Sommersgate House by Kristen Ashley
And Julia found it difficult to insist they go. Lizzie, that night, had allowed her grief to crack and, although it was a slow process, it eventually ruptured during the snooker games with her uncle. Surreptitiously glancing their way, Julia had seen both of them teaming up against the others and she couldn’t help but feel immense relief that Douglas was making more overtures to their niece. She saw him encourage her and even lift her gorgeous hair off her cheek to tuck it tenderly behind her ear.
Upon seeing that, Julia could almost have kissed him, if she was in such a mood, which she, of course, was not.
But she had to insist they went to bed mainly because they’d be bears the next morning. And when Julia’s insistence was met with the children’s denials, Douglas insisted.
This, of course, worked and Lizzie and Willie called goodnights and slunk from the room.
“All right then,” Charlie started, rising from the couch when they had the room to themselves, “it’s time for me to wipe the floor with you.”
Charlie and Julia had been steadily drinking for the last several hours. Julia had a martini before dinner and, since then, so many glasses of red wine, she lost count.
When she rose to join her friend, she felt light-headed and realised, belatedly, that she was a little drunk.
This made her giggle to herself until she noticed Douglas’s eyes on her and that sobered her immediately.
She made her way gingerly to the snooker table as Oliver and Charlie argued about the teams. Apparently Charlie was an accomplished snooker player and also, clearly, quite competitive. Julia ignored them and Douglas and sipped distractedly at her wine. All she hoped was that she wasn’t on Douglas’s team.
“That’s settled then, boys against girls,” Charlie announced to Julia’s relief. “Jewel, do you know how to play snooker?”
“No,” Julia replied truthfully. “You should have asked me before you chose teams. I won’t be any help.”
“Never mind,” Charlie replied airily.
“It’s kind of like pool,” Oliver supplied helpfully.
“I’m rubbish at pool too,” Julia explained on a grin. “But I’ll give anything a go.”
“Come over here, girl,” Charlie beckoned. “I’ve got a strategy.”
Julia approached, Charlie whispered her outrageous strategy and Julia laughed out loud when she heard it, even though she knew she’d never carry out her part in it.
The “boys” won the toss and Douglas broke. Julia had no idea how to play snooker but it looked like it wasn’t such a good break, the balls barely moved except one red one fell into the pocket.
Her face must have betrayed her thoughts because Oliver leaned over and said, “Not exactly like pool. That was a damned good break.”
Douglas went ahead and accomplished a bunch of “potting” of balls while Charlotte bugged her eyes out at Julia, wanting Julia to start the strategy. Saving her from disappointing her friend, Douglas missed a difficult shot and Charlie was up, showing she was nearly as good as Douglas… just not quite.
When it was Oliver’s turn, Charlie commenced her “strategy” and she was shameless, sidling up to him as he made his shot and distracting him with her hand on his bottom at the last minute, making the ball fly wide.
“It’s going to be like that, is it?” Oliver reared up and towered over her in mock severity.
“Whatever do you mean?” Charlotte asked, her hands out to her sides and eyes wide with sham innocence.
Julia moved to the table, did her best to line up her shot with Charlie’s coaching and missed by a mile.
“You’ll get it next time, tiger,” Oliver teased and Julia grinned at him but Charlie reproached him good-naturedly.
“Don’t be condescending, darling, it doesn’t suit you.”
Douglas started again, ignoring the witty repartee and in no time he was on another roll when Charlie came over to Julia and pushed her into Douglas. Tipsy, she couldn’t right herself before she fell forward and nudged his hip, jarring him and making him send the ball flying in the wrong direction.
He slowly rose and turned to her. She prepared herself for an unpleasant confrontation but instead he simply lowered his cue and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes.
“I’m sure you can think of some better way to distract me,” he goaded, his eyes challenging her.
Her stomach flipped at the look in his eye.
“I’m sure she can!” Charlie took up the gauntlet for her with glee and Julia nearly groaned. She bugged her eyes out at Charlie who just bugged hers right back.
At that point, the game descended into total farce. Oliver destroyed Charlie’s shots, Charlie destroyed Oliver’s shots and when it was Julia’s turn, Douglas approached a tense Julia, murmuring about “coaching” her.
“I think I should help my own teammate, thank-you-very-much,” Charlie barged her way forward, slipped against Julia, who had lined up her shot, sending the cue flying into the ball, which went off in a wild trajectory across the table. Julia was too occupied to notice what happened to her wayward shot as Charlie falling into her sent her backwards, straight into Douglas. One strong arm closed around her waist to steady her and she immediately became aware of his warm body behind her.
“That’s her shot!” Oliver crowed.
“It is not! It was a mistake. She tripped.” Charlie went off to argue with her husband and Julia pulled herself firmly, albeit it tipsily, away from Douglas’s arm.
Therefore, she stumbled again, cursing the drink as his hand shot out to steady her.
“I’m fine,” she said and thanked the Lord above there were no words to slur in that statement. Then she turned and he dropped his hand.
“I can see that,” he replied, amusement dripping from every word.
She lifted narrowed eyes to him.
Douglas was amused?
“Are you making fun of me?” Julia asked.
He didn’t answer, he simply lifted a brow.
“I hate it when you lift that brow,” she outright lied. “It’s so superior.”
“That’s apt, especially in snooker,” Douglas returned.
“We’ll see about that!” she snapped, this time accepting his challenge herself.
It was his turn and as he lined up his shot, she got in front of him, as close to him as she dared, and looked down on him as he bent over the table.
“Oo, that looks like a difficult one,” she remarked in a sugary-sweet tone with false wide-eyed wonder. “Do you really think you’ll make it?”
He lifted his head to gaze at her levelly over his shoulder, turned back and, within a split second, potted the ball.
Oliver hooted, clapped and then shouted, “Well done, mate!”
Julia wanted to stamp her foot in frustration.
Charlie was having the time of her life.
“Don’t give up!” she cheered from across the room.
Douglas chose his next shot and, with a lot of wine-fuelled courage and Charlie’s urging, she sidled up next to Douglas as he leaned over the table. She bent over behind him and, as he pulled the cue back, she screwed up her courage, leaned in deeper and blew in his ear.
The shot flew wide and she straightened quickly, jumping up and down and clapping her hands as Charlie came over and gave her a whirling, girlie hug.
But her joy faded when Charlie released her and Julia saw the set look in Douglas’s eye.
The gloves, Julia knew immediately, were off. She shivered at the knowledge but she was unsure if her shiver was of dread or anticipation.
Oliver practically tackled Charlie the moment before she took her shot. Charlie yanked Oliver’s cue clean away from him before he took his. And as Julia lined up hers, Charlie coaching her, she concentrated on what Charlie was saying and not what Douglas was doing. She didn’t know where he was, couldn’t see him at all and became so flustered, she jumped several inches when his body settled in behind, beside and above her, surrounding her, it seemed, everywhere. She looked o
“Let me,” he whispered in her ear, “show you how it’s done.” Crack went her cue and she potted the ball.
Charlie shouted with glee.
Oliver groaned. “You aren’t supposed to help them!”
Shot after shot, Douglas showed her which to take, helped her line them up and leaned over her, his body warm against hers, his arms around her helping her hold the cue and snapping it against the ball as she (well he, really), potted the rest of the balls on the table.
Charlotte was in throes of ecstasy at “winning” and it was so infectious, even Julia started jumping up and down. Charlie and Julia hugged. Charlie hugged Douglas for helping and then she hugged Oliver for good measure. Swept up in it all and having had way too much to drink, Julia hugged Douglas and kissed him on the cheek.
Not one to miss an opportunity, his arms came quickly around her and, grinning down at her, he muttered, “You can do better than that.”
Having such a good time for the first time in months, and more than slightly tipsy, she lost herself and without hesitation threw her arms around his neck and kissed him smack on the lips.
He leaned into the kiss and made what she intended to be a quick peck something more. Not much but it was harder, longer and more meaningful. Her head shot back when it was over but he didn’t drop his arms.
“That’s not fair,” she whispered.
“Who said I play fair?” he whispered back.
She became aware that the joviality had left the room and she broke free of Douglas’s arms to see Charlie watching her speculatively and Oliver pretending he didn’t notice anything.
“Time for bed, we girls have cooking to do tomorrow.” Charlie, thankfully, waded into the silence. “Goodnight you two,” she said, the couple came forward and hugs were exchanged.
However, Oliver’s was strange and when Julia looked up into his hazel eyes she realised Charlie wasn’t the only one who was speculating about what she saw.
They walked out together, Charlie and Oliver ahead of Douglas and Julia.
Julia stopped in the hall behind the morning room. She would carry on down the back hall while Douglas and the rest went through the morning room and lounge to get to the stairwell.
The other couple went on and she turned to Douglas. “Goodnight.”
He caught her wrist when she started away and pulled her back.
“Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?” he asked and his tone, (dare she believe it?) was almost playful.
“No,” she answered immediately, all of a sudden not in the mood to be playful, all of a sudden sober as a nun and reminded she was not treading cautiously.
He chuckled and pulled her closer anyway. Completely ignoring her change of mood and her answer to his question, he dipped his head and swept his lips against hers.
“You’re,” she couldn’t think of what to say, “too much,” she finished on a hiss.
“Thank you.” His tone was sarcastic and Julia realised that now his mood had changed. He inclined his head, dropped her wrist and started to walk away.
She stopped him by calling his name.
At her call, without hesitation, he turned back.
She bit her lip as she watched him, took in a breath through her nostrils and let her lip go on an exhale.
“That comment, earlier tonight, about Sean was uncalled for,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, you’re nothing like him.”
He watched her for a second then repeated, “Thank you,” but this time he meant it.
Then, without another word, he walked away.
Julia was in her room, taking off her shoes and trying (with difficulty and not a great deal of success) not to think of the events of the night and just how much she enjoyed them (from start to finish, except, of course, her catty comment) when she heard it. Or, more to the point, since it was nearly always there, didn’t hear it.
The scratching was gone.
She lifted her head as she dropped the second shoe and looked at the window, the draperies closed on it. She’d only lit the bedside lamp when she entered, not having the energy to light more.
That was when she felt it, the draught at her ankles, and she looked down, pulling her feet up on the bed. She saw the misty fog swirling and then it moved away, where the window scratching always took place and Julia watched the mist in frozen, horrified fascination.
It rose off the floor and she stared as it took form, swirling around as it shaped itself slowly into the body of a beautiful, young woman dressed in a flowing, empire waist gown, its misty, shredded ends streaming round her like they were alive.
Julia stared in open-mouthed terror when the ghost said something, her mouth moving but nothing coming out. Julia found herself leaning forward as if to hear and then without warning, the spectre shot forward, right toward Julia.
Julia let out a frightened, muted scream but she wasted no time. She leapt off the bed and ran to the door. Yanking it open, she tore down the hall and only when she was well into the dining room did she allow herself to look back to see… nothing.
But it was too late, she’d looked behind her so she wasn’t looking where she was going and she slammed straight into a solid barrier. A human barrier. A human barrier that grunted in surprise. A human barrier whose arms came around her like vices.
They both fell to the (thankfully thickly carpeted) dining room floor. He on his back with nothing to break his fall, Julia right on top of him.
She pulled herself up, one hand on the floor, the other on his chest and saw through the darkness it was Douglas.
“What the hell… are you… doing?” he asked, his voice winded and irate.
“A ghost. I saw the ghost of The Mistress. In my room!” She was lying fully on top of him but she was looking back over her shoulder.
She felt hands grab her waist tightly and she was flipped expertly on her back, this time Douglas on top.
“What are you doing?” she cried hysterically from her new, unexpected position.
“I need to… breathe,” he forced out and took a deep breath and then a second one. “You knocked the wind out of me and your weight wasn’t helping.”
“I saw the ghost of The Mistress,” Julia repeated, looking up into his shadowed face and ignoring his justified complaints because, well… there a haunting was afoot!
“There is no ghost of The Mistress, it’s just a myth,” Douglas replied calmly, his breath returned to normal.
“I saw her,” Julia snapped in the face of his calm, slapping his bicep with her hand to express her annoyance (and also anxiety). “She formed from a mist, right in my room!”
He looked over his shoulder then back at her. “No ghost and no mist,” he declared.
Tentatively, Julia lifted her head to look over his shoulder, grabbing them both with her hands for leverage. Like Douglas, she saw nothing.
“I swear I saw her,” she whispered unsteadily, lowering her back to the ground.
“You’re drunk.”
“I am not drunk!” she hissed (even though she kind of was) as she let go of his shoulders and slapped his bicep again.
“The Mistress doesn’t show herself anyway. She’s always just there.”
Her eyes rounded at his words. “You know about this? The draughts, the whispers… the screams?” she asked him, her tone accusatory, as it bloody well should be.
“Of course, I’ve lived here all my life,” Douglas answered. “I’ve never seen it, felt it or heard it but I know about it.”
Julia gasped then snapped, “That first night I was here, you made me think I was a crazy person.”
“If you believe in ghosts, you are a crazy person,” he replied.
She started to squirm out from under him but he pulled her back.
“Let me up,” she demanded.
He hesitated only a moment then knifed away from her, lithely got to his feet and bent over, grabbed her hand and pulled her effortlessly to her
“I take back my apology,” she informed him angrily. “You’re a jerk.”
She couldn’t see his smile but she heard it in his voice. “And you’re mad.”
“I know what I saw,” she told him haughtily.
“Would you like to show me?”
“I can’t go back there!” Her voice was edgy with fear and she didn’t care one whit. “Maybe she’s waiting.”
“You could come with me to my room,” he suggested smoothly. “The inn’s full tonight, but I have a big bed, plenty of room for the both of us.”
“You’re impossible,” she hissed in return.
“And you’re adorable,” he replied instantly, his tone warm and teasing.
Julia gaped because Douglas Ashton had just called her adorable.
Not to mention Douglas playful and warm and teasing, all in one night? It was too much to take. And, try as she might, she couldn’t stop the warm tingles that his easy, sweet compliment gave her.
“Fine, I’ll go back,” she announced and walked by him, deciding her best bet was to ignore the whole thing but when he didn’t move she turned back and demanded, “Well? Are you coming?”
“Are you inviting me to your room?” he returned.
“Of course, you have to make sure it’s safe.”
“Protect you from a ghost?” he asked incredulously and she was certain, even though she couldn’t see it, he’d raised that damned brow.
“Yes!”
He regarded her for a moment then chuckled but did not move.
She sighed angrily.
“Well?” she prompted.
He hesitated only briefly.
“Lead on fair damsel,” Douglas muttered, Julia saw his shadowed arm gesture for her to move forward and she was too frightened to utter another angry rejoinder. She walked on and, at her door, she stopped.
“You go first,” she whispered.
He spared her a glance then walked through and surveyed the room while she stayed at the door.
“No ghosts,” he called to her.
“Did you check by the window?” she called back.
“Julia,” he replied with patience that was strained but in an amused way, “there are no ghosts in your room.”