Sommersgate House Page 12

  For once, she did as she was told.

  “What… was… that?” she asked, her voice horrified.

  “I’m afraid the gloves are off,” Douglas explained, watching her.

  Her eyes moved to him and he saw they were huge and uncomprehending. She looked at the paper in her hands and then threw it on the table as if it burned. She lifted a shaky hand to pull her hair away from her face and took a deep breath.

  “It’ll be okay,” she murmured as if trying to convince herself. “It’ll all be okay.”

  Douglas watched her as she tried to fool herself. This time, with him standing beside her, she emerged virtually unscathed. Given her mental state, she was, he knew, no match for his mother’s callous, unrelenting venom. Even if she had exhibited fire and spirit, she was exhausted and still coping with the loss of her brother and Tamsin. She’d be torn apart within a week; he’d give it two at the most.

  And somehow understanding this went beyond annoying him.

  Ten minutes ago, knowing that Julia and his mother and this arrangement would be difficult was a simple inconvenience, something he understood that he needed to control.

  Now, watching his mother square up against the woman he just decided to make his wife was simply unacceptable.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Douglas muttered as he rose, frustrated with denying himself. He grabbed Julia’s hand and pulled her roughly out of her chair and straight into his arms.

  She stiffened and pushed against him, her hands at his chest, her eyes alert and surprised.

  She tilted her head back to start to ask, “What are you –?”

  He ignored her reaction and did what he’d wanted to do since her first night at Sommersgate, indeed, since he first saw her fifteen years ago.

  Douglas kissed her.

  While one arm held her tightly against him, wrapped around her waist, his other hand slid down her back to splay across the small and press her hips more tightly against his.

  She pushed against his chest with more strength and moaned a suffocated denial against his lips, opening her mouth under his. Given this golden opportunity, he took unfair advantage, sliding in his tongue and deepening the kiss.

  The moment his tongue touched hers, his body ignited. She tasted of a hint of coffee with an underlying sweetness that was intoxicating. Both his arms closed around her pulling her more deeply into him as his tongue went from invading to coaxing. He used it to tease her and his hands to mould her against his hard body.

  This, he was pleased to note, worked.

  He felt her hands abruptly stop pushing against his chest and they started to slide up, stopping when her fingers curled at his shoulders to hold on. Her lips relaxed and her head slanted to give him better access.

  He didn’t hesitate in accepting her invitation.

  It was then the kiss went wild.

  She clung to his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his flesh as she matched his heat, her tongue duelling with his. He felt his blood heating, his heart pounding, her body remarkably hot through her clothes.

  Finally, one of her hands lifted, gliding up his neck, her fingers slid into his hair as she held his head to hers, giving herself fully to the kiss. She pressed her soft body to his, the heat of her searing his skin through his clothes as her passion exploded. She gave him everything he wanted and he took it, gladly, and then took more. He heard her moan again but this time not in denial but with desire, the sound of it sending his blood speeding through his veins and he pulled her body even closer to him, trying to absorb her very essence.

  He had expected it to be good but he hadn’t expected it to be like this.

  She tasted sweet and she smelled of tangerines and jasmine. All he could do was feel her, taste her and smell the exotic scent which defined her – delicious, tangy, soft, wet and gorgeous. She surrounded his senses so completely that everything else but her faded away. The sensations were so extreme, he was sorely tempted to throw her on the ground and have her right there in the dining room.

  His body tightened at the thought and before he could lose all control, he tore his mouth from hers and took a ragged breath.

  “Jesus,” he muttered.

  She pulled out of his arms and stood shakily in front of him with the fingers of both hands pressed to her lips. Her green eyes had darkened to jade and she was staring at him in wonder.

  “Jesus,” he repeated, this time as a curse to stop himself from reaching for her again before her reason returned and the moment was shattered.

  He knew, though, that it was way too soon and Douglas was an expert strategist. He would never make a move toward a desired goal before the time was right.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice low and soft, nearly a whisper, but there was accusation in it.

  “I’m leaving for a few days, I’m not certain when I’ll return,” he returned instead of answering her, trying to regain some control.

  “No!” was her startling reply. She sounded frightened and her eyes flew to the door where Monique had exited.

  “Julia,” he said her name but watched as she looked away from him and seemed to be fighting to gain some control.

  “Fine,” she replied, changing her mind like quicksilver. “Fine, I’ll be fine, we’ll all be fine. Just go.”

  She wouldn’t be fine and she was beginning to understand it. And, for some reason, this pleased him.

  “I’ll leave you my mobile number. Call if you need me or you can always get me through Samantha.”

  She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin. “We’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll leave you the number, just in case.”

  “Why did you kiss me?” she asked again, her voice stronger, her eyes flashing, her tone demanding.

  Why did he kiss her?

  And, more to the point, why had he decided she would be his wife?

  Because of her poignant story about the children kissing their parents good-bye?

  Because in less than a week, the children were already responding to her when over four months under his mother and his nominal care they were more and more withdrawn and detached, going through the motions of childhood without anchor?

  Because his mother was such a bitch and any relationship he had with Julia would drive her insane, an idea which, he had to admit, he found he liked very much?

  Because of her charm and grace and the way she looked just as resplendent in blue jeans as she did in satin?

  Because of that green dress, her long legs, her shapely ass and her flashing eyes?

  Because he’d been waiting fifteen long years to have her underneath him and he decided he was finished waiting?

  Or simply because he’d just decided she’d make an excellent baroness, that perhaps Tamsin wasn’t so crazy after all and this lovely creature before him would do spectacularly well in a life by his side?

  “To say good-bye,” was all he said to explain.

  She stared at him like he was mad.

  “Call me if you need anything,” he finished.

  And before he grabbed her again, which was exactly what he wanted to do, he turned on his heel and walked away.

  Chapter Eight

  The Game

  Julia lay on her bed and stared at the dark ceiling. The scratching was at the window but she’d drawn the drapes.

  She had to draw the drapes because last night, she’d seen what was scratching.

  It was Ruby’s imaginary friend. Except, he wasn’t imaginary. He was real. Not real, exactly, a ghost. A man, handsome and tall and wearing an old-fashioned suit from some time that Julia didn’t know. He had dark hair and dark eyes and the only good thing about him was that he wanted to get in but he couldn’t. She knew that because she saw him try… and fail.

  “Damn,” she whispered, tossing in her bed, “damn, damn, damn!”

  The last two weeks had been an absolute nightmare.

  A nightmare named Monique.

  The woman was awful, she was
truly awful.

  Julia tried to find something good or nice in everyone and every night she’d been wracking her brain trying to find one teeny, tiny, little characteristic that Monique had that was likable or even acceptable.

  There were none.

  The staff feared her, Veronika most of all. And Julia could see why. At the best of times, Monique was imperious. The worst of times, she was scathing. Julia had witnessed her coldly tearing apart Veronika for missing some speck of dust or not polishing the banister to a high enough sheen and she’d been astounded by the woman’s sheer evil. She acted like Veronika had thrown a wild crack party and accidentally burned the house down.

  And the children didn’t know what to make of her or the relationship between her and their aunt. She was no less dictatorial with the kids though she cut herself short at any disdainful remarks. Most likely because, if she tried, she knew Julia would scratch her eyes out which made Julia wonder how Monique had been with the children before Julia had arrived.

  And Monique didn’t waste any time.

  In fact, it started the day after Douglas left.

  On Monday, Monique had been absent all day, staying in her room or her morning room and completely avoiding Julia and ignoring the children.

  On Tuesday, she sent Mrs. K to find Julia and invite her to the morning room for tea.

  Ruby was, pointedly, not invited.

  Julia appeared as requested, hoping to negotiate a truce. Monique was dressed in a pale pink blouse and cream tailored trousers with a pair of expensive matching pumps. Her dark brown hair was swept up in a neat chignon. Her smooth, high cheekbones shone with artfully applied blusher.

  She regally inclined her head toward a chair covered in flowered chintz, which was, Julia guessed, her invitation to take a seat. The morning room, just as the drawing room, was decorated in ice blue and white but in this room it seemed only slightly less formal, no less cold.

  Julia sat and Monique asked with feigned sweetness, “Tea?”

  “No thank you, I don’t drink tea,” Julia replied.

  Monique ignored her and poured tea into a dainty, china cup, added a wedge of lemon and handed it to her.

  Julia held it, stunned into immobility by the woman’s rudeness.

  “Let’s not misunderstand ourselves, you and I,” Monique said, sipping from her own cup and gazing dispassionately at Julia like she was something that crawled out from under a rock.

  “Monique,” Julia started, in hopes of laying the tentative groundwork to heal relations, “I just want to do what’s right for those children and get along with you and with Douglas.”

  “Douglas, my dear, is what I’d like to talk to you about.”

  Julia tensed and Monique didn’t delay in explaining exactly what the tête-à-tête was about.

  “Your brother, God rest his soul,” she touched her hand to her heart in false grief, “convinced my somewhat misguided daughter that he was worthy of her attention. But I shall tell you right now what I should have told him. He was not worthy of my family and you, particularly, are not worthy of my son. I know what kind of woman you are. I know what those pictures showed. I know your intentions. And I will not allow you to…”

  But Julia was no longer listening to her. Monique had made a fatal mistake in her little interview. She could have attacked Julia, which would mean that Julia would have tried to react kindly or at least diplomatically.

  But she should never have said a word against Gavin.

  Julia put her cup down with such force that it clattered, stood up and stared down at the woman.

  “Don’t you dare speak about my brother to me ever again, Monique. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” she whispered, her voice an enraged hiss.

  For a moment Monique looked startled but she recovered quickly. “Should I remind you that it is my home you are living in, my sheets you are sleeping on, my –”

  “I beg to differ but on the death of your husband, is it not true that all of that became Douglas’s? If you have an issue with me staying here, I’ll ask you to skip chats such as this and take it up directly with your son.”

  And without allowing Monique to say another word, she’d walked out.

  She’d been shaking with fury and when she exited the room she nearly ran into both Mrs. K and Veronika who, if she had thought about it at the time, were more than likely listening at the door.

  She wanted someone to talk to (or more precisely someone to vent to) but Mrs. K looked at her kindly and Veronika gave her a shaky smile and they both scurried away as quickly as they could.

  That meant, obviously, both of them were out as confidants.

  She would normally call Patricia but her mother, she knew, would have lost her mind and flown out on the next available plane.

  In a moment of temporary insanity, she considered calling Douglas.

  Instead she phoned Charlotte.

  Charlotte listened and before Julia could relate the whole story, her new friend interrupted with, “That woman is vile.”

  For some reason, this comment made Julia relax.

  “It was like a scene out of a bad soap opera,” Julia told her and couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the memory which, looking back, seemed ridiculous and exactly like a scene out of a bad soap opera (unfortunately, it wasn’t).

  “If Douglas is away and you need a break, you just pack up those kids and come to London. Ollie and I have plenty of room.”

  “Charlie,” Julia explained, still laughing and touched by this offer from her new friend, “I can’t drive. I don’t have a car or a license yet.”

  “Then I’ll come get you!” Charlotte declared.

  Julia had to decline. As much as she wanted to escape, it would mean taking the kids out of school, shaking up their lives yet again and she couldn’t do that.

  No, she was stuck and she had to do the best she could.

  However, sadly, Monique wasn’t nearly finished yet.

  All sign of sugar bowl, butter and jam was away the next morning at the breakfast table. When Julia asked Mrs. K where it was, Mrs. K explained that Lady Ashton had told her not to include it when laying the table.

  So Julia put it on the table herself.

  The next morning, it was gone again.

  So Julia put it back.

  And this went on.

  Evening meals were the same struggle. Eventually, Julia commandeered Carter, grabbed Ruby and went to the grocery store herself.

  Mrs. K continued to make healthy meals. Julia, with Ruby’s “help”, worked alongside her adding buttery garlic bread and thick gravies and making cakes and pies.

  It was the fourth night Monique was home, and the first night she deigned to dine with them, when pecan pie with ice cream concluded the dinner.

  When Julia brought in the dessert, Monique stared at it in disgust.

  As Julia cut a healthy piece for the still introverted Lizzie, Monique announced, “You do that child no favours, she’s already fighting a weight problem as it is.”

  Lizzie’s twelve year old girl ears registered this insult and she stiffened.

  Julia stared at her niece, the girl’s eyes haunted, her cheeks hollow. Lizzie had most likely lost ten pounds she couldn’t afford since her parents died. She had no weight problem.

  The courteous thing to do was hold her tongue and have a word with Monique during a private moment but Julia was too incensed for courtesy.

  “Monique, you may be under the ludicrous impression that those Hollywood lollipop girls with their stick-thin bodies and enormous heads are attractive but they… are… not. They look like aliens from another planet! Lizzie needs to put on weight, not take it off.”

  Monique had stared at her with murder in her eyes and, with no other option, Julia simply stared back. All three children watched in stunned silence but finally Julia broke the staring contest and carried on serving dessert like nothing happened while Monique left the table in icy silence.

  After that episode,
she wanted to call Douglas again, which she knew was an irrational idea. She was saved from doing that by Charlie calling her.

  She told her friend about the lollipop girl comment and Charlie hooted with laughter.

  “Forget coming here, I’m coming to visit you. This I have to see.”

  Julia laughed with her but no matter how fun Charlie was making it seem, it was anything but fun and the next day, it became worse.

  When she asked Carter to take her to the grocery store, he declined saying that Lady Ashton told him that he could only take Julia somewhere if she approved it, personally.

  “I see,” Julia replied quietly as Carter wrung the cap in his hands either nervously or angrily, she couldn’t tell as his face was carefully blank but his lips were thinned. “That’s okay, Carter, it’s a beautiful day. I’ll walk!”

  It was not a beautiful day. It was chilly and grey and threatening rain. But that wasn’t going to stop her. Nothing was going to stop her.

  There were footpaths crisscrossing all over the United Kingdom, Gavin had introduced her to them. She found a walking map in the library, plotted her course, grabbed a couple of umbrellas and she and Ruby went on an expedition. It was more than two miles there and back and both of them were exhausted and drenched by the rain that came in the last half mile but it didn’t matter. Ruby loved it and Julia was determined that woman was not going to beat her. Monique was not going to use the staff against her and Julia was not going to allow the servants’ already unhappy existence to suffer for anything Julia did.

  Luckily, the next day, her driving license came in the mail.

  “Relief!” she shouted as she opened her mail and Veronika, who was clearing away the breakfast dishes jumped. Julia walked straight to her and grabbed both her cheeks and kissed the girl on her forehead. “Freedom!” she crowed to Mrs. K who had just walked in to witness her exuberance and Julia waved the license at them and strode away to e-mail her mother and call Charlie and Sam.

  That evening, just when she thought things would start swinging her way, she saw the man behind the window. He was looking at her imploringly and trying to reach through the glass toward her. The minute his hands tried to push through the glass, he disappeared, the vision of him shimmering and melting until he was gone.