Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(76)
Author: Kristen Ashley

She smiled back and was so immersed in the moment that she missed all the air being sucked out of the room as their audience pulled in their breaths at the fascinating (and hopeful) sight before their eyes.

“Now that my character has been assassinated and redeemed in the expanse of ten minutes, perhaps we can give Sibyl a chance to finish one of the courses by moving away from the third degree, shall we?” Colin suggested in only the way Colin could suggest, which meant it wasn’t a suggestion at all.

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Mike agreed readily.

But Sibyl was now watching her father and, to her surprise, after the corporate raider pronouncement, she saw Bertie looking at Colin with what appeared to be approval.

The rest of the dinner progressed relatively well (considering its start meant it couldn’t get much worse). Course after course followed, a nice goat’s cheese wrapped in puff pastry with red onion marmalade and then a huge, succulent portobello mushroom cap topped with puy lentils and minced garlic drenched in olive oil with a side of sugar snap peas. Sibyl was finishing an utterly delicious passionfruit gateau when she realised, belatedly, that the entire meal was vegetarian.

And that Colin had eaten it.

After all the dishes had been whisked away by Peter and everyone was drinking the last drops of their full-bodied, dry red wine, Phoebe announced, “Let’s finish the evening in the library, where it’s more comfortable. Peter will be serving cheese, liqueurs and coffee.”

Everyone seemed to think this was a smashing idea. So much so that, with nary a word, all chairs scraped backwards almost before Phoebe finished the word “coffee’.

Colin hung back at the door and grabbed Sibyl’s hand so she would do the same.

When everyone had left, Colin ducked his head and whispered into Sibyl’s ear, “Thank you for defending me.”

She gulped, a tremor of awareness went through her even as she was feeling somewhat ill-at-ease with this exciting new Royce/Colin hybrid. “You’re welcome.”

He turned so he was fully facing her then glanced over her shoulder at the table.

“Are you… is everything okay?” she asked, still feeling somehow timid. She couldn’t say she knew Colin all that well but she definitely didn’t know Royce and most definitely not Colin/Royce. It was almost like this was a first date. And anyway, who knew when Colin would wake out of his magical slumber and how he would react when he did.

His gaze came back to her and what she read in his eyes made all thoughts fly out of her head and her knees went instantly weak.

“I was wondering, for future reference of course, if this dining room table was fair game?” he asked.

Her lips parted, her eyes widened and her head jerked around to look at the table. She felt her stomach flip and little tingles spiral delicately throughout her body.

Her head came back around and she saw his lips were twitching.

He was teasing.

“You’re a brute,” she whispered but her tone was teasing and her mind, somehow, was put at ease.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he drawled.

“Did your father build it or refinish it?” she queried mock seriously.

“No.”

“Your mother?” she continued, tilting her head.

“Of course not.”

“A beloved godfather?”

The twitching lips spread into a grin and he shook his head.

She countered by nodding hers.

“I take it that’s a yes?” he pressed.

She smiled her yes then caught her bottom lip between her teeth while his eyes dropped to watch. Then his face turned serious.

“Sibyl, before we join the others, I want to show you something. When you see it, I want you to promise me that you’ll let me finish what I need to say before you fly off the handle.”

Her eyes widened at this sudden change from flirtatious-mode to deadly-serious-liberally-mixed-with-ominous-hints-mode.

Even so, she focussed on something else and declared in self-defence, “I don’t fly off the handle.

His eyebrows lifted mockingly.

At his eyebrow lift, she sighed and said, “Okay, maybe I do but why would I fly off the handle?”

“Just promise me.”

She felt a shimmer of dread slide up her spine at his still serious tone and she started, “Colin –”

He cut her off, demanding, “Promise.”

He was using his silky voice and his warm eyes but they weren’t working on her this time because his look was so intense, it was scaring her half to death. She needed no more shocks tonight. She didn’t know if she could endure them.

But this was Royce, wasn’t it?

And even if it was Colin, she told herself could trust him. He’d taken care of her tranquillised dog, for goddess’s sake. He was buying her an alarm system. He bought a bunch of furniture for her oldies and she couldn’t forget the luxurious swivel chair. And, even though tonight’s dinner seemed doomed to failure for a variety of reasons, that didn’t happen and it wasn’t all that bad.

Yes, she could definitely trust him.

Couldn’t she?

What could he want to show her that might make her angry? Whatever it was couldn’t be all that awful. Especially if he could explain it.

Taking yet another chance that night, Sibyl decided to trust him.

Therefore, looking into his eyes, she nodded and for this, she was rewarded with one of his killer-watt smiles, a smile that told her it was going to be all right.

She drew in a deep, steadying breath as Colin led her down the hall and, instead of turning to the library, where everyone else had gathered, he took her to the Great Hall.

They walked through the big room and Colin stopped her right in the middle.

She’d been there before, of course, she’d just never really looked at it because she was mid-diatribe the last time she’d spent any time there.

It was huge and stunning, right in the middle was an enormous, heavy table made of wood so dark, it was nearly black. Twenty large, ladder-backed chairs surrounded it. In the stone walls, the room had dozens of deep windows with warped panes of glass. Two of the windows were semi-circular, one filled with a sculpted bust on a half column, the other with an immense, antique globe. In the centre of each window were breathtaking stained glass fleur de lis. There were old-fashioned wooden chairs sitting at precise intervals along the walls, almost like sentries standing at attention. There was also a massive mellow-coloured stone staircase built up one wall, a thick, red carpet runner in the centre held to each step by a brass rod. The room was decorated with suits of armour, flags floating from the ceiling beams, pennants dripping from brass rods and crossed swords affixed to walls.