Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(140)

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.