Sommersgate House

by Kristen Ashley

Douglas felt his mouth tighten. “You didn’t get checked?”

  “No, I –”

  “Did it occur to you that he might be lying?”

  She blinked up at him. “Of course not, why would he do such a thing?”

  That was an excellent question.

  However, there were more questions as to Sean Webster’s behaviour.

  Such as, why would he torment and disparage a vital and intelligent woman? And why, when he had her love and devotion, would he abuse it? And lastly, why, when he had her legally bound to him, would he let her go?

  Douglas knew the way men like Webster worked, he knew it intimately because his father was one. Sean Webster was not the type of man to admit to any failing. He preferred other people feeling they were inferior, even going so far as making them feel that way, rather than admit something was wrong with himself.

  “Even Sean wouldn’t be that cruel,” she scoffed.

  He watched her silently and gave her time to think it through. He saw the warring of emotions on her face, careening from disbelief to apprehension.

  “Dear God,” she breathed and started to tremble. She shut her eyes tight and whispered, “I’m such a fool.”

  His hands pressed in and he drew her nearer to him while she began to shake her head from side to side in denial. He felt an astonishingly strong sense of anger on her behalf. He would like to get his hands around Webster’s throat and squeeze.

  She lifted her dazed eyes to his.

  “What’ll we do?” she asked and Douglas didn’t answer, he just looked at her. Julia carried on. “If… I mean, last night?”

  “It’s unlikely we conceived last night, if we did, we’ll worry about it when it happens,” Douglas assured her.

  It was all the same to him except that perhaps the existence of a child would make it a certainty that she would never leave. At that thought, he fitted her snugly against his body before bending his head to brush his lips against hers.

  When he drew away, he watched Julia lean back against his arm, her eyes wide with something he couldn’t identify, something immensely tender and phenomenally raw. He’d never seen the like of it and the sight made his arms tense protectively around her while a feeling he could not place sliced through his gut.

  He also felt a near overwhelming need to possess her, though he always felt that way, but somehow, just then, it was different.

  Last night it had been a driving need to brand her as his, to bend her to his will, but now it had gentled. He had no intention of making her squirm under him, of withholding himself until he heard her whisper his name, of making her beg him for release. What he had planned for her this morning was entirely different.

  But he knew he couldn’t take her now and the only way to respond to her acceptance of this newly realised cruel deception was again to brush his lips against her parted ones.

  “Maybe,” he whispered, “we should try again.” He lifted one hand and exerted pressure between her shoulder blades to press her torso back to his body but she resisted.

  She had masked the look in her eyes and he found that, even though he had only encountered it a moment ago, he wanted it back.

  Her response was to pull out of his arms, stepping away and walking to the window. She stood there staring out at the fields and wrapped her arms around her body protectively.

  Another man might have given her a moment of contemplation but he didn’t want Julia to have a time to think.

  Julia, Douglas decided, thought way too much.

  He followed her and stood behind her, seeing her reflection in the window. With his left hand, he pulled her hair from the right side of her neck. He bent his head to drag his lips lazily from the soft spot behind ear to where her graceful neck met her shoulder while his left hand stole around her waist and pulled her against his body.

  “Douglas,” she whispered, her voice trembling with something he mistakenly thought was desire.

  Without lifting his lips, his eyes caught hers in the reflection of the window, his right hand came up to her shoulder and he slowly pulled the dressing gown aside, his lips trailing its progress, his other arm drawing her incredible warmth deeper into his body. He noticed as her glowing, faultless skin became exposed at her chest and he felt the acute response of his body when he saw she was still wearing his emerald. His eyes dropped as the lapel of the dressing gown swept across her breast and caught against her nipple.

  “I need you to promise me something,” she interrupted his progress by speaking and his hand stilled at the fervent tone in her voice as his eyes lifted back to the reflection of hers in the window.

  With her body against his, the smell of her in his nostrils, the taste of her at his lips and his knowledge of what was going to happen in his bed in a few moments time, he almost told her he’d promise her anything.

  Of course, he did not.

  “That depends.” His hand slid up from her waist to just under her breast. His lips ascended her shoulder again, up her neck and behind her ear, a delectably sensitive area he discovered last night.

  As he expected, she shivered. Also as he expected, she ignored her reaction.

  “I want to talk about our, um… my agreeing to marry you.”

  He’d anticipated something like this. She thought too much. It probably had something to do with the children. She was excessively careful with them. Not to mention, she had an exceptionally strong sense of self-preservation, he’d been living that nightmare for two months. He wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to build an exit strategy. If today’s behaviour was any indication, Mrs. Kilpatrick might set fire to Julia’s room and he couldn’t imagine what antics the self-styled matchmaker Lizzie would get up to.

  “Yes?” He ran his tongue up the side of her neck and playfully nipped her earlobe, his body gladly absorbing the shudder that his action induced.

  He was becoming impatient. Mrs. Kilpatrick said hours and all the things he wanted to do to her would take much longer than that.

  Definitely months

  Probably years.

  “Promise you won’t get angry with me,” Julia said.

  He couldn’t imagine anything she could say at that moment would make him angry with her. Douglas didn’t, however, answer. He simply waited.

  “I’m not going to marry you.”

  Except that.

  “What?” he exploded, his arm tightening reflexively about her body, his head coming up with a jerk.

  “I’m not going to marry you,” she repeated.

  “You bloody well are,” he growled.

  She shook her head and tried to pull away, succeeding in putting inches of space between them. He wrenched her back and his other arm went around her to hold her more firmly.

  “Douglas, let me go.”

  “I believe I’ve answered that request more often than I’ve cared to,” he clipped into her ear.

  “You don’t understand!” she cried, her eyes on his in the window.

  “Explain it to me,” he bit out.

  She pushed against his arm. “Please, give me some space.”

  His arms loosened with a motive, the minute she moved away, he swung her around and yanked her back against his body, facing him then his arms closed back around her roughly.

  “Douglas!”

  “Talk!” His voiced cracked in the room like a thunderclap and he watched her clouded eyes clear as she became angry.

  “I don’t want to marry you!” she burst out.

  “You must be joking,” he snapped derisively.

  Her eyes widened in angry apprehension.

  “You aren’t entirely irresistible,” she informed him.

  “Would you like me to prove you wrong?” It was a threat and his tone dangerous.

  “No, not that,” she evaded, knowing exactly what he meant and not stupid enough to deny it. Her eyes moved left to right and back at him. “That was… lovely.”

  “Lovely?” His voice was scathing. “You describe last night
as lovely?”

  “It was good,” she stopped at his narrowed eyes. “Very good.” His arms tightened. “Okay, it was wonderful. All right?” She was losing her composure, he saw she was both frightened and angry and he didn’t care.

  “So, explain to me how I’m resistible, would you?” he demanded.

  “You have to give me a moment to let me think.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Fine,” she snapped, “you’re cold –”

  “I was hot enough for you last night.”

  “I’m not talking about last night!” She stamped her foot in frustration and, at any other time, he would have found that adorable.

  Now, he did not.

  “Stop interrupting me,” she ordered.

  “Go on,” he allowed, his strained patience showing as he spoke through clenched teeth.

  “I’ve done this before, this marriage thing and let me tell you it is not all that it’s cracked up to be.”

  If he thought he couldn’t get angrier, he was wrong.

  “I’m not Webster,” he growled.

  “I know that!” she shouted. “I didn’t say you were and you’re interrupting again.”

  He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her with glittering eyes.

  “I can’t do it again, I can’t. I won’t! It’s too damned hard!” she burst out. “You get mixed up, you lose yourself. I won’t lose myself again, Douglas. I can’t and I won’t.”

  He stared at her.

  There had been very little in Douglas Ashton’s life that he ever wanted. Most of it he could obtain, the rest of it, a loving mother and father, his sister back from the dead, was unobtainable.

  At that moment, he found himself wanting something.

  And what he wanted was for Julia to lose herself with him.

  He wanted this stubborn, tempestuous Julia Fairfax to disappear and an acquiescent, but still tempestuous, Julia Ashton to take her place. He wanted to brand her with his name and shackle her with his ring.

  Did she not understand that was a good thing?

  He used a particularly heavy weapon in his arsenal. “And what if you got pregnant last night?”

  She gasped and her tense body stilled. He jostled her in his arms, giving her a none-too-gentle shake.

  She came out of her surprise. “I’ll worry about it if it happens.”

  “You’ll damn well marry me if it happens!” he roared and she reared back against his arm.

  He could not believe in all his years, all his experience, all the women before her, that he was reduced to ordering a woman to marry him.

  “Of course!” she blurted.

  “Jesus, Julia, don’t you know I’ll make you happy?” The words should have been beautiful but instead they were rough with anger.

  “Douglas,” she used words that stung, “what do you know of making anyone happy?”

  He felt those words like a kick to the stomach and he immediately let her go and stepped back.

  He wouldn’t have expected that attack from Julia.

  His mother, probably, his father, definitely, but not Julia.

  They watched each other across the short expanse that separated them like warriors on a battlefield.

  Finally, she seemed to realise the cruelty behind her words and she made a move toward him but stopped herself.

  “I’m only protecting myself,” she whispered. When he made no response she continued. “You won’t want to hurt me but you will. They always do.” Her words were filled with a strange mixture of wisdom and bitterness.

  He looked at her and realised his mistake.

  Weeks ago it occurred to him that she was innately damaged, not only by her ex-husband’s treatment but at the hands of her father.

  But again, he’d been wrong.

  He’d never been wrong so many times in his bloody, fucking life as he was with Julia.

  She wasn’t innately damaged.

  She was destroyed.

  His challenge was far bigger than he expected. To have her, he’d have to gather the shattered pieces of her and put them back together.

  He vaguely noticed she was speaking. “It’ll take some time but we’ll get passed this…”

  He heard her talking but he wasn’t listening.

  Instead he was thinking exactly how very much he liked a challenge.

  “I’m not the others, Julia.” He cut her off and she just looked at him. “I’ll simply have to prove it to you,” he declared.

  Her mouth opened slightly but no words came out. He didn’t wait for a reply; he walked toward his bedroom to take a shower.

  “Don’t you ever give up?” Her exasperated voice sounded from behind him.

  His answer was to close the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alone

  Julia heard the beeping in her room after she came out of the shower.

  After that scene with Douglas, she was shaken and frightened half out of her mind. She wanted to pack and leave but couldn’t because of the children. Wouldn’t, because of her promise to Tammy and Gav.

  She was stuck in a nightmare.

  And it was all her own damned fault.

  She saw her evening bag lying on the bed. She must have left it in the Bentley and Carter found it. She opened it to find that her mobile was telling her she had a missed call.

  Or, to be precise, eleven.

  And all from Charlie.

  She was considering turning it off when it sounded in her hand.

  She jumped, nearly dropping it and before she could think what she was doing, she flipped it open and put it to her ear.

  “Thank God, Jewel! I’ve been worried sick, I thought he’d killed you!” Charlie shrieked and any other time Julia would have laughed at her dramatics.

  “I’m all right,” Julia lied, not wanting to talk to Charlie, not wanting to talk to anyone.

  Charlie failed to read her mood. “You just have to tell me what happened! Oliver spent the entire drive home to London, two hours, mind, lecturing me about interfering so I hope it’s good.”

  “Charlie…” Julia started and then she couldn’t stop herself, she burst into tears.

  Seconds before she wanted nothing but solitude and the time to plan her defence against whatever barrage on her senses and emotions would next come from Douglas. But now she strode to the chaise lounge and collapsed on it, unburdening herself entirely, honestly (and somewhat explicitly), to her friend.

  When she finally finished, Charlie was silent.

  Julia sniffed and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe “Charlie? Are you there?”

  “I’m here,” Charlie stated, uncharacteristically quiet.

  “I think I need –” Julia started but Charlie interrupted her.

  “What you need, Jewel, is to marry Douglas.”

  “What?” Julia gasped.

  “Listen to me, darling,” Charlie demanded urgently before Julia could get a word in edgewise, “you may never get Douglas to love you; he just isn’t built like that. I don’t know why but he isn’t. I have to tell you, though, what you have from him is more than I’ve ever seen him give anyone.”

  Julia palpably felt these words go through her and was holding the phone to her ear like she intended to graft it there.

  She searched desperately for excuses to defend her heart against the words it wanted to hear. “Charlie, I can’t settle for that. And anyway love turns to –”

  “No, Jewel, not always, in fact, mostly never. You’ve had tremendously bad luck. I know you had some tough experiences but no matter what Douglas is, and he’s a lot of things,” she noted with her usual bluntness, “he isn’t the type of man who would hurt you.”

  “How do you know?” Julia was thinking about the accident Douglas had ordered Sean to have, the gunshot wound he never explained, the two years when he’d disappeared. She remembered his words, “Because I need something warm and soft and alive beside me tonight. Something that smells good and feel
s good. After what I’ve seen…”

  He had secrets, dark ones.

  She had no idea what he was capable of and she figured Charlie didn’t either.

  “Because he’d never hurt Tammy and to hurt you would hurt Tammy. He had great respect for Gavin too.”

  Oh God. She had a point there.

  “Charlie –” Julia tried to interject.

  “Honestly, Jewel, don’t you understand from what you’ve just told me that even not having it all with Douglas is a damn sight better than anything you’d get from anyone else?”

  Julia was struck silent at Charlie’s stunning proclamation. And before she let the truth of it edge into her mind, she shut it out completely.

  “Think about it,” Charlie urged. “I’ll call you later,” and she hung up.

  Miserable, Julia spent (hiding, she knew), the whole day in her rooms. She kept her mind obsessively busy by wrapping presents and making unnecessary lists and when the children came home, they rushed in to say hello and out again because Douglas was taking them horseback riding.

  She wasn’t alone in the room, she knew. The Mistress was there with her, freezing her ankles, trying to tell her something Julia couldn’t understand, probably didn’t want to understand. Julia did her best to ignore her and she finally went away.

  Much later, when the sun was setting, to her amazement, Julia saw The Master, clear as day, pacing, agitated, back and forth in front of Julia’s windows.

  Julia shut the curtains.

  When she became used to the impossibility of living with two ghosts, she did not know and she didn’t have the energy to worry about it.

  It was Veronika’s shift at the house and Julia let her go early. She made a big vat of Texas chilli for dinner, spending the entire time she cooked mentally preparing for any upcoming confrontation with Douglas at supper.

  The children screamed in, still jazzed from a day of physical activity and she met them in the hallway. She was wiping her hands on a dishtowel as the kids started to scatter this way and that. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Douglas saunter in but didn’t acknowledge him.

  “Everyone get cleaned up. Dinner is in half an hour,” she announced.

  The kids raced up the stairs and Julia turned to see Douglas standing in the hallway watching her, his arms crossed on his chest and his feet planted apart.