Sybill by Jo Ann Ferguson Page B

his head. Silently he told her that there were too many interested in what they did and said. Unlike any time but the first days after his arrival, Foxbridge Cloister was a strange, inhospitable place.
    The sunshine pelted its warmth onto their heads. She bent to put the wobbly legged pup in the grass. When it began to sniff about earnestly, she smiled weakly.
    â€œYou do look lovely, Sybill.”
    She took her eyes from Goldenrod to meet those of the man beside her. “Thank you. I wish Owen wasn’t so impatient to see me done with mourning. I don’t understand. Father was his friend.”
    â€œLord Foxbridge prefers things his way.”
    â€œSo I have noticed.” Her fingers brushed nervously against her skirt. “How does he react when someone goes against his edicts?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know. No one has during my tenure here.”
    â€œYou have had no disagreements with him?”
    With a laugh, he drew her hand from the embroidery on her overdress and placed it on his arm. “You don’t need to sound so shocked, Sybill. Of course, we have differed over certain matters, but never anything important.” He pointed to the golden flash racing toward the rose bushes. “There goes your ‘creature.’”
    â€œOwen did not sound too pleased,” she said uneasily.
    â€œDon’t worry. If you want Goldenrod, he won’t tell you to get rid of him.”
    â€œTrevor, don’t!”
    â€œDon’t?” he repeated.
    Pulling her hand away, she lifted her heavy skirts enough to chase after her pet. He did not follow. What she meant was clear. Although Lord Foxbridge had not said anything to her directly, she knew what her guardian planned. He put out his foot to block the puppy, which was speeding away from its mistress. “Got you!” he crowed as he scooped up the panting dog.
    â€œThank you,” she breathed as she came to a stop by him. “If I knew he would have come back this way, I wouldn’t have chased him across the garden.”
    From his pocket, Trevor drew a thin strip of leather. Handing her the small animal, he wrapped the thong around Goldenrod’s neck. He secured it carefully, leaving a long piece. “There, Sybill. Now you can hold onto him while he runs about to his heart’s desire.”
    She smiled her gratitude before she put the puppy on the ground again. Although he strained to test his leash, Golden-rod did not seem overly concerned about his limits. “I never had a dog before. I guess I have a lot to learn.” She placed her fingers on the coarse material of his sleeve as she added, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing him here. It was so kind of you.”
    â€œâ€™Twas Mac who—”
    Softly she interrupted him. “Thank you , Trevor, for Goldenrod. I’m so glad we’ve become friends.”
    â€œSo am I.” He lifted her fingers to his lips. Instantly he knew he had made a dreadful error. Her eyes darkened with fear as she pulled her hand away. Although he was tempted to snatch back her fingers, he said only, “Pardon me, Sybill.”
    Knowing she had to explain, she replied, “I’m confused by how Owen is acting. When you and I were always angry, he seemed interested in us being friends. Now that we no longer are snapping at each other, he doesn’t act pleased. He acts—”
    â€œI know,” he said comfortingly, but he did not touch her. If he did, she would flee like a frightened sea bird.
    â€œYou know? Has Owen said something?” When he did not answer immediately, she demanded, “Tell me, Trevor! Please!”
    â€œNot here. Come with me.”
    She tugged on the leash, and Goldenrod followed compliantly. When they were far enough away from the house that their voices could not be overheard by a hidden eavesdropper, Trevor spoke of the conversation he had with Lord Foxbridge.
    â€œI was afraid of