Chapter Seventeen
The Morning After
Douglas woke, felt his arms were empty and the delicious furnace that was Julia’s body in sleep was gone.
His eyes opened, he turned his head and saw Julia had pulled away from him some time in the night and was lying a foot away, her back towards him. He turned to his side and lifted himself on his elbow in order to watch her sleep.
She was leaned slightly forward and her chin was tucked into her chest, her arms crooked, hands resting on the pillow in front of her, the side of one palm lightly pressed against her nose. Her face was relaxed, the sleek line of her jaw partially covered by a soft fall of her hair.
There was something about Julia in sleep, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was something he liked.
Watching her, he felt an odd sense of contentment settle over him.
He had won; she had agreed to be his wife.
He always knew he’d win however, he did not count on it taking so damn long.
Nevertheless, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory.
And victory over Julia was exquisitely sweet.
He pulled the heavy, golden hair away from her neck and kissed her there. She didn’t move, not even a twitch, but then, he thought with an inward smile, she was surely exhausted.
Douglas was unbelievably energised.
He rolled off the other side of the bed and caught sight of the clock. Cursing under his breath, he strode to his sitting room, closing the door to the bedroom with a soft click. He picked up the phone and dialled twenty.
Mr. Kilpatrick answered at the Groundskeeper’s Cottage after two rings. Douglas could hear in the background what sounded like pandemonium.
The children, it would seem, were either tearing apart the Kilpatrick’s home or ripping each other to shreds.
Regardless of the tenor of the noise, there was something both pleasing and distressing about it. This was because Douglas had heard it before, time and again, whenever he’d go to Tamsin and Gavin’s home.
He had never heard it at Sommersgate, not before Tamsin and Gavin’s deaths, nor after.
Douglas was pleased to hear it again just as he was distressed it had stopped and all the reasons why.
At Mr. Kilpatrick’s repeated greeting, Douglas shook off these thoughts and, without introducing himself, started to say, “Can you…” but stopped speaking when another phone was picked up and Mrs. Kilpatrick muttered a distracted hello.
Douglas was forced to start again. “I need you to watch the children for a few more hours.”
“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Kilpatrick asked immediately, sounding alarmed.
Douglas found he was at a loss of what to say. He’d never been asked a question when he’d given an instruction. He couldn’t say that Julia was ill or Mrs. Kilpatrick would come racing down to the house. He certainly couldn’t tell them the truth.
“Miss Julia is,” he fought for a diplomatic explanation and found one, “indisposed.”
Silence greeted this announcement and then he heard a phone inexplicably clatter down in its cradle. Mr. Kilpatrick assured him the children were safe with them and Douglas rung off.
He returned to the bed, sliding in behind Julia and fitting his body against the silken length of hers while he slid his arm around her waist. He was debating with himself whether to take a moment to relive the extraordinary events of last night or to press his hand between her legs just so that he could hear another of her husky moans. Then, later, he’d coax her to say his name in her sweet, low voice when her limbs were wrapped tight around him and he was buried inside her.
While he was uncommonly undecided, she settled into his body, wiggling her ass into his groin.
Immediately, he chose the latter.
Before he could move though, she mumbled something sleepily into the pillow.
His arm curled tighter around her and his lips sought her ear.
“What?” he whispered and he felt her delicious shiver at the sound of his voice. This made his contentment grow.
He enjoyed his power over her, her response to his merest touch, the sound of his voice, in fact, he exalted in it.
She lifted her chin, nearly bumping his head with hers.
“Wanna kitty,” she mumbled.
“What?” Douglas repeated, thinking he hadn’t heard her correctly.
“Used to have a kitty, would sleep in on the weekends and he’d curl up right here.” Her hand fluttered to her waist then fell to rest on his arm. “Had to put him to sleep a couple of weeks before Gavin died.” She took a deep breath and then let it out in a long shuddering sigh. “I miss him.”
Her voice was husky with sleep as well as longing for her cat.
She settled further into Douglas and then again whispered softly, “Wanna kitty.”
Douglas pulled her deeper into his body.
“I’ll get you anything you want,” he promised her.
“Just a kitty,” she answered and then fell back to sleep.
He’d get her a cat; he’d get her a dozen of them. And a sapphire just like the emerald she still hadn’t taken off. And more than likely a ruby. And a fat pearl surrounded by diamonds.
He buried his face in her hair and smelled tangerines and jasmine. He discovered last night she wore the scent between her breasts as well.
He discovered a lot of things last night.
He discovered that when Julia climaxed, the legs she wrapped around him tightened convulsively, drawing him deeper into her body when he thought he couldn’t go any deeper. He discovered that she had an incredibly talented tongue. He discovered that, even though he’d become excessively fond of her wardrobe, the sexiest thing he’d seen her wear was his dress shirt.
He also discovered that the sight of her with another man, or, in the case of last night, quite a number of them, turned him into a jealous lunatic.
He’d never felt a fury the like of last night, nor behaved in the way he did. He lost all control. That wasn’t just unusual, it was unprecedented.
He didn’t regret his behaviour, not in the slightest. The results spoke for themselves. She was there in his arms, in his bed and he intended for that not to change. Soon, she’d have his ring on her finger and she’d take his name. He’d been certain this was what he wanted, but now he realised this decision was absolute.
His hand splayed over her stomach, wondering, as he hadn’t used protection (either time), if they’d created a child last night. Something stirred in him at the thought but he brushed it aside. Surely she wouldn’t have allowed him to continue if she needed some protection. Not, of course, that he’d given her much choice. However, a clever woman who looked like Julia, and thus received the amount of attention she did (judging from last night), undoubtedly kept herself protected.
At the thought of that attention, his hand shifted upward and he cupped her breast.
There would be no more of that, now she was truly his, and he vowed to himself that would never change.
He used the pad of his thumb to stroke her nipple. As he was becoming accustomed, her body immediately responded, her nipple tightening. Most women of his acquaintance acted coy or were overeager or were greedy but not Julia. Julia took everything he was willing to give but she gave everything of herself in return, honestly and openly.
Just then, he heard a noise in the sitting room and his body reflexively tensed, his hand tightening on her breast and Julia grumbled sleepily, her eyes fluttering open, her neck twisting so she could look at him.
He released her breast, put a finger to her lips and lifted his head to listen.
Someone was in the sitting room.
He was out of the bed in flash, pulling on his trousers.
Where the bloody hell was Nick? He thought.
No one should be in the house. No one should be able to get through Nick.
Julia had turned toward him and pulled herself up on her elbow. Her other hand was clutching the covers to her breasts. Her eyes were sleepy and curious and her curls were tumbling around her face and shoulders. He put his finger to his lips this time to keep her silent and she nodded, bemused, as he moved stealthily to the door. If he needed to, he’d find a weapon in the other room and gave the room a mental inventory deciding on his target. If it was one of the children, however, come back for some reason, he certainly didn’t need to go tearing into the room with a makeshift weapon raised and threatening.
It was a good decision.
As he yanked open the door, Mrs. Kilpatrick jerked upright, both her hands flying to her face.
“My lord… sir.” She stopped and looked crazily around the room as if she was considering diving behind an armchair to hide herself before her eyes came back to him. “Mister Douglas,” she finished, using a name for him she’d never used before.
Then she gestured to an extravagant tray that lay on a table. It was filled with plates carrying plain, almond and chocolate croissants, a selection of marmalades and jams sitting in little china bowls, a piece of butter moulded into a fleur de lis, a crystal bowl filled with sliced melon and strawberries, a silver coffeepot and two delicate china cups, two stemmed glasses filled with orange juice, a folded newspaper and even a slim crystal vase holding a single red rose.
“I brought a bit of breakfast. Just croissants and…” she trailed off then started again. “I didn’t have a lot of time. I didn’t want to disturb you but I thought you might be hungry.”
Before he could respond, Julia’s shocked voice sounded from behind Douglas.
“Mrs. K!”
Douglas turned to see her standing there, not in her dress or his shirt but, instead, wrapped tightly in his dressing gown.
Mrs. Kilpatrick looked at Julia, she blinked and then, he could swear, the ends of her lips twitched upward.
“Miss Julia, I brought breakfast,” Mrs. Kilpatrick told her.
Gone was the stammering, Mrs. K bent and gamely made a few adjustments to the tray, straightening some lace-edged linen serviettes unnecessarily. “It’s not much but it’ll do in a pinch. Enjoy. Don’t worry about the children; Roddy’s taken them off to the ice rink. You’ve got hours.” She emphasised the last word meaningfully and then threw Douglas an encouraging look that both surprised him and made him want to roar with laughter.
He had the insane urge to walk up to his housekeeper and kiss her cheek. Instead, Douglas said not a word, simply nodded. If he’d opened his mouth to speak, he would surely have laughed.
He did, however, allow himself to grin.
Julia, who had turned scarlet, muttered an embarrassed, “Uh… thank you.”
Mrs. Kilpatrick smiled at Julia and Douglas witnessed stark adoration shining in her eyes. It struck him that this woman shared his home for nearly the length of his life and she never looked at him in that way. Julia had been there two months and Mrs. Kilpatrick would have laid down her life for her.
For some reason, this pleased Douglas immensely.
The older woman turned to him and he nodded at her in approval and she slowly, hesitantly, to his disbelief, winked at him.
Then she was gone.
He turned his eyes to Julia, who was staring at the door.
“She must think I’m a tramp, a tart,” Julia burst out. “Oh my God, this is terrible!”
“Do you think,” Douglas started and Julia turned humiliated eyes to him, “that she would bring you breakfast if she thought you were a tart?”
Julia looked at him, at the breakfast, at the door Mrs. Kilpatrick just exited through, back at Douglas and then she said, “Doesn’t she bring all your women breakfast?”
Douglas’s lingering grin immediately turned into a scowl.
“No,” he replied shortly, walking toward her, “she has not once, in my debauched past, brought breakfast to a woman in this room.”
Well certainly not unless he ordered her to do so but Julia didn’t need to know that.
Julia ignored his tone and his comment and skirted around him to head toward the breakfast tray.
Douglas sighed. He would not be amused if she was going to begin resisting him again. He crossed his arms on his chest and watched as she sat on the couch in front of the food and reached for the coffeepot.
“Coffee?” she asked, lifting the pot gratuitously and failing to meet his eyes. He nodded and she poured, adding no milk or sugar and walked to him to hand him a cup. He continued to regard her, wondering at her mood, as she made her own, one sugar and a splash of milk. She deposited the pot on the tray, grabbed the cup by its saucer and an almond croissant and headed across the room.
To the door.
“Where are you going?” he demanded to know.
“To my room, to wash my face, brush my teeth, take a shower,” she replied, her tone carefully blasé and she continued moving.
“You can do that here,” he told her.
She stopped and turned to him, her mouth opening to speak when a knock came at the door.
“Yes?” he called before Julia could utter a word and Mrs. Kilpatrick popped her head around the door.
“Just brought you a couple of things, Miss Julia, toothpaste, your face wash…” she sidled in and stood, carrying a toiletries bag. She looked confused for a moment as Julia’s hands were full so she moved to Douglas and, as he had a free hand, gave him the bag. “Thought you might want an easy morning and not have to run all over the house. You’ve been busy lately, you deserve a break.” She stopped at the door, offered them both a cheeky smile and then closed the door softly behind her.
Julia swung widened eyes to his as her jaw dropped and Douglas raised his brow at her.
He could swear he heard her make a growling noise and she retraced her steps, put down her cup and croissant, walked to Douglas, snatched the bag out of his hand and tramped to his bathroom.
She didn’t take long and when she came back, fresh faced, her hair pulled back in a messy bundle secured with a clip, he was seated in an armchair, sipping his coffee and reading the paper. Without access to his dressing gown, he had shrugged on his dress shirt to ward off the slight chill in the room but hadn’t bothered buttoning it.
It smelled of her perfume and he decided he liked that.
Very much.
She sat on the couch and reached for her coffee, her movements jerky, her face duelling between bemused and mutinous.
“Is something wrong?” Douglas inquired, wondering how long courtesy would require for him to give her to have her breakfast before he dragged her back into the bedroom.
Or perhaps, he would have her on the couch.
Julia interrupted his pleasant reverie.
“Well, she might have brought your other women breakfast,” she continued doggedly with the idea of his “other women”, “but she probably didn’t bring them toothpaste.” Julia looked from her coffee to him and then grabbed the croissant. “It would seem she approves!” she exclaimed as if this idea was impossible.
“Firstly, there are no other women.” When Julia looked like she would interrupt, he added, “Anymore. And secondly, yes, I would say her behaviour indicates approval. Why is that hard to believe?”
Julia took a bite of croissant and contemplated this piece of news while she chewed. She did not, however, answer.
He folded the paper and tossed it on the table.
She jumped.
He sighed again at her reaction before he said, “Julia. We need to talk.”
She swallowed the bite of croissant as if it had the heft and width of an anvil. “About what?”
“About last night,” he replied.
“What about it?” she asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
“You agreed to marry me.”
At that, she paled and faced him head on.
“You do remember agreeing to marry me?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing.
“Of course!”
He felt his body relax and hadn’t realised he’d tensed in preparation for her response.
However, there was something wrong, she was acting cagey and guarded. Or, more cagey and guarded than normal.
Her last husband hadn’t handled her well, to say the least, and Douglas forced himself to move cautiously.
“Come here,” he commanded gently.
She hesitated, her eyes darting around looking for escape. He leaned forward, pulled her coffee cup out of her hand and set it in its saucer and then divested her of her croissant. Then he grabbed her hand and tugged lightly. She rose to her feet with a deep, ungracious sigh and stepped the two paces toward him. He opened his legs and positioned her until she was standing between them, staring down at him, his hand still holding hers.
“Is something bothering you?” he asked softly.
Something dark crossed her eyes and she shook her head, then nodded, then ended with moving her head in a circle that encompassed both.
Douglas waited patiently.
“I… well, I wasn’t exactly prepared for what happened last night,” she admitted.
The realisation dawned on him what she was referring to and he felt a strange sensation that was part expectation, part hope and part triumph.
“Are you using birth control?” he queried.
Her body jerked.
“What?” she breathed then her hand ripped out of his and flew to her mouth as her eyes grew wide. “Oh my God.”
Apparently, he realised, she was not referring to that kind of preparation.
He stood which brought him to within an inch of her. He was pleased to note that she didn’t try to move away. He slid his hands around her waist, settling them loosely at the small of her back, enjoying this casual intimacy tremendously. “If you weren’t talking about contraception…”
Her face cleared and she lifted her hand and waved it blithely between their two faces, nearly knocking him on the nose.
“Not to worry,” she proclaimed. “Sean and I tried to have children for years and couldn’t. He went to get checked and they found nothing wrong with him. So, obviously, it was me who was unable to conceive. Sean didn’t want to go through all the rigmarole of the infertility clinic…” she didn’t finish but heaved another sigh, though he didn’t know if it was of relief or resignation.
Douglas continued to stare at her.
“Did they find something wrong with you?” he asked, his voice quiet, finding himself far more interested in her answer than he would have imagined himself to be.
“Sean told me I didn’t need to check, he was okay and –” she started to explain.
Douglas felt his mouth tighten. “You didn’t get checked?”
“No, I –”
“Did it occur to you that he might be lying?”
She blinked up at him. “Of course not, why would he do such a thing?”
That was an excellent question.
However, there were more questions as to Sean Webster’s behaviour.
Such as, why would he torment and disparage a vital and intelligent woman? And why, when he had her love and devotion, would he abuse it? And lastly, why, when he had her legally bound to him, would he let her go?
Douglas knew the way men like Webster worked, he knew it intimately because his father was one. Sean Webster was not the type of man to admit to any failing. He preferred other people feeling they were inferior, even going so far as making them feel that way, rather than admit something was wrong with himself.
“Even Sean wouldn’t be that cruel,” she scoffed.
He watched her silently and gave her time to think it through. He saw the warring of emotions on her face, careening from disbelief to apprehension.
“Dear God,” she breathed and started to tremble. She shut her eyes tight and whispered, “I’m such a fool.”
His hands pressed in and he drew her nearer to him while she began to shake her head from side to side in denial. He felt an astonishingly strong sense of anger on her behalf. He would like to get his hands around Webster’s throat and squeeze.
She lifted her dazed eyes to his.
“What’ll we do?” she asked and Douglas didn’t answer, he just looked at her. Julia carried on. “If… I mean, last night?”
“It’s unlikely we conceived last night, if we did, we’ll worry about it when it happens,” Douglas assured her.
It was all the same to him except that perhaps the existence of a child would make it a certainty that she would never leave. At that thought, he fitted her snugly against his body before bending his head to brush his lips against hers.
When he drew away, he watched Julia lean back against his arm, her eyes wide with something he couldn’t identify, something immensely tender and phenomenally raw. He’d never seen the like of it and the sight made his arms tense protectively around her while a feeling he could not place sliced through his gut.
He also felt a near overwhelming need to possess her, though he always felt that way, but somehow, just then, it was different.
Last night it had been a driving need to brand her as his, to bend her to his will, but now it had gentled. He had no intention of making her squirm under him, of withholding himself until he heard her whisper his name, of making her beg him for release. What he had planned for her this morning was entirely different.
But he knew he couldn’t take her now and the only way to respond to her acceptance of this newly realised cruel deception was again to brush his lips against her parted ones.
“Maybe,” he whispered, “we should try again.” He lifted one hand and exerted pressure between her shoulder blades to press her torso back to his body but she resisted.
She had masked the look in her eyes and he found that, even though he had only encountered it a moment ago, he wanted it back.
Her response was to pull out of his arms, stepping away and walking to the window. She stood there staring out at the fields and wrapped her arms around her body protectively.
Another man might have given her a moment of contemplation but he didn’t want Julia to have a time to think.
Julia, Douglas decided, thought way too much.
He followed her and stood behind her, seeing her reflection in the window. With his left hand, he pulled her hair from the right side of her neck. He bent his head to drag his lips lazily from the soft spot behind ear to where her graceful neck met her shoulder while his left hand stole around her waist and pulled her against his body.
“Douglas,” she whispered, her voice trembling with something he mistakenly thought was desire.
Without lifting his lips, his eyes caught hers in the reflection of the window, his right hand came up to her shoulder and he slowly pulled the dressing gown aside, his lips trailing its progress, his other arm drawing her incredible warmth deeper into his body. He noticed as her glowing, faultless skin became exposed at her chest and he felt the acute response of his body when he saw she was still wearing his emerald. His eyes dropped as the lapel of the dressing gown swept across her breast and caught against her nipple.
“I need you to promise me something,” she interrupted his progress by speaking and his hand stilled at the fervent tone in her voice as his eyes lifted back to the reflection of hers in the window.
With her body against his, the smell of her in his nostrils, the taste of her at his lips and his knowledge of what was going to happen in his bed in a few moments time, he almost told her he’d promise her anything.
Of course, he did not.
“That depends.” His hand slid up from her waist to just under her breast. His lips ascended her shoulder again, up her neck and behind her ear, a delectably sensitive area he discovered last night.
As he expected, she shivered. Also as he expected, she ignored her reaction.
“I want to talk about our, um… my agreeing to marry you.”
He’d anticipated something like this. She thought too much. It probably had something to do with the children. She was excessively careful with them. Not to mention, she had an exceptionally strong sense of self-preservation, he’d been living that nightmare for two months. He wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to build an exit strategy. If today’s behaviour was any indication, Mrs. Kilpatrick might set fire to Julia’s room and he couldn’t imagine what antics the self-styled matchmaker Lizzie would get up to.
“Yes?” He ran his tongue up the side of her neck and playfully nipped her earlobe, his body gladly absorbing the shudder that his action induced.
He was becoming impatient. Mrs. Kilpatrick said hours and all the things he wanted to do to her would take much longer than that.
Definitely months
Probably years.
“Promise you won’t get angry with me,” Julia said.
He couldn’t imagine anything she could say at that moment would make him angry with her. Douglas didn’t, however, answer. He simply waited.
“I’m not going to marry you.”
Except that.
“What?” he exploded, his arm tightening reflexively about her body, his head coming up with a jerk.
“I’m not going to marry you,” she repeated.
“You bloody well are,” he growled.
She shook her head and tried to pull away, succeeding in putting inches of space between them. He wrenched her back and his other arm went around her to hold her more firmly.
“Douglas, let me go.”
“I believe I’ve answered that request more often than I’ve cared to,” he clipped into her ear.
“You don’t understand!” she cried, her eyes on his in the window.
“Explain it to me,” he bit out.
She pushed against his arm. “Please, give me some space.”
His arms loosened with a motive, the minute she moved away, he swung her around and yanked her back against his body, facing him then his arms closed back around her roughly.
“Douglas!”
“Talk!” His voiced cracked in the room like a thunderclap and he watched her clouded eyes clear as she became angry.
“I don’t want to marry you!” she burst out.
“You must be joking,” he snapped derisively.
Her eyes widened in angry apprehension.
“You aren’t entirely irresistible,” she informed him.
“Would you like me to prove you wrong?” It was a threat and his tone dangerous.
“No, not that,” she evaded, knowing exactly what he meant and not stupid enough to deny it. Her eyes moved left to right and back at him. “That was… lovely.”
“Lovely?” His voice was scathing. “You describe last night as lovely?”
“It was good,” she stopped at his narrowed eyes. “Very good.” His arms tightened. “Okay, it was wonderful. All right?” She was losing her composure, he saw she was both frightened and angry and he didn’t care.
“So, explain to me how I’m resistible, would you?” he demanded.
“You have to give me a moment to let me think.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“Fine,” she snapped, “you’re cold –”
“I was hot enough for you last night.”
“I’m not talking about last night!” She stamped her foot in frustration and, at any other time, he would have found that adorable.
Now, he did not.
“Stop interrupting me,” she ordered.
“Go on,” he allowed, his strained patience showing as he spoke through clenched teeth.
“I’ve done this before, this marriage thing and let me tell you it is not all that it’s cracked up to be.”
If he thought he couldn’t get angrier, he was wrong.
“I’m not Webster,” he growled.
“I know that!” she shouted. “I didn’t say you were and you’re interrupting again.”
He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her with glittering eyes.
“I can’t do it again, I can’t. I won’t! It’s too damned hard!” she burst out. “You get mixed up, you lose yourself. I won’t lose myself again, Douglas. I can’t and I won’t.”
He stared at her.
There had been very little in Douglas Ashton’s life that he ever wanted. Most of it he could obtain, the rest of it, a loving mother and father, his sister back from the dead, was unobtainable.
At that moment, he found himself wanting something.
And what he wanted was for Julia to lose herself with him.
He wanted this stubborn, tempestuous Julia Fairfax to disappear and an acquiescent, but still tempestuous, Julia Ashton to take her place. He wanted to brand her with his name and shackle her with his ring.
Did she not understand that was a good thing?
He used a particularly heavy weapon in his arsenal. “And what if you got pregnant last night?”
She gasped and her tense body stilled. He jostled her in his arms, giving her a none-too-gentle shake.
She came out of her surprise. “I’ll worry about it if it happens.”
“You’ll damn well marry me if it happens!” he roared and she reared back against his arm.
He could not believe in all his years, all his experience, all the women before her, that he was reduced to ordering a woman to marry him.
“Of course!” she blurted.
“Jesus, Julia, don’t you know I’ll make you happy?” The words should have been beautiful but instead they were rough with anger.
“Douglas,” she used words that stung, “what do you know of making anyone happy?”
He felt those words like a kick to the stomach and he immediately let her go and stepped back.
He wouldn’t have expected that attack from Julia.
His mother, probably, his father, definitely, but not Julia.
They watched each other across the short expanse that separated them like warriors on a battlefield.
Finally, she seemed to realise the cruelty behind her words and she made a move toward him but stopped herself.
“I’m only protecting myself,” she whispered. When he made no response she continued. “You won’t want to hurt me but you will. They always do.” Her words were filled with a strange mixture of wisdom and bitterness.
He looked at her and realised his mistake.
Weeks ago it occurred to him that she was innately damaged, not only by her ex-husband’s treatment but at the hands of her father.
But again, he’d been wrong.
He’d never been wrong so many times in his bloody, fucking life as he was with Julia.
She wasn’t innately damaged.
She was destroyed.
His challenge was far bigger than he expected. To have her, he’d have to gather the shattered pieces of her and put them back together.
He vaguely noticed she was speaking. “It’ll take some time but we’ll get passed this…”
He heard her talking but he wasn’t listening.
Instead he was thinking exactly how very much he liked a challenge.
“I’m not the others, Julia.” He cut her off and she just looked at him. “I’ll simply have to prove it to you,” he declared.
Her mouth opened slightly but no words came out. He didn’t wait for a reply; he walked toward his bedroom to take a shower.
“Don’t you ever give up?” Her exasperated voice sounded from behind him.
His answer was to close the door.