Chapter 14 #2
She’d had him now. It was over. She should feel satisfied and ready to move on with a plan to extricate herself from this most dire situation.
The only problem was that she had no plan now.
Sharing her body with Julian Griffin seemed to have exploded any sense of autonomy she had ever possessed.
She found herself wondering what he would do, what he would tell the king.
Although he’d said he wouldn’t lie for her, he had promised to stand by her, help her.
How? The truth he had was devastating, and would only ensure the king’s judgment upon her. And what Sybilla knew, she had promised to never tell.
If she told now, she would be like her. Like Amicia.
Sybilla had not been very surprised that Graves had managed to locate her in the early morning hours in the tower room.
And she had not been surprised when he had failed to make any mention whatsoever of her presence in Julian Griffin’s bed.
Graves was very familiar with Sybilla’s encounters with the men she chose.
And he was also very familiar with her habit of singularity.
Graves knew that Sybilla would not be revisiting a night of passion with the king’s envoy. There was no need to mention it, and certainly no need to chastise her over consorting with the enemy.
Is he your enemy? she asked herself suddenly. Could he not become your ally?
Before she could explore that mad notion further, a swift rap sounded on the solar door. She had no time to bid her visitor enter before the door opened and Julian Griffin stepped into the room, his infant in his arms.
She tried not to notice the skipping of her heart.
“Good morning,” he said with a slow smile, pushing the door only partly closed behind him.
Sybilla closed the ledger in her lap and set it on the far side of the table, then reached for her cup of tea—ice-cold now, but it gave her hands a task.
“Good morning. Lady Lucy,” she said, acknowledging the child before she took a sip.
“I had the pleasure of encountering Graves in the great hall. He told me that there have been more victims to sickness.” He walked to the far end of the couch and took a seat, setting the child on one thigh. The baby weaved drunkenly on his leg, staring at her interestedly.
Sybilla returned her cup to the table. “Yes. Many more and I shall have to quarantine the entire castle.” She met his eyes directly for the first time, and was unsettled by the intimate way his gaze regarded her.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked. “I could have helped you.”
“It’s not your responsibility,” Sybilla said coolly.
Julian frowned. “That’s an odd thing to say after last night.”
Sybilla laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Why? We shared a bed together once. Now you somehow have a role in the keeping of my home? My home for the time being, any matter.”
“I thought perhaps we might consider each other friends now.”
“Lord Griffin”—Sybilla sighed and mustered all of her aloofness—“thank you for your comfort last night. I apologize for my state—I was under a great deal of duress from the information you presented me with yesterday. Your company helped to distract me from my own darkness, and I do appreciate it. I hope, though, that you don’t take it as a sign that we are now fast allies. ”
“Then what are we, Sybilla?” Julian asked, and moved Lucy to sit between them on the couch when she squirmed.
“I don’t know.” She looked down at the child, whose little face rested against the plush upholstery, turned up toward Sybilla, regarding her with wide eyes.
Sybilla had the urge to reach out and run a finger over the curve of that soft-looking cheek.
“You must resemble your mother, Lady Lucy,” she said softly.
“She does,” Julian admitted.
The child suddenly lunged toward Sybilla with a little squeal, toppling halfway onto Sybilla’s leg.
She managed to catch the baby before she rolled off the couch onto the floor.
The child’s middle was plump and firm, and much more substantial than she’d seemed when swaying atop Julian Griffin’s arm.
Sybilla had caught Lucy under the arms, and since Julian did not reach for her right away, Sybilla pulled the baby onto her own lap and held her slightly away. She wasn’t certain how to proceed.
“That’s a lovely vision,” Julian said with a stupid smile.
Sybilla frowned at him. “You can have her back at any moment.”
“No, I think I rather enjoy watching the two of you.”
Lucy discovered the string of pearls around Sybilla’s wrist and began hinging her fingers back and forth over the small round jewels. A little coo of amazement came from her, and Sybilla was struck by the sweetness of it.
“Do you fancy jewels?” she asked.
“Pah-pah-pah-pah,” Lucy replied.
Julian laughed. “Another thing she inherited from her mother, I’m afraid.”
Sybilla could not help the slight, bemused smile that came to her mouth as she watched the baby’s continued delight with the bracelet.
She suddenly pulled the child against her stomach and brought both her hands together around the child, slipping the pearls from her arm.
She looped them back on themselves, making a double strand, and then carefully fit Lucy’s chubby left hand through the bracelet.
“There you are, then,” she said. “You may have them.”
Lucy squealed shrilly and then began jerking at the costly piece. “Pah! Pah-pah-pah!”
Julian seemed quite surprised. “That’s very kind of you, Sybilla, but I think that perhaps an item of such value is a bit of a flamboyant toy for a child.”
“They were my mother’s,” Sybilla said, continuing despite herself to be enchanted by the baby’s every movement with the bracelet. “Lucy fancies them. I find suddenly that I do not.” She looked at Julian. “You gave me a gift. I have nothing to give you. So this will have to do, I’m afraid.”
“Thank you,” Julian said, and his amber eyes seemed ablaze with something Sybilla could not name. “Sybilla, what if we were to marry?”
Her breathing stopped. “Marry?” she repeated, as if she had never heard the term before. “Each other, you mean?”
Julian laughed. “Yes, each other. Perhaps we could convince Edward—”
“That because I married someone with a title that he would allow me to keep Fallstowe? That’s unlikely, I think.”
“Not impossible, though,” Julian said mildly.
“I do doubt the king would allow me to marry anyone at all of the nobility once you expose what you have discovered about my mother,” she said.
“And even if he did, there is very little likelihood that he would allow me to retain Fallstowe. So what then? You take me from my home to wherever it is you live in London? To host feasts and shop at the fairs?”
He stared at her for a long time. “Would that be so terrible a life?”
“As opposed to prison or death?” she asked. “I suppose not, but one never knows. We are hardly familiar with each other.”
She thought he might be offended by her remark, but he laughed instead. “The time for you to shoulder all has come to an end, whether you want to admit it or not. You will need someone to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself,” Sybilla argued awkwardly, bringing her attention back to the baby. She noticed that her knees had begun to bounce the child gently without her permission.
“I don’t think so,” Julian said. “Not anymore. And certainly not like I could take care of you.”
The way he said it, so confidently, so intimately, made Sybilla’s stomach flutter, and she felt like a silly fool for it.
Then when he slid down the seat toward her, laying his arm across the back of the couch behind her, making a little nook for her and the child on her lap, her arms broke out in gooseflesh.
“Come to my room again tonight, and let me convince you.”
Warning bells went off in Sybilla’s mind. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she said stiffly. “Haven’t you heard? I don’t carry on relationships. You may take your child now, please.”
When he didn’t move, she looked up into his face reluctantly. He was not smiling, only staring intently at her.
She swallowed. “Don’t pursue me, Julian. I am poison.”
He shook his head only slightly, moving his face nearer hers. “I don’t think so,” he repeated in a whisper, and then he kissed her softly, his lips lingering against hers.
“Bah!” Lucy shouted, seemingly delighted, and slapped her father’s cheek soundly.
Sybilla could not help her chirp of laughter. “Well said, Lady Lucy. Appalling behavior, I agree.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, milady, milord,” a voice said, startling Sybilla’s attention to the door where Murrin stood, her face ashen, dramatic, black circles beneath her eyes. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Lord Griffin bade me tell him right away if I was feeling poorly.”
Julian stood up instantly. “What is it, Murrin?”
Sybilla saw the girl force a swallow from across the room. Her eyes were wide, wild. “I think I’ve fallen in with the sickness, milord,” she said weakly. “I’ve already packed my things for London.”