Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(16)

She turned imploringly towards him. “My dog… it doesn’t matter. I need to go home.”

“What year is it?” he enquired.

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, praying for patience and counting to ten. She knew this drill, her sister was in the final years of her residency to be a neurologist and had spent hours regaling the family with information and stories filled with medical jargon, interesting case studies and detailed (and boring) explanations of testing and procedures.

Sibyl told him the year, the month, the day, the president’s name, the prime minister’s name, her name, her address and what she ate for breakfast (granola and fat-free, organic, vanilla yogurt).

“Did you lose consciousness?” he asked with an admiring (albeit slightly flirtatious) smile at her recitation.

Sibyl chanced a look at the man Mrs. Byrne called Mr. Morgan. He was looking now at the paramedic with narrowed eyes and a jaw clenched so hard Sibyl could see a muscle jump.

“Five minutes, at least,” Mrs. Byrne replied helpfully. She’d moved away to let the medic get to Sibyl and now she stood wringing the bloodied cloth in her hands and looking…

Sibyl peered closely at her…

Guilty.

“It’s concerning, you’ll have to be watched.” The paramedic was cleaning the wound. “Put some ice on this immediately and keep it on for as long as you can bear it.” He turned toward the maniac owner of Lacybourne. “I don’t see any reason to admit her to hospital, she seems lucid and hasn’t lost any memory. You’ll have to observe her, make sure to wake her several times in the night –”

“What!” Sibyl shouted. “No! I’m going home.”

“This isn’t home?” The paramedic looked from her to the crazy man and went on bizarrely, “That picture in the hall –”

“This is not her home,” Mr. Morgan’s baritone voice noted drily.

“I’ll take her home,” Mrs. Byrne waded in courageously. “Or, my dear, I know we don’t know each other very well but perhaps you should stay with me tonight. We’ll come collect your car tomorrow. My cats won’t mind a little company.”

“She really should rest,” the other medic was saying while the first one put a bandage on the side of Sibyl’s forehead.

“I’m leaving,” Sibyl insisted.

“You’re staying,” the lunatic put in smoothly.

“She’s what?” the cool brunette snapped, finally losing her arctic composure.

“No I most certainly am not!” Sibyl shouted, making her head pound.

“I’ll not have you leave this house and die in the night from a concussion and open myself up to your American family suing me for every penny I’ve got,” Mr. Morgan noted in a calm, even voice.

“I’m not going to die,” Sibyl snapped.

“You’re not going to leave,” he returned.

“My parents will not sue,” she felt the need to add.

“You’re still not going to leave,” he retorted.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Byrne said.

“You’re staying too,” the lord of the manor stated.

“I thought that,” Mrs. Byrne noted resignedly. She grabbed Sibyl’s hand and patted it kindly. “I’ll look after you.”

Sibyl turned her eyes to the older woman and she saw the woman staring at her with a bizarre intensity.

“I want to go home, Mrs. Byrne,” Sibyl told her, her tone fervent.

“Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll all have a good rest and we’ll sort it out in the morning.”

“Not likely.” This, of course, was noted by the tall, impossibly handsome but utterly mad man who owned this (from what she could tell from the one room she’d actually seen) beautiful home.

Sibyl turned beseeching eyes to the kindly paramedic, thinking maybe even Mrs. Byrne had only a tentative hold on reality.

“I just want to go home,” she informed who she hoped would be her saviour.

He seemed to hesitate, clearly reading the mood in the room, when a radio squawked.

“Got another one,” his colleague said, pulling the radio from his leg.

“Sorry,” the kindly paramedic muttered. “Call me tomorrow, my name is Steve. Let me know how you’re getting on.” Then he winked (definitely flirtatiously which, of course, was nice and all but didn’t do her any good at the present moment and further was a bit inappropriate), pressed a card in her hand and followed his colleague out the door.

Sibyl looked from the small, dark woman who was staring at her with polar icecaps as eyes. Then she moved her eyes to Mrs. Byrne who was smiling at her… could she believe it... encouragingly.

Then finally to her dream man, who was looking like he couldn’t decide whether to beat her to a bloody pulp or carry her up to his bedroom for something else altogether.

And that was no joke; honestly, she could read that right in his eyes.

That last thought made her breath flood out of her in a rush and she glared at him with mutinous eyes.

If she couldn’t find a way to escape, Sibyl thought hysterically, it was going to be a long night.

Chapter Five

Tempted

It was the longest night in Sibyl’s life.

Once the paramedics left, Mr. Morgan, the raving lunatic who most definitely needed psychiatric counselling or at the very least, anger management classes, left her and Mrs. Byrne alone. He took the unnamed Ice Queen with him.