Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(81)

She seemed to realise she was monopolising the conversation and her eyes slid to her empty cider glass. “I’ll shut up now. I’ve got to be boring you.”

“Not at all,” Douglas assured her quietly, her gaze flew to him and he had the unflattering impression that she’d forgotten he was even there.

“Okay,” she whispered, making a decision and rising. “I’ve got to get the kids to bed. It’s past Ruby’s bedtime and she’s a bear in the morning if she doesn’t have her full night’s sleep. Nick, lovely of you to stay.” She nodded to a smiling Nick and then she quickly exited the room.

Again, both Nick and Douglas watched her leave and, finally, Nick asked, “Once I’m in your Gate House, can I come to dinner every night?”

Douglas turned to his friend. “No.”

Nick chuckled, taking no offense. “Didn’t ‘spect so. Wouldn’t want to share her myself.”

Nick left shortly after and Douglas went in search of Julia. She was in the lounge, drawing the draperies.

He stood watching her, liking the way she took care of his home, liking more the way she took care of his friend and even more the way she took care of the children but mostly the way, last night, she took care of him.

When she turned and saw him, she jumped.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped, but her voice was breathy.

“What?” he asked.

“Sneak up on me,” she explained.

“I didn’t sneak up on you,” he told her truthfully.

“You glide around like a cat, it’s bizarre. No man of your size should be so quiet.” She walked from the room, sliding by him, giving him as wide a berth as possible and went into the dining room.

Douglas followed her.

“We need to talk,” he told her as she gathered all the glasses from the table and turned to go to the kitchen.

“It’s late, you need your rest.” She walked away, thinking that was that and leaving him where he was. He heard distant rumbles in the kitchen as she tidied.

He thought of his options, made a quick assessment of them and then walked to her room. He turned on the lights and eased himself into the chair in the turret. He was shattered but determined to have this talk, even if Julia was just as determined to avoid it.

She came in not five minutes later and jumped again when she saw him.

“What are you doing here?” Again the breathy snap, this time with wide eyes.

“As I said, we need to talk.”

She studied him.

He waited.

“Douglas,” she finally said, her tone now beyond weary, “I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’m exhausted, you need to recuperate, let’s talk later, okay?”

“No,” he replied.

She crossed her arms on her chest, regarded him for another moment and then gave in with ill-grace. “Well then, say what you have to say.”

He opened his mouth to begin but she interrupted.

“No, I think I want to go first.”

He closed his mouth and lifted a brow.

“I think…” she started and stopped. “No, that isn’t right. I thank you for…” she stopped again and then looked away, emitting a frustrated noise that Douglas decided was bloody adorable then she started again. “Your attention and your stated intentions are very nice and I appreciate them. I… I’m honoured,” she stammered.

He watched her, not saying a word and not finding her adorable any longer mainly because he did not like that she considered his intention to marry her “very nice”.

“But,” she shifted uncomfortably and then looked at him before suddenly and exasperatedly bursting out, “quit staring at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like… like that!” she retorted, with a jerk of her head toward him, clearly thinking her words were an explanation (which they were not).

He lifted his good hand, palm up.

“Oh forget it, forget the chat too, I’m tired,” she snapped.

“Julia.” He stood, deciding it was time to take control of the conversation. She whirled on him and he expected another one of her brilliant tirades, a pouring forth of one of her lists. But instead her shoulders drooped, she turned her head to the side and she pulled a shaking hand through her hair.

“I can’t believe you’ve been shot,” she whispered. “What on earth are you doing that puts you in the way of a bullet? What is it that the police can’t be involved?” He walked toward her and she turned her face to him. “I want to be your friend, Douglas. I think I could be happy here, with the kids, in this house, having a challenging job. If you would just help a little and be my friend.” Her voice was aching and he felt an odd, unfamiliar feeling of tenderness as he stopped before her. “But I can’t let myself like you if I think something’s going to happen to you. I have to protect myself, protect the children.”

She was suffering from a hint of post-traumatic stress, he imagined, and he moved closer to her, gathering her warm body in his one good arm.

She leaned away, arching her back against his arm and looking up at him.

“I talked with Nick today,” he explained quietly.

He felt a hint of gratification when her eyes flared with hope. “Yes?”