Penmort Castle (35 page)

We have all
the time in the world.

Then she
remembered.

She remembered
something she’d pushed so deep, its resurfacing caused pain, like
she was pulling barbed wire out of her heart.

After Ben was
killed, after the police left, after she’d called Jenny, she’d
walked in a fog up to their bed and curled into his pillow.

And she
breathed in the scent of him.

She stayed
there for over a day, until Jenny came to the front door. She
didn’t answer the phone, she didn’t eat, she didn’t drink, she
often slept but she only took herself away from the bed to go to
the bathroom.

She simply
remained curled around Ben’s pillow, eyes closed, mind blank,
breathing in the scent of him.

It was the only
physical thing she had left. Not one of his belongings, it was a
part of
him
, still there, still within reach, still able to
fill her senses.

Days later,
when Jenny had Abby functioning again, Jenny had started to
tidy.

In a panic,
Abby had taken the pillowcase and rooted through the wash hamper,
sorting bits and pieces that still held his essence, shoving them
in a plastic bag and hiding them in a place Jenny couldn’t find
them.

And when Jenny
would go to the grocery store or out on an errand, Abby would go to
their walk-in closet, get the bag and pull out the pillowcase or
one of his shirts. Then she’d sit in the corner of the closet
amongst her shoes, his shoes and other detritus that she always
promised herself she’d organise, the tangled evidence of their
lives together, and she’d breathe in his scent.

Eventually,
Abby stopped doing this and when Jenny came years later to help her
sort through her life, Abby knew she’d found the bag Abby hadn’t
touched for years. She also knew Jenny had disposed of it without
saying a word to Abby.

We have all
the time in the world.

That wasn’t
true. It was despicably, awfully, unfairly, completely
not
true
.

They may have
years.

They could only
have hours.

Abby couldn’t
do it again.

Never, never
again.

Her battered
heart beating wildly, her mind held hostage to a panic so extreme
she couldn’t begin to control her actions and she didn’t try.

She threw the
covers off the bed and launched herself from it. She snatched her
panties from the floor and tugged them on. She turned on the light
and ran from the room to the guest bedroom where Cash had put her
four suitcases after she’d unpacked on Sunday.

She grabbed two
and ran back into the room.

Zee was
standing on the bed. Still somewhat uncertain of his new
surroundings he’d chosen elsewhere to sleep the last two
nights.

Now, for Zee,
at Cash’s or on the moon, it was kitty breakfast time.

In a panic,
Abby ignored her cat and threw a suitcase on the floor, one on the
bed and she pulled it open.

In the flurry
of Abby’s harried movements, Zee took off and Abby ran to the
wardrobe, throwing it open, seeing her clothes neatly hanging next
to Cash’s. That was something she’d struggled with Sunday when
she’d hung them. Now it tore at her shredded heart.

But she didn’t
stop.

Not even taking
the clothes from the hangers, she grabbed handfuls of them and
hurried back across the room, tossing them into the suitcase and
going back. And back. And back.

The door to the
bathroom opened and Abby, with an armful of t-shirts from the
dresser, halted, as did Cash, just steps from the bathroom
door.

His hair was
wet and he was wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. His
eyes moved from her, to the bed, back to her.

It seemed, to
Abby’s terror-clogged mind, this happened in slow motion.

“What the fuck
are you doing?” Cash asked, his voice hitting the room like a
whiplash, and Abby’s body jerked out of its temporary
paralysis.

She walked to
the suitcase and threw the clothes in.

“I quit,” she
declared, heading back to the dresser. “I don’t know if you owe me
or I owe you but whatever it is, we’ll just call it even.”

She was heading
back to the suitcase with an armload of underwear when Cash’s
fingers curled around her bicep, bringing her to an awkward
stop.

Her eyes lifted
to his and she demanded, “Cash, let me go.”

He didn’t
respond to her demand, instead he asked, “You quit?”

She yanked at
her arm but his fingers only grew tighter so she ceased this
endeavour.

“Yes, I quit,”
she told him.

His fingers
squeezed deeper into her arm. “You quit what?”

“I quit being
your escort,” she explained, “your pretend girlfriend. This isn’t
working for me. Therefore, I quit.”

“My pretend
girlfriend?” Cash repeated, eyes narrowed, and Abby was too much in
a state to register that the air in the room had grown dangerously
thick.

“Yes, your
pretend girlfriend. I quit. Now, let me go,” she jerked at her arm
but he still didn’t release her.

Their eyes held
and she didn’t feel anything. So caught up in her act of
self-preservation, the house could crash down on them and she’d
rise from the rubble and continue packing.

Suddenly, his
hand released her arm.

“All right,
Abby,” he said quietly and she immediately walked to the suitcase,
threw in her underwear and, seeing it was over-full, she hefted the
top over and attempted to zip it closed.

“Would you like
to tell me why you quit?” Cash’s voice came to her from behind.

No. No she
definitely would
not
like to tell him that. Hell, she wasn’t
even allowing herself to
think
of that.

“No,” she
replied shortly.

“I see,” his
voice said and Abby’s desperation increased as the zipper refused
to budge against the gap created by her clothes.

Abby’s body was
gently moved away as Cash murmured, “Allow me.”

Abby took a
step back and watched him bend to her bag. He was still wearing his
towel, the muscles in his back worked and she watched them with a
detached fascination.

Therefore, at
first she missed the fact that he wasn’t going for her zipper. He
was picking up her bag. When he had it in his hands, he turned and
tossed it to the floor. It landed, went skidding and slammed
against the wardrobe, her clothes flying out in different
directions.

“Cash!” she
shouted but her breath left her in a whoosh as his arm hooked
around her mid-section and she found herself on her back on the
bed, Cash coming down at her side then rolling over the top of
her.

She blinked
rapidly several times and when he came into focus, he noticed and
started speaking immediately.

And he used a
voice she’d never heard before. It was somewhat like the hard voice
he’d used when he first told her he took care of what was his. But
now it held an edge of unbendable steel that sent her spiralling
into a terror that made her recent demented panic seem like an
insignificant tizzy.

“All right,
darling,” he declared, “I’ll tell you how this is going to go.”

Abby went solid
as she stared into his eyes, which were hard and glittering and
very, very scary.

He continued.
“I’m pleased you don’t want to be my pretend girlfriend,
considering you haven’t been that since you begged me to fuck you
the first time. I’ll not be paying you the next instalment on
Friday as agreed, nor will I be paying the remainder you’re due at
the end of our arrangement. Instead, I’ll be setting up a monthly
allowance to be transferred into a joint account which you can draw
on and not have to worry about taxes.”

At his words
and their undeniable meaning, Abby’s breath caught halfway up her
throat and lodged there.

Painfully.

Cash carried
on. “If it isn’t enough, you’ll come to me and we’ll discuss it.
You won’t get overdrawn and you won’t get into financial
trouble.”

Something
painful shot through her belly at what this statement revealed he
knew but he kept right on talking.

“I’ll fix up
your house so it’s safe and habitable. Then we’ll rent it, the
payments will go into your current account, which you won’t touch.
Ever.”

“Cash,” Abby
forced out on a whisper.

He ignored her.
“You’ll move in with me, properly, after my aunt and uncle’s party.
If you want to work, you’ll work, but I’d rather you not as I
travel often and I’d prefer you were with me. This will be your
choice. Any salary you bring in also goes into your current account
and you won’t touch that either.”

“Stop talking,”
Abby begged.

Cash didn’t
listen. “You’ll stay with me for as long as what we have remains
good. When it doesn’t work for one or the other of us, we’ll move
on. I’ll supplement whatever you’ve accrued so that you can live
safe and comfortably no matter what might befall you until the day
you fucking die.”

Abby was back
to not being able to breathe.

“Is that
understood?” Cash asked.

She shook her
head.

Cash’s brows
drew together as his face darkened.

Abby bravely
ignored that and asked softly, “Cash, don’t you get it? This is
over.”

“It’s not
fucking over,” he clipped.

Abby, finally
losing control of her emotions, cried in desperation, “It’s
over!”

Then he said
aloud what Abby had been battling for weeks and the words lacerated
the tattered remains of her heart.

“It’s the best
you’ve ever had, Abby. It’s better than what you had with Ben. You
know it. I know it. Stop lying to yourself and stop hiding from me.
It’s not only not over, you don’t even fucking
want
it to be
over.”

Abby’s head
exploded, white lights flashing in front of her eyes, rage tearing
through her system, she shrieked, “How
dare
you Cash Fraser!
How,
fucking
, dare you!”

And then,
crazed, she fought him, striking out blindly with her fists,
kicking with her legs.

It took him
awhile to contain her, so frenzied was her battle, but he caught
her wrists, controlling her angry pummelling. She kept at him,
testing his strength, bucking and kicking, not attempting to get
away but wanting to hurt him as much as she hurt.

Which was a
lot.

Too much.

Too much not to
let some of it go.

Then something
occurred to her, registering on her brain as she watched the
muscles in his arms move and flex. She felt the heat of him, the
strength of him, the weight of the thigh he threw over hers,
pinning her legs. She heard his breathing. She smelled his
scent.

He was alive,
he was real, he was solid.

And her anger
turned to something else, a new kind of desperation as she pushed
at his hands at her wrists in a different way, her neck twisting,
her mouth finding his jaw, her tongue tasting him. Her lips moved
up his jaw and found his already opened and her tongue darted
in.

He released her
hands and his arms moved around her, pulling her tight to him. She
pushed off on her foot, rolling him to his back. Crawling on top of
him, she used her mouth and hands on him,
everywhere
, gently
setting his hands away any time he tried to touch her.

This was all
about Cash. Alive Cash. Breathing Cash. Warm Cash. Just
Cash
.

Only when she
finally straddled him, wrapping her fingers around him and guiding
him inside, did she allow him to touch her. He knifed to sitting,
one of his arms around her, his fingers twisting in her hair,
pulling her head back, arching her neck.

She moved on
top of him urgently, his mouth at her neck, her chest, and it
didn’t take long before she exploded, feeling him take over her
strokes with his hands lifting and pressing on her hips, his
insistent rhythm prolonging her third orgasm of the morning until
he slammed her down one last time and joined her.

She’d barely
caught her breath when his fingers thrust into her hair at her
scalp and he tilted her face towards his.

His mouth on
hers, he declared harshly, “It’s not fucking over.”

The battle was
lost.

Even Abby
wasn’t stupid enough not to know that.

Therefore, she
nodded her head.

“Say it,” he
demanded.

Abby closed her
eyes tight and his hand fisted in her hair.

“Abby, fucking
say it,
” he repeated.

Her eyes opened
slowly and she whispered, “It’s not over.”

All of a sudden
she was flying through the air only to land on her back with Cash
covering her.

His mouth came
to hers again and his voice was rougher, deeper, throatier when he
informed her, “Darling, you just made me a promise. And you better
fucking believe that I’m holding you to it.”

Before she
could respond, he kissed her, hard, deep, long and wet.

And when he was
done, again before she could get a word in, before she could even
catch her breath, he stated, “I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.
Somewhere nice. Be ready at seven.”

She stared at
him, unable to speak.

“Abby, did you
hear me?” he asked.

She nodded.

His eyes
travelled over her face and she watched, captivated, as they grew
warm and the hardness in his expression went soft.

His hand came
to the side of her face and his thumb slid along her cheekbone.

“I know you’re
terrified,” he murmured gently. “But I promise you aren’t going to
lose me until one of us is ready to be lost.”

She hated it
that he knew her thoughts, no matter how she strived to keep them
hidden.

Tears filled
her eyes and she sucked in her lips before she whispered, “You
can’t make that promise, Cash.”