“That’s –” she began to interrupt him.
“I like you in my bed,” he continued and she closed her mouth and glared at him. “I like the way your laboratory makes the house smell like fruit and flowers. I like walking your damned dog. I like seeing your clothes in the wardrobe. I like you wearing my t-shirts to bed. I like coming home to you.”
As he spoke, her face shifted and relaxed, the emerald melted and the sherry took its place.
She regarded him a moment with her face soft, her eyes warm then she whispered, “Okay, Colin.”
“Okay, what?”
“I get it,” she answered softly but somehow uncertainly. “I’ll move into Lacybourne.”
“I wasn’t asking.” He felt it necessary to inform her.
Finally, she let go of whatever was troubling her and her lips twitched. “I know. You’re very bossy. I’ve decided that it’s better if I move in with you. If I live at Lacybourne, I’ll have more time to break you of that bad habit.”
He smiled at her before he warned, his head descending, “I wouldn’t count on it.”
* * * * *
He had another good reason for her moving into Lacybourne.
He could not shake his unease that Mrs. Byrne was right.
And he didn’t want Sibyl going anywhere until he was certain she was safe.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Good Kind. And the Bad.
Sibyl woke in a bed that felt strange beneath her. It was feather-soft, had no firmness and the sheets were slightly scratchy.
Her eyes flew open and she realised she wasn’t in Colin’s bed, she wasn’t in any bed she’d ever seen before.
And Colin wasn’t there.
She jumped out of the bed thinking to see Bran or Mallory but neither was in sight. There was also no elegant furniture in the room, indeed, although the room was grand, it looked slightly rough and definitely strange.
She was someplace she’d never been.
Even though she knew, somehow, she was in Lacybourne.
Her hands went to her hair which she found was plaited in a thick braid down her back.
She flipped the braid around to the front and stared at it.
Colin’s hair, nearly dark as black.
She stared down at her nightgown and it was old-fashioned and prim.
She was in a different time.
She was in Royce’s time.
“Oh my goddess,” she murmured.
Her eyes frantically searched the room and she found a soft, blue wrapper thrown across the back of a chair. She grabbed it and shoved her arms into the sleeves as she ran from the room and down the hall toward Colin’s room which she prayed silently to the goddess had also been Royce’s room.
She threw open the door and startled a maid who was making the bed.