“Abby –”
“Cash, listen to me!” she yelled. “I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. I know what I felt. I was standing at the sink, looking in the mirror and there she was behind me. She came at me, shoved me between the shoulders and I slammed forward, my hand going up to shield my fall, it went through the mirror. Only then did I slip and hit my head on the basin. And tonight, it was worse.”
His gaze was locked on hers, his jaw clamped and she saw a muscle working in his cheek.
Then his eyes moved over her face then down to her sweater where they stopped and narrowed.
“What happened to your jumper?” he asked and Abby looked down to see there was a burn mark on her sweater, just like the one on Vivianna’s dress, where Cassandra’s amulet had sparked.
She hadn’t noticed it until now.
“Cassandra’s protection amulet,” Abby explained, “it kind of… exploded when Vivianna and I clashed.”
Cash’s eyes jerked to hers and he repeated, “Cassandra’s protection amulet.”
“Yes.”
She watched as something dawned on him and his mouth tightened as his eyes went to the ceiling.
Finally he muttered, “I don’t fucking believe this shit.”
“Believe it,” Abby returned.
He looked at her again. “Abby, no matter what these people are telling you, I promise you, there are no such things as ghosts.”
“There are,” Abby retorted.
“No, there aren’t.”
“You felt it yourself,” she told him.
“I felt what?” he asked.
“The minute we walked into the castle, the entry swayed. You were there, you said you felt it!”
“That wasn’t a ghost,” he said.
“Then what was it?” Abby queried.
His face now held a hint of soft concern. “I don’t know, darling, but it wasn’t a fucking ghost.”
Abby stared at him then she had an idea and asked, “Did you pick up the diaries?”
At her swift change of subject, Cash’s head cocked to the side. “Diaries?”
“Your grandmother’s diaries,” Abby prompted.
He watched her a moment then said, “Emma went to get them today.”
Immediately Abby enquired, “Do you have them here at the house?”
“They’re in the study,” he answered and Abby was on the move.
Walking around him, she went to his study, flipped on the light and saw his briefcase opened on his desk. A stack of several, slim, elegant, leather-bound books sat beside it.
Abby walked up to the desk, grabbed the first one off the stack and started sifting through it, randomly picking pages and skimming. She found nothing so she threw that diary down and picked up the next, doing the same.
“Abby, what the fuck?” Cash muttered but then Abby saw it.
She immediately started reading, “My favourite brooch is missing. The one Richard gave me. I can’t find it anywhere and Richard is asking where it is. I know she took it, she knows how much I love it. It’s just the kind of thing she’d do. Especially since Richard is getting annoyed that I haven’t been wearing it. I was searching for it on my hands and knees beside the bed when I heard Vivianna laugh.”
Abby looked at Cash and saw his eyes were on the diary and his jaw was again clenched but he didn’t say anything so Abby persevered.
Using her thumb against the edges, Abby flipped pages ahead skimming quickly then she found another passage and started reading, “I’m frightened. She’s watching all the time. Everywhere I turn, if I’m alone, she’s there. Hovering. And anytime Richard is out of the house, she screams. And screams and screams and screams. We’ve lost three servants this week alone. They can’t bear it. I don’t know how long I can bear it either. I keep telling Richard about Vivianna but he just won’t listen. He thinks I’m being silly, he finds me amusing. He tells me it’s a legend, a myth, that I shouldn’t believe the servants’ gossip and let them make me anxious. I can’t get him to understand that she’s real. It’s getting worse, it feels different now. I think she means to harm me.”
Abby’s eyes went to Cash’s face again and Cash remarked, “My grandmother Lorna died of a stroke when I was seven years old. She wasn’t murdered by a ghost.”
“She stopped being a target,” Abby told him.
“And why is that?” Cash asked.
Abby stared at him, not wanting to get into the “love of their lives” business, not again and definitely not with Cash.
Therefore, she said, “She just did.”
Cash looked into her eyes and stated quietly, “Darling, do you have any idea how preposterous this sounds? Vivianna Wainwright is a ghost story handed down generation to generation. She isn’t real.”
Abby stared at him all of a sudden wondering why she’d told him. Of course he wouldn’t believe her. If she was him, she wouldn’t believe her either. It did sound preposterous, even though it was true.
Abby closed the diary and set it on his desk. She looked to the side to avoid his eyes then lifted her hand to pull her hair off her face. Bunching it at the back of her head for a moment, she decided to give up and maybe lie and say she got a little crazy when she was on her period. Men bought that kind of excuse all the time.
She sighed, looked back at him, dropped her hand and he watched it fall as she said, “You’re right, I –”
But Cash interrupted her. “What’s happened to your hand?”
Abby’s chin dipped, she lifted her hands, palms up and studied them. They were dirty, smudged with black and there were angry red scrapes along the heels of her palms. She hadn’t noticed it before, considering her Layering of Freak Outs, but she knew how it happened. She’d fallen hard on the stairs, landed on her hands then she’d used them to crawl back up.
Her head lifted.
“Cash –” she began but his eyes were doing a sweep of her body and landed on her legs.
He went on. “And your knees.”
Abby looked down at her legs and saw her jeans from knees to ankles were covered in dust likely gathered from scrambling up the stairs.
She tilted her head to look at him and went back to deciding to tell him the truth.
Therefore, she whispered, “I was running away from her. She formed in front of me and we collided on the stairs. I fell back on my hands. Then she attacked and I was scrambling on my hands and feet back up the stairs –”
“Stop,” he demanded and Abby stopped.
He kept staring at her legs then his eyes moved to her sweater and he took a step forward, getting close. His hand came up and he touched the dark purple-black burn mark on her sweater.
His hand dropped but his fingers wrapped around her wrists and he lifted her hands, palms up, between them. He looked down at them and his thumbs slid gently along the angry red marks and smudges.
“Fucking hell, it’s true,” he muttered and relief shot through her that he believed her.
“Yes,” she replied softly.
His fingers closed around her hands, pressing them together and he pulled them against his chest, also pulling Abby closer.
His eyes locked on hers and he ordered, “Tell me everything.”
Abby drew a breath in through her nose. Then she bit the side of her lip.
Then she told him everything.
Vivianna and the bathroom. Telling Jenny and Mrs. Truman. Fenella, Cassandra and the séance. Angus, the kilt-wearing, Scottish ghost hunter. Details about Vivianna’s spell, her abilities and her targeting Abby. Abby going to Penmort to be bait. Vivianna forming in the gallery, then attacking. The amulet that rocked. The mad dash to town surrounded by the protective purple mist.
Everything.
Everything except the true love part that was.
When she was finished, she realised Cash got stuck on an earlier point when he said in a dangerous voice with equally dangerous eyes, “You went to Penmort to be bait?”
“I had to draw her out,” Abby explained.
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“You had to draw her out,” Cash repeated but he was looking like he was only just stopping himself from shaking some sense into her.
“Yes,” Abby said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Pardon?” Abby asked in return.
“Why did you have to draw her out?” Cash enquired.
Abby looked at him, confused. “So Angus could take her down, of course.”
“What does this have to do with you?” he pressed.
Abby was even more confused.
“It doesn’t have to do with me. It has to do with you.” She watched Cash’s face change but she misinterpreted it as puzzlement and carried on. “At first, Jenny and Mrs. Truman and I started this whole thing because I knew I’d have to go to the castle during the anniversary celebration. I couldn’t not go. I mean, obviously, for whatever reason, you wanted me there so I had to go. Since I didn’t want to, you know, die while I was there, I had to do something.” Cash kept staring at her with that strange look on his face so Abby persevered. “Then I got to know Fenella and she’s really nice. She’s a bit strange but she’s nice. And she’s lived with Vivianna her whole life and Vivianna scares her, so then I was kind of doing it for Fenella as well. Then I got to know Honor so I’m doing it for her too. And now I know Penmort’s yours so, well, as you can see, something has to be done. And I’m kind of the only person who can do it. With Angus and Cassandra, of course.”
Cash kept staring at her with his hands holding hers against his chest, the heat of his body close.
Abby thought maybe he wasn’t taking it all in. It was, she knew, a lot to wrap your head around.
She continued. “Anyway, it’s all good. Angus got a good look at her tonight so he knows what he’s up against and Cassandra says she’s got more stuff she can throw at her. So next time, it’ll go better.”
Cash’s hands tightened on hers before he asked, “Next time?”
“Yes,” Abby said, “probably tomorrow night.”
Cash moved forward very slightly but enough to bring him closer to Abby.
“Abby, there isn’t going to be a next time. You aren’t going back there.”
Abby blinked then reminded him, “Yes I am. We’re spending the weekend there.”
“No. We’re not. Our weekend plans have changed. I’m going to the party Saturday night only. You’re staying home.”
Abby felt her eyes grow wide and she said, “But we have to go. Nicola is expecting us and something has to be done about Vivianna.”
“We’re not going,” Cash replied firmly.
“We have to go,” Abby returned.
One of Cash’s hands released hers, the other curled around her palm and he turned, pulling her from the room saying, “We’re not discussing this.”
He flicked off the light switch and kept walking to the stairs and down to the garden level while Abby babbled, “You can’t be serious. We have to discuss it. You don’t understand. Angus and Cassandra know what they’re doing. I’m not kidding. They seriously know what they’re doing. You should have seen them. Things didn’t go great tonight but no one got hurt.”
Cash let her go at the bottom of the stairs and walked to the light switch, flipping off the dimmer lights that illuminated the kitchen area.
Then his eyes came to Abby. “We’re not discussing it. You aren’t going.”
Abby watched as he walked back across the room to the light by the couch that was lit. She saw his laptop open and some papers spread on the coffee table, a tumbler with a finger of whisky still in it sat next to his work.
Abby’s voice gentled when she went on. “Cash, I’ll be safe, honestly. They won’t let anything happen to me.”
He’d bent to the lamp but straightened and his eyes pinned her to the spot.
“You aren’t going,” he stated.
“Do you intend to live there?” Abby asked softly and watched Cash’s entire body freeze.
Then he started, “Abby –”
“Do you?” she pushed.
He didn’t answer but she watched his jaw get tight.
“Do you want me with you?” she whispered, heart in her throat, stomach clenched and she stopped breathing.
Their eyes held for a moment and Abby began to feel lightheaded with lack of oxygen.
Finally, he bit off tersely, “Yes.”
Abby went on softly. “Honey, I’m not safe there unless something is done. And, for whatever reason, I’m the only one who can force her out. It has to be me who does it and we both know it has to be done.”
His eyes were so hot on her she could actually feel them scorching into her. His jaw was tight and they stared at each other for long moments.
Then he bent at the waist and she thought he was going to turn off the lamp but his fingers curled around the phone, yanking it out of the charger.
He walked to her and held out the phone.
“Call them, all of them,” he demanded, “every person who’s involved in this fiasco. I want them at my office tomorrow at noon.”
“What?” Abby asked. “Why?”
“Do it,” Cash returned.
Abby’s eyes slid to the digital clock on the microwave then back to Cash. “It’s nearly midnight.”
His hand came out, fingers wrapping around her wrist, he lifted it and put the phone in her palm. “Call them. Now.”
“I don’t know their numbers,” Abby said, watched his brows draw together and hurried on. “I mean, I haven’t memorised them. They’re in my mobile, in my purse, upstairs.”
He lifted his hand and curled it around her neck. “I’ll get your purse.”
He gave her a squeeze, walked up the stairs and got her purse. He came back, scrawled his office address, phone number and directions on a piece of paper and gave it to her.
Then he stood next to Abby while she called everyone, including a seriously cranky, woken-up Mrs. Truman.
When she was done, he took the phone from her, put it back in its charger, turned off the lamp, grabbed her hand and guided her upstairs.
When they were in his bedroom Cash turned on the lamp at her side of the bed. Zee, curled sleeping at the foot of the bed, lifted his head and blinked in annoyance. Then Cash’s hands went to the buttons of his shirt.
Abby stood there watching him and asked, “Can we talk about Suzanne now?”
Cash pulled the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it on the armchair while saying, “No, she’s already had more of my time tonight than she deserves.”
“I’d kind of like an explanation,” Abby requested quietly.
His eyes went to Abby’s as he sat on the armchair and yanked off his shoes and, to her surprise, without any further coaxing Cash explained, “She showed up about fifteen minutes before you. She said she was in Bath having dinner with friends. They’d taken off but her car wasn’t starting. Her mobile had lost its charge and she needed to call AA. I didn’t believe her but I couldn’t leave her out in the cold either. I let her come in, she made her call and she spent ten minutes being supremely annoying. Then she came on strong, as she always does. We heard you come in, she knew it had to be you, I was distracted by your arrival, she moved in for the kill and she kissed me. That’s it.”
Abby couldn’t believe her ears.
Who behaved like that?
“What’s the matter with her?” Abby whispered.
“She’s a bitch,” Cash replied dismissively, standing again, his hands going to the waistband of his trousers.
“I don’t know anyone who acts like that,” Abby muttered, her head tilted down to watch her feet as she flipped off her shoes.
“Darling, come here,” she heard Cash call.
Her head came up, she saw his face had grown warm and immediately she walked to him.
His arms circled her when she got close.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“About Suzanne?” she queried in return.
“I don’t give a fuck about Suzanne. What I don’t
like is you scrambling around on a staircase pursued by a ghost,” he told her.
Abby wrinkled her nose and admitted, “It wasn’t fun.”
His eyes had moved to her nose then his lips went there and he kissed her.
Abby held her breath at this tender action, but before she could process its sweetness, his head came up and he murmured, “Let’s get you to bed.”
Then his hands were on the hem of her sweater, he pulled it up, her arms lifted, he yanked it off and threw it to the side.
Shortly after, they went to bed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Strategic Planning
Abby woke when Cash’s body moved into hers. She drowsily noted she was in a strange position, curled into a ball against Cash, the top of her head pressed into his side. His arm was extended and curved around her spine.
He moved her, sliding her up the bed. Her body uncurled to accommodate his and he rolled mostly on top of her.
His face went into her neck and he murmured in a sleepy burr, “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
His mouth moved from behind her ear to her jaw and he asked, “Are you still on your period?”
Abby answered, “Probably,” and she heard the disappointment in her voice.
His lips hit hers and brushed there softly before he said, “Go back to sleep.”
He started to move away but her arms went around him, stopping his retreat.
Her mind was groggily registering that they didn’t have all the time in the world, so there was no time to waste.
She pressed up and pushed off on a foot, rolling him to his back, positioning herself on top of him, her mouth going to his neck and she tasted him there.
She felt his hands at her bottom and then he said, “Abby.”
“Quiet,” she whispered.
His hands trailed up her back as her lips moved on his neck.
“You don’t have to do this, darling,” he told her, his voice low and rough.
Her head came up and she looked at him in the dark.
On a soft smile, she replied, “I know.”
Then she bent her head and used her hands and mouth on him, everywhere on him, wherever she wanted, however she liked and she took her time.