Sommersgate House Page 10

  As she stood there, Julia wondered for a moment what to do. She knew she was being rude but she’d had enough of working to Douglas’s schedule. She came to England on a Tuesday, Monique gone, he arrived well into the night, offered no help, no direction and then he left on Wednesday not to return for days. No phone calls, e-mails, nothing. He planned her weekend for her without asking her thoughts on the matter. And it was Sunday night, for goodness sake, who worked late on Sunday night?

  Her options flitted through her mind. Sit comfortably on the couch and appear like she had all night to wait while he rudely did exactly what he wanted? Make herself a drink? Make him one? Sit in one of the two chairs that faced his enormous, aptly-described baronial desk and stare at him pointedly?

  She liked the idea of him not being able to ignore her, which she knew he could and would do. Instead of sitting in a chair, she walked to the front of the desk, positioning herself right across from him and she twisted her hip slightly to rest it against the edge. She bent her head to read the notes in one hand while the long fingernails of the other tapped impatiently on the surface of the desk. She would have whistled if she could carry a tune but she thought that might be overdoing it.

  “Something’s come up.” She heard Douglas say and when she looked down to him, he was leaning back in his chair watching her, his eyes inscrutable, “No. I’ll call you.”

  Without saying good-bye, he replaced the receiver.

  “I gather you want something?” he asked.

  “Yes… you.” His right eyebrow rose arrogantly and her stomach lurched. “That is… to talk to you,” she finished.

  She could have kicked herself. Not a great start.

  He rose and walked around the desk.

  “Would you like a drink?” he inquired.

  “Yes.” She so very much wanted a drink, she wanted to shout it (but she did not).

  “Whisky?”

  What she really would like was a shot or two of tequila but she doubted any of the unquestionably invaluable crystal decanters held anything as common as tequila.

  “That’ll do,” Julia replied.

  He poured the drinks and brought one to her. After he handed her the glass, he took a sip from his and shoved his other hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels.

  “Would you like to start? Or shall I?” he asked politely.

  She watched him carefully. As far as she could tell, in the last week he’d spent approximately two hours in the company of the children. What he had to say she could not imagine and curiosity almost made her let him go first.

  Instead, she took a sip, winced as the fiery liquid went down and said, “I’d like to start, if you don’t mind.”

  “Be my guest,” he said and motioned courteously to the couch.

  She sat, thinking he, too, would sit, but he stayed standing. She realised her mistake immediately as she’d have to look up at him. She hid it by pretending she didn’t care. She casually pulled her legs up on the couch, tucked them beside her as if this was a cosy little arrangement and she was as comfortable as if she was ensconced in front of the television in Patricia’s living room.

  He again put his hand in his pocket and surveyed her and she had the distinct feeling she wasn’t fooling him, not one bit.

  “I have a list,” she announced.

  “I can see that.” His voice was carefully controlled but she had the impression that he wasn’t biting back anger but rather hiding amusement. She shot a sharp glance at him but his face was just as blank as his voice was controlled.

  With no further ado, she launched into it. The children’s food, their schedules, their boarding school, the time they were allowed on the computer or in front of the television, the unnatural quiet they had to observe.

  She had a few things to say about Monique as well, but she did so carefully. She made no accusations but instead made it perfectly clear who, exactly, had been chosen to raise the children and how that was going to carry on from this point forward.

  She also informed him that she needed to settle in, for herself and for the children. She needed a bank account, a job, a means of making money and continuing her contribution to her pension for the time when she was back home, alone and facing the wrong side of middle age (although she didn’t share that last bit). She explained her concerns about health insurance, the urgency of getting a driver’s license, a car and an open-ended visa and work permit.

  She also told him she’d like to contribute financially to the house and the children’s expenses and asked him to assess a monthly figure she could pay and they would discuss it.

  When she finished, she was very proud of herself. She had been succinct, logical and controlled. For his part, he listened patiently and without interruption.

  He walked back to the drinks cabinet and poured himself another whisky. She took a cautious sip of hers that had heretofore gone forgotten.

  He turned back from the drinks cabinet, leaned his thigh against its edge and regarded her.

  She regarded him right back.

  Moments passed.

  Finally, she could stand it no more.

  “Well?” she asked, her tone more sharp than she would have liked and she berated herself for allowing him to shake her control. She needed that control, for a variety of reasons.

  “Julia, the children go to boarding school because it’s far superior to anything the government could offer them. They take lessons because they should have accomplishments outside of school. That won’t change.”

  “Douglas –”

  He lifted a hand to stop her interruption and she shut her mouth only because he’d let her speak her piece uninterrupted. She should give him the same opportunity and then let him have it if she didn’t agree.

  “As for their food, what lessons they have and how many, their schedules, television…” he trailed off, obviously beyond these petty details, “I leave that in your capable hands.”

  She immediately felt relief flooding through her; he wasn’t going to argue with her.

  “And how will Monique feel about this? Will you talk to her?” she asked.

  “I’ll control Mother,” he answered in a tone so implacable, Julia almost felt sorry for Monique. “As for your job, visa, license, I’ll get Sam on it. And I’ll ask her to clear my schedule so I can take you to the bank and get you an account.”

  “Thank you,” she said and she meant it. She was so relieved, if she could trust herself and her crazy emotions, she would have given him a hug and a big, sloppy kiss. “Speaking of Sam, she’s already helped a great deal, she’s been a godsend. She got me a phone, a computer…” Julia sifted through her lists and quoted to him how much she figured she owed him. “I’ll need to pay you back right away. Can Sam help me arrange a transfer to your account?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” he replied in a way that would make Einstein feel ridiculous for presenting his theory of relativity.

  “You can’t buy me computers and –” Julia started.

  “Even suggesting you’ll pay me is insulting,” Douglas cut in. “You gave up your entire life to be here, the least I can do is make it convenient and comfortable for you.”

  That shut her mouth. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed. It was a lovely sentiment but she most certainly didn’t want to feel indebted to him.

  He seemed not to notice her warring emotions and carried on. “As for a car, you’ll take one from the garage. I use the Jag, Mother the MG, Carter the Bentley. You can have one of the others and, if you don’t like them, just tell Sam what you want and she’ll arrange for it to be delivered.”

  Julia’s mouth dropped open.

  He’d have a car delivered?

  That was too much, any thoughts of lovely sentiments went out the window and her relief was chased away as quickly as it came.

  Before she could say a word, he continued. “And we won’t even discuss a monthly…” he hesitated then went on, “payment for living here.” He said th
e word “payment” like it tasted vile. “That idea is even more absurd than the other.”

  “But I can’t –” Julia started again.

  He threw his whisky back and put the glass down with a thud, effectively interrupting her.

  “I can provide for my family, Julia,” he announced inflexibly and while she was trying to wrap her mind around the extraordinary fact that he thought she was family, he continued. “I’m uncertain why my sister trusted me with a task for which I have no skills or desire, but the one thing I can do is provide for you and the children. And on that point, there will be no discussion.”

  He told her there will be no discussion as if that was the end of the discussion just because he said so.

  She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let it go. It wasn’t in her nature or her upbringing. She’d been working since she was sixteen, getting a job at the local Dairy Queen so she could buy herself clothes and go out with her friends and not put a strain on her mother’s already seriously strained finances. She wasn’t about to let him “provide” for her.

  She pushed it. “Douglas, I understand but –”

  “The subject is closed,” he announced.

  She stared at him, not knowing whether to laugh out loud or scream, wishing she could do both at the same time.

  “I can’t –” she began again.

  “How, may I ask, do I get you to do what you’re told?” he queried calmly but he didn’t look calm. His eyes were glittering and she was so used to Douglas’s complete indifference she couldn’t tell if he was enjoying himself or if he was immensely annoyed.

  “I never do what I’m told,” Julia informed him, having decided that, for her part, she did not find this amusing at all.

  “That does not bode well for the next thirteen years,” he declared, his tone showing he had chosen the opposite.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t just live here and contribute nothing.”

  “You’ll be taking care of the children.”

  “One day, I’ll be working too. What then?” she asked.

  “We’ll cope, people do these things every day,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “Yes, but I’ll need more commitment from you with the children. Especially now, especially Lizzie. I think she’s looking to you –”

  He stiffened, all amusement gone, and he interrupted her again, his words curt. “I have no idea how to heal her grief and further I have no intention of filling Gavin’s shoes.”

  “But –” Julia began, stunned at his reaction and his words.

  “Have we covered everything on your lists?” he asked politely and pointedly, this discussion, according to Douglas, was obviously closed.

  “Yes. But, Douglas –” Julia tried again.

  Douglas interrupted again. “Good, I have a phone call to finish.”

  And to her amazement, he walked to his desk.

  She was dismissed.

  She stood there not knowing what to do. She’d never met the like of him. One minute, he was so good-looking, so damned sexy that he made her legs tremble and her stomach pitch, the next minute he was so impossibly autocratic, she felt like throwing something at him.

  He picked up his phone as he rifled through some papers and she realised that he didn’t even intend to acknowledge her presence in the room.

  She’d been there less than a week, she’d left her entire life behind, the life before her was still uncertain and in the midst of all this she had three children who depended on her and, by the way… him.

  She wasn’t supposed to do it alone. Tammy and Gav wanted her to have help and that meant far more than a free meal ticket, the use of a car and Douglas publically bestowing his “favour” on her at art galleries.

  She didn’t even wage the battle to control her temper, she just let it lose. She downed the contents of her whisky, gagged momentarily as the fire hit her throat and stormed his desk.

  “Excuse me!” she slammed her glass down on its shiny surface making his head come up with a jerk. “I’m sure you’re used to strolling into a board room or wherever you work and making everyone do your bidding but I’m afraid that does not work with me. May I remind you that your sister and my brother expect us, no, they trusted us, no, they honoured us by allowing us to raise those children together and I’m not going to let you throw money at it and then get on with your life like nothing’s changed. You’ll pull your weight, you’ll get involved and you’ll damn well quit telling me what to do all the time, because I’m up to here…” she indicated her chin with an angry thrust of her hand, “with it.”

  He had the receiver in his hand but, after she finished, he slowly returned it to its cradle.

  “Are you finished?” he asked, his tone completely civil.

  She took a deep breath.

  Was she finished? She didn’t know. Maybe she went too far.

  “No, Julia,” he said quietly, “that was too magnificent to question. Simply score your point and go.”

  She faltered. “Did I?” He raised his brow in question. “Score a point,” she explained.

  He inclined his head briefly.

  She was stunned. She was pleased.

  For some reason, she was also scared.

  One point meant only one point which meant there was a game afoot here. And she did not want to play games with Douglas Ashton. Douglas Ashton always, always won.

  Nevertheless, she thought it prudent to take his advice.

  “Well then, thank you for the chat. I feel much better,” she lied. “Goodnight.”

  She turned to go but his voice calling her name stopped her.

  She turned back.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  He was looking at her in that pleasant way again, something akin to admiration in his eyes, a look that stole her breath away.

  His voice was smooth as silk when he spoke. “Last time you said goodnight to me in this room, it came with a kiss.”

  The pleasant tremor slid so far up her spine, it went up her neck and made her scalp tingle just as her stomach flipped.

  With a supreme effort of will, Julia ignored it.

  “I wasn’t annoyed with you last time,” she informed him haughtily.

  There was definitely a game afoot and even after this discussion of their “arrangement”, she wasn’t sure of the ground rules.

  “I’ll bear that in mind the next time we have a late evening conversation,” he replied, then he picked up the phone and she felt her best bet at that point was to flee the room.

  Which was exactly what she did.

  Chapter Seven

  Douglas’s Decision

  The next morning, Douglas rose early and, instead of his usual run, he went to the stables to take one of his horses out to be exercised. They were getting fat and lazy with inattention. Tamsin and Gavin used to come to Sommersgate once a week to take them out but now that they were gone, he was the only one who could do it.

  He saddled his chestnut stallion and for over an hour rode him through the wood surrounding Sommersgate. When he was done, instead of leaving it to Carter, Douglas brushed the horse down himself. When he was finished, he went back to the house where he showered, dressed and picked up the phone to call Samantha.

  She answered, her voice sounding as if she’d been awake for hours and in that time had arranged peace in the Middle East while baking a complicated soufflé.

  He instructed her to clear his schedule as best she could so he could be at Sommersgate in the evenings and to make an appointment at his bank for himself and Julia.

  “I see,” she responded meaningfully. “Does this decision have anything to do with a fab… you… las green satin dress?”

  Sam had been with him for several years and had lasted longer than all of his PAs. She was able to do this because she was incredibly bright, had the energy of a litter of four week old puppies, was completely circumspect and didn’t fear him. Therefore, he often cut her a fair amount of slack which he would never do for other
s.

  “Just do it,” he told her.

  “Righty-ho, boss,” she confirmed jovially and rang off.

  He headed to the dining room and could hear the children’s chatter and Julia’s husky-soft voice floating up the stairs.

  Yes, in answer to Samantha’s question, it was the green dress. The green dress Julia wore on Saturday evening was superb. That green dress could even be described as sublime.

  It was also the green eyes, the way they looked when Julia laughed with Charlotte or when they flashed at him last night when she was angry.

  It was also something else, something surprising.

  He’d been partial to acquiring empty-headed women because they were easy to acquire and just as easy to throw away.

  There was something different about being with Julia.

  Julia Fairfax was anything but empty-headed.

  He watched as she chatted away with Charlotte and Oliver at dinner, drawing both of them out skilfully and allowing Charlotte to animate the dinner with her usual flair without competition. Then, as Charlotte introduced her around at the gallery, he noted how Julia listened intently to what people said and the judgmental faces changed as she melted their reserve with her natural charm, charm she was able to command even though she admitted to jetlag.

  He found he felt what could only be pride when she returned to his side to smile up in his eyes and cock her ear to hear some banal thing he forced himself to say simply to keep her attention.

  She rarely seemed ill at ease with anyone (although often appeared that way around him). She picked up remote friendships, as she apparently had with Mrs. Kilpatrick, and acquaintances, as with Charlotte, as if thousands of miles and months had not divided them.