Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(105)

His arms tightened around her and he rolled her to her back, stretching his long length down her side, he lifted himself on his elbow to look at her. Then he gently moved the hair away from her face but she threw her arm over her eyes, dislodging his hand and turned her head away from him to hide her emotion.

And Colin felt his heart squeeze at her anguish. It was clear she’d been holding onto this for weeks. Blaming herself for something she could never possibly have prevented, something she could not have caused, something that was beyond her control.

“What happened to Meg wasn’t your fault.” He tried to reason with her, thinking it the best way.

She shook her head determinedly. “It was.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Sibyl. These things happen.”

She took in a shuddering breath and slid her arm away from her eyes, allowing it to drop in defeat at her side and her tear-brightened gaze moved to lock on his. At the sight of her desolation, his gut clenched.

How could one person take on such a world of pain? It wasn’t even her pain. What was it like to live in that head of hers?

“Christ, Sibyl,” he muttered because he could think of absolutely nothing else to say.

“Old people die after breaking their hips, Colin,” she told him.

“Did she die?” he queried cautiously.

“No,” she answered and took another fractured breath. “But she’s been very hurt and she isn’t getting better very fast.”

“Did she blame you?”

“No, of course not!”

He ran the back of his fingers gently along her jaw, trying physically to soothe away her hurt. “Then, sweetheart, you have to stop blaming yourself.”

“Don’t you see?” She threw up her hands in exasperation at what she considered his extreme obtuseness. “I did that with the minibus driver, which hurt Meg, and then you came to my house and offered me money and you don’t trust women easily –”

“Sibyl –” He tried to interrupt her rampaging train of thought and its hysterical bent toward self-recrimination and failed.

“No!” she cried. “And I played right into your hands so I’m double trouble, breaking old people’s h*ps and making you think even worse of my sex. Once you found out…” She stopped and then blurted out, “Of course you’d leave me! Hell, I’d leave me!”

At this outrageous pronouncement, he couldn’t have helped it to save his life.

He chuckled.

She was whipping herself up into a drama, so caught in everyone else’s troubles she couldn’t see what was happening around her.

She couldn’t see that he, long since, had stopped using her and started courting her.

She couldn’t see that even though she pretended she wanted less of him, she never left, not last night, not this morning, not the first night they met, not any time before and not now.

She couldn’t see that she hid something splendid (if a little warped and certainly a habit he needed to break her of), an act of such selflessness it was breathtaking, when telling him would have ended their battles days ago.

At his chuckle, her eyes flared.

“What’s so damned funny?” she snapped, in a flash moving from despair to anger.

“Would you have taken the money from Paul and slept with him for it?” Colin asked, watching her closely, knowing her answer and trying to hide his mirth.

“Paul?” She blinked, momentarily confused.

“The drunk from the club.”

“No! How could you even think –?”

“Your medic?” Colin persisted.

“My… Steve?” Her eyes narrowed. “Of course not. And he’s not my medic.” This was said with extreme distaste as if the thought was beyond foul.

Her reaction satisfied Colin tremendously.

He shook it off and charged on, “Can you think of anyone, besides me, who you would have taken the money from, sold your body to for a minibus?”

This stopped her. She froze and glowered at him. Then her eyes narrowed again and he could swear (to his immense relief) he saw the dawning of understanding.

Then, to his surprise and extreme displeasure, she said, “Yes.”

“Who?” he clipped.

“Clark Gable!” she announced and tried to slip out from under him but he hauled her back, this time, he was no longer chuckling but laughing, his entire body shaking with it.

Then Colin informed her helpfully when he had his humour under control, “I think, darling, you’ll find he’s dead,”

“Well,” she muttered huffily, “I would have taken it from him when he was alive, of course, during his Gone with the Wind years.”

“I’m in good company then,” Colin muttered as he dropped to his side and pulled her against his body.

“It’s time for you to answer some questions now,” she demanded, recovering quickly from her drama and spearing him with her eyes.

He dipped his chin to look at her, giving her his full attention.

“What do you want to know?” he asked without hesitation.

“This Royce and Beatrice business, you and me, what am I to you now? What does that mean to us?”

“We have seven months to figure it out.”

Her body stilled and her eyes, emerald before, started shifting back to hazel. This, he was beginning to interpret, when not just her norm, was when she was confused, mildly upset or melancholy.