When she was done, his arm went around her waist, he hauled her into his body and his mouth came down on hers in an intense, thorough, mind-numbing kiss.
When he was done, her knees were weak and she sagged into his body.
After she recovered, she lifted the envelope and slapped it on his chest. This was done in an effort to be cute and try to control her heated body caused by the ferocious triumph she felt in his kiss and her concerns about what that might mean for his safety.
“Be smart with this, Mr. Fraser. Don’t make me regret giving it to you,” she teased mock-severely and he smiled but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
His eyes were still deadly serious.
His fingers closed around the envelope and he tucked it into his inside jacket pocket.
Then his hand went into her hair and he asked, his burr so rough it vibrated against her skin, “Fancy living in a castle?”
A shiver slid through her at his question, right before it hit her he was Penmort’s master, true and legal.
Her eyes moved over his handsome face and she realised it suited him.
Instead of answering his question, Abby snuggled closer and admitted, “That night we were there, Alistair stood by the fireplace and I thought he seemed out of place.” Her fingers curled into his lapel, she went up on tiptoe and tilted her head back as she got closer to his face. “You wouldn’t seem out of place. As crazy as this sounds, a castle suits you, Conner Fraser.”
At her words, his fist tightened in her hair, his mouth crushed down on hers and if she thought the first kiss was filled with ferocious triumph it was nothing to this one.
He’d lifted his head nary an inch when he was done and asked, “How long does your period last?”
“Not long,” she’d breathed, still recovering from the kiss and having some difficulty in this endeavour.
“How long?” he pushed.
“A couple of days,” she answered.
He grinned against her mouth and muttered, “I won’t make it.”
She couldn’t help it, Abby laughed, straight-out, nothing hidden, nothing buried, nothing held back, both hands clutching his shoulders and her body shaking with hilarity.
When she’d controlled her mirth she saw he was looking at her with a partially startled expression, the rest held a warmth so intense, it was breathtaking.
His hand went out of her hair and both arms wrapped tight around her as he shoved his face in her neck and he said something enormously strange.
“I’ve got you.”
“Pardon?” she asked.
His head came up, his mouth touched hers and he murmured, “Nothing.” His eyes scanned her face and his fingers came up, trailing her hairline, tucking the fall of hair behind her ear. “Go back to bed, darling, I’ll see you tonight.”
Then, after another touch of his lips against hers, he was gone.
When she’d called him that afternoon to tell him she had dinner plans with Honor and Fenella, she’d given him the excuse she and Jenny cooked up as to why he wasn’t invited.
Although Cash seemed not to have any reservations about discussing Abby’s menstrual cycle, she and Jenny were betting on the fact he wouldn’t feel the same about his cousin.
So, Abby had told him Fenella was having “female problems”.
This surprisingly worked.
Cash, sounding distracted, said only, “All right, love. Call me when you leave the castle so I’ll know when to expect you safely home.”
He didn’t seem curious to know why Abby all-of-a-sudden would be Fenella’s Female Problems Confidante and he didn’t seem angry she wouldn’t be home for dinner.
So now there she was on her way to the castle and perhaps her catastrophic end and she was thinking she didn’t want the last thing she said to Cash to be a lie.
Therefore, when she pulled into the pub where she was meeting Angus and Cassandra to get instructions before going to the castle, she yanked out her phone and dialled Cash.
He answered on the second ring.
“Everything all right?” he asked as greeting.
“Yes. Why?” Abby queried in return.
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to Penmort?”
“I am. I pulled over to call you.” There she was, lying again (kind of).
“You pulled over to call me,” he repeated.
“Yes,” she replied.
Silence.
“Cash?” she called.
“Yes?” he answered.
“You were silent,” she told him. “I thought maybe we were disconnected.”
“I’m here,” he said.
More silence.
“Cash!” she snapped into the silence.
“Abby,” he returned.
“You were silent again,” she informed him and heard his chuckle, so she asked, “What’s funny?”
“Darling, you called me.”
She felt like an idiot. “Oh. Right.”
“Did you have something to say?” he enquired.
She bit the side of her lip then admitted, “Not really.”
This time she heard his roar of laughter.
When he’d stopped laughing, he asked, “Were you biting your lip?”
“Pardon?”
“Biting your lip,” he repeated.
“Yes, why?” she answered.
“No reason,” he said, the warmth of his voice coming at her in delicious waves over the phone. “Listen, love, I’m in a meeting.”
Abby felt the blood drain from her face and definitely knew she was an idiot.
“You are?” she breathed.
“Yes, I have to go.”
“I’m an idiot,” she muttered.
“You’re exquisite,” he returned softly and Abby felt her world pitch crazily as she listened to him say, “I’ll see you later tonight.”
Then he disconnected.
The minute she slid her phone shut a sharp rap came on the window and she jumped.
She turned to the side and saw Angus’s red-cheeked face peering in at her.
“Lassie! No time for love banter, we’ve got things to do,” he boomed before he stepped back and opened her door.
Abby unbuckled her seatbelt and got out to see Cassandra approaching and Angus was again in full Scottish gear.
She looked at Angus and asked with disbelief, “You hunt ghosts in a kilt?”
“I always wear a kilt,” he informed her.
“Why?”
“I’m Scottish!” he bellowed.
“Oh… kay,” she said slowly, not wanting to get him wound up. He had serious business to attend to that night, he needed to stay focused.
Cassandra got close, gave Abby a cheek touch, stepped back and Angus began talking.
“Wee Honor and Fenella have been smart,” Angus said. “They’ve been well away from the castle anytime they talk or call someone about the ghosty she-bitch. Vivianna can be anywhere, hear anything and you won’t see her. You go into the castle, you don’t talk about her or why you’re there. Everything’s normal. Aye?”
“Aye,” Abby repeated and he grinned.
Cassandra came forward and held something out to Abby. Abby took it and saw it was a glass amulet surrounded with ornate silver filigree and filled with powder and what looked like flower petals, suspended from a thin, leather thong.
“Wear that,” Cassandra instructed, “protection. It should keep her from you. But if it doesn’t and Angus doesn’t get to you in time and you’re in danger, take it off and throw it to the ground. Smash it with your heel. You’ll see a purple mist form. The mist should shroud you enough to get away.”
Angus butted in, “And you run away. She attacks, and I’m not there within seconds, she gets through the protection charm, you smash it and you go.”
Abby gulped then she nodded.
Cassandra continued. “You head out of the castle and off the grounds. She can’t leave the grounds. Go into town. Keep your mobile in your back pocket at all times
. You call me or Angus when you hit town and we’ll come and get you. Don’t go anywhere near the castle unless one of us has come to get you.”
“What about Honor and Fenella?” Abby asked.
Cassandra shook her head but Angus spoke. “They’ll be safe. Me and this wee lassie,” he jerked a thumb at Cassandra, “been doing some research about our spirit-bitch-from-hell. She made one mistake.”
Finally, Abby thought with some relief, Vivianna made a mistake.
Cassandra took up the thread. “She empowered herself with the ability to murder. Ghosts, most of the time, can’t harm people in a physical way. They can make noise. They can often move things but only after a good deal of practice. This is mostly done to be annoying or frightening but sometimes they’ll move something so it will be in someone’s way, trip them up, say to fall down the stairs.” Cassandra paused and when Abby nodded, she continued. “They can also appear and drive people towards danger or scare them to death. But Vivianna can actually touch the mortal flesh of her victims. She’s been able to do so since the beginning. That’s rare.”
“But only those she intends to kill,” Angus cut in. “Only those who she’s given herself the power to kill. Only the true loves of a Penmort master. Which means Honor and Fenella are safe.”
Abby knew she’d made this point before but she felt it was still pertinent. “I don’t mean to sound like a broken record but, seriously, honest to goodness, I’m not Cash’s true love.”
Cassandra and Angus looked at each other then back at Abby.
“If you aren’t, then you have nothing to worry about,” Cassandra said.
“Well that’s a relief,” Abby smiled.
“But if you weren’t, she’d no’ have been able to touch you, lass,” Angus put in gently.
Abby stared at him then asked, “What?”
“Thought she’d already harmed you, shoved you in the back?” Angus asked.
“Yes, but –” Abby started.
Angus cut her off by saying, “True love.”
Abby blinked.
Then something started to bud in the region of her heart, something that felt a lot like hope.
“I still don’t think –” Regardless of the hope in her heart, she continued to resist but Cassandra interrupted this time.
“Okay, we get it, you both are in the throes of a new relationship and you’re worried it’s getting too heavy too fast so you’re in denial. You’ve got to move passed that, mate. Whether he loves you, he doesn’t love you, whatever, it’s been established you’re a target and you’re vulnerable. Let’s move on.”
“He loves her,” Angus muttered under his breath.
“Let’s move on,” Cassandra said firmly.
“I’m saying he loves her,” Angus repeated, louder this time.
“Let’s move on!” Cassandra snapped, now firm and loud.
Angus’s hands came up. “All right, all right, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
Cassandra looked at Abby. “We have another piece of somewhat good news.”
Abby didn’t like the “somewhat” part but she’d take any good news attached to Vivianna.
“What’s that?”
“She plays with her victims,” Angus stated.
Abby felt her stomach drop and whispered, “Pardon?”
“Plays with her victims,” Angus reiterated. “She doesn’t go in for the kill right away. She messes with ‘em, sometimes for years. At the very least until they provide Penmort with an heir.”
“Oh my God,” Abby breathed.
“This is good news,” Cassandra informed her and Abby turned to the witch.
“How can this be good news?” she cried. “I don’t want her playing with me!”
“A broken arm is a lot better than dead,” Angus commented logically.
“Easy for you to say!” Abby exploded. “I’ve got an evening gown to wear Saturday night and the cuts on my arms she gave me last time are still pink!”
Angus stared at her like she might have a screw loose but Cassandra got close.
“What we’re saying,” she started quietly, “is tonight’s not your night to die. Even if this doesn’t work, you should leave the castle breathing,” Abby turned wild eyes to Cassandra but she kept talking. “Just keep your head, Abby. Angus knows what he’s doing. So do I. If Angus doesn’t take her down, the only thing Vivianna might learn tonight is that she’s got a worthy adversary. But we’ll outsmart her,” her hand came up and gave Abby’s upper arm a squeeze before she said, “I promise.”
Abby felt slightly mollified by her promise, but not much.
“Now, get to the castle,” Cassandra finished.
“Keep a clear head. Eyes open. Stay vigilant. Anything that doesn’t feel right, you reckon it isn’t and you move,” Angus coached her. “You feel any cold draughts, a chill, she’s close.” Angus came near too and both Cassandra and he crowded her but Abby didn’t move, Angus went on gently, “Remember, lass, wherever you are, I’ll be watching.”
Abby nodded. She gave them a shaky smile and got in her car. She put the amulet around her neck, tucking it into her sweater so it couldn’t be seen.
She looked to the side and saw them both standing where she left them, close together.
She gave them an idiotic thumbs up, started her car and headed to her doom.
* * * * *
It was after a glass of wine, after dinner, Abby, Fenella and Honor were sitting the drawing room and they were drinking coffee.
Nothing had happened, except they’d had a pleasant night (when they weren’t all looking around thinking something was going to happen, that was).
“Do you need to go to the loo?” Fenella asked on a prompt, her voice overly-loud and squeakily-high.
“No, she doesn’t have to go to the loo,” Honor snapped.
“I thought maybe she needed to use the loo,” Fenella repeated, bugging her eyes out at Honor as if Honor hadn’t already caught on that Fenella was quickly losing endurance for the wait for Vivianna to show.
“She doesn’t need to use the loo,” Honor repeated right back, also bugging out her eyes and if she could use the throat-slit gesture to shut her sister up without Vivianna seeing it, she would.
Not that clever, ghosty she-bitch Vivianna hadn’t already cottoned on to their game.
Abby took in a breath.
She had an idea, it was a scary idea but Fenella was right, something had to give.
So she shared, “I thought maybe you girls could give me a tour of the castle.”
“I’d love that!” Fenella shrieked.
“Great idea,” Honor cried, jumping up from her chair.
Fenella got up as well and clapped her hands together, appearing like she was genuinely looking forward to this. “There’s so much to see, where to start?”
Honor leaned into Abby and confided, “She loves this old heap.”
“It isn’t an old heap. It’s beautiful,” Fenella shot back then squealed, “The armoury! Let’s start in the armoury!”
Considering the circumstances, Abby would have picked a room that didn’t hold ancient weapons but she followed Fenella anyway.
And Fenella was right, it wasn’t an old heap.
It was beautiful.
And it was perfect, absolutely perfect, for Cash.
If she could build something that represented his strength, his energy, his beauty, it would have been Penmort.
The armoury was filled with ancient weapons, and even more ancient flying pendants which dripped in veritable rags from their poles, they were so old and way cool. There was a billiards room with an enormous billiards table. There were the inner and outer halls with their colossal fireplaces that led to the huge dining room with a gleaming table that sat twenty. There was the grand stair hall with intricately carved balustrades and a grand piano at the foot. There was also a study with an ornate carved desk that was so huge two people could sleep on it without touching.
On the sec
ond floor were bedrooms, many of them having their own sitting rooms, dressing rooms and bathrooms. The second floor also held the morning room, and the leather gallery filled with portraits of Beaumarises past. Lastly, the second floor also held a beautiful, cosy sewing room which was situated in a turret.
Fenella told Abby the third floor held the now unused servants quarters, nursery and school room. She explained as well that the rooms below the ground floor were also mostly no longer utilised but had been, in olden times, for the running the house, including the kitchens, housekeeper’s and butler’s offices and quarters, a coal room, laundry rooms, things like that.
Fenella said on the first floor they’d missed the conservatory and library. As these were Fenella’s favourite places, they were to be their final destination.
They had made it to the long, handsome, wood-panelled gallery, filled with portraits of ancestors (and, Abby noted with some surprise and a vague sense of alarm, that all the women were blonde and all the men looked quite a bit like Cash).
Except, of course, Alistair’s portrait, which was the largest of any and the most pompous. Something about it, its size and the prominence of place, turned Abby’s stomach.
“I know,” Honor whispered beside her, obviously reading her thoughts, “makes you sick, doesn’t it?”
Abby didn’t speak but she nodded.
Then Honor turned dancing eyes to Abby. “I wonder what Cash will do with that when he moves in?” she asked, motioning to the portrait with her head.
“I hope he burns it,” Abby murmured and Honor took her arm in both hands, leaned into her and gave her arm a squeeze.
Then she muttered, “I’ll bring the marshmallows,” and Abby couldn’t help it, it was such a divinely evil comment, she laughed.
“This is my favourite,” Fenella called and Honor and Abby moved toward Fenella who was standing off the main gallery in a big bay window where there were two, smaller portraits.
Abby walked up to Fenella’s side and saw she was gazing at a man who looked, shockingly, just like Cash.
It wasn’t an old portrait. By his clothes you could see that it was recent, not from this decade or the last, but not hundreds of years ago either. And it wasn’t like any of the other formal poses of the other pictures.