Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(133)

“Darling, I’m going to ask you this once and you have to answer me and then stick by your answer no matter what happens in the coming weeks.” His voice was both sweet and grave and her eyes riveted on his beautiful face. “Do you trust me?”

She gawped. “Of course I trust you. I mean, how could you even think…?”

She stopped when she felt the tension ease out of him and realised what he was asking and how, exactly, what she had been doing appeared to him.

She closed her eyes and all the fight left her.

“I’m an idiot,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he agreed, “but you’re my idiot.” His voice was full of humour, her eyes flew open and all the fight came back into her.

“You think I’m an idiot?” she snapped.

“You’re just spoiling for a fight, aren’t you?” His eyes were dancing and she let out a huffy breath.

“Well, pardon me. No one gave me the etiquette book on how to behave when you’re the reincarnated soul of one of a pair of dead lovers, you’re living under a five hundred year old curse and have lunatics with knives and tranquilliser guns chasing after you with deadly intent. Perhaps I’m not thinking too clearly. Perhaps I’m just a wee bit stressed.”

His hands slid from her jaw to lift her hair at the back of her head and as he did this Sibyl noted his eyes were so intense, they were liquid.

Then, his gaze on her mouth, he murmured, “I know a much better way to deal with stress.”

“I’m sure you do,” she noted crisply, “you know everything.”

Colin’s head dipped and he smiled against her lips and there he whispered, “Just remember that.”

Then he kissed her.

Then he helped her work out her stress, succeeding spectacularly.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Settling In

The next week and a half with Sibyl was eventfully uneventful.

Although they had no attempts on their lives, Colin found his turned upside down.

Lacybourne was an enormous manor house that, since he’d moved in, had always seemed empty, even when he was occupying it. Now, every corner seemed filled with Sibyl, her pets, her mother, his mother and anyone else the trio deemed fit to add to the mix.

Sibyl had taken the news of a bodyguard watching after her very well. Colin inadvertently hit on the perfect way to break news that she may not like and avoid her formidable temper in the process.

After her rather endearing yet entirely unacceptable bid to save his life by leaving him, he’d punished her. For anyone else but Colin Morgan, inflicting punishment for such a selfless act would seem a strange reaction. However, he didn’t particularly like how he felt when he’d walked to their bedroom with the purpose of making love to her only to find her packing a suitcase. Therefore, when he’d finally subdued her impulsive, hilarious and ill-conceived flight and taken her to bed, he’d spent a good deal of time using most of the weapons in his rather honed sexual arsenal to drive her mad with desire.

When he had her wrists imprisoned over her head and after he’d lavished a goodly amount of attention on her lovely, responsive br**sts, he surged over her. Thinking, finally, she was going to get what she’d been begging him to give her for at least fifteen minutes, she opened her legs to receive him.

“By the way,” he muttered against her mouth and felt her h*ps tilt upward in invitation, at this act, his control slipped and he finished through gritted teeth, “I’ve hired a bodyguard for you. Starting tomorrow morning, he’ll be with you every minute when I’m not.”

Sibyl’s eyes focussed on him but Colin realised by their dazed quality she wasn’t hearing a word he said. Her mind was definitely elsewhere.

“Okay,” she mumbled without hint of protest and wrapped one long, shapely leg around his hip. Ever the practised negotiator, he decided to stop while he was ahead and slid slowly, deeply inside her and then his mind went elsewhere as well.

Later, he was sitting at the head of the dining room table, Sibyl to his left. They were all eating her mother’s vegetarian lasagne, homemade garlic bread and a salad that was so big it had to be served in two bowls.

Colin turned to Sibyl. “About Rick.”

Absorbed in eating her mother’s admittedly delicious meal, she munched a piece of bread and asked, “Who’s Rick?”

“Your bodyguard.”

Her head didn’t move but her eyes shifted swiftly to the side to stare at him and her mouth froze mid-crunch.

Unaffected by her response, he carried on, “He’s being paid to protect you, not to be your friend, not to be your project. This is a professional relationship, he drives you, watches you, guards you, keeps you safe. If he has a girlfriend he isn’t getting along with, that’s none of your concern. If his mother has terminal brain cancer, you don’t bake her cookies and hold her hand during chemotherapy.”

Her head snapped around to glare at him and she gulped down the bread before snapping, “Colin!”

“Is that understood?” he asked the question but didn’t expect an answer, he simply expected to be obeyed.

“I can hardly ignore it if his mother has a brain tumour,” she retorted angrily, hilariously defending her right to be the guardian angel for a fictional unfortunate.

“Then I suggest you don’t even talk to him so you won’t find out.”