Lacybourne Manor Page 24

  She didn’t pay attention.

  Instead, she was thinking there would be, soon, a life without Colin and not always, but increasingly often, he acted like her dream man.

  Most especially that day.

  But there was nothing she could do about that the day when her life would be without Colin.

  In the meantime, however, it was a life with Colin and, in those moments she saw him tearing into her evil nemesis, she knew that she was going to make the most of every damned second of the time she had.

  * * * * *

  Fourteen (Colin had made a slight error in counting) oldies, Kyle, Tina, Jemma and four ten year old girls all crowded around the big windows that looked out on the patch of worn grass in front of the Day Centre.

  They saw their adored, beautiful, American girl wander across the grass slowly toward the tall, dark, broad-shouldered, handsome man who was talking angrily on his mobile phone.

  They watched as she approached him, stood in front of him toe-to-toe, then she leaned in and rested the top of her head against his chest, placing her hands lightly on either side of his waist.

  They watched, too, as he slid one hand up her spine to curl it around the back of her neck, he pulled the phone from his ear and bent his dark head to kiss her honey one.

  Then he put the phone back to his ear and kept talking.

  Everyone in the room decided they made a striking couple and felt, considering what they knew about Sibyl and what they’d seen of her man, that they were the perfect match.

  “I think we know who our anonymous donor is,” Tina whispered to her husband and Kyle nodded.

  “I’m writing to her mother,” Mrs. Griffith declared.

  “I’m going to adopt him too,” Annie shouted.

  And then fifteen taxis started arriving at the Centre.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tranquilliser Dart

  Colin was in his office on his phone

  He’d gone back to Bristol after visiting Sibyl at the Community Centre to return phone calls and make certain the incredible ass who drove the minibus was, indeed, sacked (which, as Colin threatened, a number of councillors assured him, he would be, first thing in the morning).

  Once he’d heard the news from the bus driver’s line manager directly, Colin felt a strange, intensely pleasant sense of satisfaction.

  He didn’t question it, he didn’t have time. He had other things to do.

  That task completed, Colin also phoned a surveyor to have a look at the Community Centre as a whole. From what he could see, the place was a fire trap, a health hazard and needed significant renovations.

  Not to mention better furniture.

  And, likely, fumigation.

  And finally, he called a contractor, told him to go to the Centre and give Colin a quote on how much it would cost to build an extension so Sibyl could have a decent office, one that didn’t look like a salvage yard.

  All of this Colin was going to finance and he didn’t care how much it cost.

  It was ridiculous that those people were forced to spend their time in that dilapidated wreck and he certainly wasn’t going to allow Sibyl to do so.

  He’d had a few words with the Councillors about that as well.

  He wished, two weeks ago, when she’d slapped the briefcase shut on the fifty thousand pounds, that she’d told him then what the money was for.

  However, he had to admit, he probably wouldn’t have believed her. She was, on the whole, quite unbelievable.

  He’d thought that before Robert Fitzwilliam had told him about her. This feeling solidified after witnessing her in her element at the Centre. He could still see the look of shining adoration in “her girls” eyes as they stared at her and he could hear the esteem in the pensioners’ voices when they spoke to her.

  He finished his call, quickly scanned some correspondence that Mandy had left for him to sign, and tried not to think of how he felt when Sibyl had rested her head against his chest.

  Except for the night she’d had her nightmare and the morning when she’d attacked him because he was caressing her “sensitive spot” she rarely touched him of her own volition.

  And Colin liked it when she did. Very much.

  Further, there was something nearly precious about the feeling that he’d done something she approved of.

  With a good deal of effort, he’d finally convinced his mother and sister to leave Lacybourne and come back next week when he was ready to introduce them to Sibyl and her family.

  They were both beside themselves with the idea of a walking, talking American Godwin wandering around Clevedon. Not to mention the fact that she was in Colin’s life. They didn’t even know yet what she looked like and he hadn’t told them or they would never have left Lacybourne. They would have hunted her down and forced a Morgan Family heirloom ring on her finger, he had no doubts about that.

  Colin had a great deal of work ahead of him winning Sibyl’s trust. His meddling mother and equally troublesome sister would likely disrupt his many, varied, rather complicated and extraordinarily fragile plans.

  Colin felt (quite rightly) that he’d made great strides that day and that hadn’t even been part of his plan. He found after talking with Robert and Mrs. Byrne that he couldn’t wait a moment longer to see her, which was the only reason he’d gone to the Centre.

  Colin’s reaction regarding the minibus driver was instinctive. When he looked out the window at the elderly blind woman who wanted to adopt Sibyl trying to alight while the bastard stood, disinterested and smoking a cigarette, he’d temporarily lost his mind. He hadn’t intentionally gone charging in to score points, although he was happy to accept them if they were a means to his desired end. He’d help every blind lady he encountered if it meant he got what he wanted.

  It only made Colin all the more satisfied that the person who had inadvertently pushed Sibyl into selling her body was now to be punished, regardless if the driver knew his flagrant negligence had cost Colin weeks in winning Sibyl and cost Sibyl something even more dear.

  But he needed Sibyl right where he wanted her before she learned of Royce and Beatrice, magic and myth, his lifelong knowledge of it, her place in it and especially him keeping it from her. She was likely to lose her temper (justifiably) and Sibyl’s temper, he’d learned, once lost, was rather difficult to get under control.

  His mobile rang and he glanced at it distractedly not wishing to talk to another North Somerset Councillor and he saw Sibyl’s name on the screen.

  He stared at his phone.

  She’d never phoned him. Not once.

  He grabbed it immediately and flipped it open.

  “Sibyl,” he greeted.

  There was no response but he could hear her breathing. At this oddity (oddities being nothing new with Sibyl), he patiently repeated himself, calling her name.

  “Colin,” she whispered.

  His back instantly straightened at the tone of her voice. It was tremulous and she sounded frightened.

  “What’s happened?” he asked.

  “Colin,” he heard a catch in her voice, “someone’s been in my house.”

  Before she was done speaking, he was already walking toward the door and a queer sensation seized him, something akin to panic.

  “Where are you?” he demanded.

  “Sitting outside, with Mallory.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  There was a pause. “No, I didn’t think of that.” Now she sounded both exasperated and frightened.

  Colin found Sibyl’s frequent absentmindedness both amusing and annoying. Especially now, with the exception that now he didn’t find it amusing.

  “Call them,” he ordered as he exited his office and walked right passed Mandy without looking at her.

  “Colin, I think,” she hesitated and then her voice dropped to a whisper, “oh my goddess, I think they’ve done something to Mallory.”

  He was surprised at his strong reaction to the thought that something hap
pened to her dog. It felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

  “Why?” he asked cautiously, jogging down the stairs.

  “He’s lying here, not moving, not awake. He’s breathing and I feel a heartbeat but he won’t wake up no matter what I do.”

  “Sibyl, call the police,” Colin ordered. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  When her heard her shaky, “Okay,” he flipped the phone shut and lengthened his strides.

  It took twenty-five minutes, on a good day when the traffic gods were smiling, to get to Sibyl’s house.

  That day, the traffic gods were unhappy and Colin still made it there in fifteen.

  There were three police cars outside her house as he pulled up.

  After he’d exited his car, he saw Sibyl talking to five officers, all men, all hovering around her like she was a female rock god and they were her male groupies. This was not surprising considering she looked like a rock star with her hair a shower of golden tangles. She was wearing a long, full, chocolate brown skirt with a heavy, silver-looped belt hanging low on her hips. She accompanied this with her red cowboy boots and a bright red, long-sleeved t-shirt with a collar so wide it dipped off one shoulder. At the sight of Sibyl and her law-enforcing entourage, Colin kept hold of his temper by a thread but he managed this only because Sibyl noticed him and immediately ran to him.

  When she reached him, she threw herself at him so forcefully it rocked him back on a foot.

  This was the third time she’d touched him affectionately of her own volition (at that precise moment, he began counting).

  She wrapped her arms around him, tucked her head under his chin and cried into his lapel. “Colin! Someone shot Mallory with a tranquilliser dart!” she imparted this extraordinary fact on Colin with a voice that was part furious, part incredulous and part scared.

  Colin’s arms went around her and he automatically stroked her back and he did this while all the police were stared at them like they were a piece of performance art.

  Colin lost patience and barked, “Don’t you have something to do?”

  The police all jerked into motion but Sibyl seemed not to notice his angry outburst. She leaned back against his arm and peered up at him, a heartbreaking look in her very confused hazel eyes.

  “Who would do something like that?”

  He looked down at her pale, beautiful face and shook his head in answer because, of course, he had no idea who would do something like that and he understood now that Sibyl definitely wouldn’t know.

  At that moment, he finally noticed Mallory lying on his side close to the entry of the house, his big dog body completely still.

  Colin had never seen the dog when he at least didn’t thump his tail and he felt something slice through his gut at the sight.

  He carefully pulled out of her embrace and, linking his fingers in hers, he guided her over to Mallory. Once there, he crouched down and felt the dog’s chest, noting a strong heartbeat and steady breathing. Other than that, the dog was motionless and, from far away, could even appear dead. Colin couldn’t imagine the shock that Sibyl had when she arrived home.

  “Christ,” he muttered as he absently stroked the dog’s head, fury beginning to burn slowly in him.

  “They called a vet to have a look at him. He hasn’t moved a muscle in ages. I’m kinda used to Mallory being relatively motionless but this is terrifying,” she told him, her voice still shaky.

  Colin made no comment as he watched a police officer come toward them as the other four stayed where they were, pretending to be busy but still staring at Sibyl.

  “And who might you be, sir?” the officer asked when he arrived.

  “I’m her boyfriend.”

  He felt ridiculous saying it but not after he heard Sibyl’s swift intake of breath, noted her quick, round-eyed glance and, most especially, when he caught the look of deep disappointment that passed across the policeman’s face.

  “Oh, right.” He made an effort at recovery while Colin straightened, put his arm possessively around Sibyl and pulled her against his side, a gesture which made his role in her life perfectly understood. “There appears to have been a break-in,” the policeman continued.

  “I already know that,” Colin informed him.

  “And the dog has been shot by a tranquilliser dart.”

  “I already know that too,” Colin said, his tone making it crystal clear his patience was quickly ebbing and that was not a good thing. “Can you tell me something I don’t know?”

  The policeman shifted uncomfortably under Colin’s irate glare, belatedly, but correctly, assessing that Colin was not someone to be trifled with.

  “We just made it to the scene a few minutes ago. We’ve ascertained there’s no threat. We have an officer checking the house now to see if there was anything obviously stolen, forced entry, that kind of thing.”

  “Wouldn’t that go faster if all five of the officers standing out here checked the house?” Colin suggested sarcastically, inclining his head to their audience.

  “Um… right,” the officer agreed and, after a glance at Sibyl and a brief hesitation, he trotted off to his colleagues who disbursed, some going to their cars, others going into the house.

  Colin watched the sudden action and muttered with distracted irritation to Sibyl, “You’re too damned beautiful for your own good.”

  When he finally swung his gaze to her, she was staring at him with eyes no longer hazel, but a warm, liquid sherry and her mouth was parted slightly in surprise. Then, as if wishing to hide her response to his comment, she turned in his arm and pressed herself against him, burying her face in his chest.

  That was when he felt she was shaking.

  “I can’t believe someone shot my dog,” she whispered.

  His fury built and spread as his free hand went to her hair and stroked the heavy mass. There was nothing to say, he couldn’t believe it either.

  They stood that way for some time. The longer they did so, Colin found the fury flowed out of him and he became rather contented. Sibyl, however, continued to tremble until his hand at her hair stroked the tremors away. Minutes ticked by then another officer exited the house and approached them.

  “Seems like it’s just vandals,” he informed them upon his arrival. “We’ll have to ask Miss Godwin to walk through the house but the stereo’s still there, there’s some jewellery sitting on the chest of drawers, untouched. There have been some pillows destroyed, feathers everywhere. Some crockery broken. No real damage.”

  “Has this happened before?” Colin asked.

  “What, sir?” This officer, more intelligent, was the one who had been checking the house when Colin arrived as Colin hadn’t seen him before.

  “This kind of thing at another house in the area, tranquilliser darts, vandalism?” Colin prompted.

  “No, nothing,” the officer shook his head, “I’ll need to take Miss Godwin through to see if she can determine if anything’s missing.”

  It was then that Mallory made a move, a slight lift of his head then it fell again. Instantly Sibyl dropped to her knees, pulled the dog’s head in her lap and started murmuring comfortingly as she stroked his soft, black and beige head.

  Colin crouched beside her and muttered gently, “Sibyl, go with the officer. I’ll look after Mallory.”

  She lifted her sherry eyes to him and asked, “You promise not to leave his side?”

  He stared directly in her eyes and said quietly, “I promise.”

  She nodded and, with obvious reluctance, she left with the policeman. As promised, Colin stayed crouched by the dog who was waking just not very quickly.

  While Sibyl was inside, another police car came up to the house, possibly unloading lab men, or, more likely, a new set of groupies called in to have a look at Sibyl. Then another car came up the drive but this was not a police car. Colin watched as it stopped with a dramatic shower of gravel and then Marian Byrne came flying out.

  She ran toward Colin, her fac
e a mask of worry. “Where’s Sibyl?” she demanded to know by way of greeting.

  “Mrs. Byrne, what are you doing here?” Colin asked, straightening from his crouch.

  Mrs. Byrne didn’t answer. Instead, when she took in the dog, she cried, “What’s happened to Mallory?”

  “He was shot with a tranquilliser dart,” Colin replied.

  Mrs. Byrne gasped, her hand flying to her throat in surprise. “What on earth?” she breathed then asked more forcefully, “For heaven’s sake why?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Is he going to be all right? Is Sibyl all right?”

  “A vet is coming to look at Mallory,” Colin responded. “Sibyl’s in the house, checking to see if anything was stolen.”

  “So she’s fine?” Mrs. Byrne queried, her face still troubled.

  “Yes, shaken but fine. What are you doing here?”

  “I was…” she looked back at her car then turned to Colin again, “baking for a bake sale. I have a Victoria Sponge. Sibyl loves Victoria Sponge so I made her one especially.” Her tone was odd in the way that any discussion about Victoria Sponge in the presence of a bizarrely tranquillised dog and four police vehicles would be odd.

  At that point, Colin noticed Sibyl’s cat daintily picking its way though the grass towards them as if grass was a ground cover far beneath his lofty pedigree and he would prefer to be treading on velvet. He made it to one of the flagstones surrounded by cushions of turf that created a winding path from the drive to the front door and stopped, sat and swung his tail in a wide sweep. He stared at Mallory with an expression that Colin could swear communicated his disdain that the dog had put himself in the way of a dart.

  “It’s the dark soul,” Mrs. Byrne whispered.

  “I’m sorry?” Colin asked, his attention going back to her.

  She moved forward and put her hand on his arm. “Colin, dear, someone’s following Sibyl. I saw them.”

  Colin’s eyes narrowed on her face, vaguely wondering when his status to her had elevated to being her “dear”. He was also thinking about what Robert Fitzwilliam said that morning.