“I’ll leave you the number, just in case.”
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked again, her voice stronger, her eyes flashing, her tone demanding.
Why did he kiss her?
And, more to the point, why had he decided she would be his wife?
Because of her poignant story about the children kissing their parents good-bye?
Because in less than a week, the children were already responding to her when over four months under his mother and his nominal care they were more and more withdrawn and detached, going through the motions of childhood without anchor?
Because his mother was such a bitch and any relationship he had with Julia would drive her insane, an idea which, he had to admit, he found he liked very much?
Because of her charm and grace and the way she looked just as resplendent in blue jeans as she did in satin?
Because of that green dress, her long legs, her shapely ass and her flashing eyes?
Because he’d been waiting fifteen long years to have her underneath him and he decided he was finished waiting?
Or simply because he’d just decided she’d make an excellent baroness, that perhaps Tamsin wasn’t so crazy after all and this lovely creature before him would do spectacularly well in a life by his side?
“To say good-bye,” was all he said to explain.
She stared at him like he was mad.
“Call me if you need anything,” he finished.
And before he grabbed her again, which was exactly what he wanted to do, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Chapter Eight
The Game
Julia lay on her bed and stared at the dark ceiling. The scratching was at the window but she’d drawn the drapes.
She had to draw the drapes because last night, she’d seen what was scratching.
It was Ruby’s imaginary friend. Except, he wasn’t imaginary. He was real. Not real, exactly, a ghost. A man, handsome and tall and wearing an old-fashioned suit from some time that Julia didn’t know. He had dark hair and dark eyes and the only good thing about him was that he wanted to get in but he couldn’t. She knew that because she saw him try… and fail.
“Damn,” she whispered, tossing in her bed, “damn, damn, damn!”
The last two weeks had been an absolute nightmare.
A nightmare named Monique.
The woman was awful, she was truly awful.
Julia tried to find something good or nice in everyone and every night she’d been wracking her brain trying to find one teeny, tiny, little characteristic that Monique had that was likable or even acceptable.
There were none.
The staff feared her, Veronika most of all. And Julia could see why. At the best of times, Monique was imperious. The worst of times, she was scathing. Julia had witnessed her coldly tearing apart Veronika for missing some speck of dust or not polishing the banister to a high enough sheen and she’d been astounded by the woman’s sheer evil. She acted like Veronika had thrown a wild crack party and accidentally burned the house down.
And the children didn’t know what to make of her or the relationship between her and their aunt. She was no less dictatorial with the kids though she cut herself short at any disdainful remarks. Most likely because, if she tried, she knew Julia would scratch her eyes out which made Julia wonder how Monique had been with the children before Julia had arrived.
And Monique didn’t waste any time.
In fact, it started the day after Douglas left.