“Well good,” she decided for her sanity their conversation was over. “Now that’s sorted, I’m leaving.”
“Excellent,” he announced. “I’ll take you home.”
The hand by her head dropped and his long, strong fingers closed around her upper arm.
Alarmed, she blurted, “What?”
Colin looked down at her. “Would you like me to take you back to the medic?”
Sibyl glanced across the bar and through the crush of people and caught sight of Steve who was drinking from the pint he’d been delivered. He looked content and at ease and as if he’d completely forgotten he’d come with a date.
Sibyl had no desire whatsoever to return to Steve.
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
“I’ll get a taxi,” she announced.
“Don’t be absurd, you live five minutes from me,” Colin returned.
This was true. And a taxi from Bristol to Clevedon would cost her thirty pounds. Not that she didn’t have thirty pounds but she could think of a great number of things she’d prefer to spend her hard earned money on.
“I’ll get a bus,” she decided.
Obviously, he disagreed. Without a word, he turned and then started moving forward, taking her with him. Divesting her of her drink, he deposited it on the bar without breaking stride, the whole time he brought her along with him with a firm but gentle hand on her arm.
“Mr. Morgan –” she began, looking at him and having to quicken her pace to keep up with his casual advance.
“My name is Colin,” he said distractedly and stopped. She was about to open her mouth to say something but looked around as to why they stopped.
They were standing by Steve and his group of friends. Colin’s hand had dropped but not away from her. His arm slid around her and settled tightly around her waist, not, she noted not-so-vaguely, as if she was a trophy to show off. Instead, his hold was proprietary, blatantly so. Colin Morgan was claiming her right in front of her date, an aggressive, ruthless move that stole her breath and any words she might have been able to utter.
Steve’s friends noticed Colin and Sibyl first and their open-mouthed stares made Steve turn around.
“I’m taking Ms. Godwin home,” Colin announced the minute he had Steve’s attention. Before Steve could put into words the angry, stunned surprise on his face, Colin guided Sibyl out the door.
Sibyl moved with him mostly in order not to make a scene.
When they were outside the club and walking down the pavement was when she asked angrily, “Well that… that… I don’t even know what that was. Why did you do that?”
“I would guess he’d eventually go looking for you, I saved him the trouble.” Colin had dropped his arm from around her waist but caught her hand in his as they walked.
She was too taken aback by his behaviour to recognise the familiar intimacy of his hand holding hers while guiding her down the pavement. Before this dawned on her, he turned into a car park that was two doors down from the club and she was forced to admit to a secret relief that she wouldn’t have to trek for miles to get to his car (even when she didn’t quite understand how she’d managed to get herself in the awkward position of accepting a ride from him in the first place).
He strode purposefully, and she noticed distractedly, with immense masculine grace, towards a gleaming, black, sporty, convertible Mercedes, all the while holding her hand.
She stared at the car in horror.
“You own a Mercedes?” she breathed.
He had stopped at the passenger side and dropped her hand. At her comment, he looked at her sharply.
In an about turn of everything she’d experienced a week ago at Lacybourne, that entire night he’d been regarding her with amusement and even, possibly (if she could credit it) admiration.
Now, however, he was staring at her with an expression of distaste, something about him with which she was far more familiar.
He also did not answer, possibly because the answer was obvious.
He unlocked the doors with an expensive-sounding “bleep” and, without a word, he pulled hers open, guiding her in before closing it with more force than he needed to use.