Sommersgate House (39 page)

She was
wearing his shirt which was unbuttoned and only partially gaping,
exposing very little except the winking emerald that still lay
against her chest and a one inch expanse of skin from chest,
between breasts, down her midriff and belly to below. His eyes
dropped to follow the opening as her hands began to pull out the
pins.

“I need to
take down my hair,” she explained her delay as his deep blue eyes
rose to meet hers in the mirror.

Douglas
surprised her when his hands lifted and pushed hers aside. He then
further stunned her by working his fingers into her hair, gently
seeking out hairpins and pulling them free, tossing them heedlessly
in the sink.

Her arms fell
and she grabbed the edge of the sink in an effort not to relax
against him, which was what she desperately wanted to do. Her chin
dropped to give him better access and she spied the emerald at her
neck.

“How did you
know?” she asked.

“Know what?”
His deep voice rumbled behind her, causing her to shiver.

“About the
emerald, how did you know it would be perfect?” Her voice was
quiet.

His reply came
immediately. “I asked Charlotte. She told me the colour you
intended to wear and about the emeralds your mother gave you. So I
found something to match.”

At the
pronouncement of that bit of thoughtfulness, her fingers tightened
spasmodically against the edge of the basin as something stole
through her, starting at her belly and this time, heading north,
straight to her heart.

She was
falling in love with him.

Dear God, she
was falling in love with Douglas Ashton.

In fact, Julia
thought hysterically, she may have started falling in love with him
the moment she met him.

But what
she knew for certain was that she was falling deeply, madly,
stupidly
in love with him
now.

She was
falling in love with how good he was with the children and the
reason he watched over them (and her) because of his heretofore
unknown bond with his sister.

She was
falling in love with how he warned off her father and how he
protected her against Monique.

She was
falling in love with the way he helped her learn snooker, didn’t
make her feel a fool when she’d seen The Mistress and sat with her
in her room until she fell asleep.

And she was
falling in love with the way he made her feel when he looked at her
(and was already in love with the way he made her feel with his
mouth and hands and body).

His fingers
worked carefully in her hair but her body stiffened against the
knowledge stealing into her heart.

For the second
time she was going to marry a man she loved. This time, she knew in
advance the heartbreak it would bring. This time she knew that
there would be a day when his eye would wander, when he’d grow
tired of what they shared earlier that evening even though she’d
live for it.

Her father had
left her mother. Sean’s behaviour had forced Julia to leave him.
And Douglas, Douglas would be no different. He was just Douglas. A
man of means who got what he wanted, when he wanted it and, when he
was satisfied, he’d be gone.

And it was
then she realised she couldn’t do it. She’d agreed to it but she
couldn’t go through with it.

He finished
finding pins and his fingers slid against her scalp, running gently
through her hair to it ends, then they dropped, stealing around her
waist until he was holding her loosely there. She lifted her eyes
to the mirror, first to look at herself (worrying that her hair
would be a crazed, Medusa-styled mess but instead it was just a
mass of curls) then to catch his eyes.

“
Better?” His eyes warm, he asked his question softly, that
one quiet word fastening like a silken shroud around her heart, and
she nodded, not trusting her own voice. Not trusting what she might
say. Not wanting him to know,
ever
,
how she felt. And lastly, not wanting this moment to end because,
she knew, it would be their last.

“Good,” he
said, “come to bed.”

She nodded
again, too undone with her new knowledge to bristle against his
order.

He let her
waist go but caught her hand and she followed him, still staggered
by her realisation.

She had no
idea what she would do, how she would cope but, right then, she was
just going to go with it.

“Jewel,” Gavin
had once said, “you need to take a risk, leave that little farm
town and live your life. There’s something out there for you,
little sister. But you’ve got to go out and find it.”

Tonight, she’d
taken a risk.

She’d agreed
to marry a wealthy, dangerous, English Baron, who she could easily
love, who also happened to own a haunted mansion.

Tomorrow,
she’d take it back and most likely regret it for the rest of her
life.

But she had no
choice. She had to guard her heart. She couldn’t go through it
again without being destroyed.

He stopped,
his back to the side of the bed, turning her to face him. His hands
went to her belly and then turned, the backs of his fingers
brushing against her as he spread open the shirt. His head
descended and his teeth nibbled at her lips.

“I want you,”
his voice was low and silky, “with this on,” he said, his mouth
teasing hers and he indicated what he meant by tugging at the
shirt.

She took a
shuddering breath and mumbled, “Okay.”

He found her
hand and pulled sharply at it, forcing her to fall with him back on
the bed, hooking her at the waist so she fell on top of him.

He kissed her,
his right hand delving into her hair to hold her head firmly to his
and his left hand pushing the fabric of his shirt away so her naked
body was pressed against his. She felt the immense heat of him and
revelled in it, allowing it to fire her skin. Then his hands ran
down her back, over her bottom and he did an abdominal crunch, his
fingers softly sliding down her legs to the backs of her knees.

He pulled his
mouth from hers and she found she was already breathing heavily,
wanting him again.

“This time,”
he began and with a forceful jerk he pulled her knees up and she
found herself, with a surprised gasp, straddling him. One of his
hands moved from her knee and went between their bodies, the other
hand went to her waist. “You get to do all the work.” His hand on
her waist drove her relentlessly down on him and, as he filled her,
her teeth caught her lower lip in delicious pleasure, her head
rolled back and her back arched.

“I think I can
do that,” Julia breathed, wishing she sounded more sultry and
cosmopolitan but he’d have to make do with just her.

She bent
forward again, kissed him softly and it began.

Of course, it
didn’t end with her on top, not with Douglas. Moments before their
climax, he flipped her onto her back and drove into her
unrelentingly, this time wrapping her legs around his waist
himself, thrusting fiercely as if he wanted to penetrate her very
soul, until her teeth bit uncontrollably into his shoulder and,
finally, she had no choice but to throw her head back and cry out
his name in pure, excruciating, mind-numbing pleasure.

The Morning
After

Douglas woke,
felt his arms were empty and the delicious furnace that was Julia’s
body in sleep was gone.

His eyes
opened, he turned his head and saw Julia had pulled away from him
some time in the night and was lying a foot away, her back towards
him. He turned to his side and lifted himself on his elbow in order
to watch her sleep.

She was leaned
slightly forward and her chin was tucked into her chest, her arms
crooked, hands resting on the pillow in front of her, the side of
one palm lightly pressed against her nose. Her face was relaxed,
the sleek line of her jaw partially covered by a soft fall of her
hair.

There was
something about Julia in sleep, something he couldn’t quite put his
finger on, but it was something he liked.

Watching her,
he felt an odd sense of contentment settle over him.

He had won;
she had agreed to be his wife.

He always knew
he’d win however, he did not count on it taking so damn long.

Nevertheless,
the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory.

And victory
over Julia was exquisitely sweet.

He pulled the
heavy, golden hair away from her neck and kissed her there. She
didn’t move, not even a twitch, but then, he thought with an inward
smile, she was surely exhausted.

Douglas was
unbelievably energised.

He rolled off
the other side of the bed and caught sight of the clock. Cursing
under his breath, he strode to his sitting room, closing the door
to the bedroom with a soft click. He picked up the phone and
dialled twenty.

Mr. Kilpatrick
answered at the Groundskeeper’s Cottage after two rings. Douglas
could hear in the background what sounded like pandemonium.

The children,
it would seem, were either tearing apart the Kilpatrick’s home or
ripping each other to shreds.

Regardless of
the tenor of the noise, there was something both pleasing and
distressing about it. This was because Douglas had heard it before,
time and again, whenever he’d go to Tamsin and Gavin’s home.

He had never
heard it at Sommersgate, not before Tamsin and Gavin’s deaths, nor
after.

Douglas was
pleased to hear it again just as he was distressed it had stopped
and all the reasons why.

At Mr.
Kilpatrick’s repeated greeting, Douglas shook off these thoughts
and, without introducing himself, started to say, “Can you…” but
stopped speaking when another phone was picked up and Mrs.
Kilpatrick muttered a distracted hello.

Douglas was
forced to start again. “I need you to watch the children for a few
more hours.”

“Is everything
all right?” Mrs. Kilpatrick asked immediately, sounding
alarmed.

Douglas found
he was at a loss of what to say. He’d never been asked a question
when he’d given an instruction. He couldn’t say that Julia was ill
or Mrs. Kilpatrick would come racing down to the house. He
certainly couldn’t tell them the truth.

“Miss Julia
is,” he fought for a diplomatic explanation and found one,
“indisposed.”

Silence
greeted this announcement and then he heard a phone inexplicably
clatter down in its cradle. Mr. Kilpatrick assured him the children
were safe with them and Douglas rung off.

He returned to
the bed, sliding in behind Julia and fitting his body against the
silken length of hers while he slid his arm around her waist. He
was debating with himself whether to take a moment to relive the
extraordinary events of last night or to press his hand between her
legs just so that he could hear another of her husky moans. Then,
later, he’d coax her to say his name in her sweet, low voice when
her limbs were wrapped tight around him and he was buried inside
her.

While he was
uncommonly undecided, she settled into his body, wiggling her ass
into his groin.

Immediately,
he chose the latter.

Before he
could move though, she mumbled something sleepily into the
pillow.

His arm curled
tighter around her and his lips sought her ear.

“What?” he
whispered and he felt her delicious shiver at the sound of his
voice. This made his contentment grow.

He enjoyed his
power over her, her response to his merest touch, the sound of his
voice, in fact, he exalted in it.

She lifted her
chin, nearly bumping his head with hers.

“Wanna kitty,”
she mumbled.

“
What?”
Douglas repeated, thinking he hadn’t heard her
correctly.

“Used to have
a kitty, would sleep in on the weekends and he’d curl up right
here.” Her hand fluttered to her waist then fell to rest on his
arm. “Had to put him to sleep a couple of weeks before Gavin died.”
She took a deep breath and then let it out in a long shuddering
sigh. “I miss him.”

Her voice was
husky with sleep as well as longing for her cat.

She settled
further into Douglas and then again whispered softly, “Wanna
kitty.”

Douglas pulled
her deeper into his body.

“I’ll get you
anything you want,” he promised her.

“Just a
kitty,” she answered and then fell back to sleep.

He’d get her a
cat; he’d get her a dozen of them. And a sapphire just like the
emerald she still hadn’t taken off. And more than likely a ruby.
And a fat pearl surrounded by diamonds.

He buried his
face in her hair and smelled tangerines and jasmine. He discovered
last night she wore the scent between her breasts as well.

He discovered
a lot of things last night.

He discovered
that when Julia climaxed, the legs she wrapped around him tightened
convulsively, drawing him deeper into her body when he thought he
couldn’t go any deeper. He discovered that she had an incredibly
talented tongue. He discovered that, even though he’d become
excessively fond of her wardrobe, the sexiest thing he’d seen her
wear was his dress shirt.

He also
discovered that the sight of her with another man, or, in the case
of last night, quite a number of them, turned him into a jealous
lunatic.

He’d never
felt a fury the like of last night, nor behaved in the way he did.
He lost all control. That wasn’t just unusual, it was
unprecedented.

He didn’t
regret his behaviour, not in the slightest. The results spoke for
themselves. She was there in his arms, in his bed and he intended
for that not to change. Soon, she’d have his ring on her finger and
she’d take his name. He’d been certain this was what he wanted, but
now he realised this decision was absolute.