Lacybourne Manor (55 page)

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
.”