She ignored her sister and did as she was told. Colin was giving the impression of a caged lion who would undoubtedly attack given his first opportunity and she was the first in line of assault.
It was then Mrs. Byrne started talking.
Of witches.
And magic.
And horses named Mallory.
And ancient spells linking lovers for eternity and present day potions that brought old souls back to life in new bodies.
She went on and on about Granny Esmeralda Crane (whose old cottage Sibyl now inhabited), the results of the grisly murder she happened upon, Esmeralda’s Book of Shadows, Royce and Beatrice and how she, Marian Byrne, was here, after a long line of witches who’d waited in vain to bring together the new lovers and end a nearly five hundred year old curse of doomed, true love.
What she did not talk of was dark souls, this, unknown to Sibyl, Colin had demanded she keep to herself.
“So, you see, Sibyl, it was my destiny to bring you to Colin. As you’ve learned, he’s a bit, er… difficult, so I was trying to be clever. I was not so clever as I thought and it made things hard on you and for that, I apologise,” Marian finished with her hands held up in front of her in supplication.
Sibyl stared at her in astonishment. There was nothing else to do but stare… in… complete… astonishment.
Finally, she whispered, grasping onto the thing that least affected her sanity and she felt Colin’s arm tighten around her waist when she did so. “Royce’s horse was named Mallory?”
“Indeed, it was, my dear.” For some reason Marian was smiling at her and her next statement would explain why. “You see, in so many ways, you and Colin were meant for each other, one could even say born for each other. Do you take my meaning?”
Sibyl felt her sister’s eyes turn to her just as she experienced something raw and unexplainable rip at her heart.
And she immediately felt panic.
Sheer, unadulterated panic.
Because she might be getting what she’d always wanted, what she always knew was waiting for her and instead of being joyful, it scared the living daylights out of her.
Or she might not get it at all and that frightened her more.
“I need to go home,” she whispered urgently.
She had to think. She had to get away and think without an audience, without Colin’s hard thighs under her and his warm arms circling her. She tried to stand but Colin’s hands prevented her.
“Let me go, Colin,” she said softly, turning beseeching eyes to him. “I need to go home,” she repeated and she hoped he understood, prayed for it.
He didn’t. Instead, his eyes slid sideways, toward her sister, communicating to her sibling silently.
Sibyl heard as Scarlett said, “Story time over, folks, time for us to leave,” and she was shocked at her sister’s ready defection but too overwrought to do a thing about it.
Sibyl tried to stand again as she heard the others quietly exit with nary a word to the couple. Colin kept her where she was, his hands hard at her waist.
“Please let me go,” she whispered as she heard the door close softly behind the other women.
“You promised me,” he told her, his eyes moving back to her after watching the door close behind their family and friend.
“Promised?”
She was near tears, holding on to her careening thoughts with waning energy. She was frightened to the core of her being by what she’d seen and heard that night.
And mostly what it meant.
“To spend the night with me, you promised,” he reminded her, his eyes were searching her face but his own was set and implacable.
“That was before. You must understand.” Her voice was pleading.
“No matter what happened, you promised me that.”
“I wasn’t in my right mind!” she cried. “I thought, just like when we were in the Summer House, that tonight I’d turned you into Royce with my magical powers.”
Then she stopped speaking for he looked at her like a third eyeball had suddenly popped out of her forehead.
Then he asked incredulously, “Your what?”
She immediately felt a fool (or more of a fool than she already was). She should never have told him that. She closed her eyes slowly and wished she could grab the words and stuff them back in her mouth.
She was tired, no, exhausted, bone weary and, not to mention, frightened out of her mind. She wasn’t thinking clearly, didn’t have her guard up.
This was too much, he was too much.
Apparently, he was her dream man, the one she’d been destined to find; the one who she was fated to be with for five hundred years. He’d tested her fortitude, resolve and moral perspicacity and she’d fallen at the first hurdle by taking his money (a great deal of his money) the third time she’d ever seen him. And for what? A minibus for oldies. If he knew, he’d think she lost her mind, if she ever had one in the first place. He’d likely be disgusted, it was almost better to let him think she’d used it on herself. Considering his history with women, that, at least, was something he’d understand.
“Please let me up,” she pushed against his hands, not able to take a moment more.
“Will you stop fighting me and talk to me, for Christ’s sake?” he exploded. Obviously, he’d reached the end of his tether and her head snapped around to look at him.
“Well I didn’t know!” she cried.
“Know what?”
“That you’d been given a magical potion! I thought, well, I’d grown up with Mags always telling me that there was magic in the air, in the trees, in the rivers, yadda, yadda, yadda and I was dreaming of Royce and Beatrice and I didn’t know. I didn’t know who they were. I thought it was me! I thought I’d brought Royce out in you.”
Colin changed the subject and his voice was lethal when he stated, “You knew it was him and you let him kiss you.”
It was her turn to look to the ceiling and make quick, desperate promises to the goddess for rescue. Then, when no otherworldly aid arrived, she tugged once more at his hands, using her legs as leverage, and she surged up but, unfortunately, he followed her.
“Why did you let him kiss you?” Colin pressed.
She was not going to tell him about her dream lover, that she thought she was creating Royce because she needed to believe. She had no idea what this all meant, to her, to them, and she didn’t trust him enough with that knowledge. It was too close to her heart, she barely knew him, until tonight she didn’t know what he did for a living or that he had a brother. He could have twelve more siblings for all she knew. She knew his body intimately but Colin she barely knew at all. Selling her sexual favours for minibuses and living her life thinking she was destined for another was pure lunacy. He wouldn’t want anything to do with her. He was night and she was day. His parents were posh and hers were weird. His sister was sweet and caring and hers was… well… not (exactly).