Lacybourne Manor by Kristen Ashley
He was powerless against her warm voice and soft laugh and he allowed his hands to slide under her t-shirt and criss-cross on the skin of her midriff. He felt her muscles tense there but the rest of her body relaxed further into him.
“Would you be a test subject?” she teased for she knew the answer to that would be a resounding no.
His mouth descended to her neck again.
“No,” Colin gave her the answer she knew she’d get and he said it against her skin then parried her teasing by drifting his hand up her midriff to cover her breast. His thumb found her nipple and dragged against it, feeling it immediately harden.
“Colin,” she admonished softly without really meaning it, “I’m working.”
His arm at her middle tightened and his fingers moved to trace the lace at the top of her bra just as his mouth slid up her neck to behind her ear.
“Carry on,” he murmured and his fingers closed around the lace and pulled it sharply down under her breast.
Sibyl gasped.
“Colin!” This was half-admonishment, half-whimper.
He smiled against her ear and then touched his tongue there. She smelled of flowers and musk and he felt his groin tighten. He found her nipple with his thumb and forefinger and tugged at it sharply in a rough, gentle demand.
Her head fell back on his shoulder and she shuddered, her body’s movement absorbed by his.
“That’s nice,” she breathed and all admonishment was gone from her tone.
To reward her, he did it again and her response was so intense, his arm had to tighten around her waist to catch her as her legs buckled beneath her.
He nipped her ear with his teeth. “You’re not working,” he informed her helpfully.
She didn’t respond, she simply trembled and he knew she was ready for him.
As he had her exactly where wanted her, he pulled the lace back over her breast and slid his hand down and out from under the t-shirt. He removed his mouth from the sensitive area of her ear and kissed her neck chastely.
“I’ll let you get on with it.”
“Colin!” she cried and whirled, white goo flying everywhere.
He grinned at her.
“Don’t give me one of those devilish grins, get back here!” she demanded.
He walked away and heard her growl with frustration.
As he understood when he started it, he knew he’d pay for that episode later that night and he was very much looking forward to it.
Later, while he could smell one of Mags’s vegetarian feasts cooking in the kitchen, he snagged Mallory’s lead and commandeered the recalcitrant dog to take a walk. He and Mallory were passing the library when he heard feminine voices.
He glanced in while walking by and heard his mother exclaim, “Mine’s tingling.”
He stopped and stared at the three women sitting side by side on the couch, all of their faces covered in white goo, their legs stretched out before them, their heads resting on the back of the couch.
“Is it a good tingle or a bad tingle?” Sibyl asked with concern.
“Oh, a good tingle, dear.”
“Mine’s not tingling but it smells good enough to eat,” Mags put in.
“Don’t eat it, Mother,” Sibyl warned.
“I wasn’t going to eat it. I was just saying it smells good enough to eat.”
Colin decided to escape before the oncoming escalation and he walked the dog.
All the days that followed were more of the same.
Mandy was taking reporters’ phone calls by the dozens and they’d even found the number to Lacybourne and were ringing there wanting pictures and interviews of the reincarnated lovers.
The next two National Trust days were so crowded, the Trust had to arrange for timed viewings and had phoned Colin telling him that, if this persisted, they would have to do visits by booking only. They also asked if he and Sibyl wouldn’t mind being part of a new pamphlet and helping with a fundraiser. This he refused, of course, and didn’t even bother to mention to Sibyl for she would definitely not have refused and the last thing he needed was for her to be gunned down at a National Trust Ball.
Marian Byrne’s daughter had left after Marian had sufficiently recovered so, in order for Sibyl to watch over her, she became a regular guest at dinner. Colin had come home on Friday evening to catch Marian and Mags in the kitchen, leaning expectantly over a large pot that was emitting an foul odour that was (he hoped) not food while his mother sat at a stool by the counter calmly reading a woman’s magazine.
“Just experimenting with –” Mags began to explain upon his entry.
He lifted up his hand and didn’t break stride as he continued to walk through the kitchen. “I don’t want to know.”
He’d encountered Sibyl in the hall.
“Hi babe.” She brushed her lips softly against his in greeting and he vastly preferred her welcome to the dastardly trio in the kitchen. “Enchiladas tonight,” she informed him.
He was relatively certain enchiladas did not smell like what was in the kitchen and if it did, he wanted no part of it.
“Is Mags cooking?”
She knew exactly to what he was referring and her body started to shake with silent laugher.
“Yes, but I’ve made ones especially for you and they contain meat.”
His kiss of greeting was heavily weighted with relief.
They had a relatively peaceful weekend.
This was, of course, if one didn’t count Sibyl’s extraordinary tirade when he’d had the MG towed back to Brightrose and presented her with an Aston Martin. This she categorically refused to accept and a reluctant compromise was only reached when his mother suggested Colin take the Aston and Sibyl use the BMW. The Mercedes was offered on the Alter of Environmental Correctness and this last he agreed to but carefully made no promise as he had no intention of getting rid of his car mainly because he liked the Mercedes.
Tuesday night, Sibyl was tucked against his side while Colin was staring at the ceiling and contemplating the unacceptable lack of progress his investigation team was making in finding Tamara Adams.
She was a socialite, not a super sleuth. How she could be evading a ten-man team was beyond him and Colin wanted answers and results.
As the days went by, Sibyl seemed to be settling in quite contentedly at Lacybourne, almost as if she’d forgotten someone wanted to harm them. She went about her busy schedule, radiating happiness and warmth with unflagging energy.
Even though Colin was pleased that she obviously trusted him and was happily getting on with her life, especially as that life included him, he was becoming more and more impatient. He wanted this business complete so he and Sibyl could move on. He wanted to come home to her (and even her many and varied escapades) every night, his ring on her finger and her carrying his name and he wanted all of this without death threats hanging over their heads.
“Do you think we have too much sex?” Sibyl asked musingly, interrupting his unhappy reverie with her mystifying question.
“What?” he asked, thrown.
She came up on her elbow and leaned over him.
“We have a lot of sex. Of course, it’s normal to have a lot of sex when you start a relationship but we have a lot, a lot.”
He couldn’t answer her, his unhappy thoughts shifted to even unhappier thoughts, including the fact that she’d had lots of sex at the start of relationships with other men.
Furthermore, she was right. He had a very healthy sexual appetite but he’d never been as hungry for a woman, carrying a constant, overwhelming desire, as he was for her. He found himself wanting her more even when he was embedded inside her. She was an obsession, even an addiction.
Upon brief consideration, he found this didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“I think it’s the curse,” she continued, either ignoring or not noticing his lack of response. “Royce and Beatrice didn’t… um, get any and so we’re making up for it.”
“I don’t care why
“Yes, but don’t you think it’s weird?” Sibyl pressed.
“I hardly think it’s ‘weird’ for any man to have an irrational craving for you, you’re quite simply the most desirable woman I’ve known.”
Her mouth dropped open then, to his surprise, she clamped it shut on a disbelieving, very unladylike, snort.
“Sibyl,” he remonstrated softly, “it doesn’t suit you to fish for compliments.”
“Fish for…!” She started then burst out laughing and he felt its beauty seep into his bones. When she was done, she laid her hand on his cheek and smiled at him. “Colin, you like me, we’re good together.” Her smile deepened. “Of course you think I’m desirable but that doesn’t mean every man does.” She carried on, as if he hadn’t even spoken, “Personally, I still think it’s the curse.”
He stared at her assessingly and realised she didn’t comprehend her incredible allure.
“You aren’t to be believed,” he mumbled.
“What’s that?” She tilted her head, the smile still tugging at her lips.
He pulled her weight on top of his body and his arms stole around her.
Then he studied her beautiful face for long moments.
Then he muttered, “Christ, you have no idea,” and something about that knowledge awed him.
“Okay, I get it, you don’t think it’s the curse but –”
“Sibyl listen to me,” he interrupted her, “you are beautiful.”
Her eyes sparkled. “And you’re very handsome,” she returned, completely unfazed by his words. “But then again, I love you so of course I’d think you’re handsome, to others, you’re probably very ugly.”
He found himself biting back laughter at the same time growling with frustration and something infinitely deeper. She lifted her knees so she was straddling him and bent her head to kiss the base of his throat, her hair sliding luxuriously across his chest.
“Likely extremely ugly,” she muttered as she moved lower and kissed his stomach and his muscles tensed as he understood her intent. “Hideous,” she whispered as she moved lower.
He let go of his unhappy thoughts and moved his hands into her hair to pull it away so he could watch.
Later, after he’d yanked her roughly back on top of him to finish what she started with her mouth in an entirely different but infinitely pleasurable way, he rolled them to their sides and her arms tightened around him.
“That was nice.” She spoke what he considered the understatement of the year and he chuckled.
He felt her body settle and her breathing even out and he remembered a phone call he’d had that day.
“Sibyl?”
“Mm?” she murmured against his neck.
“Mrs. Manning called today.”
“Who?”
“My housekeeper, she requests that you not make the bed. She says it’s her job. Since I pay her to do it, there’s no reason you should.”
“The invisible housekeeper,” Sibyl said quietly. “Now that’s weird. She’s here but you never see her.”
He found that rather surprising as he wasn’t letting Mrs. Manning in, he wondered who was. Nevertheless, with other weighty things on his mind, he didn’t spend any time thinking about it.
“I’d rather not hire a new one –” he started but she cut him off.
She did this by declaring on a yawn, “There are lots of things in life worth fighting for, Colin, my right to make a bed is not one of them.”
And then she promptly fell asleep.
And, as with nearly every night since Meg had dinner with them, Colin did not.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Pensioner Posse
Sibyl stood in the doorway of her office at The Community Centre. She watched as Mags, Marian and Phoebe all concentrated very carefully on their bingo cards as Marianne’s scratchy voice called out the numbers.
Sibyl was allowing herself the luxury of contemplating her new life and further allowing herself to decide it was, quite simply, wonderful.
Colin may not love her but she’d come to the conclusion that, from Colin, she would take what she could get. Furthermore, what she was getting was pretty heady stuff so she felt it would show extreme ill-grace to complain.
It was clear to Sibyl that, even if he didn’t return her love, she loved him enough for the both of them. Threat or no threat, curse or no curse, she felt invulnerable and strong, as if nothing could harm them. Her love and Marian’s protection would be enough. Sibyl was certain of it.
So, Sibyl ceased worrying.
Colin, however, had not.
She tried to make him feel some of her calm but no matter how she tried to soothe him, it didn’t work. As the days went by, he became more and more impatient and tense.
And Colin could get very impatient and Colin’s tense was a little scary.
She decided she loved this about him (as she loved pretty much everything about him). He was not impatient and tense worrying about himself, he was so because he worried about her. If she didn’t have his love then she was definitely certain she had his care, his concern, his affection and his protection.
And that would be enough.
For now.
She’d worry about the rest later, when all this troublesome business was concluded.
She moved out of the doorway and sat down beside Meg who had come back to the Pensioner’s Lunch Club that week, nearly fully-restored. Meg was now resting comfortably in one of Colin’s new, plush chairs, watching but as usual not participating in the bingo action.
When Sibyl had settled, Meg patted her hand then her fingers closed around it to hold it lightly.
“It’s good to see you so happy, Billie,” she whispered for it was a very bad thing to make too much noise when bingo was under way, the players got somewhat irate if their concentration was disturbed.
“Is it so obvious?” Sibyl smiled, completely unaware that her glorious smile said it all.
“Oh yes, it’s very obvious.” Meg’s faced collapsed happily and Sibyl gave her hand a soft, affectionate squeeze.
Sibyl caught sight of Rick prowling through Day Centre, glowering at the pensioners as if one of them was, at any moment, intending to pull an Uzi out of their carrier bag and go on a killing spree.
“He needs a girlfriend,” Meg noted sagely, eyeing Rick.
“He needs a lot more than that,” Sibyl agreed.
“All right folks, last game. The minibus leaves in fifteen minutes,” Kyle announced, striding through the room, completely unmoved by the glares he was receiving. The only thing worse than interrupting a bingo game with unnecessary noise was announcing it was concluding.
Kyle had finished his training course the week before and now the minibus, Colin’s minibus, was in full use.
Sibyl happily thought that finally all was (nearly) right with the world.
And she’d never been happier.
Never.
In her whole life.
As Sibyl began to assist some of the folks who’d started quietly to pack up, she didn’t catch Rick’s head snap around or his eyes narrowing as he focussed on something outside the window. She also didn’t notice him have a quick word with Kyle before they both exited the Day Centre’s side door, splitting outside the door, Kyle going right, Rick going left.
“Bingo!” Phoebe shouted, waving her hands in the air and everyone groaned. She jumped out of her seat and gave a whoop of joy. “I never win, ever. Hurrah!” she gloated and groans turned into grumbles.
At Phoebe’s victory, Sibyl could help the oldies without having to be quiet and she started to do so at the same time she began to clear up the bingo paraphernalia and collect ashtrays. She was eager to get back home, Colin may decide to work from home and she liked to be there when he was there. Mentally she made a list of what she needed to do before going to Lacybourne.
Put bingo supplies away.
Get oldies out to the bus.
Clean out ashtrays.
Collect tea mugs and stack in dishwasher.
Her mind occupied, she was completely unprepared (though nothing would actually have prepared her) for the sliding doors to the Hall being thrown open with such force that they crashed loudly against into their pockets frames.
She distractedly heard some stifled and some not so stifled screams but definitely saw, clear as day, Colin’s ex-girlfriend, Queen of Icicles and All Things Frozen, Tamara, standing between the opened doors, her arm raised, a gun clenched in her hand.
A gun that was pointed at Sibyl.
Before Sibyl could react, say a word, lift a finger, Tamara shouted, “I’ve had enough of you!”
Then without further ado, she pulled the trigger.
Sibyl’s heart stopped. She thought she could actually see the tranquilliser dart in the scant seconds it took to zoom toward her. What she most certainly and astonishingly did see was the dart ping off some hidden barrier an inch away from her shoulder emitting a small burst of white light, like sparkler, and then fall useless to the ground.
This remarkable occurrence was met with absolute silence as everyone stared at the tranquilliser dart on the ground.
Then their eyes shifted and they stared at Sibyl.
Then their eyes swung to Tamara.
Tamara seemed just as stunned by what happened as anyone because, indeed, it was stunning because it was magic. Then she shook off her surprise and screamed, “What?”
“Told you it would work,” Marian whispered somewhat smugly to Phoebe and Mags.
It was at this point that Tamara charged forward.
And her intent was clear.
It was going to be a catfight.
Sibyl had never been in a fight in her life (if you didn’t count the hair-pulling fights she had with Scarlett as a child… and as a teenager… and once in their twenties).
There was no way to avoid it, Sibyl knew, and with nothing for it she braced for impact.
Except, the oldies had been in preparation for leaving so some of them were upright and most of them had carrier bags.