This was not Alistair Beaumaris’s normal manner.
“Delighted you’re here. Absolutely delighted,” Alistair proclaimed as Cash positioned himself close to Abby’s side. Alistair looked up at his nephew and smiled a rusty smile. “Cash, my boy.”
“Alistair,” Cash replied shortly and with considerable effort controlled the desire to curl his lip in loathing.
“Sit, sit,” Alistair motioned magnanimously to one of the two facing sofas. “Where’s Trevor?”
“Here, sir,” Trevor, one of several Penmort servants that Alistair had long since lost the ability to afford, came forward.
“Abigail, what would you like to drink?” Alistair asked and Abby opened her mouth but Cash spoke for her.
“Amaretto and Diet Coke, only if it’s diet and only if it’s chilled. Crush the ice. A splash of cherry juice and three cherries,” Trevor, Alistair, Nicola and her three daughters stared at Cash as he went on, “for me, whisky. Neat.”
All eyes moved to Abby when she said quietly, “Or, if that’s a bother, a martini would do.”
Trevor looked relieved and asked, “Gin or vodka?”
“Vodka,” Abby replied, hesitated and then went on, “up, no ice,” she hesitated again and queried, “would you mind chilling the glass?” On Trevor’s shake of the head, she hesitated yet again and added, “Olives, no onions,” and then she paused and completed her exacting litany, “three of them, on a toothpick, please.”
The minute she was finished, he couldn’t have helped it and didn’t try, Cash burst out laughing.
When he was done, he slid his arm around her, curling his fingers on her shoulder. He pulled her to him and gave the side of her head a kiss.
When he moved away, Abby’s head tilted back and she stared up at him, her face soft but stunned, her eyes shining in a way he’d never noticed before.
Her gaze felt like a physical thing, light and sweet, almost like a caress.
Cash noticed something move in his peripheral vision and with regret he tore his eyes from Abby, looked to his audience and saw they were all watching.
Alistair looked angry.
Fenella looked bewildered.
Suzanne looked irritated.
Honor looked astonished.
Nicola looked pleased.
Cash shared Nicola’s mood and guided Abby to the sofa, seating them both, crossing his leg and tucking her close to his side with his arm around her.
“So tell us, Abigail, what do you do?” Alistair asked, positioning himself at the fireplace, close to the mantel, assuming a Man of the Castle pose.
“Call me Abby,” Abby invited.
Alistair’s face cracked into a false grin. “Abby.”
“I used to be an interpreter and translator,” Abby answered and Cash felt his body go still as she unveiled this crumb of knowledge that he didn’t know. She appeared not to notice his reaction and continued, “I can read and speak four languages, well five, if you count English.”
“Really? How interesting,” Nicola put in. “What languages?”
“French, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese,” Abby answered. “It’s been awhile. I’m a little out of practice.”
“It’s probably like riding a bike,” Nicola assured on a smile.
“I hope so,” Abby replied, smiling back.
“You said ‘used to’. What happened?” Suzanne, seated opposite them next to her mother on a sofa, asked and Abby’s head turned toward her.
“Oh, life,” Abby stated vaguely and went on, “you know how it is.”
“No, actually, I don’t,” Suzanne returned, her voice not containing curiosity but hints of acid. “How is it?”
“Suzanne,” Nicola muttered in a warning tone.
“How did you two meet?” Fenella entered the conversation, changing the subject and Cash felt rather than saw Abby turn her head to look at him but his eyes were on Suzanne.
“In a pub,” Cash answered, his gaze moving to Fenella, who was seated on the arm of the sofa.
“A pub?” Honor enquired as if the very idea of meeting someone in a public house was not only common, but foul, and Cash’s eyes sliced to her.
“A pub,” he repeated firmly and watched as Honor, under the heat of his glare, took a small step back and behind her mother. His eyes moved to Abby, his voice growing softer, and he continued, “You were wearing white.”
Abby stared at him a moment and Cash watched as warmth seeped into her hazel eyes. Then her hand came to rest lightly on his thigh.
“Yes, I was,” she replied with gentle surprise as if it was ten years since they met, not just over a week.
Alistair cleared his throat and Cash felt Abby’s body start against his side as the all-too-short spell was broken.
“You’re obviously American,” Alistair observed when Abby turned to him. “What brings you across the pond?”
Abby didn’t hesitate in answering. “I inherited the family home when my grandmother died just over a year ago.”
“Oh Abby, I’m sorry to hear that,” Nicola murmured and Abby smiled at her.
“So you just dropped everything and moved to England? That seems a bit extreme,” Suzanne remarked and both Cash and Nicola opened their mouths to say something when Abby spoke.
“Yes, well,” she said on a friendly smile. “there wasn’t much to drop.”
“Pretty girl like you? Didn’t leave a man behind broken-hearted, did you?” Alistair queried half in jest and Cash felt Abby’s body go solid.
“No,” Abby answered.
“I find that hard to believe,” Suzanne commented and Cash decided he was done.
In a low voice, he ordered, “Suzanne. Enough.”
Suzanne widened her eyes in mock innocence and asked, “Enough what?”
“Enough of the third degree,” Cash responded instantly.
“Well, she’s very pretty, Cash. I can’t imagine you’re the first man in her life,” Suzanne retorted. She had, Cash surmised, sensed something and she honed in on her target with lethal ease. Suzanne’s eyes, as hard as her tone, moved to Abby when she continued. “Cash is family. We’re just trying to get to know you.”
Abby’s chin lifted but she smiled politely at Suzanne when she agreed, “Of course. And you’re right. Cash wasn’t the first man in my life.”
“Well, of course not. That’d be ludicrous. You have to be at least thirty,” Fenella put in and Abby’s head swung to her.
“Thirty-eight,” she informed Fenella and Fenella’s mouth dropped open.
Suzanne ignored her sister’s second change of subject and pulled it back to one she preferred. “So you did leave a man behind.”
“Not exactly –” Abby started as Cash’s body got tight in order to control his temper, Nicola leaned forward to intervene but unfortunately Alistair got there before anyone.
“Well, you’ve outdone yourself now. You’re with Cash. And he’s a Beaumaris. Whatever idiot let you leave him behind is no match to Cash,” Alistair declared with false pride.
“Alistair!” Nicola snapped but Abby spoke at the same time.
“I was married,” she stated.
“Oh dear, a divorcee,” Honor muttered in mock horror and Abby’s head turned to his cousin but Cash was finished.
“Abby isn’t divorced. Her husband was killed,” he clipped, his abrupt, angry tone ending the ridiculously inappropriate conversation.
Nicola’s sharp intake of breath was audible and Cash watched the blood drain from her face. Fenella, Honor and even Suzanne had the good grace to look uncomfortable.
Alistair, however, looked strangely snide.
But Abby clearly didn’t read Cash’s tone and continued, her voice low but strong, her eyes locked on Suzanne. “Seven car pileup on the highway. Two other people died too but not like Ben. Ben died instantly. He was the only one to die instantly,” she paused then went on, the words innocuous, her tone making them heart-wrenching, “at the scene.”
Cash felt his c
hest tighten and, ignoring their onlookers, he used his arm to curl her into him before murmuring, “Darling, you don’t have to talk about this.”
Abby moved her hand from his thigh to his chest, her pale face lifted to his, her eyes, he saw, held unconcealed pain.
He knew exactly what it cost her when she whispered her lie, “It’s okay. They’re your family, they should know.”
He realised that she was playing her part and playing it beautifully.
He also realised he hadn’t once regretted his decision to pay two hundred thousand pounds for her.
Until that instant.
She pulled away, her hand leaving his chest, and looked back at Suzanne. “I loved him. He died four years ago and there hasn’t been anyone since,” her back straightened before she said, “until Cash.” Cash watched her head tilt enquiringly, her eyes never leaving Suzanne. “Do you have any more questions?”
“Not right now,” Suzanne returned coolly but she shifted on her seat in a way, Cash thought distractedly, that made her look uncharacteristically uneasy.
“You’ll let me know when you do,” Abby replied politely but pointedly.
Suzanne had no retort.
Abby’s body stayed tense and only when she felt Cash’s fingers squeeze her shoulder did she relax against him.
At that moment Trevor walked in with their drinks.
Cash watched Nicola lean toward Suzanne before she hissed angrily under her breath, “We’ll talk later.”
Trevor served their drinks and as Abby took a sip, Cash used Trevor’s distraction to catch Abby’s attention.
When her head tilted back to look at him, he murmured, “Are you all right?”
With uncustomary openness, she whispered, “No.”
“I’ll explain things about my family later,” he promised.
She gave him a look that said clearly she really didn’t want to know. Her look was so adorable, he couldn’t help but laugh.
Then he dipped his face, rested his forehead against hers and muttered softly, “You’re exquisite.”
She blinked as her lips parted and, Cash thought, that was adorable too
“I hope you two are hungry,” Alistair boomed, again breaking the moment and Cash had to bite his lip to halt his angry retort.
But the moment was gone, Abby pulled away, turned to Alistair and Cash lost her yet again.
And from there the night progressed with no more turmoil. No “earthquakes”, no offensive interrogations and Abby handled herself beautifully.
By the end of dinner it was clear Nicola liked her. Fenella seemed taken with her. Honor thawed enough to be slightly charming. Even Alistair wasn’t a match for Abby’s unique blend of candour and humour and, to all appearances, began genuinely to enjoy the evening.
They were walking back to the drawing room for after dinner coffee and liqueurs when Abby asked the direction of the restroom and Fenella guided the way.
Upon entry to the drawing room, Suzanne absented herself immediately, not partaking in coffee and not waiting to bid Abby farewell.
Fenella joined them as Suzanne exited the room and was settling herself on the arm of the sofa with her cup of coffee when they heard Abby’s piercing scream.
At the hideous sound, Cash felt his blood run cold but he didn’t hesitate.
Slamming his brandy on the table, he knifed off the couch and sprinted to the bathroom, threw open the door and halted at what he saw.
Abby, her right arm bloodied, was lying unconscious on the floor surrounded by reflecting shards of mirror.
Chapter Fourteen
Spectre
“Call an ambulance,” Abby heard Cash’s deep, terse voice order from very close.
“Get some towels,” Nicola’s voice came from further away.
“Oh my God. The blood. I think I may be ill,” Honor remarked from even further away.
Abby felt herself being carried and knew she was in Cash’s arms before she opened her eyes to see his rigid jaw up close, her temple resting on his shoulder.
“Cash,” she whispered and his head jerked to look at her.
“She’s awake,” Fenella noted gratuitously.
“You’re all right, love,” Cash murmured his soft assurance but his troubled expression belied his words. He turned to face forward again as he carried her into the drawing room.
“Honor, I said get some towels,” Nicola was closer, crowding Cash as he laid Abby on the sofa.
“What happened?” Alistair asked, looming over the back of the sofa, brows drawn, his strangely unsettling (and not in a good way) eyes locked on Abby.
“Give her a moment,” Nicola demanded as Cash sat next to Abby’s hip, carefully took her wrist in his hand and slowly pushed back her torn, bloodied sleeve.
Abby watched him do this and it was then it came back to her.
She’d been at the sink, drying her hands, looking in the mirror in the bathroom, wishing she had her lip gloss handy (because, every girl knew, in any intense, gruelling, overly-emotional situation, which that night had been from the start, you needed lip gloss) when through the mirror she’d seen the vision behind her.
Seen it and seen through it.
A woman, dark hair, beautiful, pale face, her long hair streaming as if caught in a fierce wind and her old-fashioned violet dress floating in tatters around her.
Her expression was filled with blatant, frightening, evil hatred.
Abby had had no time to react when the vision moved toward her so fast it was shocking.
Abby screamed the terror that suddenly gripped her just as she felt a sharp thrust between her shoulder blades. She just got the chance to lift her hand to cushion her fall but the push was so strong, her hand went through the mirror. The mirror shattered around her wrist, the shards cutting her and the sudden pain mixed with some water on the floor and being off kilter made Abby slip. She went down, her forehead, with her weight and momentum behind it, slamming against the basin.
And then everything went black until she was in Cash’s arms.
And at that moment, lying on the sofa, Abby knew she had to get out of there.
Now.
“Cash,” she whispered urgently and his eyes went from her arm to her face.
“Quiet, darling,” he muttered, his gaze lifted to her forehead and narrowed.
Then his hand left her arm and came to her face, his palm resting against her cheekbone as his thumb cautiously tested the bump on her forehead.
At his tentative touch, Abby winced at the pain and jerked her head against the cushion of the sofa. Cash’s hand moved away immediately and his eyes locked on hers.
“Fucking hell,” he swore.
Abby didn’t have time for her possible concussion. There was a haunting afoot and apparently the ghost in residence did not like her.
At all.
“We need to get out of here,” Abby demanded, not caring about appearing rude in front of her audience because she thought it was more important to exit the premises immediately since the place was fucking haunted.
Cash had no time to respond for Honor arrived, announcing, “I’ve got the towels.”
Cash’s head came up. “Get me a bowl of warm water. Gentle soap.” Clearly whoever he was addressing hesitated because he barked, “Now!”
Abby’s eyes moved and she saw Honor scurry from the room as Nicola turned to Fenella.
“Get a flannel, dear. With some ice,” Nicola requested.
Abby’s hand came to Cash’s arm and she tried to lift up.
“Cash, really, we have to go,” she said but Nicola was at the side of the sofa.
The lady leaned in, tucking a pillow under Abby’s head as she pressed on Abby’s shoulder to settle her back.
“Just be still, Abby. Let Cash have a good look at you,” Nicola cajoled softly.
Abby’s eyes went from Nicola to Cash who was wrapping her arm in a towel. On the way there she caught Alistair staring daggers at her from his place behind the couch
.
It was then Abby realised that she was going to have to be clever.
This was not good. At the best of times, Abby was far from clever.
However, clever at that moment included not informing them she’d just seen an actual ghost, much less been viciously shoved into a mirror by one.
“I’m sure I’m all right,” she told Alistair.
“You’re not going to sue me are you?” Alistair demanded to know and Nicola gasped.
Then she snapped, “Alistair! What’s the matter with you?”
His eyes moved to his wife. “She’s American. They sue.”
“I’m not going to sue you,” Abby assured him and pushed up on her free elbow. “I’m really all right. I just slipped on some water and fell.”
Cash’s eyes pinned her and he commanded, “Lay back.”
“Really, I’m fine. I just feel a little silly, that’s all,” she told Cash.
“Abby, lay back,” Cash repeated.
“Cash –” Abby started.
“Abby, fucking… lay… back,” Cash clipped, eyes narrowing and since he was using the f-word in that way, Abby felt it prudent to do as he commanded.
She laid back.
“Here’s the water,” Honor arrived with a glass bowl of soapy water and a tea towel, Trevor at her heels. She laid the bowl on the table by the sofa and Cash turned to it immediately.
“Do you need me to call the ambulance, sir?” Trevor asked Alistair.
“No!” Abby cried. An ambulance might take forever and she needed to get out of there before the black-haired phantom came back, dragged her up the nearest steep stairwell only to send her plunging back down to her grisly death. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
“Call the ambulance,” Cash ordered Trevor.
“Cash, I said I’m fine,” Abby butted in as Trevor left the room.
Cash’s eyes came to her. “You lost consciousness.”
“I know but –”
“I want them to look at you,” he went on.
“Well, I understand that, but I can tell you I’m –”
“Abby, this isn’t up for discussion,” he finished and the way he spoke those words said plainly he was finished.