Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(94)

He also discovered that the sight of her with another man, or, in the case of last night, quite a number of them, turned him into a jealous lunatic.

He’d never felt a fury the like of last night, nor behaved in the way he did. He lost all control. That wasn’t just unusual, it was unprecedented.

He didn’t regret his behaviour, not in the slightest. The results spoke for themselves. She was there in his arms, in his bed and he intended for that not to change. Soon, she’d have his ring on her finger and she’d take his name. He’d been certain this was what he wanted, but now he realised this decision was absolute.

His hand splayed over her stomach, wondering, as he hadn’t used protection (either time), if they’d created a child last night. Something stirred in him at the thought but he brushed it aside. Surely she wouldn’t have allowed him to continue if she needed some protection. Not, of course, that he’d given her much choice. However, a clever woman who looked like Julia, and thus received the amount of attention she did (judging from last night), undoubtedly kept herself protected.

At the thought of that attention, his hand shifted upward and he cupped her breast.

There would be no more of that, now she was truly his, and he vowed to himself that would never change.

He used the pad of his thumb to stroke her nipple. As he was becoming accustomed, her body immediately responded, her nipple tightening. Most women of his acquaintance acted coy or were overeager or were greedy but not Julia. Julia took everything he was willing to give but she gave everything of herself in return, honestly and openly.

Just then, he heard a noise in the sitting room and his body reflexively tensed, his hand tightening on her breast and Julia grumbled sleepily, her eyes fluttering open, her neck twisting so she could look at him.

He released her breast, put a finger to her lips and lifted his head to listen.

Someone was in the sitting room.

He was out of the bed in flash, pulling on his trousers.

Where the bloody hell was Nick? He thought.

No one should be in the house. No one should be able to get through Nick.

Julia had turned toward him and pulled herself up on her elbow. Her other hand was clutching the covers to her br**sts. Her eyes were sleepy and curious and her curls were tumbling around her face and shoulders. He put his finger to his lips this time to keep her silent and she nodded, bemused, as he moved stealthily to the door. If he needed to, he’d find a weapon in the other room and gave the room a mental inventory deciding on his target. If it was one of the children, however, come back for some reason, he certainly didn’t need to go tearing into the room with a makeshift weapon raised and threatening.

It was a good decision.

As he yanked open the door, Mrs. Kilpatrick jerked upright, both her hands flying to her face.

“My lord… sir.” She stopped and looked crazily around the room as if she was considering diving behind an armchair to hide herself before her eyes came back to him. “Mister Douglas,” she finished, using a name for him she’d never used before.

Then she gestured to an extravagant tray that lay on a table. It was filled with plates carrying plain, almond and chocolate croissants, a selection of marmalades and jams sitting in little china bowls, a piece of butter moulded into a fleur de lis, a crystal bowl filled with sliced melon and strawberries, a silver coffeepot and two delicate china cups, two stemmed glasses filled with orange juice, a folded newspaper and even a slim crystal vase holding a single red rose.

“I brought a bit of breakfast. Just croissants and…” she trailed off then started again. “I didn’t have a lot of time. I didn’t want to disturb you but I thought you might be hungry.”

Before he could respond, Julia’s shocked voice sounded from behind Douglas.

“Mrs. K!”

Douglas turned to see her standing there, not in her dress or his shirt but, instead, wrapped tightly in his dressing gown.

Mrs. Kilpatrick looked at Julia, she blinked and then, he could swear, the ends of her lips twitched upward.

“Miss Julia, I brought breakfast,” Mrs. Kilpatrick told her.

Gone was the stammering, Mrs. K bent and gamely made a few adjustments to the tray, straightening some lace-edged linen serviettes unnecessarily. “It’s not much but it’ll do in a pinch. Enjoy. Don’t worry about the children; Roddy’s taken them off to the ice rink. You’ve got hours.” She emphasised the last word meaningfully and then threw Douglas an encouraging look that both surprised him and made him want to roar with laughter.

He had the insane urge to walk up to his housekeeper and kiss her cheek. Instead, Douglas said not a word, simply nodded. If he’d opened his mouth to speak, he would surely have laughed.

He did, however, allow himself to grin.

Julia, who had turned scarlet, muttered an embarrassed, “Uh… thank you.”

Mrs. Kilpatrick smiled at Julia and Douglas witnessed stark adoration shining in her eyes. It struck him that this woman shared his home for nearly the length of his life and she never looked at him in that way. Julia had been there two months and Mrs. Kilpatrick would have laid down her life for her.

For some reason, this pleased Douglas immensely.

The older woman turned to him and he nodded at her in approval and she slowly, hesitantly, to his disbelief, winked at him.

Then she was gone.

He turned his eyes to Julia, who was staring at the door.