Lacybourne Manor

Chapter Nine Danger

The phone was ringing.

Sibyl decided to ignore it, her answerphone would get it. She was too deliciously tired to bother.

When it stopped ringing, abruptly, she smiled sleepily but her smile was short-lived.

“Hullo?”

She heard this said in a husky, baritone voice.

Instantly awake, she twisted violently in the bed, pulling the covers over her breasts, just in time to hear Colin say, “She’s right here.” His clay-coloured eyes, rimmed with their lush lashes, slid to her. “It’s for you.”

Ignoring the rush of warmth in her belly at the sight of his eyes and him in her bed, she snatched the phone out of his hand and covered the mouthpiece. “Of course it’s for me, who would it be for? Mallory?”

He smiled.

This smile was again lethal but not with danger, instead with the heady, pleasant aftermath of sex.

A lot of sex.

A lot of really, really good sex.

She ignored that too (and what it did to her belly, namely, making it flutter) and lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Who was that?” her mother asked.

Sibyl sat bolt upright in bed, still holding the sheets to her chest.

“Mom?”

“Yes, baby, it’s your mother. Your sister phoned and told me you had a sure thing so I had to call.”

Sibyl dropped her forehead into her hand, rested her elbow on her thigh and closed her eyes in despair.

Her bloody, bloody sister.

Her bloody, bloody mother.

Who else on earth had two relatives that were so interested in their daughter/sibling’s sex life?

“It appears she was right!” her mother crowed ecstatically.

“What time is it there? It has to be…” Sibyl twisted around to look at the clock on the bedside table.

What she saw was Colin on his side, resting with his head in his hand and watching her, his eyes soft with interest.

And his eyes looked good soft with interest.

She twisted back so fast she was pretty certain she pulled something.

“It’s midnight, baby, and I’m about to go out and commune with nature,” her mother answered. “I thought I’d give you a buzz before I draw down the moon to see how your night went but I guess I don’t have to ask.”

“Mom –”

“Is he cute?”

“Mom –”

“Did you have an orgasm?”

“Mom!”

“What? Oh, yes, you probably can’t talk now, since he’s there. And if I take up your time, you might miss a morning quickie.”

Sibyl returned to her defeated position of head in hand and she expelled a frustrated sigh. She loved her mother, she’d lay down her life for her but sometimes she was just too much. And now was definitely one of those times.

Her mother continued. “Just know I’m glad your dry spell is over and I hope your father and I meet him in April. Will we meet him in April?”

Sibyl’s body went rigid.

In all the emotional drama, she’d forgotten about her parent’s visit in April. Their visit was smack in the middle of Colin’s two months. Two months where he was to have her when he said, where he said.

The very thought of those words made her shiver and, she had to admit, this shiver had not a thing to do with fear or gloom.

Sibyl powered through the shiver and began, “Mom –”

“I know, it’s too soon. I hope to meet him though. He must be something special to catch your fancy. See you soon, baby.”

Then she rang off without giving Sibyl a chance to say good-bye.

Sibyl pressed the phone off with her thumb and sat staring at it, thinking maybe she should throw it through the window.

Sibyl was not a morning person and this morning was no exception. Her mother only exacerbated the problem.

Before she could engage in her violent act against the phone, Colin slid it out of her hand.

She didn’t watch him replace it in the receiver; she just plopped back on the pillows with a heavy sigh.

Her life was completely out-of-control and she only had herself to blame.

“That sounded like an interesting conversation,” Colin remarked.

Considering the fact that she’d only uttered a handful of words, and most of them were “Mom”, she threw him a killing look where only her eyes moved sideways but she didn’t speak.

When she didn’t, he did. “I imagine she wasn’t too thrilled when a man answered the phone first thing in the morning.”

“Oh no,” Sibyl replied, slowly closing her eyes. “One could say she was beside herself with glee.”

No response.

Sibyl opened her eyes again.

He was back to resting on his elbow, watching her with warm, inquisitive eyes.

She decided to ignore the warm, inquisitive eyes too. She didn’t want to think of a warm, inquisitive Colin. If she did, she might shiver again.

“My mother is…” How could she put it? “Odd.”

He decided that the conversation was finished and she knew this because his head began to descend.

“Colin, we have to talk,” Sibyl blurted.

The descent stopped.

“That doesn’t sound good.” His voice was guarded.

“My parents are coming to visit me,” she told him.

His eyebrows came up lazily. This, for some reason, made her stomach do a flip flop.

Regardless, Sibyl persevered, “In April.”

He still simply regarded her.

“For two weeks,” she finished.

“And?” he prompted.

“And, well… you and… well… me...”

He grinned. This grin was wicked.

She was beginning to realise Colin liked the upper hand, which he had a great deal with regard to her.

His head descended again and he brushed his lips against hers before saying, “I see.”

“We’ll need to take a little break for two weeks and –”

“Oh no.” His lips brushed hers again, his tone firm, and he finished. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Colin!” She pulled her head away (as far away as it could go, resting on a pillow). “I can’t exactly say, ‘Sorry, Mom… Dad, gotta go meet my lover for a rousing round of bed play’. I don’t think so.”

“Bed play?” His voice was amused.

She sat up again and twisted around and Colin pulled away to avoid her crashing into him, settling on his back.

“Colin! This is serious!” she exclaimed, looking down at him.

“I’m taking it seriously. It’s my two months.”

“I’ll make it up to you in May,” she offered.

“If you want this, I’ll take all of May and three weeks in June.”

Sibyl gasped.

“That’s another,” she stopped to calculate it, “entire month!” she finished.

“Yes it is. And I’ll want to see you sometime during those two weeks in April.”

“That’s not possible and that’s not fair,” she returned sharply and a little desperately.

“That’s the only offer on the table,” Colin retorted firmly.

She realised she’d started shaking and this wasn’t a good kind of shaking or the scared or melancholy king, it was the angry kind.

He was heartless.

She didn’t think she could to it for another month. Not that “it” was that bad. In fact “it” was mind-bogglingly, earth-shatteringly good. One could even say it was otherworldly good.

And it was the best she’d ever had.

By far.

Although, she hadn’t had that much but this was something else. It made her toes curl just thinking about it.

How she could not really like him (at all) and still find him so amazingly attractive was beyond her. Though, she had to admit, sex with Colin was simply unbelievable.

But he’d still paid for it, which still made her his whore, which made her hate herself, so much, she could hardly bear it.

She plopped back on the pillows and closed her eyes again.

She had no choice and she hated that even more than she hated herself at that moment (which was saying something).

“Fine,” she snapped the word out so curtly it sounded like half a syllable.

“Nice to see you give in gracefully.”

She opened her eyes to see him looming over her.

His eyes were no longer warm but instead they were hard and glittering.

Even obviously angry, he was so damned handsome, she felt her breath catch even as she felt her temper unravel.

She had been wrong; Colin in her bedroom wasn’t laughable. It was seductive. He was so out of place he looked like a conquering avenger, enjoying the spoils of victory.

Which he was, in a way. She was spoils.

“Perhaps I should remind you what you’re giving in to.” This was said in a smooth, even tone that she was realising was his very-angry-but-controlling-it-by-the-skin-of-my-teeth voice.

His hand was under the covers, the warmth of it sliding across her ribs, down her belly making her muscles contract lusciously along its path.

In the face of his tone, she felt like throwing caution to the wind, one could say she’d had enough, “Trust me, I remember.”

“It certainly doesn’t seem like it to me.”

She turned toward him quickly, dislodging his hand, wanting him to understand (if he had it in him) at the same time as she completely lost her rather formidable temper.

“What do you want me to say? That it was good? Yes, it was good!”

He didn’t seem to like being interrupted in his task, his strong hands found her hips and he fell to his back, taking her with him.

She wasn’t finished, however, and she pressed her hands against his chest to lift herself which he allowed.

Slightly.

When he stopped allowing it by wrapping his arms around her, one tight at her waist, one forearm pressing up her spine, Sibyl kept talking. “Bottom line, you paid for me and that doesn’t feel good but I need the money. So I have no choice, you’re right, a deal’s a deal. But I love my parents and I’m not going to tell them I have to drop everything to go be some man’s whore. And you’ve given me no other options. So, if I’m a little pouty in the face of all of that, you’ll just have to get over it!”

His eyes, already hard, turned to stone.

“I have another rule,” was his response to this diatribe and, in a belated act of self-preservation, she pressed her hands against his chest to pull further away but his arm at her waist tightened and his hand slid up her spine until his fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and forced her to descend until she was but an inch away from his face. “If you call yourself my whore again, it becomes four months.”

Caution was not in the wind; caution was twirling around in a tornado.

“I’m your whore,” she repeated stubbornly.

“Do it again and it’s five months.”

“I’m… your… whore,” Sibyl gritted out between clenched teeth and Colin whipped her around to her back, him on top, and pried her legs apart with his knee. When he did, she goaded, “That’s it, Colin, prove me right.”

His hips settled between her legs but instead of doing what he’d started, he snarled, “Christ, you’re the most annoying woman I’ve ever met.”

“And you are the most heartless man I’ve ever met,” she returned.

They stared at each other and, even though they’d barely moved, both were breathing heavily.

Sibyl had the bizarre desire to scratch his eyes out and throw her arms around him and say she was sorry, both at the same time.

“You’re mine for five months,” he bit out, eyes blazing, face hard.

Gone was the desire to say she was sorry. Instead, she just glared.

“Is that understood?” he asked.

She continued to glare.

What would he do if she said no?

She really didn’t want to find out. Therefore, she nodded but she did it while still glaring.

Colin wasn’t finished. “And Sibyl, I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. Is that clear?”

She bit her bottom lip so hard, she tasted blood.

She wanted to say it, just because he hated it. Just because she needed to remind herself that it was true. Just because it made her feel she had a modicum of power, even though it was simply to goad him, even though she lost more every time the words left her mouth.

She counted to ten and struggled for control.

Then she nodded.

She was already in enough trouble as it was, all of her own doing and she hated that too.

“I’ll be back tonight at the same time,” he declared and then he was gone, shoving her off his body angrily, he left the bed and stalked, naked, out of the room.

The moment she lost sight of him, Mallory loped in and woofed.

“Well, that didn’t go very well,” she whispered to her dog brokenly.

And then, for what had to be the hundredth time in a week and a half, she cried.

It was then she realised that she’d agreed to five months of Colin and not only that, he wanted five months of her.

And she didn’t know what to make of that at all.

Colin was still furious with Sibyl when he parked in front of her house that evening.

He was angry because he didn’t like hearing her call herself a whore, in fact, he loathed it. Even though, for all intents and purposes, that was what she was, he vastly preferred not thinking about it and he certainly wasn’t going to allow her to throw it in his face.

It annoyed the hell out of him that she took his fifty thousand pounds and managed to make him feel guilty about it.

And he didn’t like that, in listening to her affectionate but obviously frustrated phone conversation with her mother, he became even more intrigued at the puzzle that was Sibyl.

Not to mention, he had the bizarre desire to meet her mother.

He didn’t like that she’d announced she “needed the money” which made him wonder what the money was for in the first place. She didn’t appear to lead a life of luxury and didn’t look or act the sort of woman who aspired to it. So, why did she need it?

He further didn’t like that after only one (albeit satisfyingly active) night, he, apparently, couldn’t get enough of her. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her and her incredible body all day. Even so, she wanted nothing to do with him and he had to take further advantage in order to force her to spend more time with him.

This, particularly, was a concept with which Colin was unfamiliar and he detested it.

What he did like was that he’d succeeded in securing three more months of last night out of her very poorly controlled temper.

He wasn’t entirely up on the code of practice of con artists and mercenaries, but he couldn’t imagine it included throwing enough attitude at your mark to make them want to toss you screaming from a window.

But Colin wasn’t about to argue with something that worked in his favour.

He knocked on the door and, within five seconds, heard Mallory careening towards it. Colin also knew when the dog arrived because he heard the loud thud and saw the door shake when the dog smashed into it.

This was so ridiculous, and humorous, it nearly made Colin smile.

However, he was so annoyed, he did not.

“Mallory! You’ll give yourself a head injury!” He heard Sibyl shout and, again, he nearly smiled. The dog was a menace (to himself) and Sibyl’s affectionate acceptance of it was one of the many pieces of what Colin considered Sibyl’s mystery. An mystery he spent a great deal of his day attempting, and failing, to solve.

The door swung open and she stood there not made up like last night but wearing a pair of tan cowboy boots, brown tweed trousers, a cream, long-sleeved, scoop-necked t-shirt, some kind of elaborate silver necklace, complicated, dangling silver earrings and her shining hair was tumbling about her face.

And she was just as stunning as she was in the magnificently sexy silk camisole and dramatic makeup of the night before

He looked at her carefully and couldn’t read her mood, her eyes were simply hazel.

“I’ll need a key,” he said by way of greeting.

What he wanted to do was scoop her in his arms and carry her up to her bed but he felt the need to control himself, felt the inexplicable need to control the situation in its entirety which included controlling Sibyl. He felt unprecedentedly out-of-control when it came to Sibyl and he wasn’t used to that.

At all.

And he didn’t like that either.

She stood, her hand on the door, regarding him warily. Then she nodded.

Then something perverse, something that didn’t even feel a part of him drove him to make that demand, “And I expect you to greet me with a kiss when you see me.”

Her mouth parted slightly in surprise and she hesitated a moment as mutiny played about her face and the hazel started to shift to the warning shade of green. Then she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.

Before she could pull away, the devil that was controlling him made him say, “I know you can do better than that.”

Her head came up with a snap and he watched in grim fascination as her eyes, in the soft illumination from the lamps lit in the house, lost all hint of hazel and became blazing green.

Something about that pleased and irritated him at the same time.

She moved into him, her body touching his slightly then more as one hand came up to rest on his chest and the other hand slid into the hair at his nape. She tipped her head back and pressed her lips against his, he felt them open and he opened his in response. Then the tip of her tongue came out softly and touched his own.

He felt heat sweep through him at the touch of her tongue but before his arms could close around her, she ended the kiss and moved her head away.

Her hands still on him, her voice managing to be both warm and cold, she asked, “Is that better?”

In answer, he ordered, “Get your coat.”

She blinked at his sudden change, her hands falling away. “What?”

“Your coat,” he repeated.

He hadn’t even crossed the threshold. Nevertheless, she stepped away and grabbed a scarlet-coloured trench coat from a peg by the door and pulled it on. As she did, Colin turned on his heel and walked to his car.

He heard the dull thud of the heels of her cowboy boots as she rushed to catch up to him.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He didn’t stop as he strode purposefully to the car and jerked open the passenger side door to help her inside.

“Dinner,” he answered curtly.

They didn’t say another word until after they were seated at the seafront restaurant in Clevedon and he ordered a gin and tonic. She ordered the extraordinary drink of vodka lemonade with a dash of lime cordial, a maraschino cherry and ended this litany with the instruction, “And lots of ice.”

Then she smiled at the waiter and Colin felt his chest seize.

She’d never, not once, smiled at him, except that very first moment where their eyes met in the storm while she was acting out Beatrice’s portrait.

Her smile, he noted in a vaguely dazed way, was arresting, sensational and the waiter nearly tripped over himself in a rush to do her bidding.

When her gaze slid to Colin’s he glared at her and didn’t know why. He knew he was still furious but why her smile would cause such a spectacular reaction made no sense to him.

Then he realised in that moment that he didn’t know a lot of things when it came to Sibyl, and his reaction to her, and he found that supremely annoying.

They studied their menus in silence and they ordered their meals after the drinks were brought to the table.

She spent a great deal of time pretending he wasn’t there and looking out the windows at the sea.

He spent that time watching her.

The waiter brought Colin’s steak and the bottle of wine Colin ordered. He also set some dish down in front of Sibyl that looked entirely concocted out of mushrooms.

Colin made no comment and Sibyl did the same.

They ate in silence.

When he was finished, he sat back in his chair, stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, and continued to watch her while drinking his wine.

She valiantly attempted to finish her meal but then set her fork down and sat back herself, sipping her wine nervously, her eyes darting anywhere but to him.

“Do you want dessert?” he asked politely and she jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice.

She looked at him. The restaurant was illuminated with a romantic, candlelit ambiance so the lighting in the room was dim and therefore Colin couldn’t see the colour of her eyes.

She shook her head.

He took his money clip from the breast pocket of his suit jacket, peeled off enough notes to pay for dinner and tossed them on the table.

He stood and Sibyl stood too.

He moved behind her, took her coat from her chair and helped her put it on. He felt her body was stiff under his hands.

This annoyed him even further.

The waiter scurried to their table looking alarmed.

“Is there anything wrong?” he asked (Colin noticed, with still growing irritation, the waiter asked Sibyl, staring at her like a lovesick puppy).

“We’re leaving,” Colin answered in clipped tones.

“Everything was lovely, thank you,” Sibyl assured the waiter and smiled at him again.

Colin’s irritation grew even more at her smile, another smile not directed at him. Without another word, he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the restaurant.

Once outside, she yanked her arm away and quickened her step in an attempt to avoid him, something that some force inside him was driving him not to allow. As they hit the pavement, Colin’s fingers curled around her upper arm just as he saw a flash from the headlamps of a car parked not two car lengths away. Without warning, the engine revved and the car shot forward.

Sibyl was a step ahead of him, ready to cross the road to get to the Mercedes, when the car came directly at her like it was aiming. Instinctively and swiftly, Colin dropped his hold of her but hooked his arm around her waist and snatched her from the street, pulling her into his body with such strength that her head crashed against his chin. He ignored the jolt of pain and at the same time took two deep steps backward. This meant the car narrowly missed them both as it flew passed, two of its tires up on the pavement, and kept going without braking.

He set Sibyl down in front of him but held her, the warmth of her back pressed tightly against his body, and he could feel her heavy breathing. His arm, which had been about her waist, had slid up and was closed around her ribcage, her fingers were clutching it as if she’d never let him go and he could feel her heart beating wildly. Both of their heads were turned, staring after the car for a long moment even after it disappeared before Sibyl lifted her hand to touch the back of her head distractedly where it had smashed against his chin.

“My goodness, he narrowly missed you. Are you all right?”

This came from an elderly lady who was rushing toward them and to Colin’s irritated surprise, it was Marian Byrne.

“Mrs. Byrne!” Sibyl gasped.

“Sibyl!” Marian Byrne replied and Sibyl broke free of his arm and gave the woman a tight embrace.

“Did you see that?” Sibyl exclaimed when she ended the embrace. She swung toward Colin, her evening’s silent treatment a memory. “That lunatic driver nearly hit us. It was like… it was like he was aiming at us.”

Colin stared at her then swung his head to where the car had gone, his thoughts racing.

She was correct. It seemed exactly as if the car was aiming at them.

Marian Byrne obviously agreed. “I saw it and it did look like he was aiming at you. My goodness gracious, goodness, goodness gracious,” Marian Byrne chanted, her voice filled with alarm.

Colin turned his head again and stared at Mrs. Byrne.

Regardless of what seemed to Colin like a telling coincidence – these two women tended to “run into” each other with alarming frequency – Marian Byrne looked genuinely distraught.

“Mrs. Byrne, you need to sit down.” Sibyl had moved toward the older woman and slid her arm around her. Carefully looking both ways, she guided Mrs. Byrne across the street to a bench under a streetlamp that faced the sea. Colin followed silently and watched as Sibyl crouched down next to the older woman once she was seated.

Sibyl looked up to him.

“Should we take her back to the restaurant, get her a drink?” she asked and in the light of the streetlamp he could see her face was awash with concern.

“I’m fine, I just need to take a few deep breaths,” Marian answered.

“Mrs. Byrne, why are you out tonight?” Sibyl voiced the question to which Colin wanted an answer. “It’s late. You should be home. What if you’d been in the path of that crazy man? You wouldn’t have been able to get out of his way,” she glanced hesitantly at Colin and whispered, “I nearly didn’t get out of the way,” and he realised that was the closest he would likely get to any expression of gratitude.

Marian gave a deep shudder and replied, “I’m restless. I think it’s this unseasonable weather. England is never this sunny and warm in March. At least not in my many years of experience.” She smiled wanly and her hand lifted to pat the hand that Sibyl was resting on her arm.

Finally Colin spoke. “I’ll take you home.”

“Oh no, Mr. Morgan, I live not a five minute walk from here, ten at the most.”

“I insist,” Colin said in a voice that seconded the words he uttered.

When Mrs. Byrne looked like she was going to protest, Sibyl moved closer to her, shifting awkwardly on her crouched legs. “Let Colin take you home, Mrs. Byrne. Please? For me?”

Sibyl smiled at the other woman and Colin noted this smile was not dazzling but faltering. She was still reacting to the near-miss with the car and it became clear, even though he had thought differently moments before, that both of these women had nothing to do with the events of that night.

Marian turned to Colin and gave in to Sibyl’s plea. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan, that would be very kind.”

Colin looked at Sibyl, his car was a two seater and she’d have to wait until he returned from this errand.

“Go to the restaurant,” he ordered curtly, “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes.”

Without a word in protest, she nodded and then gracefully stood. She helped Mrs. Byrne to the car and Colin waited to get in himself while he watched Sibyl, again with great care, her head swinging from side to side as she scanned the road, cross the street. He didn’t get into the car until he saw the restaurant door close safely behind her.

As he drove off, Marian Byrne gave him quick directions and then asked, “Are you quite all right, Mr. Morgan?”

He lied gruffly, “I’m fine.”

“That was a nasty scare,” she noted on a trembling sigh. “Drivers these days. So impatient. You must promise me you’ll be most careful.”

He nodded.

“I take it things with you and Sibyl are on a much better footing now?” she asked, her voice tentative and polite, she knew it was none of her business.

“That depends on how you look at it,” he replied honestly at the same time not giving her very much information.

“Well, Mr. Morgan, considering my tenure at your house and what I know of its history, I look at any time you spend with that delightful girl to be a very, very good thing, if you understand my meaning.”

His eyes slid to her briefly then back to the road.

“So you admit to arranging our meeting?” he enquired bluntly.

“Of course!” she confessed, her voice losing its tremble and becoming more cheerful. “I thought you’d figured that out on the night.”

“I did,” he told her then demanded, even though he thought he knew, “What was Sibyl’s part in it?”

“Oh, she has no idea.” Her tone was very cheerful now but her words rocked Colin to his core. “What I find most amusing is that she spent an entire night at Lacybourne, even had her little, shall we call it an ‘episode’?” She laughed softly to herself, finding this all very amusing, something which grated on Colin’s nerves. “Right underneath the portraits and never once spared them a glance. Have you told her yet?”

He hesitated.

“About Royce and Beatrice,” she prompted.

“No.”

“Oh my,” Mrs. Byrne sighed. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know.” And, at this news, he didn’t not only not know if he was going to tell Sibyl about Royce and Beatrice, he didn’t know why he didn’t know if he was going to tell her or why, if she was not in partnership with Mrs. Byrne, why Sibyl had taken the money and lastly, and most annoyingly, he realised he didn’t know much of anything.

And he didn’t like that either.

“Well, I won’t say a word,” she surprised him by assuring him and he surprised himself by believing her. “I’ll leave it in your hands.” Then she murmured, “It’s right here,” and motioned to an elegant, well-kept house on Victoria Road. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan, you’ve been very kind. No,” she said when he started to alight, “I’m quite fine, get back to Sibyl, she seems a bit shaken.”

For some reason, he did as he was told (though he waited for the elderly lady to make her way up her walk, enter her house and the light in the front room to come on) and, five minutes later, he pulled up at the restaurant, leaving the car to collect Sibyl who had seen him arrive and was walking from the restaurant to the car. He opened her door and made sure she was safely inside before he went to his side and they took off.

They didn’t speak a word the entire way to her home but he noticed she was clasping her hands together so intensely he could see the whiteness of her skin by the dash lights.

He hadn’t given her the time to lock the door to the cottage so when they arrived she turned the latch, shoved it open and pushed inside. Instead of taking her coat off, she grabbed the dog’s lead. Mallory came lurching excitedly into the room before she’d cleared the lead from the peg.

“I have to take Mallory for a walk,” she explained to Colin, her voice soft and still a bit shaky.

“I’ll go with you,” Colin replied, his voice hard, his mind preoccupied with their near-death experience and what it might mean. Or if it meant anything at all and was just an accident.

Her head jerked up to look at him and then it tilted while she studied him. He noticed her eyes were more sherry than green.

Colin didn’t know what to make of that.

She nodded, clipped the lead on Mallory’s collar and they walked out into the night.

And as they walked, Colin noted that Mallory didn’t seem like a dog who didn’t like his walks. He seemed thrilled to be outside, smelling every blade of grass, and, as they made it down the secluded drive and turned onto the pavement, every car tire, post and inch of pavement he traversed. He was so excited Colin noticed that Sibyl was having trouble controlling the lead.

“Give it to me,” Colin ordered and then didn’t wait for her to act, he took it from her hands.

“I don’t understand. This is how he behaves during his morning walks sometimes. He never likes the evening walks. He just does his business as quickly as he can and we go home,” she explained.

As if realising they were talking about him, Mallory stopped. The dog looked down the length of his enormous body at them both and Colin could see that Mallory’s mouth was hanging open in what looked like a version of a canine smile. A long sliver of drool slid off his lip and plopped on the pavement.

“We’re going home,” Colin told the dog and Mallory, just as happy with this idea as he was with the walk, immediately turned around and headed back to the house.

“Utterly bizarre,” Sibyl muttered under her breath.

Colin did not reply.

Mallory decided on the pillar of a streetlamp and took care of his business on the way home and the three of them walked down her dark lane in silence (except for Mallory’s excited panting). Sibyl pushed open her door when they arrived and, once inside, Colin unhooked the dog’s lead and hung it on the peg while Sibyl took off her trench coat.

Without a word, his mind occupied with both the events of the evening (including the near-miss with the car and his strange conversation with Mrs. Byrne) and his continued anger at Sibyl, Colin walked up the stairs and straight to her bedroom. He was shrugging off his suit jacket when she arrived in the room.

“Colin?” Her voice was hesitant.

He turned on the bedside lamp, settled his eyes on her but didn’t answer and started to unbutton his shirt.

She stood across the room from him nervously then started to speak.

“You should know something about me,” she announced.

He stopped unbuttoning his shirt to study her, wondering what she had to say. Wondering if he’d believe what she had to say. Wondering if he’d be further annoyed by what she had to say. And thinking that he likely would not (to the former) and definitely would (to the latter).

Then, to his surprise, she crossed the room and halted not a foot away from him.

She lifted her beautiful face to his and her eyes were sherry. When she spoke her voice was low and intent and almost urgent.

“My mother and father are both redheads, I didn’t get their hair but I got their temper. I always say things I regret when I lose my temper and I’m always in a foul mood when I wake up. I’m so sorry I was such a terrible shrew this morning. Please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

When he didn’t reply to this stunning announcement, an announcement that, backed by the shade of her eyes (something she likely couldn’t control), he believed for they were a warm sherry, she closed the distance between them and hesitantly rested both her hands on his chest.

“I like it when you’re yelling at me or ordering me around a lot better than this. Not that I like you ordering me around but I couldn’t bear five months of this,” she declared and at the earnest look on her face he finally felt his chest, which had been tight since the moment he saw her smile at the waiter, relax. He also felt the anger ebb out of him and decided on the best course of action to work the rest of his tension at the evening out of his system.

Therefore, he ordered, “Take your clothes off, Sibyl.”

She nodded, her shoulders drooped, she dropped her head and began to step away from him.

“No,” he changed his mind, “I think tonight I’d rather do it.”

Her head snapped up and his hands went to her hips, sliding around, pressing in to pull her to him and she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders.

“Can I take it that since you’re ordering me around again that you aren’t mad at me anymore?” she asked, her alto voice sweet and, if he heard it correctly, hopeful.

Colin studied her.

Sibyl Godwin was definitely an enigma and this was a new, enchanting element to her puzzle.

He bent his neck and brushed his lips against hers.

Then he said against her mouth, “No, Sibyl, I’m not mad at you anymore.”

And that’s when it happened.

She relaxed, leaned into him, locked her sherry eyes with his and smiled.

And Colin knew, in that instant, he’d never forget that smile for the rest of his life.

Much later, Colin woke from a deep sleep, mainly because Sibyl had kicked him violently in the shin.

He pulled himself onto his elbow to see she was still asleep. They hadn’t closed the shutters and he could see her in the moonlight, she had moved away from him in the night and was lying on her stomach. He could tell she was agitated, something wasn’t right.

“Sibyl?” He reached out to touch her, to wake her from what was obviously a nightmare.

Before he made contact with her body, she reared up violently then she flew from the bed and raced across the room.

Colin noted distractedly that Mallory, who had been lying on the floor by Colin’s side of the bed, was now up as well, standing still and fierce and not barking or vibrating with his usual big dog energy.

But Colin’s attention was focussed on Sibyl, she’d halted by the window and stood panting as if she’d just run a race. Her body was tense, her arms held out, bent at the elbows, palms up in a defence posture. She was looking around, her head tossing this way and that, like she expected someone to attack her.

On guard at her strange behaviour, Colin exited the bed and approached her slowly.

“Sibyl,” he murmured quietly and her head jerked to him.

“Colin,” she whispered achingly and he felt his gut clench at the terrible tone of her voice. She sounded sad and defeated and, somehow, lost.

He reached her and slid his hands carefully around her waist, slowly drawing her body to his and wrapping her in his arms.

“It’s all right, you had a nightmare,” he told her and she shook her head, tossing her mane of hair. “Sibyl, it’s all right,” he assured her firmly.

She pulled back slightly and gazed at him. He could not see her eyes in the moonlight but he could feel their intensity.

Then she did the strangest thing, something that moved him at the same time it sent a sense of fear searing straight into his soul.

Lifting a trembling hand, she touched his throat in a feather-light caress and his body completely stilled. The light touch was somehow fervent, even reverent. Then she leaned forward, pressed her lips against his throat and kissed him there.

At her kiss, his still body froze.

Except for when she’d laid her hands on his chest in apology and, after, on his shoulders when he held her, she’d not touched him, and definitely not kissed him, unless he’d commanded it or they were having sex.

But he knew, instinctively, this was not a game, this was not an act, this was something else entirely.

“Sibyl, what’s happened?” he asked.

“It’s just a nightmare,” she whispered in a way that sounded like she was trying to convince herself of the truth of her words. She tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around him so tightly that it almost felt as if she wanted him to absorb her into his body.

It went without saying that she’d also never hugged him and this embrace was not simply an embrace, it was profound and it was desperate.

Automatically, his arms tightened around her.

“It’s all right,” he repeated, not knowing what else to say, completely at a loss of what to make of this latest, spectacular event.

She nodded her head against him, causing her hair to slide against his chest and, even though he would not have thought it possible, her arms tightened further around him. He reciprocated, pulling her even deeper into his body and resting his chin on her head.

Colin opened his mouth to speak, to ask her questions about her nightmare but he felt a tremor go through her and decided against it. It was not for tonight, when it was dark and whatever dream she had was fresh. He would ask her in the morning. Now, he needed to take the fear away.

And therefore Colin Morgan and Sibyl Godwin stood by the open window, their naked bodies bathed in moonlight, holding each other.

The dark soul stood hidden in the trees and watched the cottage. The soul saw the flash of movement as the body came flying to the window, a woman’s body, a woman with unforgettable hair.

Then a man come to her to hold her, gently, carefully, as if the naked woman was an exquisite, fragile piece of priceless crystal.

At this sight, the dark soul seethed.