Free Sybill by Jo Ann Ferguson

letting the dog in the house. “She is protective of her pups, Miss Hampton. She don’t mean you any harm.”
    â€œI know,” she mumbled. “No,” she added, as Nancy was about to refill her tankard. “I must ride back to the Cloister. If I drink that, I will not be able to stay upright in the saddle.”
    â€œNonsense!”
    â€œExcuse me?” she asked Trevor. He had not moved from her side. She had been aware of his eyes appraising the damage to her gown.
    He patted her shoulder. “You wait here. I don’t want you riding after your scare. I will go and get the wagon.”
    â€œNonsense!” she retorted in exactly the same tone. “I can ride perfectly fine. I’m not hurt, and there’s no reason to treat me as if I have been injured gravely.”
    Ignoring the Beckwiths, he stated, “Sybill, you must listen to reason.”
    â€œYou’re not my boss, Trevor Breton!” She stood and handed the chipped, wooden mug to Mrs. Beckwith. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’m sorry to cause such a ruckus. If you will excuse me, I am going home before it is dark.”
    She walked to the door, then paused. When she was about to reach for the latch, she thought of the wolf-creature waiting on the other side. If she went out of the house, she was afraid she would be attacked.
    â€œAll right,” came a voice just above her ear. She turned to see the grim expression on Trevor’s face. “Let’s go home. Just promise me you will let me know if—”
    â€œI am fine.” She put her hand on his arm to emphasize her words.
    Unprepared for either his or her own reaction to her simple motion, she stared up into his face. It slowly altered from worry to another expression she knew matched the one on her face. She could not understand the strong sensations overwhelming her. “Trevor?”
    Her soft voice brought him to his senses, and he recalled their audience. Thanking the Beckwiths and telling Mac he would get back to him with an answer soon, he took Sybill by the shoulders and steered her out of the cabin.
    He kept the pace slow on their homeward trip. At the stable, he left both horses with the groom and insisted on helping her into the house. Only when they reached the stairs in the front hall did he speak to her. “Can you manage?”
    â€œOf course. I told you, Trevor, I am fine.”
    He nodded. “Aye, that you are, Sybill Hampton. That you are.”
    Sybill watched openmouthed as he walked away along the hallway. She was tempted to run after him to ask him what he had meant, but she heard Kate’s shrill voice calling her. With a sigh, she raced up the stairs, prepared for her reprimand for ruining her gown.
    Kate’s sharp tongue was one thing that had not changed, although too much else had today.

Chapter Four
    Sybill spent the morning with Marshall, discussing the arrangements for the workmen to place the stained glass window into its special location on the landing of the main staircase. She did not want the house disrupted any more than necessary. Excitement could be felt throughout the Cloister. All winter long, the window had sat in its container in one of the cells of the old Cloister. Although it had been ordered from Italy more than a year before, war fever sweeping England created months of delay.
    â€œYes, Miss Sybill. It will be no problem to have the main rooms shut off.” Marshall smiled. “The maids will be grateful that they don’t have to worry about dust from the masons’ chisels sifting onto the furniture.”
    â€œI want to make this easy for all …” When the front door opened, she glanced over her shoulder. Her words vanished as she began to smile brightly.
    The butler looked from her to the man entering the hall. It did not surprise him to see an answering grin on Trevor’s face. Marshall had sensed the strong attraction between them from the