When her lips moved away, she smiled up at him and he felt his gut clench when he saw her face was awash with an extraordinary light and he realised that she was happy.
Blindingly, beautifully, glamorously, unbelievably happy.
Moved by this in a profound way that was nearly raw, his hand went to the side of her neck and he positioned his thumb under her chin to keep her radiant face tilted to his.
“You’re in a rare mood tonight,” he commented lightly in an effort to hide how her happiness affected him.
If it was possible, her smile brightened.
“She’s going to be all right, Colin. You saw her! She’s nearly back to the same old Meg.” Her arms tightened with delight around his neck.
He could do nothing but smile back.
In the middle of the night, with Sibyl’s na**d body pressed heavily against his side as she slept, his own sleep eluded him.
His thoughts were about finding a way to make Sibyl that happy always. He wanted her constantly radiating happiness, peace, warmth and affection and never again worried.
Never.
And what Colin wanted, Colin found a way to get. The problem was, he was beginning to be impatient.
On Wednesday, Colin learned that Tamara Adams had disappeared and no one had seen her for weeks. She had not taken Colin’s breaking things with her very well and had said as much to family and friends, rather vociferously, according to Fitzwilliam’s phoned-in report. Then she told people she was going on holiday but didn’t return. Everyone, reportedly, was concerned.
Colin obviously wasn’t concerned, he just wanted her found and soon.
He arrived at Lacybourne early on Wednesday, thinking to work at home and immediately went in search of Sibyl. He found her in the buttery which had been, the day before, turned into her makeshift “laboratory”.
She was standing in front of the window, her back to him, one of the grey, misty days that had been the incessant weather of late providing weak light for her work. She was wearing her torn jeans and a fitted, white t-shirt and her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail at the top back of her head.
Without a word, he silently walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. She jumped in surprise but when his lips touched her neck, she relaxed against him.
“Hi,” she whispered and he felt a thrill down his spine at her utterance of that single word.
He lifted his mouth from her neck and caught sight of her hands encased in gloves that went up to her elbows, immersed in a huge bowl of glistening, white goo.
“What is that?” he asked.
She laughed softly before saying, “That is an experiment. A new face mask. As I don’t do animal testing and Mallory would likely eat it anyway, Mags and Phoebe are going to test it for me.”
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.