Authors: Kristen Ashley
Roddy
Kilpatrick aimed his shotgun.
Nick pulled
the knife out of the back of Douglas’s belt and waved it about
threateningly.
And Douglas
thundered, “Is this what you call ‘proceeding with caution’?”
Luckily they
recognised Douglas and there was no further bloodshed.
Some high up
official from some government organisation that outranked the
police came not long after and took control of the situation. There
was no press, only interviews with all involved (and signed gag
orders masquerading as “confidentiality agreements”) and dozens of
people milling about taking pictures, gathering evidence, removing
bodies or hauling others off to hospital.
It all seemed
very curious to Julia but evidently this was somewhat of an
international incident and the Russians wanted the criminals (or
what was left of them) returned with as little muss and fuss as
possible, issuing fervent apologies along the way.
Douglas was
treated at the scene, a flesh wound to the upper arm that was
stitched together by the same doctor who had come the last
time.
Nick was taken
to hospital for observation for a concussion. He’d been unconscious
for quite some time and even though at first he refused, both Julia
and Mrs. K nagged him until it became obvious that he could either
go or expire due to extreme molly-coddling. Furthermore, what
caused him to go down was a bullet that had ricocheted off
something in the hall, grazing him in the back (also requiring
nothing but a few stitches) but not entering his body. Remarkably,
it glanced off a rib but with enough force to knock him off his
feet and bang his head.
This caused
him to slap his ribs and gloat, repeatedly, for weeks, “Bones of
steel,” anytime he saw Julia and Douglas.
Carter came
home and promised to guard the house and Lord knew the children
were safe with the shotgun-wielding Roddy. No one could really
inhabit the house considering the number of bloodstains, broken
doors, gunshot holes and shotgun blasts and it would likely take
Mrs. K at least a day (maybe two), to sort out all the damage.
Once
Douglas had cleaned himself up and changed clothes, he whisked
Julia off to Bath anyway even though it was long past time to enjoy
any kind of Valentine’s Day celebrations. He seemed not to realise
that evening’s dramatics may have been an everyday occurrence
for
him
but not for
Julia.
On the way to
Bath Douglas briefly, curtly and in no detail (because, he told
her, in all seriousness, if he went into detail, there was a good
possibility he would have to kill her, or, if not him doing the
deed, someone else would) explained something about the MI6 (or
MI5, she didn’t hear him correctly and was too scared to ask),
Russians, the mysterious two-year disappearance (training and
undercover work) and white slavery.
There was a
quick, impersonal account about Veronika, but Julia read between
the lines and realised he’d saved her from a fate worse than death
(thus Julia understood Ronnie’s declaration of New Year’s Night
that Douglas was her hero, this caused a bit of the
frightened-to-death, oh-my-God-we’re-all-going-to-die feeling to
melt away, but just a bit).
Nick was
definitely involved and somehow, along the way, Carter was involved
too (indeed, he’d
recruited
Douglas).
Douglas
assured her, just as briefly and curtly, that he nor Nick and most
definitely not Carter (“Retired,” Douglas had grunted) were
currently or would ever again be involved in what he called “the
job”.
Feeling
(accurately) that he needed to leave it at that, she allowed him to
do so but it was very,
very
hard.
She just had
to trust him.
And she
did.
Upon entering
their room at the Royal Crescent Hotel, long past the time they
should have been there, Douglas simply undressed Julia, undressed
himself and pulled her into bed with him.
To sleep.
Facing her, he
lifted one of her legs to drape over his hip and pulled her in his
arms, tucking her head under his chin.
Regardless of
this intimate position, with no apparent amorous intentions, he
closed his eyes.
He muttered no
seconding to his (somewhat wonderful) avowals of love. He didn’t
mention the fact that his childhood home had nearly erupted like a
volcano. Or that he’d witnessed the ghosts of two dead lovers fade
to heaven.
“Um,” she
muttered against his neck, “what are you doing?”
“Sleeping,”
was his weary reply.
He wasn’t
sleeping because he was speaking but she thought it best not to
point that out.
Instead, she
asked, “Now?”
“I’m
tired.”
Julia
fidgeted. The adrenalin was still coursing through her body.
“Well, now I
can say I’ve seen it all. Nothing seems to slow you down but I
guess mortal combat, experiencing your ancestral home shake off an
evil curse and witnessing the passionate reunion of two dead lovers
finally has stalled the Great Douglas Ashton, Baron Blackbourne,
ruthless business tycoon and secret agent –”
“Be quiet,
Julia.”
“I love you,
Douglas.”
His arms
tensed fiercely, crushing her to him. He held her for long moments
then his arms loosened but they didn’t go away.
“Go to sleep,”
he ordered but this order was gentle.
“
Okay,”
she obeyed on a whisper because even though it
was
an order, she liked the way it sounded.
And somehow
his calm communicated itself to her, she felt the tenseness of the
night drain away and she did as he commanded.
He’d loved the
cufflinks and she’d adored the rubies.
They’d managed
to keep it all from the children (and Ronnie) due to a quickly
orchestrated dash to London which the children had to be pulled out
of school for so they could be fitted for their dresses and morning
suit for the nuptial festivities.
When they
returned, the plaster and doors were fixed and there were no
bloodstains to be found.
Several days
later, while Julia was at her new consultancy, Douglas ordered
Ronnie to move all of Julia’s things to his rooms.
When Julia
arrived home later than normal, she found no one waiting for her in
the kitchen. Upon quick inspection of the house, she finally
entered the last place she expected to find anyone, Douglas’s
sitting room.
He was on the
couch, his briefcase open on the table in front of him, papers
spilled everywhere and his mobile at his ear. His eyes came to her
the minute she walked in and, even though they warmed, they were
also wary.
Will was doing
his homework sitting at the desk in the corner.
Mrs. K and
Ronnie’s disembodied voices came from the bedroom and Julia tore
her gaze away from Douglas and wandered through the door
dazedly.
“There’s
nothing for it, we’ll have to build a bigger closet,” Mrs. K’s
voice came from an opened door that Julia knew was Douglas’s
dressing room.
“She has many
shoes,” Ronnie noted.
Ruby was
jumping on Douglas’s bed and Lizzie was lying on it telling her to
stop.
“May I ask
what’s going on?” Julia’s voice was both bewildered and
dangerous.
Will ran
through and jumped on the bed, bowling over Ruby, making Ruby
shriek and Lizzie groan.
Julia
felt Douglas come up behind her and was about to whirl on him when
Ruby informed her knowledgeably, “You’re moving in with Unka
Douglas, just like Mummy and Daddy. Mummy and Daddy
always
slept together.”
Neither Lizzie
nor Will had any reaction to this in any way, shape or form.
It was then
she whirled on Douglas.
“You…” she
started.
He caught her
by the waist, pulled her to him and laughed, burying his face in
her neck.
“I love you,
darling,” he said, clearly and distinctly, the first time he’d said
it since The Night of a Thousand Russian Horrors (another one of
her favourites) and the first time he said it in front of the
children.
Her back was
to them but she could feel their eyes on her and Douglas.
But she was
too busy nearly dying in rapture at the sound of those words and
she felt herself dissolve into happy laughter.
“I don’t know
why because you’re such an arrogant, underhanded cad, but I love
you too, sweetheart,” Julia replied.
This
scene was something with which the children were
very
familiar. They settled
comfortably in the bed, annoying each other to the extreme while
Douglas nuzzled Julia’s neck, Ronnie and Mrs. K eventually gave up
on the shoes and Mrs. K left the room to call the
carpenter.
* * * * *
The music had
started in the Cathedral, the beautiful strains of the organ
filling the air.
It was time to
begin the wedding.
Ruby was first
to have her turn up the aisle. She was wearing her pretty ivory
dress with puffed sleeves, big tulle petticoats and a hem that
dripped lace. It was completed with a wide, white-satin sash tied
in a bow in the back.
She was
supposed to be littering the aisle with white rose petals but
halfway to her destination, she spotted her uncle and shouted,
“Unka Douglas!” as if she didn’t expect him to be anywhere near the
Cathedral that day or even in the country (and hadn’t been
practising her role for a month). She threw aside her basket of
petals and dashed forward, throwing herself against him as the
congregation twittered.
“She’ll ruin
everything,” Will hissed at Julia’s side, his nerves in
tangles.
Julia bent,
not nearly as far as she had to ten months ago, to look him in the
eye. “She’s just being Ruby and it doesn’t ruin the day, honey, it
makes it perfect.”
“If you say
so,” Will grumbled dubiously, clearly too overwhelmed by his
looming responsibility to find rambunctious Ruby perfect at
anything.
Lizzie,
however,
was
perfect,
serenely gliding up the aisle like she was a professional
bridesmaid. She too was wearing ivory, a younger girl’s version of
Julia’s dress (except not backless). It fell neatly in a column to
just above her ankles. With it she wore gloves and a matching
double-strand choker of pearls at her throat, wrist and tiny
teardrop earrings (Douglas’s “early” birthday present to Lizzie
whose birthday just happened to be in July).
Julia saw that
Douglas decided to calm Ruby by picking her up and positioning her
at his hip to give her the best vantage point of the proceedings.
Julia found this, too, endearing and her heart melted at the
sight.
Then again,
she found almost everything about Douglas endearing.
However, upon
entering the aisle out of nowhere an unbidden wave of melancholia
overwhelmed Julia.
She was afraid
something like this would happen and as she walked hesitantly
forward, she tried to focus on Douglas. No matter how hard she
tried, she couldn’t contain her trembling lips, her heart beating
like a jackhammer, her legs feeling like jelly and her hand
clutching Will’s arm with vice-like pressure, all the while her
throat burning like fire.
“You okay,
Auntie Jewel?” Will asked out of the side of his mouth, wincing at
her grip on his arm.
Halfway up the
aisle Julia halted. Ignoring the gasps of the crowd, she turned to
her nephew and put her hand on his cheek. Again, she bent toward
him.
“
I
didn’t say it before, when you told me you’d give me away, but I’m
going to say it now. I miss your Dad with everything that is me,
but I’m
so
proud
you’re
here with me now,” she whispered to him, her eyes filling with
tears.
Will stared at
her a moment then gulped back his emotion, nodded slowly and
finally shot a sidelong glance up the aisle.
“Um, Uncle
Douglas looks kinda mad,” he whispered, his face bright red.
Julia
jerked upright and saw that Douglas didn’t look mad, he
looked
furious
. He’d
put down Ruby (she was now standing by a bewildered-looking Lizzie)
and was scowling at Julia.
Julia fairly
raced up the aisle, pulling Will along with her.
“Sorry,
sorry,” she muttered when she reached him, avoiding his eyes, “we
were having a moment.”
“Perhaps, in
future, you’ll pick the timing for your ‘moments’ better,” Douglas
replied dryly and her eyes flew to his.
His were
carefully blank.
Julia’s heart
sank.
“Er, shall I
start the ceremony?” the Bishop asked in a low voice.
Douglas
quirked a brow at the same time Julia cried, “Yes!”
After this
incongruous start, Will’s performance at giving her away was
superb.
With
Julia’s hand held firmly in Douglas’s (
very
firmly) the Bishop started the
ceremony.
Julia muttered
under her breath, “I’m sorry, Douglas-honey, I got a little
overwhelmed with missing Gavin. It just came over me.”
When the
endearment came from her lips, the first time she’d ever used it
when addressing him, Douglas’s lithe body froze, statue-still and
Julia misinterpreted it as anger.
She thought of
his father, his mother, their hideous treatment of him and what he
likely thought was her disrespect in the aisle.
She turned to
him and vowed fervently (if a little hysterically), “If someone was
choking you in Sommersgate, I’d spend all night trying to claw my
way in, even if it killed me, I swear to God!”