Sybill by Jo Ann Ferguson Read Free Book Online

urged his horse to a faster pace. He led her toward the west, where the greatest danger awaited the unwary. It did not take them long to reach the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Far below their feet, the foaming waves crashed against the broken wall of stone. Sybill reined in her horse and stared at the great turquoise expanse jeweled by the sun.
    â€œHow lovely!” she breathed.
    â€œIt is, but it can be very unforgiving. If you are wise, you will not come here alone during your visit.”
    Her attention was drawn from the waves beating themselves into oblivion on the cliffs to the equally unswayable features of Trevor Breton. Softly she said, “I’m not here for a visit. This is now my home, no matter how much it displeases you.” And me , she added silently. She did not want to voice that, for she should not be ungrateful for what Owen had done for her.
    â€œYour home? How possessive you have become!”
    â€œThe facts are as they are. I am here. This is my home. Before you say what you are thinking, I will tell you that you are correct. I have no place else to go.” She smiled coolly. “It would seem you are going to have to endure my company.”
    He looked at the ocean and continued, “Don’t come near the cliffs unless you have someone with you who knows the ways to the beach.”
    â€œI will remember that.”
    â€œI trust you will, Miss Hampton. To forget could mean your death. The Atlantic does not play games at the edges of Foxbridge Cloister.”
    She pulled on the reins to bring her horse around, next to Trevor’s. “You have made your warning very clear. You need not repeat it over and over as if I were a child. Shall we go on?”
    â€œCertainly. I wouldn’t want to delay the royal progress of the newest lady of Foxbridge Cloister.”
    Sybill paused. Indigo fire blazed in her eyes as she snapped, “Why don’t you just come out and say what you mean?”
    He smiled ingratiatingly, but the expression did not cover his true emotions. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”
    â€œYou don’t? This morning at breakfast, Owen told me—”
    â€œOwen, is it?” he demanded harshly. “You’re wasting no time inveigling your way into Foxbridge Cloister.”
    â€œTrevor, what is wrong? Why do you hate me so much?”
    The rigidity of his stance on his horse bespoke his fury. “Miss Hampton, I think you are mistaken.”
    Putting her hand on his arm, she did not pull it away when he glared at her. “You hate that Owen is kind to me. I can tell you consider him a fool to allow me into his house. You have hinted more than once I am far from a lady. I have done nothing to hurt you. Tell me the truth.”
    â€œYou want the truth?” He brushed off her hand. “I’m surprised you wish to hear the truth, Miss Hampton.”
    â€œIt might be easier for you to call me Sybill.”
    â€œEasier for whom, Miss Hampton?”
    She recoiled from his rage. Seeking back through her memories, she tried to think of how she had offended him. She knew it was nothing she had said or done, for he hated her before she arrived. “Very well, Mr . Breton. I’m waiting to hear what you want to say.”
    â€œAll I have to say is that we have no need for Alfred Hampton’s daughter at Foxbridge Cloister.” When she looked at him, puzzled by his words, he smiled humorlessly. “Do you need it spelled out for you? Very well. I do not want to see you do to Owen Wythe what your father did to the many ladies of his acquaintance. If you want to practice your trade, there must be many brothels in London willing to accept a pretty woman like you.”
    The sound of her hand impacting on his face was loud on the winter-quiet marsh. He took her arm and twisted her to face him. He was startled to see tears glistening in her eyes. “What’s the problem, Miss Hampton?