Penmort Castle (28 page)

Abby also
thought she might like Fenella and Honor. They were both a little
unusual but in entirely different ways. Fenella was kind of cute,
in a drama queen, slightly grating way. Honor was harder to read
but Abby got the weird sensation that her prickly demeanour was a
defence mechanism, against what, Abby didn’t know.

Alistair was a
contradiction. Instinctively upon meeting him, Abby didn’t like
him. His eyes were strange, definitely calculating and almost
cruel. But his manner was welcoming and friendly. Abby didn’t buy
it and she had the feeling Cash didn’t either.

On the other
hand, Abby disliked Suzanne intensely. The woman was not nice in
any way and she was also rude. How Suzanne could be borne of
Nicola’s loins was beyond Abby.

And lastly,
there was Cash.

And that
evening she’d been given yet something else to worry about.

Because,
stupidly (as usual) she’d not thought about the time when
circumstances would necessitate Cash playing the devoted, adoring
boyfriend back to Abby’s devoted, adoring girlfriend. The thought
hadn’t cross her mind.

Therefore,
she’d been unprepared to experience Cash acting like her loving
boyfriend.

Even though she
knew it was pretend. Even after what he’d done at her house. Even
after she’d insanely almost forgiven him for his callous behaviour
in her bedroom when he’d been so sweet to her in the car. Even
after all that, she hadn’t been ready.

She hadn’t
toughened herself against how it would feel to have him do such
things as casually hold her hand, kiss the side of her head and
call her “exquisite”, a compliment, said in Cash’s rough, deep
burr, that far exceeded any Abby had ever received.

But it was
fake.

It wasn’t
real.

It wasn’t what
she had with Ben.

It wasn’t what
her mind told her it was, which was that it was something far, far
better than what she had with Ben.

That would be
an impossibility.

For what she
had with Ben was real and it was wonderful.

And what she
had with Cash was make-believe even if it felt fantasy-land
remarkable.

And she had to
remember that.

This was a job,
her job, but Cash also had to play his part.

And it was
clear that in the meantime he fully intended to enjoy that for
which he’d paid handsomely.

And it was also
clear that he wouldn’t allow Abby to stand in the way of him
getting that. He’d taught her that lesson earlier. He was quite
content to live his part of the pretence as long as Abby lived
hers.

If Abby stepped
out of the role for which she was paid she would be punished.

And therefore
she renewed her oath to keep her head screwed on straight and
remember, always, always, always, this was a job. Just a job. And
one day soon, he’d walk away and she’d get on with her life.

Firm (she told
herself even though she didn’t believe herself) in her resolve she
watched Cash place the bloodied towel in the bowl, he wrapped her
arm in a clean, dry towel and when he was done his eyes came to
her.

“The cuts
aren’t that bad,” he said.

“I told you,”
she returned.

“I still want
them seen to,” he went on.

She rolled her
eyes on a sighed, “Whatever,” and heard Cash’s chuckle.

Her eyes rolled
back only to see his face close to hers. Nicola removed the ice and
Abby made a mental note always to pay attention right before his
lips touched hers.

He moved away a
scant inch and remarked softly, “We’re going to have to talk about
those heels you’re always wearing.”

Abby blinked,
confused at his declaration, and asked, “Why?”

His face didn’t
move away while he explained patiently, “Because, darling, they’ve
become a health hazard.”

He couldn’t be
serious.

Could he?

Abby tried
honesty.

“It’s been so
long, I don’t think my body can readjust to wearing flats. My spine
might collapse and I’ll become crippled,” Abby told him, not joking
in the slightest but, even so, Cash chuckled.

“We’ll take
that chance, shall we?” he suggested but in a way that was more a
command than a suggestion.

“Cash, I can’t
wear flats. You’ll be, like, towering over me
all the time
if I wear flats,” she told him.

He moved back
and his hands came to rest on either side of her as he said, “I
like that idea. If I’m towering over you, it might have the
additional bonus of intimidating you so you’ll do what I say
instead of arguing all the time.”

“I don’t argue
all the time,” Abby argued.

His brows went
up, making his point nonverbally.

Abby
glared.

The sound of
approaching sirens filled the room.

“Saved by the
paramedics,” Abby breathed dramatically and watched Cash’s
devastatingly effective smile before his fingers came to curl
around her neck to give her an affectionate squeeze then he moved
away.

When he did,
Abby’s eyes fell on Alistair and she sucked in breath.

Alistair was
looking at Cash and the way he was doing it was
exactly
like
the ghost had looked at Abby.

His face was
filled with wicked, murderous, hatred.

A terrified
shiver raced up her spine and it was worse than the fear she’d felt
at seeing a ghost. This man, she knew, intended Cash harm and for
some reason that was worse than the thought of harm coming to
Abby.

Before she had
a chance to process this new worry, the paramedics arrived.

They’d shown a
light in her eyes, asked her silly questions about day, time,
current location, bandaged her arm and declared her fit but they
gave Cash warning signs and symptoms of concussion.

They left and
Alistair was back to his good-humoured self (probably because he
was walking Cash and Abby to his front door).

Cash settled
her coat on her, handed her bag to her and Abby embraced Nicola,
Fenella and even Honor while Cash donned his own.

She touched her
cheek to Alistair’s as he asked, “You’ll be at the
celebrations?”

Abby pulled
away and nodded and Alistair’s eyes took on a happy but devious
look that gave Abby a bad feeling.

“Good,” he
muttered but Abby didn’t think it was good at all.

Abby shook off
her thoughts of doom telling herself that her first encounter with
a real, live (well, dead, but still existing) ghost was making her
see things that weren’t there and looked at Nicola.

“You’ll tell
Suzanne we said good-bye?” she requested politely.

“Of course,”
Nicola assured but her embarrassment at her daughter’s rude
behaviour was evident and Abby felt for her.

Abby smiled,
leaned in and gave her arm a squeeze. Then Cash took her hand and
they left.

As they walked
Cash threaded his fingers through hers and lifted their hands to
press them against the side of his chest.

Abby’s brain,
making clear where it stood in Abby’s battle to guard her heart,
registered that it was nice walking with Cash that way. So nice,
Abby’s brain decided it would walk that way with Cash anywhere. To
his car after a dinner party or through the very fires of hell, it
didn’t care.

When they made
it to his car and he’d beeped the locks and opened her door, Abby
had control over her wayward thoughts and she turned to him.

“I’m sorry
about this evening.”

Cash’s chin
dipped down to look at her.

“Why are you
sorry?” he asked.

“Well,” Abby
went on, pointing out what she thought was obvious, “because I was
snotty to their daughter then broke their mirror, fell and lost
consciousness in their bathroom and ended their evening with a
visit from an ambulance.”

His arm went
around her, his other hand coming up to fist in her curls, pulling
her head gently back further to look at him.

“Suzanne’s a
bitch and always has been. You handled yourself well, considering.
You were within your right to walk across the room and slap
her.”Abby emitted a soft gasp at his brutally honest words but he
continued, his voice dipping softer, throatier and far, far
sexier.

“You handled
yourself beautifully,” he said and Abby felt a rush of warmth she
had to fight back as he went on. “And as for apologising for your
accident, darling, I’m beginning to realise that, regardless of how
charming it is, I’m going to have to teach you to stop doing
it.”

“What do you
mean?” Abby asked.

“You apologise
a lot,” he replied.

“No I don’t,”
she returned.

She saw his
smile before he remarked, “You argue a lot too.”

Abby stayed
silent and Cash brought her closer as his face got to within a
breath of hers.

“Earlier
tonight I did something to you that I deeply regret. Now you’re
standing in my arms apologising for my family being rude and for
slipping on water. Do you not see that’s absurd?” he asked.

She had to
admit, he made sense.

She wasn’t
going to tell him that.

And she wasn’t
going to give into the deeper warmth that invaded the region of her
heart at him admitting to “deeply” regretting his earlier
behaviour.

Instead, she
told him, “I’m tired, Cash, can we just go home?”

He hesitated
and she got the vague feeling he was disappointed before his arms
got tighter and he lifted up to kiss her forehead.

“Of course,
love,” he said there and looked down at her again. “which home
would you prefer?”

She wanted to
go to her home and her bed and her warm, fluffy cat who was evil in
a cute way, not evil in a scary, murdering ghost way, but she knew
that wasn’t smart.

“Yours,” she
answered.

His mouth
touched hers lightly, he moved back and guided her safely into the
car, slammed the door, rounded the hood, got in, turned the
ignition and they were away.

And Abby
couldn’t help but feel, until Penmort Castle was lost in the
distance, that the whole building watched their departure.

* * * * *

Her body was
rolled onto its back and she felt a strong knee pressing
insistently between her legs.

Her eyes opened
and in the shadows she saw Cash’s face disappear in her neck right
before his mouth slid along its length. His hand smoothed up her
hip, taking her nightgown with it, then went under it and up, to
close with intent around her breast.

“Cash,” she
whispered.

At the sound of
his name, his thumb slid across her nipple and his head came
up.

Fire shot from
her nipple to between her legs and Cash murmured, “How are you
feeling?”

“I was feeling
great because I was asleep,” she informed him, her voice still
husky from slumber.

His lips
touched hers and he suggested against her mouth, “Let’s see about
making you feel even better.”

Then he went
about the business of achieving that aim.

Spectacularly.

* * * * *

Abby was on
top, straddling Cash who was deep inside her. Her back was arched,
one of his arms wound around her waist, his other one high at her
back, fingers curled under the joint of her arm. His head was bent
and his lips were drawing her nipple inside his mouth with a sharp,
delicious pull when her hands fisted convulsively in his hair and
she came.

Hard.

It was so wild,
beautiful and out-of-control, her hips, as if they had a mind of
their own, ground into his, the walls around the heart of her
flexing tightly. She felt him rigid, deep inside her and it was as
if her whole being existed between her legs.

His head moved
away from her breast and if she’d been aware of them, she would
have wanted to halt the telltale rasping moans that accompanied her
climax.

Before she was
through, he twisted, she was on her back and he was driving into
her, deeply, almost violently, his hand curled around the crown of
her head, the fingers of his other hand going between them and she
gasped aloud when he touched her. Her orgasm exploded anew, bigger,
wilder and she cried out his name before her head came up and her
teeth sank into the flesh at his shoulder.

His hands moved
to the backs of her thighs, pulling them high against his sides and
he thrust harder, faster and she heard his sharp intake of breath
before his hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back, his open
mouth sought hers and she blissfully accepted the deep sigh of his
climax.

It was some
time after that Abby realised this was not the way to start her
first day of having her head screwed firmly on straight.

His hips
pressed gently into hers as he murmured against her neck,
“Exquisite.”

At his word,
Abby shivered before he pulled out gently, rolled them to their
sides but his hand glided over her bottom and down the back of her
leg, keeping it hooked over his hip.

His fingers
trailed up her spine, cupped her head, tucked her face in his neck
and remained there, lazily playing with her hair.

“We have things
to talk about, darling, but I have to get to work,” he said over
her head.

Last night on
the long ride home, she’d fallen asleep. Cash had gently woken her
in the car and she’d leaned heavily against him on the short walk
to his door (how he found a parking spot directly opposite his
front door, she had no clue and groggily thought it unfair). After
Cash made her take two paracetamol, they’d gone straight to bed,
Abby breaking one of her most closely held rules of never, but
never, going to bed without taking off her makeup and putting on
moisturiser.

Apparently
being assaulted by a spirit from beyond the grave took it out of
you.

At the current
moment, she didn’t know what they had to talk about.

What she did
know in her post, double-orgasm addled brain was that she needed a
swift retreat and a call to Jenny for another “it’s-only-a-job” pep
talk mixed with an oh-my-God strategy session on how to survive a
murderous ghost.