Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(51)

Then, to his surprise, she crossed the room and halted not a foot away from him.

She lifted her beautiful face to his and her eyes were sherry. When she spoke her voice was low and intent and almost urgent.

“My mother and father are both redheads, I didn’t get their hair but I got their temper. I always say things I regret when I lose my temper and I’m always in a foul mood when I wake up. I’m so sorry I was such a terrible shrew this morning. Please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

When he didn’t reply to this stunning announcement, an announcement that, backed by the shade of her eyes (something she likely couldn’t control), he believed for they were a warm sherry, she closed the distance between them and hesitantly rested both her hands on his chest.

“I like it when you’re yelling at me or ordering me around a lot better than this. Not that I like you ordering me around but I couldn’t bear five months of this,” she declared and at the earnest look on her face he finally felt his chest, which had been tight since the moment he saw her smile at the waiter, relax. He also felt the anger ebb out of him and decided on the best course of action to work the rest of his tension at the evening out of his system.

Therefore, he ordered, “Take your clothes off, Sibyl.”

She nodded, her shoulders drooped, she dropped her head and began to step away from him.

“No,” he changed his mind, “I think tonight I’d rather do it.”

Her head snapped up and his hands went to her hips, sliding around, pressing in to pull her to him and she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders.

“Can I take it that since you’re ordering me around again that you aren’t mad at me anymore?” she asked, her alto voice sweet and, if he heard it correctly, hopeful.

Colin studied her.

Sibyl Godwin was definitely an enigma and this was a new, enchanting element to her puzzle.

He bent his neck and brushed his lips against hers.

Then he said against her mouth, “No, Sibyl, I’m not mad at you anymore.”

And that’s when it happened.

She relaxed, leaned into him, locked her sherry eyes with his and smiled.

And Colin knew, in that instant, he’d never forget that smile for the rest of his life.

* * * * *

Much later, Colin woke from a deep sleep, mainly because Sibyl had kicked him violently in the shin.

He pulled himself onto his elbow to see she was still asleep. They hadn’t closed the shutters and he could see her in the moonlight, she had moved away from him in the night and was lying on her stomach. He could tell she was agitated, something wasn’t right.

“Sibyl?” He reached out to touch her, to wake her from what was obviously a nightmare.

Before he made contact with her body, she reared up violently then she flew from the bed and raced across the room.

Colin noted distractedly that Mallory, who had been lying on the floor by Colin’s side of the bed, was now up as well, standing still and fierce and not barking or vibrating with his usual big dog energy.

But Colin’s attention was focussed on Sibyl, she’d halted by the window and stood panting as if she’d just run a race. Her body was tense, her arms held out, bent at the elbows, palms up in a defence posture. She was looking around, her head tossing this way and that, like she expected someone to attack her.

On guard at her strange behaviour, Colin exited the bed and approached her slowly.

“Sibyl,” he murmured quietly and her head jerked to him.

“Colin,” she whispered achingly and he felt his gut clench at the terrible tone of her voice. She sounded sad and defeated and, somehow, lost.

He reached her and slid his hands carefully around her waist, slowly drawing her body to his and wrapping her in his arms.

“It’s all right, you had a nightmare,” he told her and she shook her head, tossing her mane of hair. “Sibyl, it’s all right,” he assured her firmly.

She pulled back slightly and gazed at him. He could not see her eyes in the moonlight but he could feel their intensity.

Then she did the strangest thing, something that moved him at the same time it sent a sense of fear searing straight into his soul.

Lifting a trembling hand, she touched his throat in a feather-light caress and his body completely stilled. The light touch was somehow fervent, even reverent. Then she leaned forward, pressed her lips against his throat and kissed him there.

At her kiss, his still body froze.

Except for when she’d laid her hands on his chest in apology and, after, on his shoulders when he held her, she’d not touched him, and definitely not kissed him, unless he’d commanded it or they were having sex.

But he knew, instinctively, this was not a game, this was not an act, this was something else entirely.

“Sibyl, what’s happened?” he asked.

“It’s just a nightmare,” she whispered in a way that sounded like she was trying to convince herself of the truth of her words. She tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around him so tightly that it almost felt as if she wanted him to absorb her into his body.

It went without saying that she’d also never hugged him and this embrace was not simply an embrace, it was profound and it was desperate.

Automatically, his arms tightened around her.

“It’s all right,” he repeated, not knowing what else to say, completely at a loss of what to make of this latest, spectacular event.