Lacybourne Manor (34 page)

She ran toward Colin, her face
a mask of worry. “Where’s Sibyl?” she demanded to know by way of
greeting.

“Mrs. Byrne, what are you doing
here?” Colin asked, straightening from his crouch.

Mrs. Byrne didn’t answer.
Instead, when she took in the dog, she cried, “What’s happened to
Mallory?”

“He was shot with a
tranquilliser dart,” Colin replied.

Mrs. Byrne gasped, her hand
flying to her throat in surprise. “What on earth?” she breathed
then asked more forcefully, “For heaven’s sake why?”

“We don’t know.”

“
Is he going to be all
right? Is
Sibyl
all right?”

“A vet is coming to look at
Mallory,” Colin responded. “Sibyl’s in the house, checking to see
if anything was stolen.”

“So she’s fine?” Mrs. Byrne
queried, her face still troubled.

“Yes, shaken but fine. What are
you doing here?”

“I was…” she looked back at her
car then turned to Colin again, “baking for a bake sale. I have a
Victoria Sponge. Sibyl loves Victoria Sponge so I made her one
especially.” Her tone was odd in the way that any discussion about
Victoria Sponge in the presence of a bizarrely tranquillised dog
and four police vehicles would be odd.

At that point, Colin noticed
Sibyl’s cat daintily picking its way though the grass towards them
as if grass was a ground cover far beneath his lofty pedigree and
he would prefer to be treading on velvet. He made it to one of the
flagstones surrounded by cushions of turf that created a winding
path from the drive to the front door and stopped, sat and swung
his tail in a wide sweep. He stared at Mallory with an expression
that Colin could swear communicated his disdain that the dog had
put himself in the way of a dart.

“It’s the dark soul,” Mrs.
Byrne whispered.

“I’m sorry?” Colin asked, his
attention going back to her.

She moved forward and put her
hand on his arm. “Colin, dear, someone’s following Sibyl. I saw
them.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed on
her face, vaguely wondering when his status to her had elevated to
being her “dear”. He was also thinking about what Robert
Fitzwilliam said that morning.

“Who?” he enquired. “Did you
see him?”

“No, I just caught a movement
when I was, er –”

“Following us yourself?” Colin
finished for her.

“
Well,” her eyes widened
at his comment and then she said guiltily, “yes. It
is
my job
as Granny Esmeralda’s descendent to look after you, you know,” she
defended herself and then hurried on before Colin could speak. “But
it’s the dark soul, I know it, I felt it. Destiny is against you
–”

“Mrs. Byrne!” Sibyl was at the
door and she came toward them, stopping only to scoop up Bran, who
gave a mew of righteous protest at the indignity. “What are you
doing here?”

“I baked you a Victoria
Sponge,” Mrs. Byrne told her after Sibyl gave her an awkward
embrace considering the cat.

“
Oh, Mrs. Byrne. That
is
so
sweet.”

The intelligent officer had
followed her and was taking in this bizarre exchange with a
disbelieving expression on his face that mirrored exactly what
Colin felt.

“Miss Godwin can’t find
anything missing,” he told Colin. “We’ll be awhile and the vet is
nearly here. She can’t spend the night here, the door needs a new
lock, the last one looked approximately four hundred years old so
wasn’t much of a deterrent. It was easily broken.”

Instantly, Mrs. Byrne offered,
“You can stay with me, dear.”

“She’s staying at Lacybourne,”
Colin put in and ignored Sibyl’s stunned eyes flying to his
face.

To hide her reaction, she
dropped the cat who ran off without hesitation, clearly this scene
was beneath him, and bent over Mallory who was now struggling to
sit up.

Colin went on. “Mrs. Byrne, can
you take Sibyl for something to eat? I’ll wait here for the vet and
then bring Mallory to Lacybourne with me. I’ll leave when the
police are finished. I’ll phone and ask Mrs. Manning to leave the
backdoor open so you can get in that way.”

“Colin, I couldn’t eat anything
–” Sibyl started to say but Mrs. Byrne interrupted her.

“
I suppose that the Great
Hall is still being, er… done up, so we shouldn’t go in there, is
that the case?” Mrs. Byrne asked mysteriously, Colin stared at her
nonplussed and she continued. “You know,
the portraits
being cleaned.
That type of thing.”

She was a sly old fox,
Colin thought as he caught on and nodded.

“Yes, avoid the Great Hall if
you would,” he muttered.

Sibyl watched this exchange
mutely with a befuddled expression then she gave Mallory’s dazed
head a scratch and stood.

Before she moved away, Colin
pulled her to him for a quick kiss and then commanded gently, “Go,
pack a bag and then have something to eat. I’ll meet you at
Lacybourne.”

She nodded and, without a word,
walked back into her cottage, Mrs. Byrne trailing behind.

Shortly after they left the vet
came and declared Mallory fine. The dog was unsteady on his feet
but it was only a shade worse than normal as he wasn’t the most
graceful of canines at the best of times.

While he waited for the
police to finish, Colin considered the attractive idea of what it
meant that Sibyl had phoned him first; that she had phoned
him
before
any of her friends at the Centre or any of the nameless, faceless
people he did not know that must inhabit her life in England. She’d
even phoned him before she’d phoned the police.

He decided to take this as a
good sign.

Colin exchanged his
rather than Sibyl’s contact information with the police,
deliberately misleading them as to the nature of their
relationship. It wasn’t exactly a lie, as they
would
be getting
married soon; it was just that Sibyl didn’t know that
yet.

The police were preparing to
leave when his mobile rang again.

Sibyl’s name was on the
display.

“Sibyl,” he said in
greeting.

“Colin, I’m ordering you a
curry. What do you like?”

“I’ll find something at
home.”

There was a pause then Sibyl
said quietly, “Colin, would you please just tell me what kind of
curry you like?”

Something about her soft tone
told him she was not exasperated but curious. She was finally
asking him something personal about himself and it was about what
kind of Indian food he preferred.

“Lamb vindaloo,” he answered
shortly.

She gave a faint laugh and
whispered, “Of course, vindaloo,” before she rang off.

After the police left, he
checked that the house was secured or as secure as it could be.
Then, once he had the big, groggy dog in his car, he went home.

They were there before him and
he found them in his huge kitchen drinking tea as if they did it
every night of their lives. Or, at least, Mrs. Byrne was drinking
tea. Colin saw the yellow box with flowers and Oriental writing on
it and smelled the pungent, weird aroma and knew that Sibyl was
drinking the Asian organic hot drink she sipped on a frequent
basis.

Whatever it smelled like, if he
kissed her after she drank it, she tasted of flowers.

Sibyl started when she saw him
and then ran to him then she ran right passed him and Colin was,
for the first time in his life, upstaged by a dog.

“Mallory!” she cried, crouching
low, and gave her dog a hug and a kiss on his head.

In turn, Mallory gave her cheek
a sloppy lash and then the dog’s backside collapsed as if he could
hold it up no more. He sat there, looking mystified and a slim,
glistening line of drool slid off his lip only to hang there in
suspended animation.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,”
Sibyl told the dog and Colin was relieved to hear amused affection
rather than worry in her voice.

As Mrs. Byrne prepared Colin’s
food, Sibyl wiped the dog’s mouth with a paper towel with an
efficiency borne of years of practice. For some bizarre reason,
Colin found this act fascinating.

Once Colin was eating, standing
in front of his kitchen sink with his hips resting against the
counter, Mrs. Byrne announced, “I must be going. It’s terribly
late. Sibyl, tell me if you learn anything about what happened.”
She gave them a look that encompassed them both and she looked
pleased with her handiwork as, weeks ago, she’d attempted to
orchestrate exactly this scene. She glanced at the counter where
Colin belatedly noticed a cake stood. “Enjoy the sponge.”

Then she was gone.

He watched Sibyl clean out the
teacups as he finished his food.

“There’s a note and an envelope
on the counter for you,” she told him.

He threw the food carton
in the rubbish bin and noticed that Mandy had couriered the
correspondence he left behind when he went to see to Sibyl. Mandy
had written an unhappy note about how the letters were supposed to
be in first class post
today
but if he didn’t
mind
seeing to them
tonight
, she’d have them
couriered
first thing
tomorrow
. This emphasis was
achieved through dramatic use of underlining. He might have been
annoyed if Mandy wasn’t so efficient and, more importantly, Sibyl
wasn’t in his kitchen rinsing out teacups.

“I’ve some work to see to. Do
you have something to do?” he asked Sibyl, tearing open the
envelope.

“I’ve brought a book,” she
replied, watching him.

She seemed guarded and it
dawned on him that she didn’t have the best memories of Lacybourne.
Considering this dilemma, Colin decided to act business as usual in
an effort to curtail any unpleasant emotions she might have
considering her already difficult night and her unhappy memories of
his home.

“Good, you can read in the
study while I finish this.”

She nodded then went to her bag
which was sitting by the entry to the back stairwell, undoubtedly
Mrs. Byrne’s gentle reminder not to use the staircase in the Great
Hall, and pulled out a book.

Colin led the way to the study
and Sibyl and Mallory followed him. He counted it as a good sign
that Mallory only ran into the wall once on their short
journey.

He settled behind his desk
while Sibyl sat on the couch in front of the enormous fireplace,
looking around with obvious interest.

“I’ll give you a tour of the
house another time,” he offered, watching her. “These were meant to
be in today’s post.”

She hid her interest in the
room and said quickly, “That’s okay. I don’t need a tour.” Her eyes
dropped to his work and she finished on a whisper, “I’m sorry that
I took you from work.”

He let her first comment go.
She’d eventually have to have a tour, considering it would one day
be her home, but it was highly precipitous to mention that at this
juncture.

To her second comment, he
replied softly, not taking his eyes from hers, “I’m not sorry.”

At his words, she pulled her
lips between her teeth but as she did this she stared at him
inquisitively as if she didn’t know quite what to make of him
before tearing her eyes away.

Mallory put his head in
her lap as she sat then the dog lost his battle with his lethargy
and his forepaws slid forward until he was lying down. Sibyl opened
her book and Colin turned his attention to his papers.

A half an hour later when
he was done, he glanced at her again to see she was staring with
unfocussed eyes at the wall, her book in her hand which was resting
on the couch. He could see her thumb was curled inside, holding her
place.

“Sibyl?”

He’d startled her and she
jumped, swinging her eyes to him.

And when her eyes hit his, she
asked, apropos of nothing, “Someone shot my dog and attacked my
toss pillows. How bizarre is that?”

He set his finished work aside,
got up, walked around the desk and stood before her.

“Get up, Sibyl,” he ordered
quietly.

She flipped her book face down
on the couch and rose immediately, emitting a deep, weary and
slightly mutinous sigh. Mallory, whose head was resting on his
paws, shifted so his head was resting on Colin’s shoes.

Colin ignored the dog as Sibyl
came within touching distance and he pulled her forward so she was
leaning into him. Then he lifted his hands to her hair, gathered
the thick, tawny mass and lifted it away from her neck. Once he’d
accomplished that feat, considering Sibyl had a great deal of hair,
he bent forward and kissed her neck where it met her shoulder.

“Your hair is remarkably
heavy,” he murmured against her skin in an effort to take her mind
away from tranquilliser darts and assaulted toss pillows.

He felt her relax into him and
gladly took on more of her weight. His body pleasantly reacted to
her full breasts pressed against his chest but what she said next
chased away all evidence of the heat she was producing.

“I know. It gives me headaches
sometimes, pulls at my scalp.”

Christ, he was an ass.

He felt his body become fixed,
his hands freezing in position as they held the weight of her hair.
Then he dropped it and buried his face in her neck as he pulled her
closer with his arms tightly wrapped around her. She smelled of
something he could not name, a complex flowery scent that was both
delicate and alluring.

At that moment he could barely
stand himself and couldn’t imagine how she could.

“I’m rescinding one of the
rules,” he murmured against her neck, his voice to his own ears
strangely hoarse.