Sommersgate House Page 5

  However, there was another issue with Julia.

  He remembered when he first met her, or more to the point, he remembered that he wanted her the first moment he saw her.

  She was a great deal different then. When she first visited them in England it was the first time she’d left her home country. She was uncommonly pretty, tall and shapely with thick blonde hair, green eyes and long, long legs. She held herself with a posture that demanded attention, effortlessly wearing clothes that were both timeless and vogue. The Americans called it “cool” and Gavin had been the same way, it was one of the reasons (Tamsin had told Douglas) why the American had caught his sister’s discerning eye.

  Douglas had overheard a cousin at Tamsin and Gavin’s engagement party referring to Julia as “a bit intimidating.” At the time, he’d been surprised by the remark but watching Julia, who conducted herself with the grace and confidence of an old-fashioned movie star, he could see how those less confident would think it was true.

  When Julia was younger, she lit up a room with her laughter. She was affectionate and cuddled up to Gavin and her mother, and eventually Tamsin, without any embarrassment.

  But she’d grown out of that or more than likely Webster had worn it out of her.

  Now she was still affectionate with the children. She also had the American, or perhaps Midwestern trait of touching your hand or arm when she was talking to you or hugging when you saw each other after a long period of time.

  Monique detested it.

  Now, he knew, Julia was no longer naive or unsophisticated. And the natural grace had been refined to unaffected elegance, an elegance that had just the slightest bit of an edge. His cousin would no longer find her “a bit intimidating” but undoubtedly very much so.

  This appealed to Douglas.

  Julia appealed to Douglas, through the years, she always had.

  She’d gained her degree from the same university as Gavin, she’d acquitted herself well even after she’d chosen an ass like Sean Webster and she’d shown unconditional love to Tamsin as a member of her family and the same, in wild supply, to Tamsin’s children. Unquestioning, she’d left every scrap of her life and any future she might have had behind her to do as her brother and Tamsin asked and moved to Sommersgate. That showed loyalty and Douglas valued loyalty above all. It was in short supply, he himself had only had four people in his life show it to him, his sister, his friends the Forsythes, and Nick.

  In all the time he knew her, Douglas could have easily, and pleasurably, become entangled with Julia and he had thought of this option often.

  Always, he controlled these thoughts, not wishing the nastiness which would no doubt ensue when he ended it (he didn’t relish the idea of angering Gavin who was a very genial man but who was also immensely protective of not only his wife, but his mother and sister, and Douglas wouldn’t even consider eliciting the response Tamsin, who adopted Julia as her sister, would have).

  Now, he would be living with her, and his mother who detested her, and his sister’s grieving children and he had to find a way to make it all work, not only for them but also for his own peace of mind.

  And this was a problem. A problem with no solution. And that made Douglas impatient. He had not encountered a problem he couldn’t solve and he didn’t like that feeling.

  He had a half-formed plan. Of course, he always had a plan.

  He would have to do something publically to demonstrate clearly to his mother exactly what place Julia held at Sommersgate. If left to her own devices, Monique would relegate Julia to nannydom in the expanse of a week. But Julia was about as much of a nanny as Grace Kelly was a wallflower. Unfortunately, part of being an Ashton meant they lived their lives relatively publically and Douglas had every intention of putting Julia in her rightful place as Tamsin’s children’s aunt, and thus a member of the Ashton family. And he intended to do it immediately.

  As for the rest, he’d managed to control his impulses when it came to Julia for fifteen years, another fifteen would not be difficult. Douglas managed to control a great many of his impulses with very little effort. He was rarely home anyway and Julia would just be a woman, albeit a very alluring one, who happened to live in his house.

  Nothing else, except Monique’s attitude, need change.

  And that, he could, and would, also control, of this he had no doubt.

  He drove down the lane and around the chapel, skirting the fountain. He left the Jaguar in the front drive, knowing that Carter would have heard him arrive and would take the car to the garages and put it away.

  Douglas grabbed his briefcase and walked to the door. He noted the lights were blazing in Julia’s suite and the curtains were opened. He wondered vaguely why she was awake at this hour, it was well after eleven and she had to be exhausted.

  He shoved open the heavy door, not bothering to lock it behind him. Carter would see to that as well.

  He intended to go straight to his study. Even if Julia was awake, she would most likely not wish his company this late at night and, with the call from Japan coming soon, he did not wish hers. The last time he had seen her, he remembered her eyes were sunk in their sockets with heartache but she had been resolute in telling him she’d be moving to Sommersgate directly after she arranged things in Indiana. And she had been true to her promise.

  He moved down the hall, his study was opposite the dining room and he was about to turn into it when a flash of white caught his peripheral vision.

  Immediately on alert, he turned toward the dining room and saw Julia running directly at him.

  Taken off guard at the sight of a woman running through his house in the dead of night, he wasn’t prepared and she crashed right into him, rocking him back on his heels. Then she pushed away, disengaging herself from the arm he’d automatically thrown around her waist.

  “The children…” Julia muttered urgently before he could say a word and then she pulled away and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  He stood there, staring up the stairs, wondering if this was some strange manifestation of jetlag or if he should follow her. The house was silent, save for her footsteps pounding down the hall. His keen sense of danger, bred in him through a lifetime of assessing his mother and father’s moods and honed through the secret life he had chosen, registered nothing.

  He made his decision and walked calmly into the study, turned on the lights, deposited his briefcase on the desk, pulled his tie free, shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed them on the couch before he walked out to see what was happening.

  By the time he exited the study, she was racing back down the stairs.

  Regardless of the madness she seemed to be exuding, she managed, as ever, to do it in style. She wore a thin, fitted top and a pair of light blue pants that hung low on her hips and clung to the right places. She was barefoot, her toes painted a deep, rich red, and her thick, blonde hair was waving softly around her face and down past her shoulders. However flimsy her clothing, she looked like she could walk down the street in them and have every woman wanting the same outfit and every man staring at her just as Douglas was staring at her now.

  She skidded to a halt in front of him.

  “I heard a scream,” she told him, breathless.

  That was not what he had expected to hear.

  Before he could respond, she put her hand on his chest in that familiar way of hers, bent slightly at the waist and took in two shuddering breaths.

  She pulled herself straight again and said, “The kids are okay, sleeping. But I heard this awful scream.”

  He looked down at her hand on his chest and then at her, regarding her silently.

  He could turn on his heel, walk into his study and close the door, leaving her to her bizarre moment of insanity. Or, a far more pleasant idea was to pick her up, carry her to her rooms and make her so exhausted she’d cease these ridiculous actions, go to sleep and let him get back to work.

  He nearly had to shake his head to clear that unbidden a
nd unwelcome but very interesting thought from his mind. Dragging her to bed on her first night and seducing her while she was displaying symptoms of temporary insanity was most likely not the best way to welcome her to Sommersgate House.

  He couldn’t let this woman, who was letting jetlag, unfamiliar surroundings and a highly emotional situation the like of leaving everything near and dear to her behind and starting a new life in a foreign country, lead her to strange delusions, stand in a cold hallway.

  “Come to the study, let me get you a drink,” he offered.

  She didn’t move even as he did. “Did you hear me? Douglas, I heard a woman scream. A… woman… scream.”

  He continued walking and, as he expected, after a moment’s hesitation, she followed him. He poured a whisky for himself, a sherry for her.

  He handed it to her.

  “Drink,” was all he said.

  She took the glass but did not drink. He lifted his whisky to his lips and sipped from it, watching her over the rim of his glass.

  She was staring at him as if it was he that had lost his mind, her lovely green eyes managing to look both rounded and narrowed at the same time.

  “Douglas –”

  “Julia, calm yourself. Sit down, drink,” he commanded and expected her, as he would anyone, to obey.

  “Douglas! I heard… a woman… scream!”

  He sighed. He’d lived at Sommersgate his whole life, he had, of course, heard this story before.

  “You heard nothing. You have jetlag. You were probably asleep and dreaming.”

  “Jetlag doesn’t make you start hearing things. I know what I heard. And I wasn’t asleep,” she retorted sharply.

  Douglas watched her. Her breathing had slowed but she still kept looking out the door as if she was going to see something there.

  She hadn’t sat, she hadn’t drunk, she hadn’t done anything he told her to do.

  He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him in that tone. In fact, outside of his father, there might never have been a time when anyone had spoken to him in that tone.

  He also couldn’t remember a time when he’d issued an order that hadn’t been carried out immediately.

  This was a new sensation for him and it was intriguing.

  “Do you hear anything now?” he asked, feigning concern.

  “No.”

  “What were you doing when you heard this… scream?”

  “I was making lists. I was doing a budget. I was wide awake and…” She stopped herself and looked back out the door. She tipped her head to the side and seemed to be listening for something or thinking about something.

  Then she took a deep breath and her teeth bit into her generous bottom lip. When her eyes came back to his, she seemed to have come to some conclusion.

  “Yes, yes, you’re right. It was just… I’m exhausted. I’m sorry. I can’t sleep. Haven’t slept well in a long time. I’m sorry.”

  When she stopped speaking, he raised an eyebrow then motioned to the couch with a nod of his head. This time she obeyed his unspoken command and sat down. She took a drink and then opened her mouth wide and breathed out like something burned her tongue. Her expression was so preposterous, it almost made Douglas smile.

  “What is that?” she asked, lifting the glass to indicate the source of her question.

  “Sherry,” he replied, walking to the desk and leaning a thigh against it. Then he took another sip of the whisky while he watched her.

  “I’m sorry but it’s awful,” she told him, setting the glass down on the table in front of her.

  “That’s a sweet sherry, would you like something dry?”

  She raised comically horrified eyes to him at the thought of anything sherry and said, “No. No, thank you, no. No sherry, sweet or dry. Sherry, blech. Are you drinking sherry?”

  As he regarded her sitting on his couch in her tight, fetching outfit, Douglas thought that this was a very bizarre conversation and would have preferred not to be having it. He also didn’t have time (nor would he allow himself) to consider the many things he would have preferred to be doing, most specifically with her or, to be precise, to her, as his call would be coming through shortly.

  “Whisky,” he replied, seeking patience.

  “May I have some whisky?”

  Obliging her, he walked to the drinks cabinet, thinking to give her some spirit to soothe her mental state and get her to go to bed. There were a number of things to do and she was distracting.

  “Do you like whisky?” he asked.

  “I hate it,” she answered and when he turned on that strange comment, he saw she was again looking out the door. She had lifted her hand to pull her hair off her face and then she looked back at him, dropping her arm. He couldn’t help but notice how even these superfluous movements were innately graceful. Her face was free of makeup and her hair was slowly falling back into place around her face. He knew that she was thirty-six years old but she looked a decade younger.

  Her voice was low and deep but entirely feminine and very sensuous. He’d always liked the way she’d said his name in that voice.

  He’d forgotten that.

  She lifted her legs to sit crossed-legged on the couch as he brought her the whisky. His mother would have had a coronary, to see a woman at Sommersgate sitting cross-legged, wearing whatever it was Julia was wearing, no matter how fetching (and whatever it was, it was not couture), with her feet tucked underneath her. That thought, as well, almost made Douglas smile.

  “It feels warm going down,” Julia said.

  “I’m sorry?” he asked.

  “The whisky. It tastes terrible but feels warm going down. I’m chilled the bone.” And as if to demonstrate, she shivered dramatically.

  He wasn’t surprised she was cold. She was barely wearing any clothes.

  With effort, he pulled his eyes from her body and his thoughts away from the better ways there were to warm her and said sardonically, “Welcome to Sommersgate.” And to that, he lifted his glass to her in salute.

  Her green eyes, which had been staring into her whisky glass, moved to him and in the briefest second, they lit right before she laughed.

  He could not recall ever making her laugh before although he’d seen others do it. She’d always had an uninhibited laugh, throaty and rich, which engaged her whole body, rather than just her mouth. He’d always enjoyed hearing and watching her laugh.

  He’d forgotten that too.

  There was something quite unusually… pleasant about being responsible for that kind of laughter.

  What was unpleasant was noticing that she did look exhausted. As her face lit up, the exhaustion was replaced by a light that he was far more familiar with when it came to Julia. And, as soon as the laughter died, the exhaustion settled back on her features. This was not evidenced in haggard lines, in fact, she hid it well. He hadn’t noticed it until she laughed. But she was pale and, once the laughter died away, there was none of the usual brightness to her eyes.

  She lifted her glass to return the salute and downed the contents after which she grimaced.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when she’d wiped the grimace from her face. “You get home late and have some crazy female running around your house like an idiot. You’re probably wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into. I promise, this is not an indication of the years to come.” And with that, she gave him a small smile that did nothing to transform her face and most certainly did not reach her eyes.

  He had no reply and she didn’t seem to expect one. She stood and gathered the glasses.

  “I’ll just take these to the kitchen and leave you in peace.” She turned toward the door finishing with, “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Julia,” he stopped her and she turned back. “Just leave the glasses. Veronika will see to them.”

  She hesitated, looked at the glasses, at him then put the glasses on the table seeming somewhat confused.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,�
�� he finished, done with the episode, done with her.

  She hesitated again and he wondered, in a detached way as his mind was already moving forward to when she would be gone, what she planned to do next.

  Then she walked up to him, put her hand on his arm, leaned into him and kissed his cheek.

  She smelled of tangerines and jasmine.

  “Goodnight,” she said softly. “See you tomorrow.”

  He stood leaning against his desk, his arms crossed on his chest and he watched her walk out of the study and into the dark hallway until she disappeared out of sight.

  Yes, he had a problem and that problem was Julia Fairfax.

  Then the phone rang and she went completely out of his mind.

  Chapter Four

  Ruby’s Friend

  The next morning, Julia sat down to her sugarless porridge and stared at it with distaste.

  After leaving Douglas last night, she’d tossed and turned in the big, soft bed with its even softer sheets. She couldn’t get her strange behaviour out of her head. Behaviour which, if it ever came down to a nasty custody battle, could and would no doubt be brought up to prove she was a raving lunatic incapable of raising three children.

  What had come over her last night?

  It was the house, the damned house. It was creepy.

  She hadn’t heard any scream or felt any spooky arctic draught.

  She was disoriented and over-emotional, exhausted, jetlagged and homesick.

  At least that’s what she told herself but the entire night she couldn’t get it out of her head that something, not someone but something, was in the room with her.

  She’d managed to drag herself out of bed at an ungodly hour feeling as if she’d only had moments of sleep, which, in reality, was all she had. She was determined to help Mrs. K get the kids ready for school. Mrs. Kilpatrick had taken enough on and it was now time to alleviate her burden.

  It was chaos, but quiet and controlled as Douglas was in the house and it was clear the children had long since learned that Douglas was not to be disturbed (although, she soon learned from Mrs. K that Douglas was not in the house but out taking his morning run).