The air smelled funny and he didn’t like it. Most of it was good, very good, but there was a hint that was very, very bad.
He followed the dark-haired man who’d come into their lives some time ago. He liked this man. This man was arrogant and assertive and autocratic and a lot of other things that Bran respected.
Bran had long-since approved of this new human in his life.
Without being noticed, Bran slid into the bedroom when the dark-haired man (quite rightly in Bran’s opinion) confronted Bran’s human about her latest reckless endeavour.
While she was in the cold, white, shiny room, Bran silently jumped to a chair and then after his new human closed a set of drapes; Bran deftly leaped to the curtain rod and crouched low, his dark body hidden by the top of the drapes and the shadows.
And he stood guard.
* * * * *
Cats, however, were never reincarnated. They already had nine lives.
Bran was on his third.
Bran thought it should be noted, however, that the loss of the first two was not his fault.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, in another time…
* * * * *
“Royce, stop.”
At Beatrice’s words, Royce pulled back Mallory’s reigns and the horse dutifully halted.
His beautiful new bride twisted to look at him and he caught her eyes, hiding his impatience. He was keen to get to Lacybourne, the weather had turned and the sky was threatening rain and worse.
But with one look at his beautiful new wife and Royce thought that imminent rain was the less important of the two reasons there were to get home, as quickly as possible, to Lacybourne.
“Is something amiss?” Royce asked, staring down into her eyes, noting they’d softened to a mellow brown with only the barest inflections of green at the pupils.
“This morning…” She pulled her lips between her teeth in a gesture he had become used to over the last several months, a habit he found quite endearing. Then she released them and whispered, “I should have told you before we wed, you may
have decided…”
Royce sighed his impatience. “Beatrice, rain is coming, do you not feel it?”
“Royce, I think I’ve gone quite mad,” she burst out. Before he could comment on this, her latest bizarre utterance to add to the wealth of bizarre utterances she had amassed since he met her, she went on, “I… sometimes I…” she paused, looking for the right words then she found them, “drift away. These past months, with you, always with you, I just go away, somewhere nice, somewhere peaceful and then I come back and I find time is lost to me. You do not seem to notice I’ve been gone and we have… done things while I’m not here… and… I just do not remember.” She pulled in a broken breath and watched him closely before she whispered, “My love, I think I am mad.”
He did not speak because his entire body stilled.
She dropped her eyes to her lap. “What’s worse, sometimes I think you do it as well.” Her head lifted with a snap and her eyes caught his again. “Sometimes you are simply…” she hesitated again then finished, “not you.”
Royce regarded her for a moment and then swiftly alighted from Mallory’s back. He put his strong hands on Beatrice’s waist to pull her down and he set her before him. Very close before him.
She tilted her head up and he stared at her, her beautiful, dark, glossy hair shining on her shoulders (she’d worn it down, just for him). It was threaded liberally with flowers and he thought, with pleasure and unusual whimsy, that she looked somewhat like a nymph.
But now, her eyes were frightened and wary and she was waiting for him to react to her words.
“I feel it as well,” he admitted, “in me and in you.”
Her eyes warmed and she breathed, “Truly?”
Royce nodded.
Beatrice sagged against him
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said with extreme relief. “I thought it was only me.”
“You are pleased we are both mad?”
Her eyes were shining when she looked at him. “No… yes… no, but I think… yes.”
He grinned at her with every intention of keeping from her, for her own protection (of course) that he felt he knew the woman she became when she was no longer Beatrice. That he had a vague feeling they had been together, somewhere, not there. That she was good and kind, just like Beatrice. That there was nothing to fear because, in some way, she was Beatrice.
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