Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(131)

If she was quick, she could get out without anyone noticing. Colin nearly always worked the weekends and he hadn’t had a moment to spare, what with being shot with a tranquilliser dart, a visit to the A&E, being outed publically as a reincarnated knight, getting saddled with Mags, having Mags ask Phoebe along for their roller coaster ride and being sprinkled with magic dust, so she figured he’d be occupied for at least several hours. Who knew how long it would take Phoebe and Mags to make dinner? It took Mags forty-five minutes to make toast, dinner would definitely be delayed.

So she had time to pack her things, pack her animals and she would leave a note.

She had no idea what she was going to do, where she was going to go.

She could stay with Jemma tonight or find a B&B that took pets. She might be able to lose herself in Bristol. Colin might try to find her, he might not. She didn’t know and the fact that she didn’t know made each piece of her shattered heart break into tinier pieces.

Quickly she shoved clothes into the suitcase willy nilly, not bothering to fold them (which was a mistake because they were certainly not all going to fit in a jumble). She decided that she’d have to leave some things behind and swiftly sorted through what was essential and what was not.

“What are you doing?”

She yelped, jumped and whirled, all at the same time.

Colin was leaning in the doorway, his arms folded on his chest, one foot crossed at the ankle clay-coloured eyes narrowed on her. Mallory gave a woof of greeting but didn’t move when Colin sliced a warning glance at him before his gaze snapped back to Sibyl’s face.

“I thought you were working,” Sibyl whispered.

“I was.” His face was blank, his voice was smooth, his eyes never left her.

“Why…” she swallowed, “why did you stop?”

Without delay, Colin answered, “It occurred to me that I hadn’t made love to you yet today and as our mothers are systematically destroying the kitchen by the sounds of it, I thought I’d take the opportunity when we have the upstairs to ourselves.”

She just stared at him, those tiny pieces of her heart broke another time. Soon, they’d be grains of sand.

“You’ve been crying,” he noted blandly.

“I stubbed my toe,” she lied.

This, for some reason, made him smile. Then he pushed away from the door and strode into the room.

“I would ask why you would lie about stubbing your toe but you’ve already left one of my questions unanswered and I’d much prefer to have a response to that.”

He seemed to be heading for her so she backed away. The backs of her thighs hit the bed so she changed direction and scuttled around it.

“I’m sorry,” she started and then fibbed again (as she knew perfectly well) by asking, “What question is that?”

He was still stalking her, definitely the big cat had gotten out of the cage and she was his first victim. She felt her heart skip a few beats before beginning to pound.

“What are you doing?” he repeated patiently.

Her glance flew to the semi-packed suitcase on the bed and then back to him. She was close to the wall, she knew, so she changed directions and headed toward the fireplace.

“Doing?” She needed to stall and decided to act stupid, it shouldn’t be that hard.

Colin, however, was losing patience.

“Sibyl,” was all he said and her name was loaded with meaning.

“I was packing.” She pointed out the obvious and rounded a chair. He stopped at her new direction, changed his and she realised why even if she hadn’t noted it before, if she had, she might have been able to make a getaway, but, alas, her flighty mind worked against her, again.

With quick strides, he made short work of heading for the door. Upon arrival he closed it, walked calmly to a dresser by the door, opened one of the drawers and took something out. Then he walked back to the door and she watched him turn a key in the lock.

Her eyes rounded in alarm.

He turned back to her, rested his shoulders against the door and slid the key in his pocket.

Then he asked, “Why were you packing?”

His voice stayed bland, casual, as if they were having a friendly conversation over coffee and he hadn’t just locked her in his bedroom.

She’d stopped behind a chair. She decided, vaguely, lost in the intensity of his eyes, it was not nearly enough protection.

Her mind whirled and she tried to read the situation.

He seemed quite unaffected by the sight of her packing. That, in a way, was good.

He also seemed not to care much that she’d been crying. That wasn’t really good but, for her current purpose, she’d count it as good.

Regardless of this, he’d locked them in the room. That was very, very bad.

When she didn’t speak, he did. “Have you decided to go on holiday?”

She pulled both her lips between her teeth, wondering if she should say yes or no.

He didn’t give her a chance to say either.

“I think that’s an excellent idea, where are we going?” He pushed his shoulders off the door and started after her again.

She couldn’t take much more of this.

“Colin, stay where you are,” she demanded, unfortunately in a shaky voice that made it sound more like a plea.

“I’ve a friend who owns an island. No way on or off without us knowing about it. It would be hard to find us, let alone kill us. You’ve hit on the perfect solution.”