Sommersgate House

Chapter Fourteen Fire and Ice

Douglas awoke in an empty bed, moving his head to the side to see Julia was gone. He looked at the clock and it was seven forty-five. The children would have left for school and he was wondering where the hell she was when he heard the shower.

He felt his body involuntarily relax.

The painkiller hadn’t started working until after Julia had fallen asleep. He could tell when she finally dropped off and the tenseness went out of her body, the weight of her settling against his side.

He very much enjoyed that feeling.

He awoke sometime in the night to feel that Julia had settled in quite well. The freezing cold hand she’d laid tentatively on his chest was now a warm arm that draped across his abdomen. Her face was snuggled deeper into his shoulder and she’d crooked her leg, the knee settled just under his groin, her calf falling between his legs. Her body was remarkably warm in sleep and he found her heat strangely comforting.

Hearing the shower stop, he tested his shoulder cautiously and winced at the pain. He should get up and leave but none of the staff knew he was home and he didn’t relish exiting Julia’s room first thing in the morning, bare-chested and wrapped in bandages.

She strode into the room wearing her long, lilac cashmere robe and wrapped around her hair was a towel that had obviously been confiscated from another bathroom. Douglas’s mother was particular about the colour coordination of towels and Julia had used all of hers on him last night.

She walked straight to the desk, the front of the robe parting to accommodate her stride showing a shapely length of leg. She hadn’t noticed he was awake so he took advantage of this opportunity to observe her.

Douglas watched as she stood by the desk and reached down. He could tell by her movements that she was using the touchpad on her laptop and was clicking through something. She stopped, leaned over the screen to have a better look and smiled softly. He felt his chest tighten at the smile, an instantaneous reaction the cause of which he felt it best to ignore.

One of the many reactions he’d been having to Julia lately that he felt it best to ignore.

She sat down to give whatever it was her attention, crossing her legs to the side of the desk and the robe fell away, exposing them fully to his gaze. Her fingers flew over the keyboard with astonishing speed but before she was finished the handle on the door rattled. He watched her head shoot up then she exited the chair and flew across the room.

She caught the door as it was opening and whispered, “Ronnie…”

Douglas heard his maid murmuring and Julia responded quietly, “I got up a little late… didn’t get a shower before breakfast. I’m sorry, can you come back later? I’ll find you, okay?”

He heard the affirmative noise from Veronika, Julia closed the door and turned toward the bed. He saw her head peeping around the draperies and closed his eyes, feigning sleep. When he heard her move off, he opened them again.

He watched her stroll down the hall of her dressing room. She sorted through some drawers and he saw her pull out a wisp of white.

This was when any chivalrous man would either close his eyes or let her know he was awake.

Douglas, however, was not the kind of man to let chivalry stand in the way of seizing an opportunity.

She bent down to step into her underwear, her back to him, the robe hiding anything but a brief flash of leg, which, Douglas thought, was damned disappointing.

At that point, he found himself tiring of the game and wanting her attention instead. He rolled cautiously out of bed, walked silently across the room and stood in the doorway to her dressing room, leaning his good shoulder against the door jam.

“Good morning, Julia.”

She let out a small, stifled scream and whirled around, her hand flying to the opening of her robe.

“You’re awake,” she noted the obvious.

He crossed his arms on his chest and winced. She noticed his grimace and came forward.

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently, her eyes were on his bandages.

How was he feeling?

That was an excellent question.

His shoulder was burning with pain but that he could handle.

His feelings about last night were quite a bit different.

She’d been extraordinary. Throughout her performance he didn’t know whether to order Nick from the room and throw her on the bed or strangle her.

In his life, only one woman had ever even attempted to care for him and that woman was his sister. His mother had never bothered. He’d never had another woman who cared for anything other than his money, his title, the enjoyment he could give them in bed or the number of photographs she could appear in at his side.

While they were growing up, Tamsin had been just like an angry lioness protecting her cub, albeit she was a powerless one.

Last night, he watched Julia do the same, but she wasn’t powerless. She was dazzling and formidable, bent on controlling the situation and looking after him, even when she had no idea what she was doing and even when he ordered her not to.

Her behaviour only served to strengthen his resolve to have her as his wife. Outside of that, he wouldn’t allow himself to contemplate.

“It hurts like hell,” he answered her question.

He watched with no small amount of fascination as her eyes melted and she closed the space between them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low and gentle.

“I’ll survive,” he told her, his tone just as soft.

She looked in his eyes and hers became startled as realisation dawned that they were sharing a tender moment. Douglas watched, registering a vague sense of disappointment when the guard went up and Julia carefully controlled her features.

“Well, never fear,” she stated airily, the moment lost, she was moving back into the dressing room and waving her arm for emphasis, “Carter had a quiet little chat with me this morning and apparently your friend Nick called him. You have a doctor’s appointment today at nine. Carter is going to bring some clothes down for you and he’ll be taking you.”

She stopped abruptly and turned around slowly, the melting look in her eyes now long gone. She glanced around the room, down at herself and then up at him.

“You seem bright-eyed this morning,” she commented warily.

“I’ve been awake for ten minutes.” He watched her eyes widen in angry amazement. “Maybe fifteen,” he allowed.

She stood there a moment, shocked speechless and then she smiled.

“You cad!” she cried, her voice filled with humour.

Her unusual word choice almost made him smile.

“Cad?” he asked.

“Yes, ‘cad’,” she replied. “I’m practising not cursing. I don’t want to pass any foul words to the children.”

She pulled the towel off her head and whipped her hair around while she grabbed her comb. He found her reaction to his spying on her while she put on her underwear bizarre in the extreme.

“You aren’t angry.” It was a statement, rather than a question and she turned to him.

Then she looked in the mirror as she pulled the comb firmly through her hair.

“Oh, yes, Douglas Ashton, I’m angry. Although I find I can’t make room to be even angrier at you now that you’ve taken the liberty to spy on me while I put on panties. I’m already angry enough that, when you arrived home last night, not only had you been shot but your companion was pointing a gun at me.” Julia’s eyes moved from her reflection to Douglas. “Not that I would mind nocturnal visits from gunshot victims or having firearms mistakenly levelled at me in dark hallways…” she paused, straightened and skewered him with a look, “if I lived in some war-torn, third-world country and you were a rebel fighting for our freedom against the nasty federales!”

She took a breath and continued staring at him. He was having some difficulty dealing with the intimate sensation he felt whenever he heard her say the word “home”. Not to mention trying to keep his face straight at her dramatic tirade.

When he made no response, she went on.

“So, I hope you’ll allow me to vent my anger at today’s antics some other time.”

“Certainly.” He inclined his head, still trying hard not to smile.

At that, she threw her comb at him. He ducked, the quick movement sending a jolt of pain through his shoulder as the comb went flying over his head.

Apparently, she wasn’t finished.

“To start, do you want to explain last night?” She put one hand on jutted hip, her eyes flashing.

“No,” he responded.

“That’s not going to do,” she fired back.

“It’s going to have to,” he replied calmly, because it was the truth. He watched as her eyes blazed. “Julia, there are some things you can’t know.”

“That’s not good enough,” she retorted, walking toward him angrily. “In case you don’t remember, even though I can’t imagine you forgetting because I keep reminding you, but you’re also responsible for three other human beings on this earth. Whatever you’re doing that puts your life in danger has to stop. They’ve lost enough; I’m not going to let them lose you!”

He watched her eyes flare and she had ended her tirade by using one long, slim finger to poke him painfully in the chest.

She needn’t have used her physical exclamation point; he felt each word like a blow. An odd feeling stole over him, a feeling that he vaguely identified as guilt.

Julia continued. “Furthermore, what if one of the children had happened on you last night instead of me? I can imagine the years of therapy that would ensue at having a gun pointed at one of them or seeing their uncle bleeding and delirious.”

“I wasn’t delirious,” he felt it important to point out, although this conversation was beginning to be very uncomfortable, mainly because she was right.

“It doesn’t matter! Whatever it is you do with your life now affects the lives of three other people and you can add me to that list because if something happened to you, I would be left with your mother! And if that, whatever it is, happens to bring danger into this house, I have something to say about it and guns are frankly unacceptable in a house where there are children.”

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Point taken,” Douglas allowed, staring directly in her eyes and not believing his own words. He wasn’t in the habit of being wrong, must less admitting he was. Although this wasn’t an admission, it was the closest he would get.

She simply kept staring at him like she was a schoolmarm and he was a disobedient student.

“It won’t happen again,” he bit out.

“See that it doesn’t,” she demanded and he nearly burst out laughing when she ruined her well-expressed diatribe by whirling dramatically away and searching in vain on her dressing table for something. “Now where’s my damned comb?”

“I believe you threw it at me,” he informed her helpfully.

She strode back in the direction she came.

“You’re not funny,” she snapped as she walked by him.

“I’m not trying to be,” he replied in all seriousness.

“Good.” The word was clipped and he wondered how she’d feel if he kissed her. From the angry line of her back he assessed that wasn’t the brightest strategic move at that particular moment. Still, she was magnificent and he longed to do it.

“Who’s Nick?” she asked, tearing her retrieved comb through her hair and interrupting his pleasant reverie.

“Nick’s a friend.”

She eyed him, her brows raised, doing a bloody good impersonation of him.

Douglas decided to elaborate. “Let’s just say Nick’s a sort of… bodyguard.”

“If that’s the case, you need a new one,” she replied glibly and tramped back into the dressing room.

Sensing his setting-down was complete, he sought to change the subject.

“May I use your phone?” he asked courteously.

“Be my guest, it is your phone we’re talking about,” she replied, obviously not feeling less angry after her rant and Douglas was glad of it. He had to admit he was enjoying this. Julia was deeply amusing when she was in a pique.

He went to the writing desk and picked up the phone, punching in Sam’s number. There was a knock at the door and he watched as Julia strode back through, opening it and taking some clothing from Carter. She closed the door and tossed the clothes on the bed before sauntering angrily back into the dressing room. He was enjoying just watching Julia, even if she was angry (in fact, especially when she was angry), as he listened to the phone ring. He dropped his eyes and saw the e-mail she’d been writing.

Joe, you’re a darling, what would I do without you…

He didn’t read any further as he felt his stomach clench and his lips thin in an angry line.

Who the bloody hell was Joe?

Sam answered and he spoke curtly to her, “I’m out of commission for a few days. I’ll be in my office at Sommersgate.”

“You okay?” Sam asked, her voice filled with concern but he put down the phone on her question and read further.

You can’t imagine how much I needed a smile. Things could be better here…

“What are you doing?” Julia asked, back in the room and looking at him in disbelief.

Douglas lifted his eyes to her.

“Who’s Joe?” he asked in return.

Her eyes went from his to her computer and they narrowed.

Then Julia flew to the laptop and slammed the top shut before looking back at him and demanding, “Are you reading my e-mail?”

“Who’s Joe?” Douglas asked again.

“You’re impossible,” she announced in a voice that said, eloquently, that she meant it.

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow but he did this instead of throwing the laptop across the room, which was, for some absurd reason, precisely what he wished to do.

“Joe,” she started, exuding wounded patience when she realised he wouldn’t let it go, “is a friend. An assistant coach for the Indianapolis Colts who was instrumental in getting a number of players to do a fundraiser for us last year.”

“And what is he to you?” Douglas asked, his voice very level, so level it had an edge.

“I told you, he’s my friend,” she retorted.

“What kind of friend?” That edge was now dangerous.

Julia threw up her hands in exasperation.

“The kind of friend who helped me offer more scholarship money to students from disadvantaged backgrounds who wanted to be nurses!” she replied, angrily. “The kind of friend who also happens to be married to my best friend from high school, Molly, since he got her pregnant at eighteen when the condom broke. The kind of friend who didn’t realise he was in love with his wife and family until their son was diagnosed with leukaemia and I spent six months making lasagne and tuna casseroles for them so they’d remember to eat while their boy had treatment. The kind of friend who paid me back by helping me score a major point at work by convincing a bunch of big jocks to use their big hearts to help some aspiring nurses rather than the kids they preferred to raise money for. That kind of friend. Would you like to know more? I don’t know his shoe size but I could ask Molly.”

Douglas immediately relaxed and then tensed again as he contemplated his reaction.

Julia was staring at him, her expression brooding.

“I don’t know what to make of you,” she finally admitted.

“I think I’ve explained quite clearly what you can make of me and what my intentions are of making you. There’ll be no ‘Joes’ in your future,” Douglas declared. He knew he was being irrational but he was in no mood to be anything else and, furthermore, he didn’t bloody well care.

At that announcement, she gaped at him, a study of angry astonishment, just as there was a tap on the door.

“Yes?” he called as he moved around her and toward his folded clothes on the bed.

Carter looked around the edge of the door.

“Sir?” Carter asked.

“Give me a minute to dress,” Douglas ordered and Carter retreated, closing the door.

His hand went to the waistband of his jeans and Julia cried, “You aren’t changing in here!”

Douglas carried on with what he was doing because he knew if he didn’t get dressed and out of that room he might not be responsible for what he did do.

And this was even more absurd. It had been so long that he’d been in complete control of his thoughts and actions that he found it inconceivable that now, he was not.

Nevertheless, he was not.

She watched him, eyes wide, for only a brief moment before she forced out an exaggerated sigh, stomped to the dressing room and slammed the door.

And he was left with a mental list of things not to think about and not a clue how to get his own bloody shirt on.

When Douglas arrived back from his doctor’s appointment much later, which had included some minor, on the spot surgery for which he only allowed a local anaesthetic and refused the doctor’s demands that he spend the night at hospital for observation, Julia was gone.

“At work,” Mrs. Kilpatrick informed him in a nasally voice, her eyes red and running, “she should be back around four.” She glanced at his arm in its sling. “Are you… okay, sir?” She sounded ill-at-ease with her own question.

“I’m fine,” Douglas started to walk away then turned back. “Are you ill?” he asked and found himself uncomfortable with the personal question. He couldn’t remember Mrs. Kilpatrick ever being sick, not, he had to admit, that he would have noticed if she was or was not.

Mrs. Kilpatrick looked stunned at his question.

“Why… no,” she said then she belied her words with a succession of three quick sneezes. “Just a head cold,” she wheezed when she was done.

Too exhausted to pursue it, Douglas let her be. He wanted to go to his study to catch up on work but was too tired for that as well. Instead, he went to his room, took a painkiller and went to bed.

He woke several hours later feeling slightly better but also acutely feeling the pain in his arm.

And he was hungry.

He walked down the stairs in search of food and heard Julia’s voice coming from the lounge. He turned to the right, rounded the corner and saw her standing in the room addressing the children who were all sprawled on the sofas watching television.

“I’ve asked Mrs. Kilpatrick to go home, she’s unwell, so it’s Chip Shop Night,” she announced.

The room rang with the children’s boisterous response to this piece of news and Douglas saw Julia smile.

“Uncle Douglas!” Lizzie called as her eyes found him and her face turned worried when she took in his sling. She got up and then sat back down immediately, visibly unsure of what to do or how to behave.

“Unka Douglas,” Ruby shouted. Never unsure of how to behave, his youngest niece ran toward him, hell bent for leather, but Julia caught her about the waist and swung her back.

“Uncle Douglas has been hurt, you must go gently,” she warned and Ruby’s eyes widened. Douglas watched and noted that Julia was avoiding his gaze.

When Julia let her go, Ruby approached more cautiously and gave his legs a hug. He patted her affectionately on the head in return.

“What happened?” Willie was standing now and his eyes were on the sling. They, too, were worried.

“Nothing,” Douglas replied, “It was an…” He was about to say “accident” but stopped himself. “Nothing,” he repeated. “I’m fine.”

At the children’s reactions to his injury, Julia’s words of the morning came back to him and so did the feelings of guilt.

Julia spared him a quick (and amusing) “I-told-you-so” glance but Ruby was talking. “Auntie Jewel has the best thing for an owie, don’t you Auntie Jewel?”

“What’s that, Ruby?” Douglas asked, more out of politeness than curiosity.

“I hurt my elbow,” she showed him by jutting out her bent elbow and pointing to a spot that still was a bit pink, “right there and it felt a lot better when Auntie Jewel kissed it. She said her kisses have magical powers.”

Julia’s face paled and Douglas nearly laughed at her horrified expression.

“I bet they do,” he murmured in response to Ruby.

“You should kiss his owie,” Ruby declared authoritatively to Julia.

Julia blanched and Douglas grinned.

She recovered quickly. “Maybe later, I’ve got to get your supper. Orders please,” Julia stated, firmly closing the subject on any kissing of Douglas’s “owie”.

“I’ll come with!” Willie offered.

“Me too!” Ruby jumped up and down.

“We’ll all go, get your coats,” Julia announced as the children scattered.

“Do I get to go too?” Douglas asked as she approached the door. He was standing in its frame and had moved aside to allow the children to race through but he resumed his position when she came near him.

“No, not enough room in the car,” she lied. The Range Rover would easily hold them all. He smiled and she gave him a disgruntled look. “Anyway, you should be resting. What did the doctor say?”

“I’m fine,” he replied simply and she looked at him closely, narrowing her eyes.

She decided to let it go but he could tell it cost her and he grinned again.

Then she asked, “Do you want something from the chip shop?”

What Douglas wanted was a nice, juicy steak, cooked rare, potatoes dauphenois, asparagus smothered in hollandaise sauce and a huge glass of full-bodied, dry, red wine. Then he wanted to sleep for three days, preferably with Julia’s furnace-like body pressed to his side.

What he did not want was fish and chips.

“Yes, of course,” he said.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never actually been to a chip shop. He figured his choices were either chips or fish and chips.

“Whatever you’re having,” he answered.

For a moment, Julia regarded him curiously.

She opened her mouth to say something when they both heard Nick’s voice. “How you doin’, mate?”

Nick was strutting toward them and with some disappointment Douglas had to turn away from Julia toward his friend.

He was tired of telling everyone he was fine so he didn’t say anything at all. Nick was used to him and didn’t mind not getting a response. What Nick could see was Douglas alive, breathing and standing and that was good enough for him.

“All right, Jules?” Nick asked and Julia gaze moved to him but her brows rose at the familiar use of her name.

Nick had a habit of either shortening someone’s name, if he liked them, or giving them a nickname, if he didn’t like them, usually something foul. Clearly, somewhere in their short acquaintance, Julia had passed the Nick Test.

Apparently, she accepted his shortened name and his silent offer of camaraderie after the tense night they all shared for she responded, “Yes, all right Nick.” Then she looked from Nick to Douglas and back again. Douglas had no idea what was going around in her head but he found he would give half his fortune to gain this knowledge. Fortunately, before he could make that asinine offer, Julia continued speaking. “I’m going to the chip shop. Are you going to be here for awhile?” she asked Nick.

“Don’t know,” Nick replied, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms on his chest.

“Well I do, you’ll have dinner with us,” Julia returned firmly. “What do you want from the chippie?”

The chippie? Douglas thought and glanced at her, suddenly realising she was adapting quite well to her new environment. They didn’t have chip shops in America, at least not on every market street as they did in England. If they did, Douglas doubted they called them by the shortened “chippie”.

Then he realised she’d pulled off a nice manoeuvre. Company would mean she would have less chance of being alone with him.

This time he only nearly grinned. She was good.

“Battered sausage for me, make that two and don’t let them skimp on the chips,” Nick ordered, breaking into Douglas’s thoughts.

Julia nodded and left and he and Nick watched her walk away. She was wearing a pair of snug-fitting, fawn-coloured corduroys, a skin-tight black turtleneck and her spike-heeled boots. Douglas decided his second most favourite pieces of her wardrobe were her corduroys.

Or maybe it was her boots.

“Phwoar, mate. You can pick ‘em. Fire and ice in that one, more fire than ice, lucky for you.” Douglas turned to his friend and noticed that he was avidly staring at the space where they’d last seen Julia. Nick looked at Douglas, an approving gleam was in his eyes. “You really going to marry her?”

“Yes,” Douglas replied.

“Good luck, mate, that one’s gonna be a handful.”

“Precisely,” Douglas returned and Nick threw his head back and laughed with deep appreciation.

Douglas ignored him. “We need to talk.”

There was still mirth in Nick’s eyes when he said, “I figured that. Wasn’t keen on the events of last night, was she?”

“Not particularly, no.”

Douglas walked into the lounge and Nick followed while talking. “Been telling you, since your sister died and those kids came here, that you should quit the work.”

Douglas nodded and sat down. Until he was seated he didn’t realise how badly he needed to do it.

“You gotta take it easy, mate,” Nick noted softly, his words held grave meaning.

“I need you to move into the Gate House. I’ll ask Mrs. Kilpatrick to have someone come in and clean it for you. No one’s been there in awhile.”

Nick nodded, no discussion required, he knew what Douglas was asking.

“One thing, though. You seem determined you’re gonna marry her,” Nick was back to the subject of Julia, “but she doesn’t seem to agree.”

Douglas should have told him to mind his own business but he was still tired, hungry and his shoulder ached. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before, uncharacteristically, he shared.

“She needs a bit of convincing.”

Nick whistled. “There’s a woman out there who needs to be convinced to marry you?” he asked, clearly amazed.

“Apparently.”

Nick laughed again before saying, “I like her even more.”

And even though he’d never sought anyone’s approval, never asked for it, not since he’d given up searching for it from his father, he looked at his friend, who was his “bodyguard”, his comrade and his partner-in-crime, and said with feeling, “Good.”

Chaos ensued when Julia and the children arrived home, the children flying around and setting the table, introductions to Nick were seen to in short order and Lizzie prepared drinks, pouring the men’s bitters into chilled beer glasses.

As they settled in, Julia was still dumping fish and chips onto Ruby’s plate when Lizzie slid into the seat to Douglas’s left, glancing at him under her lashes. This left the seat to his right, the seat relegated to the lady of Sommersgate House, open for Julia. He didn’t react to what was, he assumed, his niece’s gentle matchmaking but was pleased to find he might have a surprising ally.

When Julia turned to take her seat, she stopped and stared. Lizzie immediately began forking huge pieces of fish into her mouth.

Yes, Douglas thought, a surprising ally.

Julia stiffly took the seat to his right, not looking at anyone and also not eating much of her meal.

Douglas found that he liked the food, although it was not a nice steak, it was, at least, filling, in a greasy way. He also liked the company. Julia fell easily into the role of hostess, going out of her way to include Nick and the children in the discussion and making Nick at ease.

Not that Nick wasn’t already at ease, in fact, Nick was enjoying himself tremendously. He was also enjoying the children, telling jokes that made them laugh. Julia eventually allowed her stiffness to recede and laughed along with them.

Douglas watched this scene with a sense of fascination, thinking, soon, this scenario, strange to him and something he’d never experienced before, was to be his life. Every night, sitting and talking with the children, laughing, eating. Afterwards there would be… whatever it was that families did after supper.

Then it would be Julia and him, alone, in his bedroom. Julia, perhaps, pulling a brush through her hair and striding around in nothing but her dressing gown.

Later, Julia in his bed, wearing nothing at all.

Something stirred deep within him, something he’d never felt, not once in his entire life. Something that was both alarming and soothing. Something, for his sanity, he firmly set aside.

The kids finished and Douglas allowed them to leave the table, taking all the plates and cutlery to put in the dishwasher. Julia went with them but came back carrying two more cans of bitter and another can of cider for herself.

“You got a job or do you look after the kids?” Nick asked as he popped open his bitter, ignoring the glass and drinking it straight from the can.

Julia had reseated herself, informally folding one leg underneath her on the chair and leaning forward to put her elbow on the table.

She poured her cider while she spoke. “I’m volunteering at a charity in Bristol.”

“Yeah? You like it?” Nick asked, genuinely interested.

Douglas watched, now captivated, as Nick’s simple question turned on a switch in Julia and she lit up. Forgetting to be stiff and aloof, she started to talk.

“I was a little worried, starting something new. I was at my old job in The States for over a decade, but it’s better than I expected, far better…” Her eyes were alight, passion in her words as she carried on.

Douglas sat back and watched her silently while she poured out information that normally would have had Nick nodding in his chair. Instead, her fervour was catching and even Nick found himself making up questions to keep her talking.

And Douglas was struck by two things. First, she was very clever, knowledgeable and accomplished and second, her work wasn’t just work, it was a calling and she loved it. There was something extraordinary in that, he’d never met anyone who had truly found their passion.

She seemed to realise she was monopolising the conversation and her eyes slid to her empty cider glass. “I’ll shut up now. I’ve got to be boring you.”

“Not at all,” Douglas assured her quietly, her gaze flew to him and he had the unflattering impression that she’d forgotten he was even there.

“Okay,” she whispered, making a decision and rising. “I’ve got to get the kids to bed. It’s past Ruby’s bedtime and she’s a bear in the morning if she doesn’t have her full night’s sleep. Nick, lovely of you to stay.” She nodded to a smiling Nick and then she quickly exited the room.

Again, both Nick and Douglas watched her leave and, finally, Nick asked, “Once I’m in your Gate House, can I come to dinner every night?”

Douglas turned to his friend. “No.”

Nick chuckled, taking no offense. “Didn’t ‘spect so. Wouldn’t want to share her myself.”

Nick left shortly after and Douglas went in search of Julia. She was in the lounge, drawing the draperies.

He stood watching her, liking the way she took care of his home, liking more the way she took care of his friend and even more the way she took care of the children but mostly the way, last night, she took care of him.

When she turned and saw him, she jumped.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped, but her voice was breathy.

“What?” he asked.

“Sneak up on me,” she explained.

“I didn’t sneak up on you,” he told her truthfully.

“You glide around like a cat, it’s bizarre. No man of your size should be so quiet.” She walked from the room, sliding by him, giving him as wide a berth as possible and went into the dining room.

Douglas followed her.

“We need to talk,” he told her as she gathered all the glasses from the table and turned to go to the kitchen.

“It’s late, you need your rest.” She walked away, thinking that was that and leaving him where he was. He heard distant rumbles in the kitchen as she tidied.

He thought of his options, made a quick assessment of them and then walked to her room. He turned on the lights and eased himself into the chair in the turret. He was shattered but determined to have this talk, even if Julia was just as determined to avoid it.

She came in not five minutes later and jumped again when she saw him.

“What are you doing here?” Again the breathy snap, this time with wide eyes.

“As I said, we need to talk.”

She studied him.

He waited.

“Douglas,” she finally said, her tone now beyond weary, “I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’m exhausted, you need to recuperate, let’s talk later, okay?”

“No,” he replied.

She crossed her arms on her chest, regarded him for another moment and then gave in with ill-grace. “Well then, say what you have to say.”

He opened his mouth to begin but she interrupted.

“No, I think I want to go first.”

He closed his mouth and lifted a brow.

“I think…” she started and stopped. “No, that isn’t right. I thank you for…” she stopped again and then looked away, emitting a frustrated noise that Douglas decided was bloody adorable then she started again. “Your attention and your stated intentions are very nice and I appreciate them. I… I’m honoured,” she stammered.

He watched her, not saying a word and not finding her adorable any longer mainly because he did not like that she considered his intention to marry her “very nice”.

“But,” she shifted uncomfortably and then looked at him before suddenly and exasperatedly bursting out, “quit staring at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like… like that!” she retorted, with a jerk of her head toward him, clearly thinking her words were an explanation (which they were not).

He lifted his good hand, palm up.

“Oh forget it, forget the chat too, I’m tired,” she snapped.

“Julia.” He stood, deciding it was time to take control of the conversation. She whirled on him and he expected another one of her brilliant tirades, a pouring forth of one of her lists. But instead her shoulders drooped, she turned her head to the side and she pulled a shaking hand through her hair.

“I can’t believe you’ve been shot,” she whispered. “What on earth are you doing that puts you in the way of a bullet? What is it that the police can’t be involved?” He walked toward her and she turned her face to him. “I want to be your friend, Douglas. I think I could be happy here, with the kids, in this house, having a challenging job. If you would just help a little and be my friend.” Her voice was aching and he felt an odd, unfamiliar feeling of tenderness as he stopped before her. “But I can’t let myself like you if I think something’s going to happen to you. I have to protect myself, protect the children.”

She was suffering from a hint of post-traumatic stress, he imagined, and he moved closer to her, gathering her warm body in his one good arm.

She leaned away, arching her back against his arm and looking up at him.

“I talked with Nick today,” he explained quietly.

He felt a hint of gratification when her eyes flared with hope. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he assured her and saw, as well as felt, the relief flood through her as she realised what he was saying. He felt the strange stirring again at the thought of doing something of which she so obviously approved.

“I’m glad. For us and for you too,” she whispered.

“Now,” he said, setting that topic aside, “about your being my friend.”

She nodded her head. “I’d really like that, Douglas.”

“I would too.” His gaze dropped to her lips and he watched the tips come up in a happy smile.

“I’m so glad,” she breathed, more relief, so much it made her tense body relax against his. “This is going to work so well, I promise,” she stated brightly, obviously misinterpreting what he said.

“Julia.” She was pushing against his arm trying to get away; he tightened it and swept her against his body. He felt her soft breasts press against his arm in the sling and the warmth of her body and he liked both.

“Oh,” she muttered, lifting her head again to look at him. “What?” She was still straining against his arm and it was causing pain in his opposite shoulder.

“Stop trying to pull away, it’s hurting me,” he told her and she immediately stilled.

They watched each other for awhile and then she gave into her curiosity and asked, “Is there something more?”

Douglas noted her tone was slightly strained.

“It’s about us being friends.”

“Yes?”

“I’d be delighted to be your friend,” he told her.

“I… I thought we’d established that. I’ll be delighted to be your friend too.”

He nodded.

So did she, but hers was jerky and unsure.

“But I also intend to be your husband.” Her body stiffened again and she started to pull away but glanced at his sling and stopped then her eyes flew to his in fear.

Douglas ignored her look, determined to move to the next phase in his strategy and went on. “Julia, I intend to be your lover.” With Julia’s soft warmth pressed so close, he could smell her. Both the feel of her and her scent made his body begin to tighten in an intensely pleasant way so that, when he spoke, his voice deepened, became hungry, as he, again, made his intentions clear but this time, he made them clearer. “I intend to sleep in sheets that smell of tangerines and jasmine. I intend to have your naked body squirming under mine. I intend to touch you everywhere with my hands and my mouth. I intend to memorise the taste of you, to make you call my name while I’m moving inside you, to make you so excited you beg me to let you come…”

“Stop it,” she whispered but her voice was husky, her frame had softened, moulding to his and, in her eyes, there was a mixture of warmth and panic.

Progress.

Now, Douglas thought, to make myself perfectly clear.

“I’ll do whatever I have to do. Even break our rule,” he promised, thinking about Lizzie.

The warmth in her eyes gave way to the panic.

“You wouldn’t!” she gasped.

“I would,” he assured her bluntly and her eyes widened then narrowed.

“That’s low,” she accused.

“I get what I want,” he vowed. “I’m a patient man but my patience is running out.”

“Why do you want to marry me? Be my lover?” Her voice rose hysterically. “Douglas, it’s mad!”

He stared at her quizzically. Could she not know her effect on him, on Nick, on Oliver, on men in general?

The thought was ludicrous, all women knew. They knew it and they used it.

All of them.

“Don’t ask ridiculous questions,” he clipped, his voice impatient. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut.

Suddenly, she dropped her head and exerted gentle pressure on his arm.

“Okay, fine, you’ve made your point. No truce, no compromise, the battle still rages.” She was talking quietly but sarcastically. He could not read her mood, couldn’t see her face but something in her tone made him let her go.

She quickly took several steps away.

“You should know,” she said when she looked at him, her face carefully controlled but her eyes were still glittering with something he could not read, “that there will be consequences to all of this. I doubt you’ll understand it, that it will even penetrate that reserve of yours, but it will happen.”

He had no idea what she meant and when he started to ask she shook her head.

She moved toward the dressing room. “Please, just go. For tonight, let me be the winner.”

Without looking back, she entered the dressing room and closed the door behind her.

After a moment of gazing at the door, he did as she asked and left.

On his way back to his rooms, he found himself thinking that, even though she said his leaving would make her the “winner”, he knew by her words, her tone, the line of her body as she walked away that she was wrong, he had won.

Not just tonight, but eventually, he knew that she understood that he’d be the ultimate victor.

And somehow, instead of making him satisfied, it made him vaguely uneasy.