Sommersgate House

Chapter Nineteen Christmas

Julia found out quickly that Douglas’s next line of attack would be what could only be described as a “tender onslaught” mixed with “not-so-tender onslaught” both of which were very effective even if she’d be damned if she’d let him know it.

It started the very next morning after the night he’d made love to her.

He woke her by running a finger lightly down her spine, her eyelids fluttered open to see him sitting on the side of the bed watching her with sexy, hooded eyes.

He was fully dressed wearing a grey suit with a vermillion shirt and a matching vermillion tie that had grey and blue designs patterned on it.

“What time is it?” she grumbled sleepily.

He bent and kissed her shoulder. “Time enough for you to get to your own bed before the children wake,” he muttered against her skin.

That got her attention. She whirled and sat bolt upright and in a frenzy, threw the covers back. Dodging his body, she jumped out of the bed. She located her panties, tugged them on quickly and, without a backward glance, began to dart out of the room.

It occurred to her belatedly she should mark the occasion with something, lest he get the wrong idea. She stopped halfway to the door and turned back.

“Don’t read anything into last night, that was last night and now is… well, now,” she finished lamely.

He stood slowly and surveyed her with a curiously intense expression.

“Nothing’s changed,” she warned.

He watched her a moment and then the intensity faded from his eyes and warmth filled them.

Warmth from Douglas was something else Julia wasn’t used to and something she found excruciatingly hard to resist.

When he spoke, his voice was amused, “I figured that.”

She ignored his warmth, his tone, gave one curt nod and escaped.

He was gone most of the day on business. It was the day before Christmas Eve and the children were already beginning to let their excitement override their common sense. It took all her time to finish up her Christmas chores, break up their arguments and deal with what would essentially be three days without Mrs. K (who would be coming for Christmas dinner, but as a guest).

Douglas arrived home for supper and joined them, having shed his jacket and tie. Then, after the pudding dishes were whisked away by Mrs. K, Julia settled in the lounge with the children to watch a Christmas DVD when Douglas strolled in, holding a sheaf of typed papers that had black scrawling all over them.

She looked closely at the papers and saw it was her business plan.

His eyes met hers. “If you have a moment, Julia, I’d like to discuss this with you.”

She stared at the papers, unable to mask her horror.

“You’ve marked all over it,” she whispered.

“Ten minutes,” he said, his tone gentle.

From the marks she figured it would take ten hours but like a doomed man heading to the gallows, she followed him to his study.

He sat at his desk and she stood opposite.

“It’ll be hard for you to see from there,” he commented, quirking an arrogant brow.

She glared at him, already beside herself with curiosity that was mingled with hesitation warring with the feeling that she did not want to spend any more time alone with him than was absolutely necessary.

She didn’t trust him, not one bit.

But curiosity won out and with an undignified sigh, she walked around the desk and stood at his side.

He immediately began to explain his notes, using his Mont Blanc pen to indicate bold scratching and what they meant to her passages, patiently explaining what he wrote and why.

She found, against her will, that she was fascinated by what he had to say. He was very clever, thorough and intuitive. Despite herself, she leaned forward, bending at the hips to rest her elbows on his desk.

Finally, unable to hide her enthusiasm, she became fully engrossed, leaned into him, grabbed the pen out of his hand and started to write her own notes around his as he talked. Their heads were bent together over the document barely an inch apart.

When they came to the last page, she underlined (twice) a particularly salient concluding point and, lost in the pleasure of the work, turned her head to smile at him.

“This is brilliant,” she complimented him, unable to stop herself.

“It was very good before I started,” he replied, his eyes hooded but her mind was still fully consumed by the document.

“Thank you,” she replied, dismissing a compliment that, since it came from Douglas (who she knew had a very astute head for business), was very dear indeed.

Before she could turn her head away, he caught her chin in his hand and leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers in sweet, but hard, kiss.

Her body instantly froze but she had no time to have any further reaction as a sound came from the door.

Julia tore her chin out of his hand and shot upright.

Lizzie was standing at the door.

“Sorry,” their niece started to retreat then came back in a rush of two steps, a tentative grin settling on her face. She grabbed the doorknob and declared helpfully, “I’ll just close the –”

“Lizzie-babe, there’s no need,” Julia said but the door already closed with a snap.

In a dither (an actual dither), Julia grabbed the papers and started to move away. She halted, twirled and stammered, “Um, thanks Douglas… for this… it’s good.”

He had come to his feet and was watching her, his eyes actually dancing mischievously.

Dancing. Mischievously.

At his expression, she wanted to scream or throw herself into his arms. Instead she forced herself to start to leave again and noticed she still had his pen so she rushed back and held it out to him.

“Keep it,” he said, not looking at the pen, instead looking in her eyes.

“But it’s an expensive pen.”

He shrugged. “I have others.”

She ignored him, placed it carefully on the desk and fled the room.

The next day, Christmas Eve, she had no time to worry about Douglas as she was too worried about the children. Tammy and Gav always made Christmas a very special day for the kids and Julia wanted to be on her guard just in case they lapsed into the same melancholy that she felt edging every moment of her day.

They seemed to cope well with Willie and even Lizzie doing their best to stay jolly and Patricia helped by calling and making everyone laugh. They sat around most of the day, watching Christmas DVDs and eating. Julia made them homemade pizza for dinner, Douglas joined them finally and they all ate the pizza while watching Gavin’s favourite movie, White Christmas.

It took a great deal of time settling them into bed and Julia didn’t want to start her Santa preparations until she was certain that Ruby was well asleep. The girl got up three times, coming down to check things out, rubbing her eyes in pretence and saying she was thirsty, she heard a noise and then trying the thirsty route again. The final time, Douglas came out of his study and took her up himself, which was a stroke of pure genius as Ruby was unlikely to leave a bed that Douglas firmly tucked her into.

Finally safe to start, Julia began collecting the extra Christmas presents, stocking stuffers and the boxes her mother had sent that she had hidden in her rooms and Mrs. K had secreted away in various places in the house. She thought about preparing Christmas herself but it would take forever and she had a long day tomorrow. Surely the children would be up early and she had a lot of cooking to do as she had invited Mr. and Mrs. K, Ronnie and Nick to Christmas Dinner (Carter had gone to his daughter’s place in Devon for the holiday).

Douglas had not said a word about his servants being invited to dinner, merely nodded his head when she suggested it and said distractedly, “You’ve the running of the house, Julia.”

Nick had no qualms about it, of course, but the Kilpatricks and Ronnie seemed somewhat shy, although also delighted about the idea.

She went to search for Douglas as he was her only hope of getting the presents sorted and getting to bed at a halfway decent hour. She could not find him anywhere and realised with chagrin that he’d most likely already retired.

With leaded feet, she approached the door to his rooms and then knocked softly, not wanting to awaken the children.

She gasped when it was thrown open almost immediately.

He stood there wearing his jeans and the khaki v-neck sweater he’d worn that day but his feet were bare.

His eyes warmed immediately when he saw her.

“Julia,” was all he said.

Not wanting him to get the wrong impression, she rushed in with an explanation. “I was hoping you’d help me play Santa.”

His damned eyebrow lifted.

She gave him a mutinous look.

“Ruby still believes and we have to get the stockings stuffed and Santa’s presents laid out…” she looked at his feet, “you’ll need your shoes.”

He looked at his feet then at her and didn’t say a word.

She lost her nerve, deciding instantly she could do it alone even if it took all night, and blurted, “It’s okay if you don’t want to help, I’ll do it myself.” And she whirled and escaped, going as fast as her feet could take her.

He found her in the back hallway, dragging a huge bag filled with wrapped presents. Without a word, he reached around her and hefted it up as if it weighed no more than a pencil, turned and walked away.

She noticed he was wearing shoes.

She ran to her rooms to get more.

Once they had all the stuff in the library where the tree was and where the children had decided they wanted Christmas, he stood there dubiously eyeing the bags and boxes filled to overflowing and the vast piles of presents already under the tree.

“This is ridiculous,” Douglas stated correctly. It looked like Santa and his whole workshop of elves had exploded in the room.

“Mom and I wanted to make sure that –” Julia started to explain as she took the stockings from the mantel.

“I understand,” he murmured, interrupting her, and she fell silent because he sounded like he understood, very much.

As she worked, she began to realise he seemed at odds as to what to do. He likely never played Santa before and she gently gave him directions which he carried out without hesitation.

Feeling strange that they were doing this joyful business in complete silence, she asked, “What were your Christmases like?”

“What do you mean?” He was putting an orange in the toe of each stocking.

“Did you have stockings like this or pillowcases at the end of your bed?” she inquired, suddenly very curious about what his childhood was like.

Tamsin never spoke of her childhood, at least not to Julia. Julia knew that Tamsin worked herself into exhaustion putting every ounce of magic into Christmas that she could stuff into it and she figured Tammy was holding up a tradition (even if it was hard to envision Monique stuffing a stocking, it wasn’t hard to envision her ordering Mrs. K to do so).

“Neither,” Douglas replied and Julia’s hand stilled in the process of following him along the stockings tipping into them the American Christmas chocolates her mother had sent.

“Neither?” she stared at him confused.

Douglas didn’t answer.

Julia tried again. “Did you open your presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning?”

Finished with the oranges, he started to sort the presents in a box marked “Stocking Stuffers”.

“We received our present at dinner.”

His tone invited no further questioning but she was too stunned by this strange piece of information to let it slide. What did he mean, “present”, in singular, and whoever heard of a child getting one present at dinner?

Thinking he didn’t understand her question, she clarified, “No, I mean when you were children.”

He continued his work, seeming engrossed in it.

“At dinner,” was all he said.

An uneasy feeling stole through her. Even Monique (who was, thankfully, taking the holiday with friends in Munich) could not be so cold as to give her children one present at Christmas dinner.

She pressed on. “What was your favourite present ever?”

“My father gave me some stock in Microsoft. I made a fortune on it.”

She gasped, she couldn’t stop herself. “When you were a child, your parents gave you stock for your Christmas present?”

Douglas shrugged, completely calm, he began to stuff the sorted presents in the stockings. “Every year. Practical and long-lasting.”

These words slammed into Julia like sledgehammers.

Christmas presents were not meant to be practical and long-lasting. They were meant to be impractical and no parent was allowed to get angry if the child broke them or lost interest in them before New Year’s. It was Christmas Law.

She had no idea if those sentiments were Douglas’s, his mother’s or his father’s.

Julia had met Douglas’s father, a charming man who was always absently kind to Julia and who adored his daughter obviously. Julia always felt that Tamsin hadn’t returned his adoration. That, for some reason, there was an intangible unpleasantness underlying this and she was always too uncomfortable (considering her own relationship with her father) to ask her sister-in-law about it.

For Douglas’s part, he and his father seemed to tolerate each other but were obviously not close. Julia had always put it down to Douglas’s reserve and what she thought was the way of aristocratic families. She’d never much thought of it. Maxwell Ashton had been a far sight friendlier than Monique but he had died a few years after Tammy and Gav’s wedding and Julia had never really come to know him.

Julia was no longer working, just watching Douglas as he went about this new business diligently. She realised with surprise, rising alarm and a sense of tenderness, that Douglas Ashton, Baron Blackbourne was uncomfortable.

She moved toward him and gently took the stocking he was stuffing away.

“Can you lay the presents in that bag under the tree?” she asked quietly, avoiding his eyes because she knew if she looked at him the jig would be up. He’d know how she felt immediately. She was certain her heart was in her eyes. She continued, making her voice soft. “And then, I’m afraid, you’re going to have to eat the mince pie and have a go at that sherry.” She indicated Santa’s treat. “I’ll have Rudolf’s carrot.”

“I’m not sure you gave yourself the best end of that deal,” he commented, his voice bland.

She flashed a too-brilliant smile at him, a smile meant to hide her unease, and said, “We Americans are not overly fond of mince pies and sherry, or at least this American isn’t.”

He gave her an assessing look and she turned her attention quickly to completing the stockings and started to babble. “How people think Santa can drink sherry at every house and not bumble around drunkenly, giving out the wrong presents and tipping over the tree, is beyond me.”

“You think only the sherry consumption aspect of the concept of Father Christmas is hard to believe?”

She dumped talcum powder into the bottom of the discarded stocking stuffer box. “Oh yes,” she replied, too brightly, “magic can explain a lot of things but if I had thousands of glasses of sherry, Christmas would be a mess and I’m not just talking about leaving the wrong presents for the wrong child under the tree.”

She heard him chuckle and felt an enormous sense of relief that his awkwardness was gone and she’d been the one to manage the Herculean feat of dispelling it.

She straightened from the box, turned to him and watched him down the sherry in one gulp, the strong muscles in his neck moving in a way that, watching them, she found herself spellbound.

“Julia?” he queried when he had long since completed his gastronomical act as Santa and she just continued to stare.

She jumped then, intent on hiding her reaction, she cried with false lightness, “Okay! One last bit. Step in this box and then you have to stamp the powder around the carpet.”

He looked at her as if she’d gone mad.

“It’ll look like Santa got snow all over the floor,” she explained then ordered, “Be sure to walk over to the plate with the goodies.”

“Julia, that’s powder,” Douglas pointed out the obvious.

“A four year old won’t know that.”

“I think Ruby is far more perceptive than that. There’s rarely snow in Somerset.”

Julia walked up to him and, for reasons unknown, perhaps because of how she felt about hearing that he received stock certificates for Christmas as a child (which she still could not quite wrap her mind around), she lightly put her hand on his chest and said, “A child will see past powder and weather patterns when it comes to the magic of Christmas. Trust me. I’ve had enough Christmas mornings with those children that I know.”

He looked down at her hand on his chest, his eyes warming and she quickly pulled away.

Dutifully, he stomped in the box and around the carpet and she tried not to laugh because he looked positively disgruntled. In a perfect world, she’d giggle at him, tease him and then kiss him for doing it regardless of his distaste for the act. But now, she just walked over to Rudolf’s carrot and munched away, trying to pretend she didn’t notice anything at all.

When he was finished, she announced they were done and stuffed the bags into the boxes, thanked him for his assistance, bid him an airy goodnight and carried the detritus out of the room, trying, somewhat desperately, (and perhaps not successfully) not to look like she was fleeing.

She figured he’d follow her, knock on her door or slide into bed with her but he didn’t do any of those things and she tried to ignore her frustration that he didn’t. Julia was thankful that there was no scratching at the windows that evening (apparently both Archie and the Lady Ruby took Christmas Eve off from hauntings) and she found herself quickly falling asleep.

Two hours later, dead asleep, Julia was shaken madly by a bright-eyed Ruby.

“Santa’s been here!” she screeched.

Julia winced and looked at the clock. It was just passed two in the morning.

“Ruby-girl,” Julia smiled wearily at the little girl’s enthusiasm, even at that hour in the morning, and tiredly threw off the covers. She was glad that Ruby had woken her; she’d been too frightened to finish her job as Santa in case she ran into Douglas. Now, she had the time. “You need to help me with something quickly. A special errand Santa left for you and me.”

Ruby gasped with delight as Julia got up, pulled on her robe and grabbed another small bag of wrapped presents out of her closet.

Ruby’s eyes lit up when she saw the bag of presents and they walked hand-in-hand to the library.

“Santa knows that Uncle Douglas stays up late so he left his stocking stuffers with me and asked if you and I could stuff his stocking when we were sure he was asleep,” Julia whispered conspiratorially.

Ruby’s eyes rounded happily at the thought of Julia having a conversation with Santa and being pulled into a Santa Task.

“I think he’s asleep but I’ll go and check,” she whispered back, tugging a bit on Julia’s hand.

Julia held on to the child’s hand more firmly, not wanting an excited Ruby to burst into Douglas’s room. “No, something tells me we’re safe.”

They quickly stuffed his stocking and then Julia had an idea. She carefully selected some gifts from under the tree and with a finger to her lips at Ruby to keep her secret; she ran back to her room and hid them in the closet. She then grabbed the throw off the chaise and went back.

She lay down on her side on the couch, the Christmas tree lights illuminating the room happily and she tucked the child in front of her, pulling the warm throw around them. “We’ll just rest here and wait for the others to wake up.”

Ruby squirmed excitedly. “I think we should wake them up.”

“No, honey, just rest for a bit, I’m sure they’ll be up soon. Let me tell you about the story of Christmas, the real story of Christmas.”

“You mean Jesus?” Ruby asked.

“Yes,” Julia answered and began to tell Ruby about Mary and Joseph but never finished as the child’s breathing evened out and then Julia snuggled her closer against her chest and belly and she herself fell back to sleep.

She felt like she’d barely closed her eyes when her hair was pulled away from her cheek and gently tucked behind her ear. Her eyes slowly opened and she saw Douglas’s face very close to hers. He was fully dressed and kneeling by the couch.

Julia blinked several times and then saw the tree and realised where she was.

It was Christmas, she’d always loved Christmas, any holiday really, and she couldn’t help herself from smiling sleepily.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered.

A slow, lazy, devastatingly handsome smile drifted across his face.

“Merry Christmas.” His deep, velvety voice rumbled and awakened Ruby who took only a scant second to come fully awake and burst out of Julia’s arms to dance around the room.

Julia noticed Willie and Lizzie were both watching from across the room, both barely containing their excitement while still looking on with confusion (Willie) and triumph (Lizzie).

Julia got up immediately, all business.

“No one touch anything,” she commanded. “Lizzie, you go put the kettle on. Willie, you run and get the camera, do you know where it is?” He nodded and rushed out. “Right. I’m going to brush my teeth and make myself presentable. Let’s go!” Julia clapped her hands and quickly left the room, not allowing herself to spare Douglas a glance.

After she’d washed her face, brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, she made coffee and then the orgy of Christmas began.

If the children were tormented by their parents not being there, Julia didn’t notice it. They tore into their generous load of presents (and, she noted, it was made doubly generous by Douglas’s significant contribution, or more than likely Sam’s, but it was the thought that counted).

She noted Douglas’s surprise when he realised his stocking had been stuffed somewhere in the night but she ignored it, had to ignore it, or the warm feeling that seemed to be permeating her entire body would get out-of-control.

In fact, she did her best to ignore him altogether and concentrate on the children, sipping her coffee, occasionally taking photos, opening a present here and there and tidying the burgeoning mass of discarded paper, bows and ribbons. Finally, Lizzie put a small, exquisitely wrapped box in her hand and she saw on the card, in the unmistakable, confident handwriting of Douglas, that it was from him.

Her eyes finally met his.

“I thought –” she began, intending to mention the emerald.

“Open it!” Lizzie fairly shouted, almost more curious to see what it held than Julia.

Julia tore into the box carefully and gasped in undisguised pleasure when she found a diamond watch inside.

It was not something hideously ostentatious but so subtle and elegant it could be worn every day. She noticed it was a brand that was often advertised in the most exclusive fashion magazines and she knew it had to cost thousands, maybe tens of thousands of pounds. She felt a lump rise in the back of her throat, not at its worth but that it was absolutely perfect. If she had the money, she would have chosen it for herself. The thoughtfulness and attention to her style took her breath away.

She raised dazed eyes to Douglas’s inquisitive ones and was spared any comment when he read her expression and his curiosity turned to a look of such male satisfaction that Julia felt her stomach pitch dangerously.

It was then that Lizzie shoved Julia’s present for Douglas in his hands.

Her thrill at her glorious present evaporated and she nearly groaned, wanting to snatch his present away.

It was nowhere near a diamond watch. Not only not in the same ballpark, not even in the same galaxy.

Obliging Lizzie, he opened it and Julia closed her eyes in embarrassment as he pulled out a midnight blue tie. It did happen to be very smart tie and the most unbelievably expensive tie she’d ever purchased. She had also purchased it at Harrods which was the most unbelievably posh store in the history of time.

But it was also just a tie.

“You bought him a tie?” Lizzie blurted, turning accusing eyes to Julia, obviously disgusted.

“It’s a nice tie,” Douglas said, gently but sternly, reprimanding Lizzie’s outburst.

“It’s still a tie,” Lizzie wailed, ignoring Douglas’s soft rebuke.

Feeling the need to defend herself, and not wanting either Lizzie or Douglas to think her ungenerous she explained to the girl, “It matches his eyes.” Her own eyes swept to Douglas, wanting him to understand, actually somehow desperate that he would understand. “It exactly matches your eyes.”

And it did, especially then, when they darkened and became the exact, inky, midnight blue of the tie. At that look, her stomach didn’t just pitch, it plummeted deliciously.

“It does match his eyes!” Ruby squealed and the moment was, thankfully, broken.

There was no time for anything further. Presents unwrapped, Julia left the room (or, more appropriately, escaped) and quickly dressed, cooked and served breakfast. After she cleared away the breakfast dishes, she went to work on the piles of used wrapping paper and arranged the opened presents under the tree while the children had scattered to play with new toys (Ruby), new computer games (Willie) or to try on new clothes (Lizzie) with Douglas called here and there to help assemble something or deal with some computer dilemma. Then Julia was off to begin dinner.

Ronnie arrived at noon, followed closely by Nick and Mr. and Mrs. K. As they were guests at Sommersgate House for the first time ever, they didn’t know what to do with themselves (save Nick who leapt into the fray, telling amusing, though somewhat frightening, anecdotes that left Julia to wonder if Douglas had any involvement in them).

For his part, Douglas played the attentive host, pressing drinks into hands and drawing out conversation. The company relaxed, starting to enjoy themselves when the children handed out gifts, including ones they had specifically chosen for each person (causing Mrs. K to dab at her eyes with her hanky and Ronnie to escape the room altogether for fifteen minutes).

Mrs. K finally could stand it no longer and when Julia left the room to check the turkey, she followed, nudged Julia out of the way and took over. Lizzie and Ronnie set the table, giving Julia time to shower and get ready.

Tammy and Gav had been resolutely casual for Christmas so Julia followed suit and put on a pair of her jeans and a bright red, fitted long-sleeved t-shirt that had a square neck so wide, it was cut nearly all the way to her shoulders and sleeves that were intentionally long and she had to bunch them artfully at her wrists. Regardless of the fact that they were too elegant for her outfit, she wore her new watch, her emerald studs and the emerald pendant Douglas had given her.

Sherry had turned to wine and dinner, Christmas crackers (Nick manfully put on his paper crown but Mr. K and Douglas demurred), good food and good company (company that had long-since turned into a makeshift family for the children) made the table downright joyous and Julia was beside herself with delight that she pulled off this first Christmas without Tammy and Gav.

When the flaming pudding was consumed and the trifle was dished out, everyone was drinking coffee and the children were itching to get back to their presents, Julia gave her mumbled apologies, pulled her paper crown off her head, whispered in Ruby’s ear and they both left the room hand-in-hand.

In her rooms, Julia unearthed the presents she had put there the night before and gave Ruby careful instructions. They both re-entered the dining room with arms loaded with the last presents of the day. Everyone stared at them in surprise as Ruby, acting as if this was the most important task of her entire life (which it probably was), handed out her gifts to the assemblage and Julia announced while she handed out hers, “Douglas told me last night there was a Christmas tradition in the Ashton family that I thought it appropriate to resurrect. When he was a boy, they had their presents at dinner. So, last night, Ruby and I saved a few and here we are!”

Nick, the Kilpatricks and Ronnie glanced surreptitiously at Douglas and meaningfully amongst themselves as Julia reseated herself next to Douglas.

Ruby handed Douglas his last gift and Julia couldn’t stop herself from watching him openly (she had not saved a present for herself as she wanted to watch the others).

His face was a picture of astonishment then his eyes became immediately shuttered.

All the presents Julia saved were from her. For Douglas it was a bottle of Lalique men’s cologne. An extraordinary scent that she fell in love with when she smelled it and it was presented in an exquisite bottle with the head of a horse carved intricately in the front.

What it was not was a stock certificate.

He took it out of the box and moved it around in his hands as Julia leaned over to him. “I hope you like it. It isn’t a diamond watch –”

His eyes lifted to hers and his were blazing so fiercely that her breath went out of her in a rush.

“I don’t want a diamond watch,” he said, his voice both terse and strangely hoarse, the combination of tone and the look in his eyes made her believe that she’d made him angry.

“The horse reminded me of you… not that you look like a horse…” she explained clumsily but she stopped he stood abruptly.

“Excuse us,” he declared to the table at large and Julia noticed that everyone was watching them with avid interest.

To her stunned surprise, he put the cologne on the table, grabbed Julia’s hand, pulled her none-too-gently out of her chair and walked out of the room, tugging her along behind him, his strides so long and fast she had to run to keep up with him.

He headed to the study, yanked her inside and slammed the door.

She misread his response and rushed to calm him. “Douglas, I’m so sorry, I wanted to do something –”

He grabbed her and in actions that were violent yet controlled, at the same time strangely gentle, he threw her against the door and pressed his body into hers. His hands came to either side of her jaw, tilting her face to his, his mouth descended and took hers in a kiss that was so devastatingly thorough she was panting when he lifted his head.

His hands cradled her face and, if she wasn’t shocked enough at this behaviour; he astounded her further by nudging her nose with his own.

“Marry me.” His voice was rough and she felt it like a physical touch.

Her legs, already jelly, nearly came out from under her.

She grasped onto his sweater at his sides to hold herself upright but shook her head, panic beginning to fill her.

This was not a Douglas she knew. This was not an indifferent Douglas. This was not a determined Douglas, bent on having what he wanted. This was an altogether unknown Douglas.

A Douglas she could actually say yes to.

“I was just trying to be nice, I didn’t expect this.” To her irritation, her voice held a tremble.

“Oh yes you did, you just didn’t know it.”

“What an extraordinarily arrogant thing to say.” She tried to sound waspish but it came out breathless.

He grinned and she moaned a little at the sight of it which made his grin grow to a smile.

“It’s going to be so fun when I win.” His nose nudged hers again, this time playfully (a playful Douglas, too, had once been an altogether unknown entity and she found herself shocked that she was actually getting used to it).

He slid his nose up the side of hers. Then his lips kissed each eyelid in turn and she held her breath, scared of what she’d say or do because his actions were so sweet, so tender, so caring, so strangely loving, she couldn’t cope.

She tried to break the moment. “Everyone is probably wondering where we are, we have to go back.”

“Did you like the watch?” He changed the subject immediately, his body pressing more insistently into hers as his hands moved from her jaws and became arms curved around her and his lips slid from her temple to her ear.

She knew that he knew that she liked the watch. He was just being wicked by making her say it out loud.

“It’s a lovely watch.” It was more than a lovely watch, it was a magnificent watch.

“‘Lovely.’ That’s a word you use to describe a lot of things.” His voice was at her ear, causing tingles to slide across her skin.

She knew exactly what he was referring to and she also knew she was being churlish, especially considering the thoughtfulness and generosity of the gift.

He deserved better.

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted. “I love it.”

“How much do you love it?” he asked roughly, invitingly, his breath floated across the sensitive skin behind her ear and she squirmed against him, both pushing him away with her hands at his waist and bunching the fabric of his sweater between her fists to hold him where he was.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered. “It’s me. I would choose it for myself. Sam did a good job with all the gifts today.”

This caused his head to jerk up and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Sam did not choose that watch. I did.”

“Oh.” This came out as a breath and then the thought of him entering a shop, choosing something so immensely splendid, so entirely perfect and purchasing it for her caused her to utter the word, “Wow.”

“I suppose ‘wow’ is a damned, bloody sight better than ‘lovely’,” he growled.

She blinked at him as she realised, belatedly, his mood had shifted.

“Are you angry?” Her eyes had rounded and for some reason he let her go, stepping back a pace.

“I’m not angry,” he said in a voice that belied his words.

“You sound angry.”

“I’m not angry,” he clipped.

“Then what are you?”

He looked for a second uncertain and Julia couldn’t believe her eyes.

His eyes became focused and he glared at her. “I’m frustrated.”

Julia stared at him for a second before returning, “Well, remind me never to do anything nice for you again. Frustrated was not what I was going for.”

And before he could reply, she took her opportunity for escape (something, at that moment, she dearly needed) and quickly exited the room, not looking back.