“I’m not leaving him,” Mrs. Griffith returned fiercely.
“I’ve got him.” Rick was walking toward the scene, carrying a sheet from some bed. Gently, more gently than Sibyl would have imagined he was capable, he crouched and carefully tucked the sheet around the dog. He then, still utilising the utmost care, lifted the dead, awkward weight of the enormous dog and settled Mallory in his arms.
“Where are you taking him?” Sibyl asked as she tried to break free from Colin but both his arms tightened around her.
“Don’t worry.” Rick smiled at his charge for the first time of their acquaintance. It was not a happy smile, it was a sad, trust me smile. “I’ll take care of him, I promise.”
At his smile, Sibyl let her weight sag against Colin and he took it on without sound or movement. Then she nodded at her bodyguard.
Rick walked down the hall, carrying his burden.
New tears sprang to Sibyl’s eyes and clogged her throat.
“Colin, get her to the library. Get her a relaxing drink, you both could use one.” Phoebe was next to her son, her thoughtful eyes on Sibyl.
Colin did as his mother told him, pausing only to scoop up the cat which he handed to Sibyl and she tucked the feline protectively in her arms. For the first time, Bran seemed quite contented to be where he was.
Colin guided her down to the library and Sibyl heard behind her…
“I’ll get this cleaned up.” That was Mags.
“I’ll help.” That was Jemma.
“No, my dear, you get the kids home. We’ll take care of this.” That was Phoebe.
She stopped listening when Colin turned her toward the stairs and they went to the library. All the while, Sibyl realised absently, unable to process it completely, that she was very lucky to have such wonderful people in her life.
Colin took her to the couch and pushed her gently into it. She didn’t resist. She’d started her journey on this couch, it seemed fitting to sit there now. The minute she sat, Bran settled in a curl on her lap.
She heard noises coming from other areas the house. Their friends and family were all trying to be quiet but their tasks of tidying up and leaving and cleaning a pool of dog blood would not allow them to shield their noise from Colin and Sibyl.
Listening to the noise, Sibyl’s face was frozen in a constant wince.
Colin took one look at her and walked to the door to close it but the unknown man filled its frame.
“The police are here,” he told Colin, glanced at Sibyl, tried (and failed) to smile at her reassuringly and then looked back at Colin.
“I pressed the panic button,” Colin told him then sighed. “Can you deal with them?” His hand went to his hair and he pulled his fingers through it in a frustrated gesture.
“Of course,” the man assured then left and Colin closed the door behind him.
“Who is that man?” Sibyl asked as Colin walked to the drinks cabinet.
“A security specialist and an investigator, he and his team have been watching over you for weeks. They’ve also been trying to discover who was behind all this.”
Sibyl nodded, allowing the pleasant thought that Colin had hired a team to protect her to penetrate the numbness that had enveloped her.
He poured two drinks and brought them both to the couch. He handed her one and she automatically took it. He settled down beside her, stretching his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles and wrapping his arm around her shoulder before he pulled her into him and she rested her head in the curve of his neck.
“What’s this?” she asked, lifting the tumbler filled with a fluid that matched his eyes.
“Whisky. Drink it,” he ordered.
She sighed. “You are so bossy,” she told him, her voice weary but filled with affection.
As an answer, his hand went to her hair and lifted its heavy weight.
She sipped her drink and felt the pleasant warmth slide down her throat and into her belly.