Sybill (20 page)

They had been warned of his treachery. She closed her eyes as her mind erupted with the scene of Trevor opening the door to place himself directly in front of the knife. His startlingly agile reflexes had saved him. To think of Trevor injured or dead sent a cold wave of fear through her. It was impossible to imagine a life without him. Sybill stared at her reflection in the mirror over her dressing table and saw the softening of her lips as she recalled the lush joy of his kisses. No longer could she hide the truth from herself.

She loved the often overbearing, always dedicated estate manager named Trevor Breton. For the past weeks, she had been fleeing from the truth, concealing her heart's desires from herself and from him. Lacing her fingers together in front of her, she wondered if she should stop her flight and accept the truth. She loved Trevor! Suddenly she wanted to climb to the top of the east tower and shout the tidings to be carried throughout the world on the strong wings of the seabirds.

“Miss Sybill, will you relax a bit?”

She started to retort, but knew she did not want to argue with Kate again. After …

“Miss Sybill, are you cold? Why are you shivering? What is the matter with you today, girl?”

Turning so Kate could not see her face, she said, “I'm fine.” It was a lie. After Joaquin died, she would talk to Kate about her behavior. Those thoughts she did not want in her head. Not when she held the knowledge of her love so close to her heart.

“Fine?” demanded Kate petulantly. “You act as if you are waiting for the executioner to drop his ax on your head!”

“Perhaps I shouldn't be the one to be thinking of that!” Her frustration and fear altered into rage at Kate's continued nastiness. “I don't want to hear more of your comments this evening.”

“Maybe it's time you did!”

Her heavy, bejeweled skirts bumped into a chair, rocking it back, as she whirled to face the superior expression on her maid's face. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just remember it's Lord Foxbridge to whom you owe your home, Miss Sybill.”

“That I never forget. You need not lecture me. I know my obligations.”

Kate was rehanging the dress Sybill had been wearing and noted the stain of salt at its hem. “Is that why you have been cavorting all afternoon with Mr. Breton when you know the lord enjoys your company?”

Her back straightened as she dredged up an image of self-righteous dignity. “Kate, if it is any of your business, which it isn't, Owen specifically told me he was going to be busy today. I didn't spend
all
afternoon with Trevor. I went for a walk. Alone.”

“Alone?” The maid laughed harshly. She tossed the soiled dress to the floor and closed the cupboard door.

“I went alone. As you can see by the salt on my gown, I went to the water's edge. You know, I'm sure, from your favored habit of listening at keyholes, that both Trevor and Owen have forbidden me to go near the strand.” She smiled coldly. “There, Kate. You have information which you can spread throughout the whole Cloister about my misbehavior.”

“Miss Sybill, I—”

“Oh, be quiet. Don't add lying to my face to the list of your sins. I know how you love to share every detail of my life with any who will listen.” She went to the door of the bedroom. “I don't want to hear any more. I suggest you remember
your
place in this household!”

As she slammed the door behind her, Sybill bit her lip. She had never had to let a servant go for insolence. Only once did she have a problem in London. That lad had been caught stealing and was ordered from the house. She did not want to think of someone losing her position in these days when there were too few jobs. It was far easier to accept the strain of living with someone who cared only for advancing herself in Lord Foxbridge's favor. Even as she walked down the stairs, she was deciding to talk with Trevor about this after … later. He would know the best way to handle a dismissal at the Cloister. Her frown deepened as she wondered if she would be allowed to make the decision.

For the first time since the project had been finished, she did not feel the compulsion to sneak into the parlor to peek at the completed portrait. She walked past the wide arch without thinking of it. Too many other, more vital issues cluttered her mind.

Her false smile was firmly in place as she entered the dining room. She was not surprised Owen was waiting near the door. She had become accustomed to his actions, and it no longer bothered her to find him lurking about the Cloister like a cat set to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse.

“Good evening, my dear.”

“Good evening,” she replied as he lifted her fingers to his lips. She forced her smile to be more pleasant as his pale eyes regarded her. Not for a second could she let him suspect what was truly boiling through her brain.

“How beautiful you look! I agree with M. Sievers' assessment. Blue is the perfect color for you. It brings out the warmth of your eyes.”

As she murmured the required words of gratitude for his compliment, she glanced with little interest at what she was wearing. Until now, she had not noticed which dress Kate had taken out of the armoire. It was another new one. The rich navy velvet was only a few shades darker than her eyes. As with many of the gowns Owen had ordered, it was encrusted with gems.

She walked to the table, not caring what she wore when too many lives were in jeopardy tonight because of her impetuous actions. As Owen held her chair for her, she realized she could have done no differently. She could not have left Joaquin to die. She could not have saved him alone, and the only one she could trust was Trevor. The future was inevitable once she had heard Joaquin's moans.

If Owen noticed her uncharacteristic quiet, he said nothing as the meal was served. Sybill whispered her thanks to the maids. After a short prayer, she began to eat. Not talking helped her keep from thinking. She wanted to concentrate on food instead of Trevor, shut away in a darkened hut tending to the needs of a man eager to kill him.

“Sybill?”

“Yes?”

Owen chuckled, the wrinkles in his face deepening to shadowed valleys. “You are far away tonight. I have been speaking to you, and I know you didn't hear a single phrase I said.”

“I am sorry. I am tired tonight.”

“Is something troubling you?”

Fury erupted in her, but she banked it. Simply because she was upset with Kate's never-ending curiosity, she should not react so harshly to Owen. He wanted only to be kind. “I am fine,” she replied as she had to Kate.

“Is that so?” His amazingly long fingers slid over hers. “Sybill, I want you to know you can come to me for whatever reason whenever you wish. I care for you, and I do not want you to worry about anything.”

She kept her eyes on her plate. “I know, and I appreciate that. Don't worry. I took a walk today, and I think all the fresh air has made me sleepy.”

“I understand. Vigorous exercise does that, as well as puts the lovely blossom into your cheeks.” He picked up his knife and began to eat. “It seems strange to be eating alone with you. I don't recall Trevor telling me he wouldn't be here this evening.”

“Trevor is busy,” she murmured into her roast beef.

“Busy? Doing what?”

There was a strange sound in Owen's voice which brought her eyes up to his. “I'm not sure exactly what he is doing.” That was not a total lie. She could not know what he was doing at this moment. “I saw him while I was riding, and he mentioned he would be busy.”

“He must expect to work late if he spends the afternoon with you.”

She lowered her eyes. Chasing a piece of meat through the gravy, she decided a bit of truth would be the only solution. She fought to keep her fear from showing as she said softly, “He went with me because I thought I saw a sign of the Spanish on the shore.”

Owen sat upright on his chair. His negligent attitude was gone. When he slammed his goblet onto the table, she gave a small gasp of surprise. “Spanish? Here on Foxbridge Cloister property?” He began to rise and called for Marshall.

Unsure of what was happening, Sybill leapt from her chair and intercepted him. “Owen? What is it?” She placed her hands on his arms as she used her body to block his way. If he did as she feared, the search might uncover Joaquin and the part she and Trevor had played in his rescue.

“My dear Sybill, don't be so frightened.” His pale eyes regarded her with more than sympathy. As his fingers stroked her cheek, he bent to place a lingering kiss on her forehead. “There's no need to fear a Spanish invasion along our coast, but I wish to have Marshall alert the night patrols.”

“Night patrols?”

He laughed. “You have seen the lights yourself. I had not wanted you to be distressed by knowing the truth when you came to tell me about seeing the lanterns along the cliffs. Each night, there have been brave men of the Cloister keeping watch. We don't want any popish Spaniards surprising us.”

“'Twas nothing, Owen. Trevor was sure I saw only a school of fish breaking the water.” She tried to chuckle, but failed miserably.

“I'm sure Trevor was correct, but there is no reason to be careless.”

“Please, Owen.” Her mind worked quickly. If she could not convince him to halt his plans for this search, Trevor might be dead before sunrise. He would not implicate her and would die alone for her idealistic gesture.

“Sybill?”

Hating herself for what she was doing, but knowing she had no choice, she put her hands on his shoulders. Softly she begged, “Don't make me look idiotic before the rest of the household, Owen. Please.”

“Of course not, my dear.” His arm slipped around her waist and pressed her soft curves to him. “I would not do anything to make you unhappy.”

“I know.” She smiled with what she hoped would look like innocent coquetry. “Trevor told me how foolish I was. I don't want everyone to know how this attack by the Spanish has panicked me so much that I could mistake fish for the tattered sails of a galleon.”

As she calculated his reaction to her words, she realized it did not matter what she said. He was interested that his arms were encircling her. When she watched his eyes follow the scooped neckline of her gown, she struggled not to flee. She had to be sure Owen did not order this search.

“Very well,” he said in a hushed tone. “I will send out only the normal, night patrols. No one but you and I and young Trevor will know of your silliness.”

Her smile became genuine. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward to place his lips against her cheek. “For you, Sybill Hampton, I would be happy to do almost anything.”

“You spoil me!” She wanted to defuse his obvious ardor, and she hoped humor would do it.

His hand against her cheek felt like dry paper ready to blow away in a brisk wind. She flinched and drew away. Before she could move far, his hand grasped her arm and pulled her back to him. In a quick motion, his arms tightened around her as he placed his mouth over hers. She froze in horror. Although she had known the peril of flirting, she had hoped to control the situation. As he raised his head to gaze into her frightened eyes, she realized how wrong she was. A triumphant smile was displayed on Owen's face.

In a husky voice, he murmured, “I have not spoiled you, my dear. All I want to give you is what you so rightly deserve.”

“Deserve?” she whispered.

With a laugh, he released her. “Oh, yes, Sybill. I think you deserve all I have to offer to you.” He bent his lanky frame to kiss her quickly on the cheek. “Excuse me while I tend to setting the night patrols.”

“Owen!” she cried as he turned to leave.

“Yes?”

She shook her head fearfully. If she said the wrong thing, she could be Trevor's executioner. All she said was a soft, “Good evening.”

“Good evening, my dear. I will see you in the morning.”

Sybill wrapped her arms around herself to hold out the cold seeping through her. Like all Owen had said, his final words as he went out of the room seemed to be threatening. What did she deserve that he intended to give her? She feared it was something that would bring more difficulties into her life already replete with trouble.

Chapter Ten

In the hour before dawn, Sybill managed to sneak out of the house and saddle her horse without anyone seeing. She rode into the dark, for sunrise was at her back. As she reached the bungalow by the sea cliffs, the morning light was stretching up into the sky to lighten it to summer blue.

Jumping down, she felt a twinge in her ankle and cursed quietly. She limped as she skulked to the door of the hut. No signs of life betrayed its use, and for a fearful moment, she feared the two men inside had disappeared. Telling herself not to be fanciful, she reached for the latch. Trevor would be sure the hut appeared vacant. The door swung on screeching hinges, loud in the morning silence. She cried out in fear as she saw a sword directly in front of her face.

It was lowered as the wooden slab serving as the door was opened wider. Trevor did not smile as he said, “You were foolish to enter without announcing your presence, Sybill. If I had had my gun, you might have been dead. Don't be so silly again.”

“I didn't think—”

“That I know!”

Chagrined, she apologized. “How is he?”

Taking her arm, Trevor drew her into the cabin. No light burned to bring the curious to investigate. He had loosened the shutters to allow in the fresh air. The first glow of sunlight was drifting through the filthy windows. In the dim light, she could see the haggard lines of fatigue cutting into his face. “He's worse, Sybill. If he lasts through the day, it will be his last.” His voice warmed as he added, “I'm sorry. I know you were hoping for a miracle.”

“No,” she said with a sigh as she pulled off her riding gloves. She dropped them into her hat and placed them on the primitive mantel. “Why should I pray for that? If we saved him, he would die more cruelly than this. Here. I brought this for you.”