Last night, however, there was a different Julia. Impassioned and eloquent, he found himself admiring her not only when she calmly read from her lists, smoothly stating her case, but most especially when she lost her temper with him.
“No man has a prayer in the world with Jewel.” Douglas heard Gavin say once, loud enough so Julia could hear him. “She’s bossy, stubborn, too damn fiery and she’s got attitude. She’s more of a headache than she’s worth.”
Gavin may have said those words to tease but the look on his face said he felt they were valuable qualities.
Douglas was beginning to agree with him. He had known many women who attempted to be a challenge in order to make themselves seem more attractive, less easy, more interesting.
He had never met a woman who was an actual challenge.
Thinking of this, Douglas recalled several times in the past when Julia had caught his attention with her passionate nature and natural eloquence.
He remembered once when Julia and Gavin were having a discussion on politics which escalated into an argument. Tamsin had wisely kept neutral and Douglas had just watched as Julia’s magnificent moral fury built up in the face of Gavin’s teasing goading. Remarkably articulate, Julia finished her tirade with a crushing set down that shredded even the mellow Gavin and forced him to accede the point.
The problem with Julia, Douglas thought with satisfaction, had turned vaguely interesting.
Before he arrived at the dining room, Carter stopped him.
“You have a… call, sir,” Carter said and this practiced speech was not lost on Douglas.
Instead of going into the dining room, Douglas went to his study. He should have closed the door but he could see Julia and the children sitting across the hall and they’d not hear him from this far away. He found he had the unusual desire to have their pleasant chatter in the background.
He saw which line was blinking, blew out a sigh and picked up the phone.
Nick was on the other end. Douglas listened and his mouth thinned into an angry line at what he heard.
“I’ll be there by the evening,” Douglas said before he hung up. He quickly rang Samantha and explained the change of plans.
“You know, you’ve got to stop doing this. Those kids –” she started to say, her words and tone highly inappropriate. Douglas might be lenient with Sam but now she was treading on dangerous ground.
He cut her off. “If I wish your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
“Okay then, I’ll make it so.” Efficiency restored in her tone, she rang off again but this time he could tell she did it with disapproval.
He put Sam out of his mind and walked into the dining room amidst the children’s welcoming voices. Julia looked up and quickly looked away. He could tell she was tired and she looked drawn and, he regarded her closely, a little angry.
He nearly smiled to himself.
She hadn’t wasted any time; there was a sugar bowl, a butter dish and three pots of jam on the table.
“Look, Unka Douglas! Marmalade!” Ruby shouted, apparently in a phase where everything had to be said at the top of her lungs. She was waving a piece of toast so exuberantly that marmalade went flying, landing with a splat on the floor behind her.
“Yes, Ruby,” he said while he sat down, “perhaps you should eat it rather than making the dining room wear it.”
Ruby giggled and Douglas saw Julia’s lips twitch but she wouldn’t allow herself to break out in a full smile.
Douglas spared Lizzie a glance and his amusement faded.
The girl bothered him. She was obviously taking the death of her parents very hard. Julia thought Douglas should take her in hand but he was at a loss of what to do.
He found the girl difficult to be around. She looked almost exactly as her mother did at twelve years old, big, dark blue eyes and a mass of shining brown hair. He was counting on her eventually pulling herself together and in a short time Julia had managed to at least achieve some small success. Lizzie’s hygiene had been slipping and she was losing weight. Now, her hair had some of its lustre back and she sat eating a stack of toast slathered with butter and jam.
In fact, looking around him, he noticed all the children were eating their food with relish. The last months, they had been eating quickly but he saw that they were eating quickly to get it over with. Now they were devouring the food with enjoyment and, although Lizzie wasn’t bright eyed and giggling, she was eating. Both Will and Ruby were acting as if they’d just won the lottery.
“Children, what did we talk about?” Julia prompted.
Julia, he saw, had no food in front of her and was sipping only at a cup of coffee.
“Thank you Unka Douglas!” Ruby shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Thank you for the weekend in London, we had a good time,” Will recited as if he was reading it from a script, the blankness of his tone belied the look on his face which one could only describe as goofy. This effect, Douglas saw, was to draw out Lizzie who didn’t bother to respond to her brother.
“Yeah, thanks,” Lizzie chimed in half-heartedly.
Douglas looked at Julia, her chair was pushed back and she was twisted in it, her back slightly towards him, her legs crossed in front of her. Her bare foot with its pale pink varnished toes bounced casually, or angrily, he couldn’t tell which.
She was cupping her coffee in both hands like it was providing warmth against an arctic freeze and staring into it like it could tell her the meaning of life.
He reached for the coffeepot and poured himself a cup.
“You’re welcome,” he told the children.
“Can we go back? Can we, can we, can we?” Ruby asked.
“Of course, Ruby, when would you like to go?” he inquired, sipping his coffee and feeling the full weight of Julia’s feigned aloofness, just as she intended.
“Tomorrow?” Ruby tried.
He smiled at the child and said in a gentle tone, “No, Ruby, tomorrow would be too much of a good thing. But soon.”
“Promise?” she shouted.
He nodded and Mrs. Kilpatrick walked in, setting his breakfast in front of him and announcing that Carter was ready to take the kids to school.
They rushed around like dervishes, all stopping at Julia for hugs and kisses. Douglas watched in dawning realisation that this unusual practice of affection was now an expected agenda item for the morning schedule, or indeed any time they left Julia. Ruby even stopped and gave him a kiss before unnecessarily chasing after the siblings who would leave her behind.
Unable to keep her back even partially to him and not appear rude, Julia turned back to the table but didn’t say a word.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied, her tone not inviting further conversation and her eyes were now gazing in fixed fascination on the wallpaper across the room as if she were counting the seconds to when she could leave and not seem ill-mannered.
“Would you like to explain this new morning ritual?” he asked.
This shook her out of her feigned remoteness and she turned startled green eyes to him.
“You said that I could decide what the children were to eat,” she looked down at the pots of jam.
“I’m not referring to the sugar bowl, Julia,” he explained. “I think it… unusual to demand the children display physical affection every time they leave you.” His tone sounded more judgmental than he intended and she stiffened in response.
“It’s tradition,” she told him, her voice terse.
“An odd tradition,” he commented, regarding her levelly and she raised her glittering eyes to his.
“Not really. My mother always made us kiss and hug her before we went to bed or school or, when we were older, out with our friends. We used to hate it. Especially if it was in front of someone else or we were quarrelling with her. Even then, we had to kiss her goodnight. One day, when I was a senior in high school, she got sick. A really bad case of pneumonia and she had t
o be in the hospital for a long time and, for a day or two, it didn’t look good. I couldn’t give her a kiss or hug before I went to bed and I found I missed it, was actually desperate to do it because I was so scared at how sick she was. It was then I realised her wisdom, because anything can happen when you least expect it. And, if the last thing you did was give someone you loved a hug or a kiss, it would make dealing with whatever happened just that tiny bit better.”
She stopped and he realised, with some surprise, she was having trouble breathing. Regardless, she continued, but this time, her voice was shaking.
“I know Gavin and Tammy did the same thing with those kids for the same reason and it makes it all a tiny bit better knowing that the last things those kids did was kiss and hug their parents good-bye.”
It was then Douglas realised why her breathing was laboured, why her voice was shaking. She was holding back the tears that were gleaming at the rims of her eyes. He himself felt a strange lump rise in his throat and his hands involuntarily formed into fists in an effort not to touch her, something that was becoming a habit, this consistent effort not to touch her.
And he very much wanted to touch her now. He wanted to touch her last night after she blazed at him in anger and when she was seated demurely on the couch listing her grievances regarding the children. He wanted to touch her in the car when she was sleeping away her exhaustion and jetlag. And he had wanted to touch her in the Bentley when they were driving to the gallery and all he could smell was her perfume and all he could see were her endless legs.
It wasn’t often that Douglas didn’t simply do what he wanted to do. Now, most especially, as he watched her struggle with her emotions, sitting there looking alone and tremendously sad, he found himself wanting to comfort her. If he was honest, he may have even needed her to comfort him as he felt his chest tighten with something he hadn’t felt for years.
“Julia,” he murmured softly.
She took a deep shuddering breath.
“So, you see,” she finished, a tremor still in her voice but the subject, most definitely, was closed, “it’s tradition.”
He allowed her a moment to collect herself, reading correctly that she would prefer to be in control rather than let go. He understood that. However, he did so while watching her.
She was immensely watchable. Her face wasn’t just lovely, it was also expressive. Her emotions, now raw and right on the surface, made her all the more alluring. He could never countenance female tears but then, he’d never seen any that were genuine.
He felt the familiar pull of what he recognised as a growing attraction to her. He’d always known it was there but the strength of it was surprising.
He didn’t just want to touch her. He wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her in the car when she had so obviously enjoyed the night out with Charlie, her cheeks flushed, her voice happy and he was surrounded with her captivating scent and knew exactly how her legs and ass looked in that unbelievable dress. And again, when he had awakened her after they arrived home and her eyes were heavy-lidded and her voice was husky with sleep. And also, after she had vented her anger at him last night.
No, last night he hadn’t wanted to kiss her, he ached to do it and far more than that. He’d had to put the desk between them to stop himself.
And now, while she was struggling for control, he wanted very much to coax her to lose that control. He wanted to taste her lips, hear her whisper his name with her voice throaty with passion.
He wanted her.
Yes, the problem of Julia was definitely becoming quite intriguing.
As she seemed to get a hold of herself, his mind came to terms with this development and he immediately came to a decision and formed a plan. It was, he realised, an excellent solution to all his problems most especially Julia and the children.
“I’d like to ask you a favour,” he stated.
She turned her eyes to his, the grief barely masked and its presence made his tone gentle when he continued.
“Tamsin was on a committee for years to organise a ball to raise funds for a local charity that provides research funding for breast cancer. This year, she was chair of the committee until…” he broke off, not needing to continue.
“Yes?” Julia prompted, her voice deeper than normal with the effort to control her emotions.
“I’d like you to attend with me, to represent the family, to represent Gavin. I think Tamsin would have wanted that.”
Tamsin would have wanted Julia anywhere and everywhere. They were like sisters, e-mailing and sending care packages full of little gifts they’d purchase for each other the minute they saw something that reminded one of the other.
Douglas watched Julia nod, her sadness melting as she gave him a small, tentative smile.
“I’d be delighted,” she agreed and a truce was established, albeit soon to be made very brief.
“Well, well, well, isn’t this cosy?” A refined, but glacial, female voice sounded from the doorway and Douglas looked up to see his mother standing there, staring down her nose at Julia.
Monique was wearing a white suit with a filmy black blouse and a huge black and white hat. Douglas regarded his mother with remote disdain. She looked like she’d walked right out of a rerun of Dynasty.
She was sixty-four years old and through a strict diet and exercise regime, monthly visits to the spa and hairdressers, twice-yearly visits to a plastic surgeon and sheer determination, she looked twenty years younger.
She was carrying a newspaper and walking forward, the expression in her eyes was frosty.
He stood, as a gentleman should, but for no other reason.
“Mother,” he greeted her warily for he could see she was in a mood.
She ignored him.
“You!” she pointed, her tone accusatory, her gaze malicious, at Julia who was staring at her brother’s mother-in-law, her expression a study in shock, her eyes riveted to the finger pointed in her direction.
Monique then threw the paper she was carrying and it slid down the table, over the children’s dirty dishes and spilled onto Julia’s lap taking marmalade and butter with it.
Julia caught it reflexively, jumping up from her seat.
Douglas gritted his teeth.
“Mother,” he said through them, his voice a warning.
“Didn’t take you long did it?” Monique hissed. “Went right in for the kill, didn’t you?”
Julia was looking down at the paper and Douglas saw in it was a printed the photo taken of them outside his house in Kensington.
He had to admit, it looked damning. He knew he’d just caught her after a stumble but they looked like they were two lovers embracing. He was forced to subdue a pleased smile at this turn of events as this was fortuitous to his new plan.
Julia looked at it horrified.
“This is all a mistake. I –” Julia started.
“You’re a parasite, is what you are… which was expected but I cannot believe how quickly you’ve managed to latch on.”
At that piece of rudeness, Douglas cut in curtly.
“Mother, we were in London for an art opening. Julia tripped, I caught her, the photographer got lucky. Did you come all the way back from the Mediterranean for this?”
His words and tone made her actions sound ludicrous.
She tore her angry gaze away from Julia who was visibly shaken. Julia looked from Monique to Douglas then back to Monique.
For her part, Monique looked to be trying to decide the veracity of his words. She also looked at him and then Julia.
He looked annoyed, which he was. Julia looked stricken and offended.
And he noted passingly, rather glorious.
Even standing there, barefoot, wearing snug-fitting jeans and an equally snug-fitting chocolate brown t-shirt that said “Eat at Ed’s” in pink on the front, she somehow appeared to match Monique in panache. Even injured and caught off guard, there was something almost regal about her that even Monique, with her wealth of
aristocratic background and good breeding, couldn’t match.
Douglas tore his gaze away from Julia and watched as his mother made her decision. Perhaps believing Douglas, perhaps realising that her opponent may not be as much of a pushover as she anticipated, perhaps sensing she wouldn’t have Douglas’s support, she backed off with ill-grace.
“That,” Monique answered Douglas belatedly, her tone no longer icy but now airy, “and Beatrice was getting on my nerves. I forgot I can only stand the woman for hours at a time, why I thought I could spend three weeks with her is beyond me.”
Deciding to give up her tirade, without another word, she turned and began to walk away, as usual without any kind of greeting, asking after Douglas, who she hadn’t seen in weeks, or inquiring about Julia, who had moved an ocean away from her home to take up the care of Monique’s grandchildren.
“Mother,” Douglas called, his voice so unyielding even Monique stopped and turned.
“Yes, my darling?” she replied.
He stared at his mother and saw her eyes glittering with malice. Her words were uttered in a sugar sweet tone that he knew from years of experience she didn’t mean. He’d been enduring her faux motherhood for thirty-eight years and he’d always been able to ignore it. For some reason, today, he found it grated.
“I think there are a few things you should say to Julia,” he informed her.
Her eyes narrowed and she tried to stare him down. Instead, he calmly sat, picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, watching his mother the whole time.
Once he replaced the cup in its saucer, he quirked an eyebrow to her.
His mother sighed dramatically, giving in with anything but good grace.
“Welcome to Sommersgate, Julia. My apologies for the misunderstanding.”
She looked Julia up and down and her expression showed she found what she saw lacking. Then, without another word, she walked out of the room.
Douglas sighed.
Then he turned his eyes to Julia, who was staring after Monique, her face a mask of pure incredulity.
“Sit down, Julia,” he commanded quietly.
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