Authors: Kristen Ashley
She started
ahead but obviously Nick hesitated because she heard Douglas’s deep
voice say, “Follow her.”
They got
Douglas to her room and Julia ran to the draperies she left open,
closing them as Nick deposited Douglas on her bed.
She hustled to
the bathroom and grabbed every towel she could see then back and
saw Douglas gingerly stripping off a black, long-sleeved t-shirt.
Nick already had Douglas’s overcoat off and had thrown it on the
floor.
She saw the
blood on his back, the bullet hole below his shoulder and rushed
forward.
“Holy crap,”
she whispered.
“That doesn’t
sound too bad,” Douglas noted sardonically. “I would say this was
at least a ‘fucking hell’ moment.
“Don’t joke!”
Julia snapped. “How on earth did you get shot?”
Nick and
Douglas looked at each other as Julia began obsessively to lay
towel after towel on the pillows as if their smoothed absorbing
layer would make the difference and all would become right again in
the world. She then pushed Douglas back against them gently,
handing him a clean hand towel to press against the wound.
Neither man,
she noted, answered.
She decided to
let that go and announced, “I’m calling the police.”
Douglas caught
her arm in a surprisingly firm, almost painful grip.
“No police,”
he declared implacably.
“No police?”
Julia asked, feeling her brows shoot up. “But you’ve been
shot!”
“No police,”
Douglas repeated.
“Listen, the
doc is coming to fix him up,” Nick put in. “We’ll be okay now, can
you go and find somewhere else to sleep?”
“
Sleep?”
she asked incredulously, like she’d just walk out on this scene and
lay herself down on some fluffy pillows and calmly go to sleep. Was
he
mad?
She looked in
Douglas’s eyes and then her gaze dropped down to his wound. There
was blood all over his chest… his very well-muscled chest, she
noted vaguely. But the wound looked like it was no longer
bleeding.
“
We need
to make sure he doesn’t lose any more blood,” Julia tried to
pretend like she knew what she was doing, which she most certainly
did
not.
“When’s the
doctor coming?” she demanded to know from Nick.
“Girl, you
need to leave this to me,” Nick returned, obviously losing
patience.
She stood up
to her full height, which, in bare feet, was five foot nine, at
least two inches taller than him.
“When, I asked
you,” she stated, her voice straining for calm and authoritative
(and she felt she didn’t do half-badly), “is the doctor going to be
here?”
Nick glanced
at Douglas and Julia followed his gaze.
Douglas was
lounging against the towel covered pillows holding the hand towel
pressed firmly against the wound. He looked for all the world as if
he was watching an only slightly entertaining play. When it became
apparent that something was required of him, he just shrugged his
good shoulder and Nick started to say something but Julia whirled
on Douglas.
“
You
have two choices, Douglas Ashton,” she told him sharply, her temper
flaring out-of-control. “Your first choice is to tell me when I can
expect a doctor to arrive and your second choice is that I will
first phone the police and second phone my mother so she can tell
me how to treat you. You are not going to quietly bleed to death on
my bed!”
“Calm
yourself, Julia, I’m fine. It’s a flesh wound,” Douglas
returned.
“It’s a
fucking gunshot wound!” she shouted.
“Calm
yourself!” Douglas roared in a voice she’d never heard before. He
reared up and then gritted his teeth in pain and Julia stepped
back, partially in fear, partially in surprise.
She’d
seen his face of thunder and been awed and, maybe, a little
thrilled by it. But that roar was something else. It was the roar
of a man that expected to be obeyed, who was
entitled
to be obeyed and who didn’t, wouldn’t,
maybe even
couldn’t
abide
it when he wasn’t. It was his right, not only by birth and by
accumulation but also because, she sensed, he’d earned
it.
She took a
deep breath and considered his ridiculous command to calm herself
when he was lying on her bed bleeding from a gunshot wound.
Regardless of his title, station or whatever else, she decided to
ignore it. And it took every ounce of courage she possessed because
this man, who could go from bland and unmoved to seductive lover to
roaring aristocrat to dangerous, predatory deity, scared the living
daylights out of her.
Still,
none of that changed the fact that Douglas was
bleeding
from a
gunshot wound
on her
bed.
“Nick, go get
the whisky from his study and the first aid kit that’s in the
kitchen,” Julia ordered and when Nick didn’t move she whirled on
him. “Go!”
Nick glanced
at Douglas who obviously gave him the go ahead because Nick left
the room.
“Lay back,
relax, when he gets back, I’ll, well, I don’t know what I’ll do but
I’ll figure out something,” she told Douglas.
Douglas was
watching her and she watched him right back, steeling herself
against his glittering, intense eyes whose depths she couldn’t
read.
Obviously
unable to win one of his staring contests, she finally asked, “Are
you in pain?”
“Not when I
don’t move.”
“Then don’t
move.”
“Good
advice.”
Julia stopped
staring at him and started glaring at him and Douglas just accepted
her glare. Nick arrived back and just to do something, she grabbed
the whisky decanter and gave it to Douglas.
“Drink,” Julia
commanded and Douglas gratefully lifted the decanter to his
lips.
“Doesn’t
alcohol thin the blood?” Nick asked.
Like
light
ning, Julia jumped
forward and snatched the decanter from Douglas’s grasp.
“Get her out
of here, Nick, before I kill her,” Douglas said through gritted
teeth, his angry eyes gleaming darkly at her.
“I’m not going
anywhere,” Julia boldly declared and cut her eyes to Nick who was
advancing on her. “You touch me, I’ll scream bloody murder. Just
try me.”
Nick
stopped.
Douglas
sighed.
“I’m cleaning
the wound,” Julia announced into the void.
“Well, Doug,
that sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it?” Nick asked, sounding
like he was trying to placate a wounded beast so he could draw out
a thorn. She’d never heard anyone but Tamsin call him Doug and she
wondered who this Nick character was. He looked rough and,
regardless of his height, he looked like a man you wouldn’t mess
with. Lastly, he was also obviously trusted implicitly by
Douglas.
Douglas didn’t
reply.
She searched
through the first aid kit and found only minuscule cleansing wipes
that were smaller by half than your average handi-wipe.
“
What,”
she turned slowly and showed the wipe to the men, “am I supposed to
do with
this?
” Without
waiting for an answer, she turned back to the kit, rifling through
it. “Don’t you have any rubbing alcohol, any hydrogen peroxide?
This kit is a joke.”
“She’s trying
to kill me, Nick. She wants me dead so she can take the children
back to America.”
Julia whirled
around “Rubbing alcohol won’t kill…” but she stopped when Douglas’s
head shot up.
“Doctor,”
Douglas muttered and Nick immediately left the room to fetch the
doctor.
Julia and
Douglas surveyed each other like opponents on a battlefield.
Julia broke
the silence. “Douglas, is there something you want to share with
me?”
“Not now,
Julia.”
“I’ll tell you
something for nothing,” she said, her anger taking over her nerves
and making her lapse into the Midwestern twang her mother tried for
years to breed out of them. “If you die, I’m going to kill
you.”
To her shock,
her idiotic threat made him grin. What he thought was worth
grinning about in this grim situation, she could not imagine.
Furthermore, she had to steal herself against just how devilishly
sexy his damn grins made him, gunshot wounds or not. Before she
could respond to the wickedly handsome look on his face, the doctor
was at the door.
Julia watched
as he inspected the wound then looked up and spoke to Nick and
Julia.
“One of you
stay to help me, the other one, leave us.”
“I’ll do it,”
Julia immediately offered.
“No!” both
Douglas and Nick shouted.
“You’re
outvoted, luv,” the doctor said kindly and Julia, without a fight
so the doctor could see to Douglas without delay, left.
Instead of
going toward the house, where the kids might hear or see her, she
went to the chapel.
The chapel, as
it was unused nearly all the time, was unheated. She hadn’t put on
her robe or slippers and only had on a pair of thin, knit, mint
green, drawstring pyjama bottoms and matching lace-trimmed
camisole.
She
paced through the darkness to keep herself warm and she counted to
keep her mind busy. She did
not
want to think of what her life had become. She did
not
want to list in her mind the
many reasons her life had descended into sheer, unadulterated
madness.
But as the
minutes ticked by, her control slipped and she started listing. She
couldn’t help it, it was habit.
There was
Monique, the Super Bitch, out there somewhere, Julia knew,
conniving to make Julia’s life a living hell. There was Douglas,
lying on her bed with a gunshot wound in his shoulder. That same
Douglas who wanted her to marry him for what had to be nefarious
reasons and kept kissing her for no reason at all. There were the
ghosts of separated lovers haunting this creepy old house. Then
there was the house itself, spooky beyond belief and…
“Doc’s done,”
Nick said from behind her, making her jump.
She rushed
through the chapel, down the hall and back into her room.
Douglas was
lounging back on her pillows and the bloody towels, shirt and
overcoat had disappeared. His chest was cleaned of blood and his
shoulder was wrapped expertly in bandages.
“Are you his
intended?” the doctor asked her.
“What?” she
forced her gaze away from Douglas who had his eyes closed and
seemed to be sleeping.
“His intended?
He said you were getting married,” the doctor explained.
Thinking that
he may not tell her important information if she said no, she said,
“Yes.”
Douglas’s eyes
opened and he grinned again.
She wanted to
stamp her foot in frustration but she forced herself to turn calmly
to the doctor. “How is he?”
“He’s fine.
Didn’t hit anything major and went clean through. I’ll want to have
a scan of it tomorrow but he needs rest tonight. No moving the
shoulder. I’ve given him something for the pain.” He looked at
Douglas. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He clasped his
case closed and Nick left with him.
Julia
stared down at Douglas suddenly deflated and overcome with relief
that everything was going to be okay.
Not
relieved that he’d shown up in the middle of the
night with a gunshot wound, a wound which somehow didn’t send him
into shock and a wound which he would not allow her to phone the
police to report, but
that
particular discussion would have to wait for
tomorrow.
“Well, now
that I know you’re okay, I’ll go upstairs and sleep,” she
announced.
“Why don’t you
sleep here?” Douglas suggested, his voice slightly slurred making
her think the painkiller was working.
“As
comfortable as that chaise lounge is, I don’t want to sleep on it.”
She was grabbing her slippers and robe but she heard him pat the
bed.
“
No, not
there, here.” He was watching her, his eyes half-shut and she had
to admit, he looked unbelievably sexy. He had a
very
nice chest, well-defined abs and she just noticed
the snug black jeans…
She tore her
gaze away. “I’ll find a bed upstairs, there’re plenty.”
“No,” Douglas
returned. “Mother keeps them unmade. Doesn’t like the sheets
gathering dust. Only made up for guests. The children will hear you
if you make up a bed.”
“
Then
you stay down here and I’ll sleep in
your
bed.”
His eyes went
from half-shut to fully-open, regarding her sharply. “Julia, you
don’t sleep in that bed until I’m in it with you.”
Her
stomach flipped at his words, his tone
and
his look.
To hide her
fluster, she said with false bravado, “Well, at this point, I’m not
entirely certain what you’ll do about it considering the… shape…
you’re…”
She
trailed off as he stood up and stalked, absolutely
stalked,
toward her.
He didn’t stop
until he was towering over her.
“If I have to,
I’ll open this wound and carry you back down, or join you up there.
Your choice.”
She stood
there, stunned.
“I’ll find a
couch,” she offered.
“Julia, I’m
tired, I’ve been shot, for Christ’s sake, just get into the
bed.”
“Why?” she
asked shakily.
“Because I
want you to. Because I need something warm and soft and alive
beside me tonight. Something that smells good and feels good. After
what I’ve seen…” he stopped when her eyes widened in curiosity at
his words. It was then the shutters closed over his features, he
gave up and turned away from her. “Forget it, find your couch.”