Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(158)

His body tensed at her words and she felt it. Her arms wrapped around him again, protectively, lovingly, in a way the warrior had never felt before, not even with Beatrice (although, Beatrice had no way of knowing her life, or his, was in imminent danger or she would have done the same, exact thing).

She held him tightly against her. “I tried to tell you this morning… or… some morning. That morning when I was there… here. I know you think I’m mad but you must believe me and you must stop them.”

Her hair was almost, but not quite, nearly to black.

“I do not think you are mad,” he told her but she wasn’t listening.

“Promise me!” she cried.

He nodded. He would not die this night nor would his Beatrice. And he wanted this woman to know that. He wanted her to trust him, to believe and he wanted that fear out of her eyes.

He nor his bride were going to die this night, he would be sure of it.

At his nod her entire body relaxed.

She trusted him.

Completely.

“I’m Sibyl, by the way,” she told him. “And don’t worry; I don’t think I’m coming back.”

And then she smiled magnificently, one finger tenderly touching his cheek. Royce had seen a great number of heart-stopping smiles from his wife but this smile was all Sibyl’s own.

She kept speaking. “And if you’ve been granted the gift of a longer life, try not to boss Beatrice around too much. She’ll find it immensely irritating.”

He knew in that instant, she was Beatrice even though she was not.

And therefore he grinned down at her.

Then she lifted her head, pressed her lips against his and she was gone.

* * * * *

And time started again.

* * * * *

“You’re crying.”

Colin stared at her face, something was right yet something was wrong, something profound had changed even though not a second had passed. He knew it, he felt it.

They’d just shared the most extraordinarily passionate, intense, intimate moment together in a long line of such extraordinary moments, making it hard to believe it had even happened.

But Sibyl was crying.

He could hear the rain hitting the windows.

Then he heard thunder rend the air and seconds later, lightning flashed through the room.

He turned his head, for some reason, to look at the storm.

And saw the warning light next to the panic button blinking.

* * * * *

As the women chanted around the pot, Marian felt the darkness enter the house and a shiver went up her spine.

She’d done what she could do, for now. It was all (or mostly, as she did have a few more tricks up her sleeve) now up to true love.

She looked into the history book, the book that told the tragic story of Beatrice and Royce Morgan.

She saw some of the words after the date change, shift then settle – just a sentence then two then a paragraph. Then it stopped.

And she stared in disbelief at what she read.

* * * * *

Esmeralda Crane, being a witch, was attuned to things other people would not sense. Now, she was attuned to time, history, shifting and reforming itself.

She was becoming confused, muddled, she saw shapes moving before her in the copse of trees but she was supposed to be doing something else at this moment, something she was not doing and this feeling made her restless, guarded.

She quickly hid herself, conjuring a glamour to make herself invisible. All the while she could see, as if it was a memory, the dead, entwined bodies of Royce and Beatrice Morgan under the trees. But they were not there. There was nothing there except the impatiently shifting forms that lay in wait for ambush.

Someone was playing with time, Esmeralda knew.

And that was a very dangerous game.

* * * * *

Colin leaped out of bed, leaned forward and grabbed Sibyl’s wrist, dragging her up behind him.

“Get dressed,” he hissed then he let her go, bent to his jeans on the floor and shoved his feet into the legs.

“Colin, what is it?”

“Dress!” he clipped and she stared at him, not liking what she saw and in less than a second, she ran to the bathroom.

He pulled his sweater over his head and pressed the panic button that would alert both the alarm company and the police.

She ran out of the bathroom still struggling into her clothes.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered, rushing toward him as she continued to dress.

“Someone’s in the house.”

Her body jerked and her eyes flew to the door.

“The kids are down there.” Her voice was rising and panicked.

“Sibyl, get into the sanctuary, lock the door and do not come out, no matter what you hear,” he ordered as she buttoned her jeans.

Mallory started barking just outside the room, his barks angry and loud with warning. Then the barking turned to fierce, consistent growls.

Sibyl was still staring at the door and started toward it.

“Sibyl!” Colin flew toward her, hooking her around the waist with his arm as she started to bolt toward the sound of her beloved dog.

Then they both froze when they heard the blood-chilling, obscene noise of a high-pitched, canine cry of agony.

* * * * *

Robert Fitzwilliam stopped at the gatehouse, one of his men was supposed to be inside but did not come out at the approaching car.