Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(64)
Author: Kristen Ashley

He finished his call, quickly scanned some correspondence that Mandy had left for him to sign, and tried not to think of how he felt when Sibyl had rested her head against his chest.

Except for the night she’d had her nightmare and the morning when she’d attacked him because he was caressing her “sensitive spot” she rarely touched him of her own volition.

And Colin liked it when she did. Very much.

Further, there was something nearly precious about the feeling that he’d done something she approved of.

With a good deal of effort, he’d finally convinced his mother and sister to leave Lacybourne and come back next week when he was ready to introduce them to Sibyl and her family.

They were both beside themselves with the idea of a walking, talking American Godwin wandering around Clevedon. Not to mention the fact that she was in Colin’s life. They didn’t even know yet what she looked like and he hadn’t told them or they would never have left Lacybourne. They would have hunted her down and forced a Morgan Family heirloom ring on her finger, he had no doubts about that.

Colin had a great deal of work ahead of him winning Sibyl’s trust. His meddling mother and equally troublesome sister would likely disrupt his many, varied, rather complicated and extraordinarily fragile plans.

Colin felt (quite rightly) that he’d made great strides that day and that hadn’t even been part of his plan. He found after talking with Robert and Mrs. Byrne that he couldn’t wait a moment longer to see her, which was the only reason he’d gone to the Centre.

Colin’s reaction regarding the minibus driver was instinctive. When he looked out the window at the elderly blind woman who wanted to adopt Sibyl trying to alight while the bastard stood, disinterested and smoking a cigarette, he’d temporarily lost his mind. He hadn’t intentionally gone charging in to score points, although he was happy to accept them if they were a means to his desired end. He’d help every blind lady he encountered if it meant he got what he wanted.

It only made Colin all the more satisfied that the person who had inadvertently pushed Sibyl into selling her body was now to be punished, regardless if the driver knew his flagrant negligence had cost Colin weeks in winning Sibyl and cost Sibyl something even more dear.

But he needed Sibyl right where he wanted her before she learned of Royce and Beatrice, magic and myth, his lifelong knowledge of it, her place in it and especially him keeping it from her. She was likely to lose her temper (justifiably) and Sibyl’s temper, he’d learned, once lost, was rather difficult to get under control.

His mobile rang and he glanced at it distractedly not wishing to talk to another North Somerset Councillor and he saw Sibyl’s name on the screen.

He stared at his phone.

She’d never phoned him. Not once.

He grabbed it immediately and flipped it open.

“Sibyl,” he greeted.

There was no response but he could hear her breathing. At this oddity (oddities being nothing new with Sibyl), he patiently repeated himself, calling her name.

“Colin,” she whispered.

His back instantly straightened at the tone of her voice. It was tremulous and she sounded frightened.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“Colin,” he heard a catch in her voice, “someone’s been in my house.”

Before she was done speaking, he was already walking toward the door and a queer sensation seized him, something akin to panic.

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“Sitting outside, with Mallory.”

“Have you called the police?”

There was a pause. “No, I didn’t think of that.” Now she sounded both exasperated and frightened.

Colin found Sibyl’s frequent absentmindedness both amusing and annoying. Especially now, with the exception that now he didn’t find it amusing.

“Call them,” he ordered as he exited his office and walked right passed Mandy without looking at her.

“Colin, I think,” she hesitated and then her voice dropped to a whisper, “oh my goddess, I think they’ve done something to Mallory.”

He was surprised at his strong reaction to the thought that something happened to her dog. It felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

“Why?” he asked cautiously, jogging down the stairs.

“He’s lying here, not moving, not awake. He’s breathing and I feel a heartbeat but he won’t wake up no matter what I do.”

“Sibyl, call the police,” Colin ordered. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

When her heard her shaky, “Okay,” he flipped the phone shut and lengthened his strides.

It took twenty-five minutes, on a good day when the traffic gods were smiling, to get to Sibyl’s house.

That day, the traffic gods were unhappy and Colin still made it there in fifteen.

There were three police cars outside her house as he pulled up.

After he’d exited his car, he saw Sibyl talking to five officers, all men, all hovering around her like she was a female rock god and they were her male groupies. This was not surprising considering she looked like a rock star with her hair a shower of golden tangles. She was wearing a long, full, chocolate brown skirt with a heavy, silver-looped belt hanging low on her hips. She accompanied this with her red cowboy boots and a bright red, long-sleeved t-shirt with a collar so wide it dipped off one shoulder. At the sight of Sibyl and her law-enforcing entourage, Colin kept hold of his temper by a thread but he managed this only because Sibyl noticed him and immediately ran to him.

When she reached him, she threw herself at him so forcefully it rocked him back on a foot.

This was the third time she’d touched him affectionately of her own volition (at that precise moment, he began counting).

She wrapped her arms around him, tucked her head under his chin and cried into his lapel. “Colin! Someone shot Mallory with a tranquilliser dart!” she imparted this extraordinary fact on Colin with a voice that was part furious, part incredulous and part scared.

Colin’s arms went around her and he automatically stroked her back and he did this while all the police were stared at them like they were a piece of performance art.

Colin lost patience and barked, “Don’t you have something to do?”

The police all jerked into motion but Sibyl seemed not to notice his angry outburst. She leaned back against his arm and peered up at him, a heartbreaking look in her very confused hazel eyes.

“Who would do something like that?”

He looked down at her pale, beautiful face and shook his head in answer because, of course, he had no idea who would do something like that and he understood now that Sibyl definitely wouldn’t know.