“It’s four months,” she retorted as the skirt of her dress slid over her hips.
“Now, it’s six.”
She gasped.
“It’s four!”
“Seven,” he bit out.
She clamped her mouth shut and he pulled the dress over her head, forcing her arms up with it. He tossed it aside, his hands settled on her waist and then slid, sending tingles in their wake, up her sides. He watched his hands move on her as she struggled valiantly against the tingles (and still lost).
“Are you stopping at seven?” he enquired with mock politeness as if he was an auctioneer and she was deciding what to bid.
She nodded, her head jerking angrily.
“I bet Royce didn’t do this to Beatrice.” She had no idea what drove her to say it, it was ugly (not to mention stupid) and it didn’t sound right on her lips.
But Colin reacted strangely, he chuckled but instead of sounding amused, it sounded grim. “He should have, if he had, we wouldn’t be in this f**king mess.”
Then he pushed her to her back and landed on top of her.
And then he did a variety of delightful things to her where she didn’t have to think anything at all.
Chapter Nineteen
The Storm is Over
Colin awoke before dawn knowing something wasn’t right.
He rolled from his back to his side and opened his eyes to see Sibyl sleeping all the way across the expanse of the large bed, her back to him.
Regardless of the fact that he was still half asleep, this annoyed him immensely. In the beginning she had always slept with her back to him. However, since Mallory had been tranquillised, she’d taken to curling her warm, soft body against his every time they’d been together.
This was not a step in the right direction.
Last night had definitely not gone to plan mainly due to Sibyl’s extraordinary temper (even though he knew this about her, he still underestimated it) and her refusal to trust him with the truth about herself.
Colin was not about to take any responsibility for what happened, he had kept Royce and Beatrice from her for a reason which she had cottoned on to quickly and his sister had helpfully, if rather irritatingly, confirmed and then explained.
He, however, had taken great pains to break it to her gently, with her loved ones around and Marian Byrne there to impart the whole story (or the parts Colin felt Sibyl should know). Not to mention, Colin showing her that she had his family’s full support as well. None of which, he marked with irritation, she actually noticed.
He couldn’t understand her reaction because he knew she didn’t have a thing to hide. This was something, however, he’d never tell her. If she found out he’d investigated her, there would be hell to pay. He felt no compunction at keeping this from her. He felt no compunction about doing anything that would make this rough ride smoother, for both of them. The fact that she had nothing to hide made it further difficult to understand why she continued to keep it from him.
This, he could only assume, meant she didn’t trust him.
Which meant he had more work to do.
Luckily, he now had seven months in which to do it. She seemed willing, with only the mildest form of protestation (something that he found very telling) to allow him to demand further time from her. He pinned his hope on this.
Her refusal to discuss Royce was a different story. How Colin could feel such searing jealousy for a dead man, he could not fathom, but he did. She’d shared something with Royce in her chalet and Colin damned well wanted to know what it was.
And what Colin wanted, he found a way to get.
He reached out and dragged her across the bed. She made an endearing, sleepy mew in her throat but didn’t wake. The moment she hit his warmth, she turned and curled against his side, wrapping her arm around his waist.
This was much better.
Then, listening to the soft rain against the windows for a few moments while Sibyl nestled deeper into him, Colin fell back to sleep.