Sommersgate House (23 page)

She bit her
lip in an effort at control just as she clutched at his shirt.

“Stop it,”
Julia whispered, her eyes flying open to see the satisfaction on
his face.

He didn’t
stop, he nibbled at her lips and they parted in a silent gasp as
his thumb caught at the top edge of her bra, pulling the cup down
roughly and it carried on with its earlier work, this time with no
barrier, skin against skin.

Oh my, but that feels nice
, Julia thought but out loud she whimpered as the
pleasure intensified.

“Kiss me.” It
was a demand this time, rumbling out from deep in his chest.

“No,” she
denied him, how she did it, she didn’t know as she was nearly at
her end.

At her denial,
Douglas parted her legs with his knee, pulling her towards him, the
heat of his thigh like fire on the insides of hers even through her
jeans. His thumb ceased rubbing only to be immediately replaced by
both thumb and forefinger providing more excruciatingly lush
pleasure. Her head fell back and, against her volition, her back
arched pressing her breast more deeply into his hand.

She raised her
head and stared at him with angry, passion-filled eyes. “You
bastard,” she breathed and he chuckled low in his throat.

“Kiss me,” he
commanded again.

And she did.
She couldn’t help herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck,
slid herself up his thigh and opened her mouth under his.

She touched
her tongue to his, her stomach somersaulted and then plummeted. His
fingers righted her bra, his hand moved away from her breast and
his arms slid around her, holding her so tightly it took her breath
away. His mouth was demanding and insistent and she gave him
everything he asked for and then more.

And she
gloried in doing it.

Then, finally,
in one move of pure strength and willpower, she tore away. Sliding
to the side she quickly put five feet between them.

“I think…” she
said, her voice husky, her eyes flashing, her breath coming in
halting gasps, “I hate you.”

“Not words on
which to start a lasting engagement, so I’ll focus on your actions
instead.” His voice was also lusciously husky and his breath heavy
but his face was set and determined.

He walked
forward, she stood her ground and she would have scratched his eyes
out if he reached for her (or, at least, she told herself she
would).

He didn’t,
instead he lifted his hand and just ran his thumb across her
swollen bottom lip while she held herself frozen.

To her
surprise, he murmured simply, “I’ll make you happy.”

“From current
behaviour,” she snapped in return, “I find that impossible to
believe.”

He smiled at
her, that devastating smile then he leaned forward, brushed her
lips with his, pulled away and walked out the door.

She stared at
it in disgust, grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it at the
door. Then another one and then another, until they all sat on the
floor behind the door and she sat on the bed with her head in her
hands and her mind blank to everything but the memory of his
beautiful, mind-shattering touch.

The
Mistress

Julia stood
surveying herself in the three-way mirror. She wore a pair of
wide-legged black trousers that hugged her low on her hips and a
skin-tight camisole, the hem of which only just reached the
waistband of her trousers. Over that she wore a see-through black
blouse with satin edging at the buttons, collar and cuffs. She’d
put in her diamond studs and tied a black velvet ribbon tight
around her throat. She kept her hair long but used a blow dryer to
straighten its waves. The finishing touch was a pair of silver,
strappy sandals, the straps across her coral varnished toes were
braided and the heel was stacked in a high, thin, black wedge.

An hour ago
Charlotte and Oliver arrived for the Thanksgiving celebrations
which were to take place tomorrow. Sam followed twenty minutes
later. Tonight they were going to have a light repast in
preparation for the gorge-fest that was going to take place the
next day.

Even Monique
had condescended to join them, more than likely because Charlie and
Oliver were coming.

Monique had
been on her best behaviour the last two weeks since Douglas’s
return. Although she hadn’t been around much to behave any way at
all with her whirlwind of brunches, lunches, dinner parties and
manicure appointments. When she was around, she kept to herself,
not even bothering Douglas and completely ignoring Julia and the
children.

Douglas, as
well, had been on his best behaviour.

After his
bizarre and maybe even unhinged proposal of marriage, Julia had
steeled herself for the sexual onslaught that she thought would
begin after she pulled herself together enough to leave her rooms
to help finish the cookies. Instead, he had been the perfect
gentleman, cordial, thoughtful and even, if it could be believed,
friendly.

She
didn’t trust him one bit, mostly because she suspected he was
unhinged due to his out-of-the-blue marriage proposal which proved,
to Julia, that Douglas Ashton was completely and utterly
mad
.

He, on the
other hand, was around far more often then he used to be, which she
felt under the circumstances, was most perverse.

He was at the
breakfast table every morning and was home every night. She knew he
went into the office and even took quick day trips to meetings
elsewhere in the UK and on the Continent. He might not make tea or
supper or Ruby’s bedtime but he was at least home to say goodnight
to Willie and Lizzie.

But he didn’t
kiss Julia, stalk her around any rooms, say anything outrageous,
mention a word to the children, press a heavy, antique, heirloom
engagement ring on her finger or any behaviour of the like.

And Julia was
immensely relieved (and secretly disquieted) by his behaviour. Even
so, she did not let her guard down.

Julia watched
and noticed that the children were responding to Douglas being
home, Monique being mostly absent and Julia having charge of their
care. They clearly enjoyed a settled regime that was far less
strict and a house that also included the presence of their
uncle.

The day
after his proposal, Douglas had asked Sam to arrange an appointment
for them at his bank to open an account for her. He’d met her
there, already in the manager’s office waiting for her when she
arrived. She completed forms and put up with the manager’s oily
gushing to Douglas
and
herself.

The whole
while Douglas sat back, one foot casually resting on the other
knee, one arm possessively (she knew exactly his meaning this time)
draped across her chair, watching her as if witnessing the
completion of forms was the height of entertainment (which meant
completing the forms was far more gruelling than it needed to
be).

When they were
finished and standing on the pavement outside the bank, he asked
her if she’d like to go for a drink.

“No thank you,
I need to get home to the children.” Her voice was filled with
acid-fuelled politeness.

“Julia, they
won’t spontaneously combust if you’re gone for a few hours.”

She’d given
him a narrow look and stalked to where Carter was waiting for her
beside the Bentley.

Like the
gentleman he was apparently wanting her to believe him to be, he
let her go.

The only
glitch in his charade was the one time Douglas
did
come home in time for tea. After dinner, when the
children went off to their homework, computer games and television,
Julia had settled on the couch in the grand entry in front of a
roaring fire that Carter had made. She was reading through some
paperwork Charlie had sent her on charity organisations in the UK
in preparation for the consultancy she would begin the next week.
To her surprise, and under her distrustful eye, Douglas joined her.
He had not changed out of his suit but had taken off his tie and
jacket and loosened the collar of his deep green, finely-tailored
shirt. He carried with him a book instead of work. Not any book, of
course not, instead it was a Russian novel, printed in Russian no
less.

She
surreptitiously watched him read it for awhile and determined that
he did, indeed read Russian. This shocked her but she was busy
ignoring him, and doing very well at it, so could not, or more to
the point
would not
, allow
herself to comment (as she very much wanted to do).

Ruby was the
first to break their hesitant peace, storming in with a loud
complaint that Lizzie was watching a programme different from the
one that Ruby wanted to watch.

“Ruby, you
don’t need to shout. Uncle Douglas and I can hear you perfectly,”
Julia told her niece firmly but kindly. “And I thought we agreed it
was Lizzie’s night to choose what was on the telly.”

Ruby flounced
away, seemingly accepting her fate but clearly unhappy about
it.

Next it was
Lizzie’s turn. She wanted something to eat.

“You don’t
have to ask, honey,” Julia explained. “Do you want some help?”

“No, I’m
okay,” Lizzie replied and slunk toward the kitchen, still in the
depths of her despair but Julia had little time to respond to it
when Willie arrived.

“Ruby just
walked in and changed the programme,” he shouted angrily. “I was
watching it and she said you told her –”

Julia started
to rise but Douglas lithely beat her to it.

“I’ll take
care of it,” he declared to her stunned surprise.

Willie stalked
off with Douglas trying to match his uncle’s ground eating
strides.

Julia gave it
ten minutes then she went in search of them, her assumption being
that Douglas would need some kind of assistance.

Willie and
Lizzie were alone, eating potato chips in the lounge, watching
television.

Douglas and
Ruby were not there. Nor were they in the study or kitchen. They
couldn’t have gone to the drawing room without her noticing them
but she did use the back hall to check the billiards room, morning
room and finally the library. No luck.

She climbed
the stone staircase, her steps muffled by the deep-pile, rich
burgundy runner and she found them in Ruby’s room.

Douglas was
seated on the floor, his back to the wall, his long, muscular legs
stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

Ruby lay
beside him on her back, her head on his thigh, her legs cocked with
one foot resting on her other knee while she listened with rapt
attention to him reading her a story, her eyes gazing dreamily at
the ceiling.

Julia
silently registered this shocking scene and crept quietly away
before either of them saw her. She didn’t like what the sight of
that scene made her think
or
feel
so she tamped down any thoughts and definitely all feelings and
went back to her work.

Douglas joined
her some time later and informed her Ruby was in bed, asleep.

“Thank you,”
Julia replied with a brief inclination of her head and a curt
tone.

He didn’t
respond, just settled back with his book, the picture of patience
and good will. It made her want to grit her teeth.

Shortly after,
she called to the other two to come and give them kisses goodnight
and, once Willie and Lizzie had accomplished this chore, Julia
allowed them time to prepare for bed before she rose to go to
Lizzie’s room.

“Where are you
going?” Douglas asked, his eyes warm on her which made her knees go
weak (a reaction she firmly ignored).

“I need to
tuck Lizzie in. I do it every night,” Julia replied, ignoring his
soft gaze.

She watched as
Douglas got to his feet.

“
I’ll do
it,” he told her, surprising her, and turned to walk away. Then,
after only a step, he turned back and asked, “How, exactly,
do
I do it?”

She forced
down a smile at his disgruntled expression, too pleased that he was
going to make an effort with Lizzie to be angry and she calmly
explained.

He nodded but
didn’t move.

“Yes?” she
prompted.

“
Why
am I doing
it? She’s twelve years old.”

“Because Gavin
did it,” Julia explained quietly.

His face
changed almost imperceptibly and she expected him to refuse.
However, to her relief and gratitude (which Julia felt but did not
express), he nodded again and left.

She didn’t
creep up to see it, didn’t think she could bear it and instead she
escaped to her own room and refused to allow herself to think about
it or, indeed, anything at all.

The night
hadn’t, thankfully, repeated itself since. Julia couldn’t have
borne up against that gentle of an onslaught. She had to trust that
this was a genuine effort on his part and not Douglas using the
children to get to her and thus breaking their only rule.

However, it
had caused a slight change in Lizzie’s behaviour as she seemed to
have a bit more bounce in her step from that night onward. Julia
never asked her about it but vowed that even if nothing went right
for her and Douglas, she would always be thankful for his one night
of kindness.

Julia
turned to her dressing table and picked up her perfume. Since that
day when Douglas told her (not
asked
her,
told
her), he
was going to marry her, she hadn’t used her normal scent. She told
herself she wasn’t using it because she didn’t want to run out.
Instead she put on the expensive French perfume her mother bought
her every Christmas. It was a leftover from Sean, who used to buy
it for her and she loved it so much she still used it occasionally
even though it reminded her of her hated ex-husband.