Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(72)

Feeling a sense of unexplained urgency, she turned around and fled her room. She met them in the long entry hall that led to the stairwell and what she saw through the darkness cut only by a small side lamp on a table made her skid to a halt.

Douglas was lurching awkwardly and had his arm around the short man who was holding him up. The other man’s arm was held out straight in front of him, pointing a gun… at Julia.

Her heart skipped a frantic beat and she threw her hands up in a reflex response that was the universal sign language for Don’t shoot!

“It’s okay, Nick,” Douglas muttered, “she’s my wife.”

“You’re what?” the man asked, his head jerking around to look at Douglas as he dropped his gun arm.

“I’m not his wife!” Julia cried.

“You’re going to be,” Douglas returned.

“No… I… am… not,” Julia retorted.

“He’s delirious,” the man named Nick put in.

“I’ll say he’s delirious!” Julia responded.

Nick decided their bizarre discussion was at an end. “No, woman, I mean, he’s really delirious. He’s been shot.”

Julia gasped, her heart skipping eleven frantic beats and then seemingly shuddering to a halt.

“Be quiet,” Nick warned. “I need to get him up to his room without being seen or heard.”

They were moving forward and she noticed that Douglas’s left arm was hanging limply at his side.

It was at this time she also noticed the wet looking stain on his coat.

Julia’s hand flew to her mouth, her heart kick started to drill in her chest as her eyes darted around the hall.

“My room,” she stated urgently, thinking quickly and Nick looked at her mutely. “You’ll wake the children. They can’t see him like this, take him to my room. It’s out of the way.” Then she ordered, “Follow me.”

She started ahead but obviously Nick hesitated because she heard Douglas’s deep voice say, “Follow her.”

They got Douglas to her room and Julia ran to the draperies she left open, closing them as Nick deposited Douglas on her bed.

She hustled to the bathroom and grabbed every towel she could see then back and saw Douglas gingerly stripping off a black, long-sleeved t-shirt. Nick already had Douglas’s overcoat off and had thrown it on the floor.

She saw the blood on his back, the bullet hole below his shoulder and rushed forward.

“Holy crap,” she whispered.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Douglas noted sardonically. “I would say this was at least a ‘f*cking hell’ moment.

“Don’t joke!” Julia snapped. “How on earth did you get shot?”

Nick and Douglas looked at each other as Julia began obsessively to lay towel after towel on the pillows as if their smoothed absorbing layer would make the difference and all would become right again in the world. She then pushed Douglas back against them gently, handing him a clean hand towel to press against the wound.

Neither man, she noted, answered.

She decided to let that go and announced, “I’m calling the police.”

Douglas caught her arm in a surprisingly firm, almost painful grip.

“No police,” he declared implacably.

“No police?” Julia asked, feeling her brows shoot up. “But you’ve been shot!”

“No police,” Douglas repeated.

“Listen, the doc is coming to fix him up,” Nick put in. “We’ll be okay now, can you go and find somewhere else to sleep?”

“Sleep?” she asked incredulously, like she’d just walk out on this scene and lay herself down on some fluffy pillows and calmly go to sleep. Was he mad?

She looked in Douglas’s eyes and then her gaze dropped down to his wound. There was blood all over his chest… his very well-muscled chest, she noted vaguely. But the wound looked like it was no longer bleeding.

“We need to make sure he doesn’t lose any more blood,” Julia tried to pretend like she knew what she was doing, which she most certainly did not. “When’s the doctor coming?” she demanded to know from Nick.

“Girl, you need to leave this to me,” Nick returned, obviously losing patience.

She stood up to her full height, which, in bare feet, was five foot nine, at least two inches taller than him.

“When, I asked you,” she stated, her voice straining for calm and authoritative (and she felt she didn’t do half-badly), “is the doctor going to be here?”

Nick glanced at Douglas and Julia followed his gaze.

Douglas was lounging against the towel covered pillows holding the hand towel pressed firmly against the wound. He looked for all the world as if he was watching an only slightly entertaining play. When it became apparent that something was required of him, he just shrugged his good shoulder and Nick started to say something but Julia whirled on Douglas.

“You have two choices, Douglas Ashton,” she told him sharply, her temper flaring out-of-control. “Your first choice is to tell me when I can expect a doctor to arrive and your second choice is that I will first phone the police and second phone my mother so she can tell me how to treat you. You are not going to quietly bleed to death on my bed!”

“Calm yourself, Julia, I’m fine. It’s a flesh wound,” Douglas returned.