He hesitated.
“About Royce and Beatrice,” she prompted.
“No.”
“Oh my,” Mrs. Byrne sighed. “Are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know.” And, at this news, he didn’t not only not know if he was going to tell Sibyl about Royce and Beatrice, he didn’t know why he didn’t know if he was going to tell her or why, if she was not in partnership with Mrs. Byrne, why Sibyl had taken the money and lastly, and most annoyingly, he realised he didn’t know much of anything.
And he didn’t like that either.
“Well, I won’t say a word,” she surprised him by assuring him and he surprised himself by believing her. “I’ll leave it in your hands.” Then she murmured, “It’s right here,” and motioned to an elegant, well-kept house on Victoria Road. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan, you’ve been very kind. No,” she said when he started to alight, “I’m quite fine, get back to Sibyl, she seems a bit shaken.”
For some reason, he did as he was told (though he waited for the elderly lady to make her way up her walk, enter her house and the light in the front room to come on) and, five minutes later, he pulled up at the restaurant, leaving the car to collect Sibyl who had seen him arrive and was walking from the restaurant to the car. He opened her door and made sure she was safely inside before he went to his side and they took off.
They didn’t speak a word the entire way to her home but he noticed she was clasping her hands together so intensely he could see the whiteness of her skin by the dash lights.
He hadn’t given her the time to lock the door to the cottage so when they arrived she turned the latch, shoved it open and pushed inside. Instead of taking her coat off, she grabbed the dog’s lead. Mallory came lurching excitedly into the room before she’d cleared the lead from the peg.
“I have to take Mallory for a walk,” she explained to Colin, her voice soft and still a bit shaky.
“I’ll go with you,” Colin replied, his voice hard, his mind preoccupied with their near-death experience and what it might mean. Or if it meant anything at all and was just an accident.
Her head jerked up to look at him and then it tilted while she studied him. He noticed her eyes were more sherry than green.
Colin didn’t know what to make of that.
She nodded, clipped the lead on Mallory’s collar and they walked out into the night.
And as they walked, Colin noted that Mallory didn’t seem like a dog who didn’t like his walks. He seemed thrilled to be outside, smelling every blade of grass, and, as they made it down the secluded drive and turned onto the pavement, every car tire, post and inch of pavement he traversed. He was so excited Colin noticed that Sibyl was having trouble controlling the lead.
“Give it to me,” Colin ordered and then didn’t wait for her to act, he took it from her hands.
“I don’t understand. This is how he behaves during his morning walks sometimes. He never likes the evening walks. He just does his business as quickly as he can and we go home,” she explained.
As if realising they were talking about him, Mallory stopped. The dog looked down the length of his enormous body at them both and Colin could see that Mallory’s mouth was hanging open in what looked like a version of a canine smile. A long sliver of drool slid off his lip and plopped on the pavement.
“We’re going home,” Colin told the dog and Mallory, just as happy with this idea as he was with the walk, immediately turned around and headed back to the house.
“Utterly bizarre,” Sibyl muttered under her breath.
Colin did not reply.
Mallory decided on the pillar of a streetlamp and took care of his business on the way home and the three of them walked down her dark lane in silence (except for Mallory’s excited panting). Sibyl pushed open her door when they arrived and, once inside, Colin unhooked the dog’s lead and hung it on the peg while Sibyl took off her trench coat.
Without a word, his mind occupied with both the events of the evening (including the near-miss with the car and his strange conversation with Mrs. Byrne) and his continued anger at Sibyl, Colin walked up the stairs and straight to her bedroom. He was shrugging off his suit jacket when she arrived in the room.
“Colin?” Her voice was hesitant.
He turned on the bedside lamp, settled his eyes on her but didn’t answer and started to unbutton his shirt.
She stood across the room from him nervously then started to speak.
“You should know something about me,” she announced.
He stopped unbuttoning his shirt to study her, wondering what she had to say. Wondering if he’d believe what she had to say. Wondering if he’d be further annoyed by what she had to say. And thinking that he likely would not (to the former) and definitely would (to the latter).
Then, to his surprise, she crossed the room and halted not a foot away from him.
She lifted her beautiful face to his and her eyes were sherry. When she spoke her voice was low and intent and almost urgent.
“My mother and father are both redheads, I didn’t get their hair but I got their temper. I always say things I regret when I lose my temper and I’m always in a foul mood when I wake up. I’m so sorry I was such a terrible shrew this morning. Please don’t be mad at me anymore.”
When he didn’t reply to this stunning announcement, an announcement that, backed by the shade of her eyes (something she likely couldn’t control), he believed for they were a warm sherry, she closed the distance between them and hesitantly rested both her hands on his chest.
“I like it when you’re yelling at me or ordering me around a lot better than this. Not that I like you ordering me around but I couldn’t bear five months of this,” she declared and at the earnest look on her face he finally felt his chest, which had been tight since the moment he saw her smile at the waiter, relax. He also felt the anger ebb out of him and decided on the best course of action to work the rest of his tension at the evening out of his system.
Therefore, he ordered, “Take your clothes off, Sibyl.”
She nodded, her shoulders drooped, she dropped her head and began to step away from him.
“No,” he changed his mind, “I think tonight I’d rather do it.”
Her head snapped up and his hands went to her hips, sliding around, pressing in to pull her to him and she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders.
“Can I take it that since you’re ordering me around again that you aren’t mad at me anymore?” she asked, her alto voice sweet and, if he heard it correctly, hopeful.
Colin studied her.
Sibyl Godwin was definitely an enigma and this was a new, enchanting element to her puzzle.
He bent his neck and brushed his lips against hers.
Then he said against her mouth, “No, Sibyl, I’m not mad at you anymore.”
And that’s when it happened.
She relaxed, leaned into him, locked her sherry eyes with his and smiled.
And Colin knew, in that instant, he’d never forget that smile for the rest of his life.
Much later, Colin woke from a deep sleep, mainly because Sibyl had kicked him violently in the shin.
He pulled himself onto his elbow to see she was still asleep. They hadn’t closed the shutters and he could see her in the moonlight, she had moved away from him in the night and was lying on her stomach. He could tell she was agitated, something wasn’t right.
“Sibyl?” He reached out to touch her, to wake her from what was obviously a nightmare.