Scarlett twitched the coverlet into place, rounded the bed, took Sibyl in her arms and gave her a fierce hug.
“I think Colin would die before he’d let anyone put a scratch on you,” Scarlett whispered in her ear.
Sibyl shuddered.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she admitted with a force of feeling and a terrible premonition that she had to keep under complete control or it would overwhelm her.
Scarlett’s embrace tightened. Her sister knew about the dream, everyone knew about the dream. They also knew that Sibyl had visions like this before, visions that came true. Scarlett was likely just as terrified as her sister but too proud, and too protective, to show it.
Sibyl kissed Scarlett’s cheek and went to find Colin.
He was standing in his bedroom, staring out the window holding a cut, crystal tumbler that contained something that was the colour of his beautiful eyes. Mallory lay at his feet and Bran was already curled contentedly at the foot of the bed.
When she entered, he glanced at her, put the tumbler to his lips, threw back the entire contents of the glass and set it down on dresser.
With his long-legged strides, he approached her and without a word, he tugged on the belt that kept her wraparound dress in place. It immediately loosened and fell apart at the front. The look on his face was carefully controlled and try as she might she couldn’t read a single thought on it.
“Colin, we need to talk,” she whispered carefully.
His hands went to her shoulders, slid the dress off her shoulders and it fell in a pool at her feet.
“We need to go to bed,” he contradicted, his fingers finding the clasp at the back of her bra and freed it with an astonishing deftness. This he slid it off her shoulders and dropped to the floor too.
“Colin –”
“Sibyl,” he interrupted her and slid his hands into her hair on either side of her face, holding her head tilted up to peer at him, “I’m exhausted, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
He released her abruptly and turned away, his hands going to the buttons of his midnight blue shirt. She flipped off her shoes, walked to one of his dressers, pulled open a drawer and snatched out one of his t-shirts.
And she didn’t give up.
“We need to let it out, talk about it, we shouldn’t bottle it in. It isn’t healthy.” She tugged his shirt over her head, pulled her hair free of the collar and turned to him, her eyes on his back.
He yanked the shirt off his broad shoulders, keeping his back to her. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Colin!” she protested, her composure slipping. “I’m scared half out of my wits! I have to talk about it. Someone held a knife to my throat and we both know what that means.”
He turned to her slowly and when she saw the look in his eyes, she pulled in her breath and held it. He looked primitive, even elemental and very, very frightening.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” He enunciated every word carefully, nearly brutally. She opened her mouth and before a single sound came out, he repeated, more forcefully than before (if it could be credited), “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“What if something happens to you?” she cried. “They wanted you, not me. They asked for you!”
“I’ll handle it.” He divested himself of the rest of his clothes while Sibyl stood in his bedroom and stared. When he was done, standing there in his na**d glory, he commanded, “Darling, get in bed.”
“Who are those people?” she demanded, he may be done talking but she damned well wasn’t.
“Get in bed, Sibyl, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“We’ll bloody well talk about it now!” she yelled, letting her temper get the better of her. She’d had enough; she’d had a knife at her throat and seen his seemingly lifeless body loaded into an ambulance. She couldn’t just go to sleep, not with her mind racing as it was. “Who are those people, were they the ones who hurt Marian?”
He closed the distance in two quick strides, hooked her around the waist and swung her up in his arms then stalked to the bed and threw her on it. Mallory lumbered to his feet at this unprecedented flurry of action at such a late hour and Bran flew off the bed.
“Colin, don’t manhandle me!” she snapped.
He stood by the bed and scowled at her, the muscles in his body visibly taut, she could see the ones in his upper arms bunching reflexively as he clenched his fists.
“Sibyl, I’ve been shot by a f**king tranquilliser dart, watched, powerless, while someone held you at knifepoint, you disappeared for what seemed an endless period of time at the hospital and I didn’t know where the hell you were. I’m bloody tired, I don’t know what the f**k is going on and, right now, can’t do anything about it. Talking is not going to help. It’s late, I need sleep, you need sleep, so for Christ’s sake, be quiet and stop arguing with me.”
She realised then he was just as frightened as she was but too damned much of a man to admit it and her heart, as was Sibyl’s wont, went out to him. She got up on her knees, walking on them across the top of the bed until she reached him, wrapped her arms around him, pressed in close and rested her cheek on his chest.
Then she said softly into his chest, “Okay.”
And at her soft word, Sibyl felt his anger drift out of him and his arms wrap around her tight.
“You’re the most annoying woman alive,” he mumbled this familiar refrain into the hair at the top of her head but there was affection in his tone that obliterated any sting to his words.
“Come to bed,” she beckoned.
He did and they did nothing but sleep, nestled together, her back to his front. The warmth of his body and protective arm he wrapped around her comforted her and she surprisingly found herself giving into her exhaustion and drifting to sleep almost the moment they settled.
* * * * *
Sibyl woke too early, feeling like she hadn’t slept. She was lethargic, headachy and most definitely cranky. And that was before she opened her eyes and saw she was alone in Colin’s gigantic bed.
Colin never left her in bed without an embrace, a kiss, a caress or some loving gesture.
Never.
Fear coursed through her and she catapulted from the bed and ran to the bathroom looking for him. He wasn’t there and she noticed both Mallory and Bran were gone as well.
Panic seized her and she flew from the room, down the hall. Visions of blood and knives and broken canes stampeded through her brain.