Lacybourne Manor Read online

  To the unpractised eye, these facts would seem harmless.

  And therefore Tamara vastly underestimated her adversary’s allies.

  Two steps into the room, Mrs. Griffith put out her new (steel) cane, tripping Tamara.

  This would have been enough and Tamara would have gone (and actually started to go) flying, however, at the same time, Marianne heaved out her carrier bag, losing hold of it as its momentum grew with its weight so it went flying toward Tamara, hitting her smack in the chest. With an awful grunt of pain and surprise, Tamara fell backwards instead, completely stunned and unable to catch herself, landing flat on her back.

  To this, Gilbert forged (slowly) into action and threw himself on Tamara to hold her down (or actually, gingerly got down on his knees and then fell forward on top of her).

  In an effort to pin her on the ground and also not be outdone, one of the other oldies dropped her carrier bag on Tamara’s right leg, another on her left and slowly, but surely, Tamara (and Gilbert) were being buried under the considerable weight of carrier bags.

  “Jesus,” Rick breathed from behind Sibyl, finally arriving on the scene and watching the Attack of the Old Age Pensioners as Kyle jogged in through the sliding doors the other way, skidding to a halt at the sight.

  “Stop!” Kyle shouted and immediately all the pensioners ceased their vengeful activities and moved back.

  “I’ll call the police.” Phoebe fumbled in her bag for her mobile.

  “I’ve already done it,” Tina murmured from her new place beside Sibyl.

  Mags, Phoebe and Marian joined Sibyl and Tina and they stood watching as Kyle helped Gilbert up. Tamara, who was struggling to pull herself out from under the carrier bags, was hauled out none-too-gently by a stony-faced Rick. Rick ripped the gun viciously from her hand and rather alarmingly (in Sibyl’s opinion), handed it to Mrs. Griffith. Luckily, Mrs. Griffith took it between thumb and forefinger, a look of distaste wrinkling her nose and hurled it into the seat of one of Colin’s plush, new chairs.

  This, Rick knew, he would never live down – to have the person he was supposed to be protecting defended by a slew of oldies was just too much. He found himself, not for the first time, lamenting the day he took this job.

  Unfortunately, now Tamara was angry and humiliated and this was not a good combination. Once she got to her feet, with Rick’s strong hand holding her exactly where she was, she whirled (as best she could, nearly pinned to the spot) woodenly toward Sibyl.

  “Why wouldn’t you just go away?” she shouted madly, scowling at Sibyl. “Colin is mine!”

  “Colin?” Marianne hacked.

  “Sibyl’s man,” Mrs. Griffith answered.

  “Oh yes.” Marianne nodded. “I remember him, he’s tall.”

  “He is not her man,” Tamara stormed. “He’s mine.” She struggled (unsuccessfully) against Rick’s hold on her with her glare steadfastly aimed at Sibyl. “I waited years for him to notice me. Years! And when he finally did, it took me ages to get him where I wanted him. I was so close, so damned close. I worked so hard and then you stroll in and he instantly forgot me. It was like I never even existed!”

  “I wish I could forget her but I don’t think I ever will,” Tina mumbled.

  Tamara kept ranting. “I kept warning you, I shot your dog, tore up your house, made threatening phone calls. But you just would… not… go… away!”

  “Of course she wouldn’t just go away,” Gilbert put in at this juncture. “They’re supposed to be together. Don’t you read the papers?”

  “You shot her dog?” Mrs. Griffith’s eyes had narrowed ominously at the very idea of anyone hurting an animal.

  “He was okay, Mrs. Griffith,” Sibyl assured the older lady quickly before her cane had a chance to be put back into action.

  “Enough,” Rick growled, his patience at an end. He dragged Tamara without apparent effort kicking and spitting down the length of the Day Centre. Without another word, he threw Tamara into Sibyl’s office, followed her and slammed the door.

  Everyone stared at the door for several moments and then jumped when they heard Mags.

  “Well! I guess that’s that,” Mags stated with a sliding clap as if she was cleaning off her hands after a messy task even though she hadn’t done a thing. Then, as if they had all not just witnessed something entirely out of the ordinary, she suggested, “Let’s get these carrier bags sorted,” and she bustled forward with Phoebe to help the oldies claim their bags.

  Marian did not go to help Mags, Phoebe and the oldies. Instead, she placed her hand on Sibyl’s forearm and peered closely into the younger woman’s eyes, “Are you all right, dear?”

  Sibyl turned dazedly to Marian.

  “I think so,” she whispered and then continued incredulously, “Did you see that?” Her eyes cleared and they were shining brightly. “The dart didn’t even touch me just…” She made a loud “ping” noise, combining it with a quick slap of her fingers against her thumbs and an endearing blink and then she carried on, “like I was encased in invisible armour. Marian, you are the greatest witch ever! I cannot believe it’s all over!”

  Sibyl pulled Marian to her for a fierce hug and kissed her cheek.

  “I can’t wait to tell Colin,” she enthused and then her attention was turned and she needed to rush forward to mediate the carrier bag organisation as it appeared to be becoming somewhat confused with the situation escalating rapidly as oldies confusedly claimed other oldie’s bags or, at least, what the others thought were their bags.

  * * * * *

  Marian watched as Sibyl, her mother and Colin’s mother sorted out Sibyl’s charges.

  That was too easy, she thought as she heard the police sirens approaching The Centre.

  Something wasn’t right, Marian knew, she would have sensed the dark soul in the young woman the moment she met her the night Sibyl and Colin started their challenging journey.

  Marian felt a sense of disquiet, knowing, somehow, it was not over.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Byrne?” Tina asked her, still standing quietly at Marian’s side, wisely choosing not to enter what had now become a carrier bag melee.

  “Yes, dear, fine,” Marian answered distractedly but Tina kept watching her, not believing a word she said.

  * * * * *

  Colin sat at the head of the dining room table. He had pushed his chair back with a slight tilt to the left, put an ankle on his opposite knee and he was now resting his elbows against his abdomen, his fingers linked and his chin resting thoughtfully against them. The dishes carrying the remains of his mother’s heavy treacle pudding with custard littered the tabletop.

  Sibyl sat to his left, her bowl pushed forward, her forearms bent at the elbows and resting on the edge of the table, her head on them. Her face was hidden from view, buried in her arms and her hair, partially (but not competently) held up in a clip, fell all over her shoulders and down her back.

  And those shoulders were shaking uncontrollably with hilarity.

  Phoebe and Mags sat opposite her, his mother’s whole body was bouncing up and down in her chair with the force of her uncontained laughter.

  Marian, Colin noted with interest, sat next to Sibyl and her face was oddly blank.

  “And then, Gilbert dropped to his knees, although I wouldn’t call it a ‘drop’ so much as a ‘cautious descent’. Then he… he…” Although Colin had heard it earlier from Rick, Mags was relating the story about what happened at the Day Centre and found, not for the first time, she could no longer continue as her cackling got the better of her. These last words sent both Phoebe and Sibyl into fresh shouts of laughter.

  Although all three women thought this was the height of entertainment, Colin did not find it the least bit amusing. In fact, he found it supremely annoying, not their amusement but that afternoon’s escapade.

  His eyes slid to Marian who, feeling his gaze, moved hers to him. She shook her head and offered him a weak smile.

  With a great jolt, Sibyl flew u
pright.

  “I can’t take any more.” Tears of mirth were streaming down her face. “I’m going to do the dishes.”

  She collected the dishes while Phoebe offered help and scurried out of the dining room behind Sibyl.

  “Oh Colin,” Mags wiped under her eyes as she stood, “I wish you were there,” then she followed the other two out of the room.

  Colin leaned further back into his chair, dropping his hands and turned to Marian.

  “You seem not to share in their enjoyment of the events of the afternoon.”

  Marian shook her head slowly.

  “Why?” he pressed.

  She seemed to weigh her answer and finally said, “They find it so amusing because, for weeks, they’ve lived on fear and nerves. They’re finding release. What I saw today was a number of people who adore Sibyl and would do anything for her. I don’t find that funny at all, I find it deeply touching.”

  Colin agreed silently but knew she was not done therefore he prompted, “And?”

  She regarded him warily then she said on a heavy sigh, “I know you won’t believe me, didn’t believe me in the first place, but that woman they caught today was not the dark soul. I still think you need to be careful. I think the dark soul is still out there and wants to hurt you and Sibyl.”

  Colin studied the woman a moment, nodded gravely then stood.

  She was correct, indeed, he didn’t believe her.

  What he knew, however, was that she believed. Even though he did not want her to be concerned further, he had enough respect for her to allow her that.

  And, there was something so deadly serious, so intent, rather than dramatic and overblown, about the way she spoke, that it gave him pause.

  “I believe I need a drink, something a hell of a lot stronger than wine. Would you care to join me?” he asked politely.

  Marian stood too, he offered her his arm and with a startled smile at his gallant gesture, she took it.

  They walked to the library and as they went she kept talking, “Even if you don’t believe me, if you think it’s over, will you promise to still be careful, still –”

  “I’ll always be careful when it comes Sibyl, nothing’s going to harm her,” Colin assured the older woman. “Not even the messes she gets herself into.”

  This, finally, made Mrs. Byrne laugh and they entered the library.

  * * * * *

  Colin was quietly furious and trying very hard not to show it.

  He had spent thousands of pounds on a small army of investigators and security experts, as well as a bodyguard, only to have Tamara felled by Sibyl’s Pensioner Posse.

  And this was after Tamara had shot a tranquilliser dart at Sibyl. One that, reportedly, magically glanced of Sibyl and fell to the ground.

  What Sibyl, their mothers and Mrs. Byrne did not know was that the police had informed Colin that the dart was loaded with enough tranquilliser that, if it had penetrated, for Sibyl’s height and weight, it could have killed her with an overdose.

  This fact, fortunately, would mean Tamara was facing a prison sentence. She wouldn’t merely get a slap on the wrist for vandalism or stalking.

  This fact also meant that today, if things had gone any differently, he would not have been watching Sibyl struggling with mirth at the dining room table. Instead, he would have been dealing with her grieving mother, his grieving mother and the certainty of a life yawning before him without Sibyl in it.

  No, Colin didn’t feel that anything about that day’s events was the least bit humorous.

  Much later, after several whiskies had soothed his nerves if not his temper, he lay on top of the coverlet on the bed, propped up on his elbow and watched as Sibyl brushed her hair. Mallory had long since collapsed with the effort of sleeping all day and was sprawled out on the floor by Colin’s side of the bed. The cat was somewhere in the house, probably stalking mice or shadows or whatever cats did when their humans weren’t around. Sibyl stood in the centre of the room wearing one of his t-shirts and babbling.

  “I cannot believe it’s all over. You would not believe how relieved I am.” She tossed her brush on a dresser and whirled toward him then walked to the bed. “Mags is going home. She’s responsible for refreshments at her next coven meeting and she’s in a bit of a finger-food-feud with one of the other members. She’s got the whole menu planned. It’s going to take her days! Not to mention, she simply cannot wait to tell them about what’s happened here. She’ll be the belle of the coven.”

  Sibyl threw herself on the bed and he watched as she bounced then came up on both her elbows and awarded him with a dazzling smile as she settled on her belly.

  “I’ll move back to Brightrose at the weekend after she’s gone,” she told him, clearly (and inaccurately) having it all planned out.

  “No,” he stated firmly.

  She blinked in adorable confusion and her smile faded before she asked, “What?”

  “You’re not moving back to Brightrose.”

  Her relaxed and happy body froze and then she pushed herself up to her knees, resting her bottom on her calves and stared down at him.

  “It’s safe now, she’s been caught. I can go home and you and I can, well… do things normally, like normal couples do. Like go out on normal dates and –”

  She stopped because finally, after all the events of the day, that he found hilarious and he threw back his head and let out a sharp bark of laughter.

  “What’s funny?” she asked over his hilarity, her brow furrowed and her eyes beginning to move from hazel to green.

  “You want to date?” His voice was dripping with amused incredulity.

  She pulled in both of her lip. Then said quietly, “Don’t you?”

  He thought about pushing himself up to be eye-to-eye with her but decided against it and his hand snaked out and grasped her wrist, giving it a gentle yank and pulling her down. He rolled on his back and positioned her on top of him.

  “I think we’re beyond dating,” he noted.

  “What’s ‘beyond dating’?” She looked confused and very wary.

  He gathered her hair away from her face and held it in a tumbled bunch behind her head in one hand while his other went to rest on her lovely, rounded bottom.

  “You’re moving into Lacybourne, permanently.” He, too, had it all planned out. However his plan was the only plan.

  Her head shifted slightly to the side and she watched him out of the corners of her eyes as her lips puckered. Then she whispered, “I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t think you have a choice,” Colin returned.

  Her body started and her eyes definitely switched, blazing an emerald green. “You can’t just order me to move in with you!”

  “I just did.”

  She put her hands on either side of his chest on the bed and pressed herself upwards but he came up with her and flipped her on her back, resting his weight on her.

  “You’re… I don’t even know what you are!” Sibyl snapped, her temper hitting altitude.

  “Sibyl, can you please tell me why everything has to be a struggle with you?” Colin asked, what he thought was patiently.

  Her eyes rounded. “I have a home, a business, a life. I… you… you and I –”

  “Yes?”

  She clamped her mouth shut, unable to find any feasible reason why she shouldn’t move in with him.

  “I didn’t think so,” he drawled knowingly and he couldn’t help but grin when she made a grumpy, frustrated noise in the back of her throat.

  His knee pressed between her legs and they parted (even her legs moved mutinously, but they still moved) and he slid his hands slowly down the backs of her thighs to pull them up at the knees.

  “Give me one good reason to move in with you,” she demanded and, if his chest wasn’t pressed against hers, he had no doubt she would have crossed her arms.

  “I like you in my house.”

  “That’s –” she began to interrupt him.

  “I like yo
u in my bed,” he continued and she closed her mouth and glared at him. “I like the way your laboratory makes the house smell like fruit and flowers. I like walking your damned dog. I like seeing your clothes in the wardrobe. I like you wearing my t-shirts to bed. I like coming home to you.”

  As he spoke, her face shifted and relaxed, the emerald melted and the sherry took its place.

  She regarded him a moment with her face soft, her eyes warm then she whispered, “Okay, Colin.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “I get it,” she answered softly but somehow uncertainly. “I’ll move into Lacybourne.”

  “I wasn’t asking.” He felt it necessary to inform her.

  Finally, she let go of whatever was troubling her and her lips twitched. “I know. You’re very bossy. I’ve decided that it’s better if I move in with you. If I live at Lacybourne, I’ll have more time to break you of that bad habit.”

  He smiled at her before he warned, his head descending, “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  * * * * *

  He had another good reason for her moving into Lacybourne.

  He could not shake his unease that Mrs. Byrne was right.

  And he didn’t want Sibyl going anywhere until he was certain she was safe.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Good Kind. And the Bad.

  Sibyl woke in a bed that felt strange beneath her. It was feather-soft, had no firmness and the sheets were slightly scratchy.

  Her eyes flew open and she realised she wasn’t in Colin’s bed, she wasn’t in any bed she’d ever seen before.

  And Colin wasn’t there.

  She jumped out of the bed thinking to see Bran or Mallory but neither was in sight. There was also no elegant furniture in the room, indeed, although the room was grand, it looked slightly rough and definitely strange.

  She was someplace she’d never been.

  Even though she knew, somehow, she was in Lacybourne.

  Her hands went to her hair which she found was plaited in a thick braid down her back.

  She flipped the braid around to the front and stared at it.

  Colin’s hair, nearly dark as black.