But unfortunately, everything she was would not allow her to lie.
“No,” she admitted and chanced a glance at him. She saw the flash of white from his teeth and she made a grumpy noise and looked out the window.
He chuckled.
She decided not to speak to him anymore.
He was not, however, finished speaking to her.
“You were freezing yourself to death, which was a fool thing to do, and you looked about as comfortable as if you were lying on a sacrificial slab.”
“I could hardly make myself comfortable when I was being held hostage!” she snapped, instantly forgetting her vow to stay silent.
“You weren’t being held hostage.”
“Could I leave?” she demanded.
“No,” he stated implacably.
She threw up her arms as if that settled her point. “You see! I was a hostage.”
This time, it was no chuckle but a quiet, amused laugh.
Therefore she stated crossly, “I fail to see how anything about that entire evening was funny. I just wanted to see your house. You confiscated my license and called the police to check on me.”
“I had my reasons.”
“Yes? And what were those?” she asked, her voice short and angry and she was glad, no thrilled of these reminders. Rescuer Colin was not nearly as easy to deal with as Lunatic Colin.
“You honestly don’t know?” he asked back, surprise edging his voice.
“Well, it felt like you thought Mrs. Byrne and I were going to steal your favourite hi fi, which was not a pleasant feeling. Though I think at the time she said it she was living in cloud coo coo land, considering your reaction to my arrival at your home, she told me the day before you’d likely give me a personal tour of the house.”
“Maybe I’ll do that,” he murmured as if to himself.
“Thank you, but no,” Sibyl replied quickly. “I’m never going to Lacybourne Manor again. I think I may even avoid National Trust properties altogether,” she declared dramatically then ruined it by going back on her word in case the goddess heard her statement and held her to it so she made a few exceptions. “Except Tyntesfield, naturally. And Dunster Castle, which is one of my favourites. And Durham Park, of course.” She wracked her brain to think of anything else she’d missed. “Oh! And Avebury, you get parking for free there if you’re a National Trust member.”
“You can’t possibly be real.” The warm, laughing tone in his voice made her head snap around to look at him and she saw the smile was there, full force.
“I am real, Mr. Morgan, it is you, or at least tonight’s you, that I find hard to believe is real.”
They were slowing down and she realised he was on the short, but secluded, drive to her cottage. How he knew where she lived, she couldn’t fathom, unless he memorised the address on her license which was undoubtedly what he did.
Colin stopped outside the door and pulled up the handbrake. Then he turned to her and, by the dim lights of the dash, she could see the deep intensity of his eyes.
“I’m definitely real,” he told her.
“Which is the real you?” she asked in return. “Crazy, angry man at Lacybourne or rescuer guy in Bristol?”
“Both,” he answered, she saw the flash of his teeth and she fought the insane urge to smile back at him or throw herself into his arms, or both.
Instead, she retreated into flippancy which was a far safer place to be. “Great. Multiple personalities. Perhaps I should do an intervention.”
On that, she unclicked her seatbelt and hastily exited the lovely car. She heard the purring, well-tuned motor stop and his car door opening and slamming shut. Even so, she didn’t hesitate, walked directly to the front door, slid in the ancient key and opened it. Mallory bounded out with great, if unusual, enthusiasm and went tearing toward Colin.
“Mallory!” she shouted but Mallory would not be deterred.
“Stop,” Colin ordered, his voice commanding but not harsh and Mallory skidded to a halt and stopped within inches of the man then leaned her muzzle forward and licked his hand.