Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(97)

Julia, Douglas decided, thought way too much.

He followed her and stood behind her, seeing her reflection in the window. With his left hand, he pulled her hair from the right side of her neck. He bent his head to drag his lips lazily from the soft spot behind ear to where her graceful neck met her shoulder while his left hand stole around her waist and pulled her against his body.

“Douglas,” she whispered, her voice trembling with something he mistakenly thought was desire.

Without lifting his lips, his eyes caught hers in the reflection of the window, his right hand came up to her shoulder and he slowly pulled the dressing gown aside, his lips trailing its progress, his other arm drawing her incredible warmth deeper into his body. He noticed as her glowing, faultless skin became exposed at her chest and he felt the acute response of his body when he saw she was still wearing his emerald. His eyes dropped as the lapel of the dressing gown swept across her breast and caught against her nipple.

“I need you to promise me something,” she interrupted his progress by speaking and his hand stilled at the fervent tone in her voice as his eyes lifted back to the reflection of hers in the window.

With her body against his, the smell of her in his nostrils, the taste of her at his lips and his knowledge of what was going to happen in his bed in a few moments time, he almost told her he’d promise her anything.

Of course, he did not.

“That depends.” His hand slid up from her waist to just under her breast. His lips ascended her shoulder again, up her neck and behind her ear, a delectably sensitive area he discovered last night.

As he expected, she shivered. Also as he expected, she ignored her reaction.

“I want to talk about our, um… my agreeing to marry you.”

He’d anticipated something like this. She thought too much. It probably had something to do with the children. She was excessively careful with them. Not to mention, she had an exceptionally strong sense of self-preservation, he’d been living that nightmare for two months. He wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to build an exit strategy. If today’s behaviour was any indication, Mrs. Kilpatrick might set fire to Julia’s room and he couldn’t imagine what antics the self-styled matchmaker Lizzie would get up to.

“Yes?” He ran his tongue up the side of her neck and playfully nipped her earlobe, his body gladly absorbing the shudder that his action induced.

He was becoming impatient. Mrs. Kilpatrick said hours and all the things he wanted to do to her would take much longer than that.

Definitely months

Probably years.

“Promise you won’t get angry with me,” Julia said.

He couldn’t imagine anything she could say at that moment would make him angry with her. Douglas didn’t, however, answer. He simply waited.

“I’m not going to marry you.”

Except that.

“What?” he exploded, his arm tightening reflexively about her body, his head coming up with a jerk.

“I’m not going to marry you,” she repeated.

“You bloody well are,” he growled.

She shook her head and tried to pull away, succeeding in putting inches of space between them. He wrenched her back and his other arm went around her to hold her more firmly.

“Douglas, let me go.”

“I believe I’ve answered that request more often than I’ve cared to,” he clipped into her ear.

“You don’t understand!” she cried, her eyes on his in the window.

“Explain it to me,” he bit out.

She pushed against his arm. “Please, give me some space.”

His arms loosened with a motive, the minute she moved away, he swung her around and yanked her back against his body, facing him then his arms closed back around her roughly.

“Douglas!”

“Talk!” His voiced cracked in the room like a thunderclap and he watched her clouded eyes clear as she became angry.

“I don’t want to marry you!” she burst out.

“You must be joking,” he snapped derisively.

Her eyes widened in angry apprehension.

“You aren’t entirely irresistible,” she informed him.

“Would you like me to prove you wrong?” It was a threat and his tone dangerous.

“No, not that,” she evaded, knowing exactly what he meant and not stupid enough to deny it. Her eyes moved left to right and back at him. “That was… lovely.”

“Lovely?” His voice was scathing. “You describe last night as lovely?”

“It was good,” she stopped at his narrowed eyes. “Very good.” His arms tightened. “Okay, it was wonderful. All right?” She was losing her composure, he saw she was both frightened and angry and he didn’t care.

“So, explain to me how I’m resistible, would you?” he demanded.

“You have to give me a moment to let me think.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“Fine,” she snapped, “you’re cold –”

“I was hot enough for you last night.”

“I’m not talking about last night!” She stamped her foot in frustration and, at any other time, he would have found that adorable.

Now, he did not.

“Stop interrupting me,” she ordered.