Sommersgate House

by Kristen Ashley

  The next three weeks found Julia experiencing complete emotional turmoil which she felt was a little incredible considering she already thought she was experiencing the height of emotional turmoil.

  Clearly, Douglas realised what Julia had officially termed (in her own mind) “The Tender Onslaught Strategy (with Vague Tendencies Toward Arrogance)” was working beautifully so he kept right on using it.

  The press had taken it into their head that Julia and Douglas were a couple and they were speculating wildly about her and Douglas leaving the ball so quickly. Not to mention Douglas was no longer appearing with his rail-thin, twenty-something starlets and models at every social gathering imaginable but instead squiring Julia and the children all over Bristol and Somerset.

  Making matters worse, they all travelled to London to attend Charlie and Oliver’s Annual New Year’s Bash. Julia didn’t want to go so soon after Ruby’s outburst but she couldn’t let Charlie down. Sam arranged for the children to spend the night with her nieces and nephews at her sister’s house.

  Julia took Veronika, saying she wanted the girl, who had no family close and no friends to speak of, to have a good time. If she admitted it to herself, she was really using her young friend as a shield.

  Once in London, she found out Sam (or perhaps Douglas, she wouldn’t put it passed him) arranged for Veronika to attend a party with her rather than go with Julia and Douglas to the Forsythes.

  This left Julia and Douglas together, alone.

  Luckily, the New Year’s party was a mad crush and Julia easily lost Douglas. She made certain she didn’t drink too much; she needed all her faculties to utilise in her efforts to avoid him. Further, she didn’t want to do anything to let her guard down.

  Christmas night was still fresh in her memory and she knew she was losing ground fast. She decided to nurture her irate frustration at the situation; it was the only thing she had left.

  Eventually she found herself alone with Oliver and she decided to take that opportunity to pick his brain, subtly of course, about Douglas’s history. Douglas’s story about his childhood Christmases still had Julia feeling ill-at-ease. In fact, when she wasn’t avoiding Douglas, stewing over him or watching the children like hawks (after the Christmas night disaster), it was all she thought about.

  Oliver knew him best and Julia felt that, maybe, he could be a font of information.

  After a few questions, diplomatically worded (she thought), Oliver cut eyes to her that were not lit with his usual good-natured light.

  “What are your intentions regarding Douglas?” he asked bluntly.

  “I… well,” she spluttered. Her intentions with Douglas? She didn’t know what to say, so she said, “I’m just curious.”

  Oliver surveyed her for a moment which probably lasted about a second but the intensity of his eyes made it seem like an hour.

  “I’m afraid curiosity isn’t good enough, Julia. If you genuinely cared, I would tell you, but since you’re just curious…” He let that hang and when Julia said no more, he excused himself and, for some reason, this made Julia feel like an absolute heel.

  She was caught in a mad crush of happy, drunken people as the clock struck down to midnight (and it was never fun to be an unhappy, un-drunken person in that kind of situation).

  At “five” she felt a warm hand on the small of her back. At “four” it was an arm that wound around her waist. At “three” it was pulling her firmly around. At “two” it was hauling her against a hard body. At “one” another arm joined it to tighten around her. At the strike of midnight, a sexy, scarred mouth descended on hers in a hard, thorough, unmistakably possessive kiss that seemed to last forever and stole her breath away.

  Anyone who saw it would have been in no doubt that Julia and Douglas were a couple.

  Regardless how good the kiss was or, more to the point, because of how good it was, and the point it so publicly made, Julia seethed all the way home.

  Monique was still (thankfully) in Munich meaning they were all alone at the Kensington house. As Douglas pulled the parking brake up on the Jag, Julia darted out of the car only to have to stand on the steps to wait for him to let her in the house because she didn’t have a key.

  I really, she thought, have to think ahead.

  Her blood pressure, already nearly at brain attack level, ratcheted up a notch.

  Douglas politely, though not trying to hide his amusement, allowed her to precede him into the house. She practically ran up the stairs only to hear him chuckle.

  She was beginning to detest his chuckle. For fifteen years she rarely heard it and now it seemed to ring in her ears on a daily basis. At the top of the stairs she whirled to wait for him and watched as he took his time ascending like he had all the new year.

  “I want you to release a press statement that says we are not an item,” she demanded irritably when he was four steps away.

  He completed his ascension and then stopped several inches from her. Towering over her, he looked down at her, not down the length of his nose, as used to be his wont, but directly at her, eye-to-eye.

  “And why,” he drawled, “would I do that?”

  “Because we’re not a couple!” She wanted to stamp her foot at having to point out what she thought was the obvious.

  He quirked a brow.

  She was a woman prone to dramatics but not to violence.

  Not until that moment.

  She was saved from doing something she would regret by the door opening below.

  Visions of Monique drifting in, wafting malevolence and baring fangs, made Julia’s chest tighten painfully.

  Instead, from their vantage point at the top of the stairs, they saw Veronika enter on a giggle and then lose her footing and crash to the floor.

  Julia and Douglas both descended the stairs rapidly, Douglas (of course) made it to the bottom first. Julia was wearing high-heeled, strappy bronze sandals and couldn’t catch herself in time at the bottom and ploughed into Douglas. To steady herself, she grabbed his waist with both hands. Worried about Ronnie, she didn’t pull her hands away but she peeked around his body and saw Veronika sprawled on the floor, her legs out in front of her and a loopy grin on her face.

  Ronnie slowly lifted a curled hand, thumb extended then jerked it toward herself and said gaily, “Drunk!”

  “Oh dear,” Julia sighed, releasing Douglas’s waist and moving around him. “We need to get her upstairs,” she told him, all the time looking down on Veronika.

  “Sham’s very nie-sh,” Veronika slurred to the approaching Julia.

  “She’s lovely,” Julia murmured to her as she bent down beside the girl and heard Douglas join them. “We’re going to get you upstairs to bed.”

  “I am lucky,” Ronnie stated while Douglas silently put one shoulder under Ronnie’s armpit while his other hand grabbed her wrist and pulled it around his neck, lifting her up to her feet. Through his actions, Ronnie spoke. “To have you,” she motioned to Julia with her head, an action that threw her off balance and made her stumble, forcing Douglas to right her, “as friend.” She went on. “And you,” she turned to Douglas as he started walking her towards the stairs, “are hero!” she finished triumphantly.

  Julia had no idea what Ronnie was talking about but she had no time to consider it as Ronnie made an unmistakably unpleasant noise.

  “Quick, upstairs to the bathroom,” she told Douglas urgently.

  Douglas didn’t hesitate. He reached down and slid an arm around the backs of Ronnie’s knees, hefted her up and swiftly moved up the stairs. By the time Julia made it to the door of the bathroom, Veronika was on her knees getting sick in the toilet.

  Julia rushed forward passed Douglas to pull the girl’s dark hair out of her face and kneeled down to soothe her by stroking her back and murmuring to her. All the while, she did her best not to get sick herself at the sight, the sound and the awful smell.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Douglas said from the doorway, feeling his part in this cu
rrent drama was done.

  Julia just nodded, thinking, saved by the drunk Russian girl.

  * * * * *

  Days later they were back home at Sommersgate and Julia was coming in from running errands, entering by the kitchen door.

  “Hey Mrs. K,” she greeted the older lady, “I could do with a cuppa. You need a break?”

  Mrs. K turned peculiarly sparkling eyes to Julia and opened her mouth to answer when Ruby rushed into the room followed by Lizzie. They were both panting at their mad dash and they, too, had sparkling eyes.

  “Auntie Jewel!” Lizzie puffed.

  The children had survived the Christmas Night Meltdown valiantly. For several days they were quiet and introspective and Ruby had stopped shouting altogether (and Julia found, knowing the reason behind it, she now missed it). But they were beginning to pull out of it having had a great time with Sam’s family. Indeed, Julia had a queer sense that Ruby’s breakdown had allowed them all to settle more thoroughly into their new lives and begin to truly come to terms with their loss and start healing.

  Right then, they seemed to be lit up with happiness and expectation.

  “What’s up?” Julia asked, unable to stop a grin from spreading across her face at their jubilation. Ruby scrambled forward and grabbed Julia’s hand, giving it a hearty tug. Their excitement was catching and she let out a little laugh. “What’s happening?” she inquired again.

  “Just come with us,” Lizzie ordered bossily, grabbing Julia’s other hand and pulling more strongly.

  They led Julia to the leather couches of the entryway where Douglas and Willie were standing around the furniture. A fire blazed in the grate and Willie was looking down at something on the floor while Douglas watched Julia approach, his eyes roaming over her appreciatively (as he seemed inclined to do more often than not).

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Julia blurted, deciding it best to ignore Douglas. If she didn’t, she knew her palms would sweat or her knees would buckle or her stomach would do somersaults or, in her weakest moments, all three.

  “Look!” Ruby pointed at a strange, plastic box with a handle on top and lots of holes all around.

  The kind of box in which you carried a small animal.

  Looking at the box, Julia felt her palms start to sweat, her knees begin to get weak and her stomach prepared to do somersaults.

  “Look, look, look!” Ruby cried, no longer able to contain herself.

  She sprinted forward then dropped to her knees and she fidgeted with the box but Julia already knew.

  She knew.

  She remembered, somewhat hazily, but she remembered muttering to Douglas the morning after their first night together.

  Therefore, she knew.

  Then Ruby had her prize and turned around, cuddling a fluffy, perfectly white, beautiful, squash-nosed, incredibly adorable Persian kitty in her arms.

  “Unka Douglas bought them for you!” Ruby squealed.

  Julia’s eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t help herself; she couldn’t have controlled her reaction if she was SuperGirl. She missed her own cat and had never been without an animal for this long in her life. It was better than an emerald (which was pretty fantastic), it was better than a diamond watch (which was absolutely tremendous), it was the best present she’d ever received.

  With one quick step forward, she reached out her hands and Ruby easily gave up the kitten to Julia who practically snatched it out of her niece’s arms.

  She didn’t notice Ruby whirl back around as she pulled the kitten up to her face and rubbed it against her cheek.

  She turned glistening eyes to Douglas.

  She didn’t know what to say.

  More kittens were produced, two more to be exact.

  “Uncle Douglas got one for each of us girls,” Lizzie declared cheerfully but Julia only had eyes for Douglas who, for his part, was watching her back with a look of tenderness (albeit a somewhat smug tenderness).

  “I’m getting a dog,” Willie declared at this point.

  Julia opened her mouth and then closed it. She opened it again and then, again, closed it. She brought the kitten down to snuggle him on her chest and shook her head as if to clear it.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” Lizzie demanded, eyeing Julia incredulously.

  Julia was speechless.

  “Sometimes,” Willie put in, his words and tone far more mature than they should have been, “there’s nothing to say.”

  * * * * *

  The kittens caused havoc in the household, nearly making Ronnie fall down the stairs and giving Mrs. K fits as they scratched at every available surface (including undoubtedly priceless silk rugs). The children ran around playing with them and chasing them, which caused the once silent-as-a-tomb Sommersgate House to ring with happy noise.

  That weekend, Julia decided to take a walk to clear her head. She put on her mucky cowboy boots, a pair of jeans, a dusky pink fleece and wrapped a long, pink and lavender-striped scarf around her neck. The day was bright, sunny and bitter cold.

  The children had gone to the stables with Douglas to ride. Douglas was spending an extraordinary (for him) amount of time at home and had made a habit of being home on the weekends.

  Julia found this most annoying, even though there was once a time, not very long ago, when she demanded that he be at home more.

  She tried to avoid them. She wanted to avoid them. But she found, as if they had minds of their own, after only fifteen minutes her feet took her toward the stables.

  Lizzie and Willie were already in their saddles with Ruby sitting alone on a beautiful, shining chestnut horse. As Julia approached, she watched Douglas swing expertly up in the saddle behind Ruby and her heart did a little flip.

  She told her feet to turn left. They refused. She told them to turn right. They, again, refused. Before she could begin to escape, Lizzie saw her.

  “Hey, Auntie Jewel!” she shouted.

  Douglas had his back to her and, at Lizzie’s call, he whirled the animal around expertly so he could watch her arrival.

  “Don’t mind me,” Julia called. “You guys go on. I’m on my way to –”

  “You should let Uncle Douglas teach you how to ride,” Lizzie suggested, obviously thrilled at her wonderful idea.

  Julia sighed. Lizzie was definitely beginning to be a problem.

  If she was truthful with herself, which she was being less and less these days, she would have admitted that she wanted to see him. However, she did not want a riding lesson. She loved horses, she loved all animals, she just didn’t particularly like riding them. She wouldn’t have wanted to ride a camel either. Or an elephant. Definitely not a horse.

  “That’s okay.” She was amongst them now, all of them looking down at her. She gently stroked the soft muzzle of Willie’s horse (a beautiful grey which Julia knew Gavin liked to ride). “I’m good on my own two feet.”

  But she heard rather than saw Douglas hit the ground and then Ruby was moved from Douglas’s horse to the front of Willie’s.

  Julia watched in alarm.

  “Is that wise?” she asked Douglas.

  “He’s strong and he’s good in the saddle. She’ll be fine,” Douglas replied with confidence and Julia stiffened as he came toward her. “Now let’s see about you.”

  Julia glanced at Willie whose face was glowing at his uncle’s compliment. It almost made her want to give in but then she saw Douglas leading the big chestnut toward her. The horse was bigger than all the others and Julia took a step back.

  “They can sense fear,” Douglas informed her.

  “I know!” she snapped. “I’ve seen enough cowboy movies. They always say that in the cowboy movies.”

  Douglas grinned.

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  That was when he smiled.

  “Oh all right,” she gave in, mainly because the children were there and she was trying to retain as much dignity as she could considering she knew she was going to lose i
t all in mere minutes. “What do I do?”

  While she had both feet planted firmly on the ground (thankfully) and Douglas adjusted the stirrups, he patiently and competently explained what she should do. She listened as intently as she could considering how much she loved his voice and what it did to her insides. As this went on, the children cantered around them, giving them a wide berth.

  “You ready to go up?” Douglas asked, motioning to the horse with his head.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she grumbled, reaching out as he taught her and taking the reins and the pommel, putting her left foot in the stirrup.

  She was pleased she’d heaved herself up to straighten her leg but it all fell apart somehow and she began to fall backward. She didn’t go down as Douglas’s hand found her bottom and gave her a firm push. She ignored the hot imprint his hand left like a brand on her behind, swung her leg over and forced her foot in the opposite stirrup.

  He continued instructing her as he walked her and the horse around in circles, his hand on the horse’s halter. She never took her hands off the pommel but did as he said in every other way. When he suggested she take her hands from the saddlehorn, she tried it but immediately felt herself sliding off so she grabbed on again.

  “You have to use your legs,” he noted.

  “You’ve told me that already, like ten times,” Julia muttered.

  “Then do it,” Douglas suggested good-naturedly.

  She tossed him an irritated glance. “If I could, don’t you think I would?”

  “Julia, I know your legs are far stronger than that.” His voice was full of warm familiarity and humour both of which played pleasant havoc with her insides.

  Nevertheless, she wanted to clobber him.

  She tried harder, did better and he stepped away, allowing her free reign, calling instructions to her. She was actually doing it and was rather pleased with herself when she led the horse in a wide, slow circle then back to Douglas where she successfully pulled the beast to a halt.

  “Well done,” Douglas complimented her, his eyes shining with admiration, like she’d just won Ascot.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It’s more the horse than me.” She didn’t like the way his compliment made her feel, all tingly and happy. Well, she did like it; she just didn’t want to dwell on it. “I can’t imagine why someone would do this of their own volition. I’d rather pet him and feed him apples than ride him.” She finished, leaning forward and running her hand down the horse’s neck.