“The next time I saw you, you were lovely, you were… wonderful.”
The smile came back but froze at her next words. “Then you offered me fifty thousand pounds to sleep with you and I lost all faith that I’d ever find that man.”
“God, Sibyl,” he groaned, his voice full of regret and she felt tears begin to prick the backs of her eyes.
“And all that time and after, I dreamed of Royce. He was Beatrice’s true love, her soulmate, he looked at her as if the world shined through her. I wanted that for me and, in the dreams, I had it. And in the Summer House that afternoon, I saw it in his eyes as he looked at me.”
This time, his whole body froze, as did the hand at the small of her back. Then, she felt it clench into a fist.
Still, she kept speaking. “It was our private moment, his and mine, the only one we’d ever have and, even though he wasn’t kissing me but the memory of Beatrice, it was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever experienced and I was happy to have that fleeting moment than nothing at all. And that’s why I didn’t share it with you, because it was mine… his and mine.”
He stared at her, his face and frame barely controlling some emotion she couldn’t fathom and then he looked away as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her anymore. His arm moved away from her and she felt his awful retreat and the first hint of panic.
And she realised that now was the time, perhaps the only time, and no matter what his response, she had to take it. Anything but have him pull away.
Her voice so low, so quiet, it was hardly even a whisper, she said, “Then I fell in love with you.”
His head snapped back around and she took a fragmented breath and looked him in the eye.
“If you can believe, it was that damned minibus,” she said on a shaky grin. “I watched you dealing with the driver and your… you… it was just magnificent. Maybe it was before then, I know it started before then but it was then when I knew. And everything since clicked into place, piece by piece. I realised after every moment I spent with you, you were the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life, not some long-dead warrior.”
When she told him he was the one she’d been waiting for, the rest of her words were said through his swift, gentle, violent snatching of her into his arms. A movement that nearly stole her breath and, as she finished speaking, he shoved her roughly back on the bed.
And then, Colin made love to her and it was like nothing they’d ever shared. It was full of fierceness and pounding intensity as if he wanted to use his hands, mouth and body to brand her as his, as if, since he couldn’t make a physical mark on her body, then he’d make one on her soul.
And he did.
Proving her right, moments before they both cl**axed, he growled, “You’re mine.”
She nodded, lost in her love for him and the desire throbbing through her body.
“You belong to me.” His body pounded deeper inside her than he’d ever been and tears of love sprang to her eyes.
She nodded
“Yes,” she breathed then she said it again as the pleasure he was giving her washed over her, crying it into his ear as she heard him topple over the edge with her. “Yes, Colin, I’m yours.”
Then after they both came down and she felt Colin’s breath against her neck, the weight and warmth of his body on hers, him still planted deep inside her, knew she loved all of that too.
* * * * *
Later, when he’d pulled her to his side, his arm came around her like a steel band, she realised he didn’t tell her he loved her in return. He made love to her with a ferocity they’d never experienced but he hadn’t said the words.
She wanted to slide away, to find some privacy on the other side of the bed because she felt certain his not saying it meant he didn’t feel it. As she was preparing to do so, Bran delicately walked up the length of them, zig zagging across their bodies, his little kitty feet remarkably weighty. The cat jumped to the small of her back and curled there, his warm, furry body keeping her imprisoned in Colin’s arm.
And that was when the depth of Sibyl’s emotions and her lovemaking with Colin finally stole over her and she relaxed against him, letting sleep take her. She didn’t notice before she fell into slumber, Colin’s iron arm had not loosened.
* * * * *
Colin lay awake and stared at the dark ceiling, listening to Sibyl’s soft breathing.
Having all of Sibyl now laid bare to him and the additional gift of her love drove all ideas of peace and rest out of his mind.
Her love was by far the finest possession he owned.
And someone was trying to kill her.
He felt an insidious, hated sense of fear steal over him and realised that, above all else, he had to focus all of his considerable energy on making certain that didn’t happen.
Or die trying.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Magic Dust
Colin glanced out the rear-view mirror and saw the familiar car following them.
The car had slid out behind them when they left Lacybourne that morning, stayed with them after their brief visit for Scarlett to check Mrs. Byrne and continued behind them all the way to Heathrow.
And now, coming back to Clevedon, it was still there.
Colin could see the black hair and alabaster face behind the wheel.
Tamara Adams.
No, a clearly not very clever, in fact, enormously stupid Tamara Adams.
Colin was relatively certain it was also the car that nearly ran them down outside the restaurant.
He ground his teeth.
Sibyl had been desolate upon seeing her father and sister moving through the security area at Heathrow but Mags had swiftly cheered her spirits with chatter on the way home and for this alone, Colin was grateful for Mags’s company. Even though Sibyl and her mother had an odd relationship that was based half on exasperation, half on adoration, Mags knew exactly how to manipulate her daughter’s feelings, giving her a needed uplift.
Slowly, the BMW’s smooth ride and her interrupted sleep last night came over her and Sibyl fell asleep with her head against the window.
This, Mags (as any good mother would) noticed immediately and all chatter stopped. For fifteen minutes, Mags was surprisingly silent.
Then she asked quietly, “Who’s that following us? Do you know her?”
Startled, Colin’s eyes shot to the rear-view mirror to take in her knowing face. Mags was free-spirited and flighty but, Colin realised, she was also no fool.
“Yes,” he answered brusquely.
“Spurned lover?” Mags guessed correctly.