“You are,” Douglas said shortly, wanting privacy to reward Julia for the snuggle.
“I am what?” Nick smiled, knowing exactly what Douglas meant and choosing to disregard it.
“Interrupting something,” Douglas clarified.
“Ah,” Nick muttered and leaned against an armchair, thoroughly unconcerned and looking like he meant to spend the evening there. “So, who am I supposed to dispose of then? The man who just tore out of here in a rental or your mother who left half an hour ago? Did she come back?”
Douglas’s body jolted at these words and Julia’s head lifted to look at him.
“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered.
She didn’t have to tell him. Monique brought Webster here.
“She’s disowned,” Douglas stated calmly and Julia shook her head in amusement.
“You can’t disown your own mother.” Her voice held a smile.
“I can when I give her a generous allowance,” Douglas returned.
Julia’s body stiffened. “Well, then you definitely can’t disown her!”
Nick decided his fun was over and made to leave. “I’ll leave you to it and keep an eye out.”
“You do that,” Douglas told his back.
“Nick!” Julia called out to him and then again extended her left arm and wriggled her fingers at the other man. “We’re getting married,” she announced, this time the pride in her voice was unmistakable and Douglas felt…
He felt…
He had absolutely no idea what he felt as it was something he’d never felt before.
Nick had turned at her call and his face lit up for a brief second before he continued to walk away.
As they just about lost sight of him, he yelled out, “About bloody time!”
This made Julia laugh and Douglas found it an immensely pleasant sensation to have her body shake with laughter while pressed against his.
He dipped his head to hers and kissed the laugh off her lips.
“About that seduction,” he murmured against her mouth.
She lifted her hand to touch her fingers lightly against his face, her eyes holding his and, slowly, she smiled.
And that was it, he was seduced.
* * * * *
Julia woke some time later feeling deliciously sated. Her body had a languorous feel that was a heady type of exhaustion that had nothing to do with tiredness and everything to do with happiness.
She was tucked up against Douglas’s left side, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest and his fingers were lazily stroking the area just above her bottom.
“You awake?” she mumbled, her voice husky with sleep.
“Mm,” was his answer.
She stretched slowly, arching her back which pressed her torso into his side and her bottom into his hand. He stopped stroking her and his hand flattened against her, smoothing down and around to cup her backside.
She shifted and lifted herself up on her elbow to look down on him.
The draperies were open and moonlight was spilling into his bedroom. She could see his face in shadowed relief and she allowed herself a moment to think of what a brave man he was. He had survived an abusive childhood and created, all on his own, the masterpiece that lay before her.
She couldn’t help herself, she smiled with pride.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“I’ve no idea,” Douglas replied, watching her, his eyes heavy-lidded, his hand moving on her behind.
“Have you slept?” she asked, twisting around to see the clock on his bedside table and noting it was not nearly as late as she expected.
“No,” he answered.
Her head swung back to him.
“Why not? You must be exhausted.” He had to be after all that had happened that night. She was.
“No, Julia, I’m anything but exhausted.” And his hand tightened on her bottom.
She let out a little, happy laugh even as her body reacted to his words.
“If this is my future, you’ll wear me out in six months, a year tops,” she told him.
“I’ll take my chances,” he returned and Julia noted his voice was throaty, sexy and held a tantalising promise.
She shivered and, like everything else she was feeling, it was a very happy shiver.
Julia lifted her hand from his chest and tentatively touched the small scar on his lip. In all the time it was there, she would never have dared to ask what she was about to ask.
But now, because she was going to be his wife (and felt she had a right to know and this thought thrilled her) she dared. “How did you get this?”
He answered without hesitation, “Knife.”
She yanked her hand away with a shocked gasp and she could almost feel the blood drain from her face.
“Knife? You had some crazy lunatic wielding a knife close to your face?” Her body became stiff, she pushed up to a sitting position, dislodging his hand, holding the sheets to her chest and twisted to look down at him. “They could have… I don’t believe it! They could have really hurt you!”
“What they did didn’t exactly feel good,” he muttered, moving to his side and up on his elbow.
“They could have put an eye out!” Her panic was rising as was her drama. “They could have slit your throat! How on earth did you get in a knife fight?”
“That’s all over now, Julia.” His voice was firm and it gave her a modicum (a very small modicum) of assurance.
The idea of any sharp object hovering near his handsome face, much less slicing into it, made Julia shudder. In an attempt to hide her reaction, she reached out and pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen to his forehead. The minute she took her hand away, the lock fell where it was before. Julia found that endearing and she also found the fact that she had every right to touch him felt splendid. She decided to focus on that rather than envisioning a knife close to his face.
Even so, she felt a point should be made, so she touched his scar again with her finger and said, “Well, I hope they got what was coming to them and I don’t ever meet whoever they were. You don’t carry a knife, do you?”
“No, I’ve never carried a knife.” She could swear his voice held a tinge of amusement.
She was not amused.
“You frighten me sometimes, Douglas,” she admitted on a whisper.
At that, he surged up and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck.
“It’s all over,” he promised and she felt his lips moving against her skin with his words.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak and forcing herself to believe.