Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(29)
“Julia.”
She turned back even though she didn’t want to. In fact, she really didn’t want to.
“Yes?” she asked when her eyes met his.
I am innocence and light, blithely unaware of his hand on my leg, innocence and light, innocence and light, she repeated in her head.
For some reason, he grinned, the effect was a shock to her system and she watched the wrinkles crinkle handsomely at the corners of his eyes and those same eyes warmed lazily as they stared into hers, so very close. She felt her stomach flip nervously as that familiar thrill chased up her spine.
To hide it she repeated, “Yes?” Clipping the word’s sibilant end tersely to try and convey an impatience she really didn’t feel. In truth, even though she hated to admit it, she could have sat there forever.
His grin widened to a smile as if he knew her thoughts exactly, the brilliant flash of his teeth against his tanned skin and that deathly alluring scar on his lip disarming her completely.
“We’ll talk tonight,” he said, leaving her to think that he had thought better of what he was about to say… or do. Thankfully, he removed his hand and she exited the car with all haste, practically running into the house (after a brief struggle with the impossibly heavy front doors) and straight to her rooms.
Tonight they would talk about their “arrangement”.
This was good, she told herself. They had to get some things settled.
No, she had to get some things settled. She had to get herself sorted, get some rest, get her thoughts together and get her body under control and find out where the rest of her life was taking her.
One place she was determined it wasn’t going to take her and that was into some ill-advised fling with the man she was forced to live with for the next however-many years.
No matter how damned handsome he was.
Or how beautiful his smile.
She changed from her lovely outfit into a pair of faded jeans and an equally faded, tight-fitting black t-shirt that said, “Harry’s Chocolate Shop – Home of the Great Indoorsman” in yellow printing which promoted a popular bar at Purdue University where she and Gavin went to school. They were comfortable clothes and reminded her of home.
She donned them like armour.
To prepare herself, she gathered her notes and wrote more, reading through them carefully.
When the kids arrived a half hour after Julia and Douglas, she and Veronika dealt with them, their bags, their homework, their dinner and then put them to bed. Douglas emerged only during bedtime, looking in on Ruby, who had already been in bed for an hour and was sleeping, and taking care of Willie while Julia tucked Lizzie into bed, all the way down her sides, like she’d been doing since the first night she arrived.
“Are you okay, Auntie Jewel?” Lizzie asked to Julia’s surprise.
Julia’s first response was to kiss the girl on the cheek and smooth her dark hair back, smiling into her sad, worried eyes. She’d underestimated her niece, no doubt in her sensitive state she was sensing Julia’s agitation.
Julia decided to be honest. Honesty, Patricia always told Julia and Gavin, was the best policy.
“No, Lizzie-babe, but I will be. Don’t you worry about it though, go to sleep.”
Julia kissed her niece again and left the room with the unfortunate timing of joining Douglas at the head of the stairs.
“Is it time for our chat?” she asked with studied politeness as they walked down together.
“I’ve a call to make,” he responded.
“That’s okay,” she said airily, as if she had all the time in the world, “I’ll wait.”
She went directly to her rooms, looked in the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. She found herself wishing she had a stash of liquor for some liquid courage and then shook the thought off.
This was a good thing, she told herself, they had years of this ahead of them and they needed some ground rules.
She sat in the turret, went back over her notes and she waited.
Then she waited some more.
She supposed he would come and get her when he was ready but, after thirty minutes, she heard nothing. And with each passing minute, her anger increased.
This was his house, of course, but did this mean she had to wait for his bidding, like Mrs. K or Veronika? Was this to be her life?
Not bloody likely.
Angrily, she grabbed her notes and headed to his study.
The door was open and she walked straight in without knocking. He was on the phone again, sitting behind his desk and at her arrival he lifted his dark-eyed gaze to her.
She had to steel herself against the gaze and just how perfectly he fit in the richly-appointed, masculine room. It, too, had an enormous fireplace that took up most of one wall, beside it an ornate cabinet sat, topped with intricately cut, crystal decanters filled with liquor surrounded by sturdy, cut-crystal glasses that were built to be held in a man’s hand. The opposite wall was lined with bookshelves and filled with books, liberally interspersed with (most likely priceless) objects d’art. An enormous, comfortable couch faced the fireplace, covered in a rich, tan suede and flanked by two matching wide-seated armchairs. In the centre of this was a heavily carved, rectangular table, its wood buffed to a dazzling shine. Two more chairs faced his desk and there was an ancient standing globe in the corner beside the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the garden. The highly-polished wood floors were covered with deep-pile, patterned carpets that screamed money.