Lacybourne Manor

Chapter Twenty-Eight Proposal

As instructed, at five thirty, Colin met Rick in the Great Hall.

“What’s happening?” Colin asked, throwing his suit jacket over a four hundred and fifty year old chair with a dry, preserved oak leaf sitting in its seat, The National Trust’s indication that tourists were not permitted to sit there.

“They’re barbequing sticks with vegetables on them. No meat, just vegetables. Vegetable sticks. On the barbeque. Who does that?” Rick answered, completely at a loss.

Colin speared Rick with at glance. “I was referring to the imminent threat on my girlfriend’s life,” he drawled.

“Oh right. That.” Rick said with a jerk of his chin. “No activity. We’ve got a bloke doing the perimeter just in the woods beyond the cleared grounds and garden. Got another bloke patrolling in the wood, another at the gatehouse. I’ve got the house. Someone’s relieving me at eight.”

Colin nodded.

Rick kept speaking. “Your alarm men started yesterday. As you instructed me, I instructed them to install the warning light and panic button first. They did that yesterday and tested it today. All is a go. Left side of the bed, like you asked. That is, left side when you’re lying in it.”

“Good,” Colin muttered.

Then he turned to go and change his clothes so he could join his guests at the impromptu vegetable barbeque but Rick stalled him by continuing. “Mr. Morgan, you should know, what I said earlier…” He stopped, searching for the right words. “Any other time and I’d think your bird was…” He stopped again then shrugged. “Whatever, she’s a little mad but she’s all right.”

Colin nodded again, indicating he held no ill-will against Rick’s unsuitable but understandable statement about Sibyl earlier.

He then went to his bedroom to check the work of the alarm company. While there, he changed into jeans and a grey, lightweight, v-necked sweater and walked down to the Great Hall. He heard laughter and the drone of happy, relaxed conversation drifting in from outside. He found it strange that he’d lived at Lacybourne for over a year and that was the first he’d ever heard those sounds in the house.

Because of that, before he joined his guests, with curiosity, he went to one of the two semi-circular windows on the outer wall and looked into the terraced garden.

At the paved area close to the house, chairs and tables had been set up. Kyle was manning the barbeque and his daughter Jemma stood beside him, holding a basting brush. Meg, Mrs. Griffith and Annie were all seated together with Mags and just watching them, Colin could not tell which ones were talking and which ones were listening as all their mouths were moving. Mrs. Griffith had Bran curled in her lap and Mallory was lying at her feet. His mother, Tina and Marian were in another group of chairs and Tina was relating some story that made the other two women smile.

Colin’s eyes searched for Sibyl and found her, two terraces up, racing in a patch of lawn with Flower, three younger boys and Jemma’s two children. They were kicking a football in a rag tag game of soccer.

Sibyl nearly collided with one of the younger boys and instead of falling on him, she threw her body forward in a graceful dive to avoid him. Correcting herself swiftly, she burst up from her reclining position and grasped him at his waist, pulling him down to the turf to tickle him.

The other children took this as an invitation to pile on top of Sibyl, a huge wrestling match ensued and Colin could hear the giggles and high-pitched screams through the window.

And then, right before his eyes, the scene melted.

It was the same garden but the colours of the flowers were different, the garden was less formal, it looked wilder and immensely more beautiful.

There were fewer children, only four. One boy, perhaps eight years old, tall and straight with leonine hair but, aside from his hair, he was a replica of Colin at that age. He was standing partially away from the mess with an expression on his face that clearly showed it was beneath him but regardless of that fact, he still wished to join in. Colin saw two girls, both rolling all over Sibyl. One had dark, nearly black hair and Sibyl’s features, another had leonine hair and a pleasing mixture of both Colin and Sibyl in her face. And the last was a very young lad of about two with dark hair and a face that nearly matched his older, blonde sister. He was partially cradled in Sibyl’s arms but struggling against her hold and her fingers at his sides.

Sibyl giggled, tickled and was tickled in return and then, for no apparent reason, she stopped abruptly, her head turned and she stared at Colin straight through the window.

Then she smiled at him with all the love of the world shining clearly in her eyes.

He saw it as distinctly as if she had been standing right in front of him.

And he felt it like it was a physical touch.

And then the scene melted back to the present time and Colin found himself shaken so deeply he had to put his hand to the window to steady himself.

He was in love with her.

Christ, he was in love with her.

He had no idea what just happened and he blinked to try and clear the vision from his mind.

But he couldn’t.

He was in love with Sibyl.

He had been in love with her since he saw her that first night under the copse of the trees with Mallory at her side and Bran in her arms.

And he would be in love with her until the day she died.

If he was a different type of man and believed in things like magic or destiny, he might have believed he loved her since before he was born.

For Colin Morgan had been born with a broken heart, the broken heart of a long-dead warrior, a warrior who lost his love and his life at near the same exact time.

Though Colin didn’t know that and wouldn’t believe it if someone told him.

Colin turned from the window and walked into the Great Hall, looking up at the portraits and seeing Royce and Beatrice with new eyes.

He had been avoiding this knowledge for weeks, with the pursuit of Sibyl and then her safety uppermost in his mind. If he had allowed himself to think about how he felt about her, it would have made him vulnerable.

Which he was now.

And he decided, since he’d never felt it before in all of his years, that he absolutely detested the feeling.

There was someone out there who wanted to slit their throats, wanted them to watch while it happened, just like the dream.

Colin stared at Royce and Beatrice, wondering if that was how they died. Bile rose up in his throat as it hit him and he believed, for the first time, that something so vile could live for centuries and curse anyone involved in it.

And he couldn’t, wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

At five forty five, nearly five hundred years earlier, the dark soul let the accomplices into the kitchen at Lacybourne.

Much coin changed hands.

And together, they went over the plan.

And at the same time, in William Godwin’s hall, Royce Morgan’s mother sat next to Beatrice Godwin’s mother.

“I congratulate you, Penelope,” Beatrice’s mother, Mary, stated.

“On what, Mary?” Royce’s mother, Penelope, asked.

“Fine meddling, that.” Mary nodded at the beautiful couple whirling before them, the dark-haired lass smiling so brightly up at her golden-haired warrior, it veritably lit the room.

“I congratulate you in return,” Penelope said generously for she secretly thought it was mostly her doing.

“Thank you,” Mary murmured with humble dignity, even though she wasn’t humble at all, as she thought it was mostly her doing.

“They’ll have fine children,” they said at the very same time, turned to look at each other and then burst out laughing.

Their laughter died when they saw Old Lady Griffin tap her cane none-too-gently on a young lad’s shoulder and said loudly, “I say, I would like to dance.”

Then the two happy mothers burst out laughing again.

It’s not only star-crossed lovers who are reincarnated, you know.

“Food’s ready!” Kyle shouted and the children tore away from Sibyl and rushed down the garden’s terraced steps in such wild abandon, she feared for a moment they’d all end up in a heap of broken bones at the bottom.

Luckily, fate was smiling down on them and this did not happen.

Sibyl followed at a much slower pace and then, as if by magic, she felt Colin’s eyes on her. She actually felt them before she even knew he was there.

And halfway down the steps, she turned and saw him striding out of the backdoor from the kitchen, striding purposefully with all his masculine grace, all the while looking at her.

Without hesitation, she ran down the steps, across the paved slabs and threw herself into his arms. He also didn’t hesitate and those arms closed fiercely around her.

“We’re free!” She smiled as she turned her face up to his. “Rick’s no longer holding us captive in the library, the sun is shining, a bunch of people I love are sitting in the garden and the shish kebabs are ready.”

He was staring down at her, a peculiar look on his face and his hand came up to the side of her neck, his thumb at the soft skin under her chin.

Something in his eyes made her toes curl.

And her stomach pitch.

And, if that wasn’t enough, her heart skipped three beats.

Then it started racing.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

“I love you,” he said quietly in return.

And then the world fell away and there was only the two of them, alone together, and all time and place faded.

Marian was not the only one to notice the gold shimmer in the air intensify to the point that it seemed as thick as treacle.

Mags noticed it too.

As did Phoebe.

And Jemma.

And, of course, Tina and Kyle.

The kids didn’t notice anything.

Annie murmured, ‘I’m finding it a bit hard to breathe,’ as the golden air caught in her lungs. This, somehow, caused her no fear. She thought it felt rather pleasant actually.

Meg’s face collapsed in a smile for she was looking to her left and seeing Colin holding Billie in a way so tender and true, it could only be love.

Mrs. Griffith missed it all; she was looking around on the ground by her chair.

She couldn’t find her cane.

This was because Mallory was lying on it.

“Oh my goddess.”

Colin smiled.

Sibyl’s eyes were wide. The colour drained from her face and then just her cheeks suffused with warmth.

“Oh my goddess.”

Colin’s arms tightened.

“Say it again,” she demanded.

“You heard me,” he growled low.

“Oh… my… goddess!”

Colin’s smile widened before he asked, “Is that all you have to say?”

She pulled her lips between her teeth and then let them out. “No.”

His eyebrows rose arrogantly.

“I love you, too.”

And then her face split into a smile that if she had known, she would have been devastated but still wouldn’t have been able to stop herself, had an ever-so-slight negative effect on the ozone layer.

And just as incapable of stopping himself, Colin kissed her.

It was sweet and wild and beautiful and absolutely everything a kiss should be.

When he lifted his head, he was shaken to his soul.

“Oh my goddess,” Sibyl whispered reverently.

Apparently, so was Sibyl.

She blinked and then tore out of his arms but not away. She grabbed his hand and with all her strength, started pulling him towards the house.

He followed for three steps and with a slight tug of his hand in hers, brought her to a halt and she whirled back.

“Colin! We have to go inside.”

“Why?”

She walked back to him, closing the short space between them, grabbed his other hand and exerted pressure on both, trying to walk backwards and pull him with her.

“We have to…” she explained, “you know… do it. Break the curse. Like… now!”

He grinned again and she felt her heart skip three more beats and her legs start to wobble.

“Darling, we have guests,” Colin pointed out.

She glanced quickly at their audience and caught their knowing smiles then back to Colin.

“They won’t mind,” she assured him.

His grin broadened to a wicked smile but he didn’t move.

“It’ll only take ten minutes,” she cajoled.

His eyebrows rose again.

“Okay… fifteen,” she amended.

The smile turned lethal, her stomach did a somersault as his head tilted.

“Twenty?” she tried.

He shook his head and she stomped her foot.

“Colin!”

He lifted one of her hands up, brushing his lips on her knuckles and as he did this, never once did his eyes leave hers.

She stared at him, mesmerised. Just that morning, Royce had done the same thing.

“Colin,” she said far more quietly.

“Marry me, Sibyl.”

Her breath caught.

Her mind stilled.

All thoughts of Royce flew into the atmosphere.

She couldn’t have uttered a word if she’d learned at that moment that the World Health Organisation had been given a gazillion dollars to socialise healthcare globally.

He didn’t wait for an answer, just dropped her hand and put one of his in his pocket. Then there was an extraordinary, princess cut, diamond ring being slid on her finger.

She knew just by looking at it that it was exorbitantly expensive.

And she didn’t care one bit.

“Oh my goddess!” This was said (more like screeched) from behind them, coming from Mags.

Sibyl finally found her voice.

“Does this mean you think you can boss me around for the rest of my natural born days?”

He tugged sharply at her hand, Sibyl fell into him and his arms closed around her.

“And through eternity,” he promised against her lips, this said in his low, effective, deep, rich voice.

She was powerless against it and therefore instantly agreed.

“Okay.”

While Sibyl and Colin ate vegetables on sticks and were given pats on the backs, hugs, kisses, handshakes and many congratulations through smiles and tears…

Nearly five hundred years earlier, at the same precise time, Royce helped Beatrice onto Mallory’s sleek, dark, back.

They were going home to Lacybourne.

He swung into the saddle behind her and the moment he settled, he felt her tremble against him.

“Nerves, my sweet?” His voice rumbled deliciously in her ear.

She shook her head and looked back him, pressing her chin endearingly against her shoulder. “I just can’t wait to be home.”

Then she smiled, a lovely, inviting, slightly anxious smile.

And at the sight, his guard lowered.

And Royce Morgan, for the first time in his life, became vulnerable.