Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(58)

“Let me,” he whispered in her ear, “show you how it’s done.” Crack went her cue and she potted the ball.

Charlie shouted with glee.

Oliver groaned. “You aren’t supposed to help them!”

Shot after shot, Douglas showed her which to take, helped her line them up and leaned over her, his body warm against hers, his arms around her helping her hold the cue and snapping it against the ball as she (well he, really), potted the rest of the balls on the table.

Charlotte was in throes of ecstasy at “winning” and it was so infectious, even Julia started jumping up and down. Charlie and Julia hugged. Charlie hugged Douglas for helping and then she hugged Oliver for good measure. Swept up in it all and having had way too much to drink, Julia hugged Douglas and kissed him on the cheek.

Not one to miss an opportunity, his arms came quickly around her and, grinning down at her, he muttered, “You can do better than that.”

Having such a good time for the first time in months, and more than slightly tipsy, she lost herself and without hesitation threw her arms around his neck and kissed him smack on the lips.

He leaned into the kiss and made what she intended to be a quick peck something more. Not much but it was harder, longer and more meaningful. Her head shot back when it was over but he didn’t drop his arms.

“That’s not fair,” she whispered.

“Who said I play fair?” he whispered back.

She became aware that the joviality had left the room and she broke free of Douglas’s arms to see Charlie watching her speculatively and Oliver pretending he didn’t notice anything.

“Time for bed, we girls have cooking to do tomorrow.” Charlie, thankfully, waded into the silence. “Goodnight you two,” she said, the couple came forward and hugs were exchanged.

However, Oliver’s was strange and when Julia looked up into his hazel eyes she realised Charlie wasn’t the only one who was speculating about what she saw.

They walked out together, Charlie and Oliver ahead of Douglas and Julia.

Julia stopped in the hall behind the morning room. She would carry on down the back hall while Douglas and the rest went through the morning room and lounge to get to the stairwell.

The other couple went on and she turned to Douglas. “Goodnight.”

He caught her wrist when she started away and pulled her back.

“Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?” he asked and his tone, (dare she believe it?) was almost playful.

“No,” she answered immediately, all of a sudden not in the mood to be playful, all of a sudden sober as a nun and reminded she was not treading cautiously.

He chuckled and pulled her closer anyway. Completely ignoring her change of mood and her answer to his question, he dipped his head and swept his lips against hers.

“You’re,” she couldn’t think of what to say, “too much,” she finished on a hiss.

“Thank you.” His tone was sarcastic and Julia realised that now his mood had changed. He inclined his head, dropped her wrist and started to walk away.

She stopped him by calling his name.

At her call, without hesitation, he turned back.

She bit her lip as she watched him, took in a breath through her nostrils and let her lip go on an exhale.

“That comment, earlier tonight, about Sean was uncalled for,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, you’re nothing like him.”

He watched her for a second then repeated, “Thank you,” but this time he meant it.

Then, without another word, he walked away.

Julia was in her room, taking off her shoes and trying (with difficulty and not a great deal of success) not to think of the events of the night and just how much she enjoyed them (from start to finish, except, of course, her catty comment) when she heard it. Or, more to the point, since it was nearly always there, didn’t hear it.

The scratching was gone.

She lifted her head as she dropped the second shoe and looked at the window, the draperies closed on it. She’d only lit the bedside lamp when she entered, not having the energy to light more.

That was when she felt it, the draught at her ankles, and she looked down, pulling her feet up on the bed. She saw the misty fog swirling and then it moved away, where the window scratching always took place and Julia watched the mist in frozen, horrified fascination.

It rose off the floor and she stared as it took form, swirling around as it shaped itself slowly into the body of a beautiful, young woman dressed in a flowing, empire waist gown, its misty, shredded ends streaming round her like they were alive.

Julia stared in open-mouthed terror when the ghost said something, her mouth moving but nothing coming out. Julia found herself leaning forward as if to hear and then without warning, the spectre shot forward, right toward Julia.

Julia let out a frightened, muted scream but she wasted no time. She leapt off the bed and ran to the door. Yanking it open, she tore down the hall and only when she was well into the dining room did she allow herself to look back to see… nothing.

But it was too late, she’d looked behind her so she wasn’t looking where she was going and she slammed straight into a solid barrier. A human barrier. A human barrier that grunted in surprise. A human barrier whose arms came around her like vices.

They both fell to the (thankfully thickly carpeted) dining room floor. He on his back with nothing to break his fall, Julia right on top of him.