Abby smiled at Jenny. Jenny’s eyes moved to Cash and Abby thought she looked weirdly pensive. Then she looked again at Abby, the strange look left her face, and she smiled back.
“Are we done?” Honor asked.
“We’re done,” Angus boomed and Abby looked at Cash to see if he agreed.
“Good, I’m getting seconds,” Honor announced and Abby watched Cash sit back in his seat and he crossed one arm on his chest but brought the fist of his other hand to his mouth. “Abby, can I make you a plate?” Honor called.
“Yes, please,” Abby called back but her eyes didn’t leave Cash when she told him quietly, “It’s going to be okay.”
Cash was contemplating the top of the conference table but at her words, only his eyes moved to hers and he regarded her from under his brows.
Then, even after all that, clearly unconvinced, Cash growled in his rough burr, “It better fucking be.”
And Abby thought, bloody hell.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Abby Helps Cash Celebrate
Abby stood by their big, four poster, curtained bed at Penmort, rubbing lotion into her hands and thanking her lucky stars that she was still alive and breathing.
They’d arrived at the castle sometime after seven for the family celebration that went off (almost) without a hitch. No earthquakes. No eerie screams. No ghosty she-bitch hauntings. No running for your life through the castle.
Nothing.
Apparently Angus and Cassandra’s guess had been correct. Throughout the evening an on-edge Cash had glued himself to Abby’s side and Vivianna didn’t show. There wasn’t even a cold draught, much less a murderous spirit appearing over the dining table wreaking havoc while they ate their pudding.
In fact, once Abby, Fenella and Honor stopped glancing at each other with expectant doom and, later, a very tense Cash relaxed (somewhat), it was only Nicola and Suzanne who made the evening uncomfortable.
Nicola, because she was unusually quiet in a way that made Abby concerned.
Suzanne, because she was not unusually being a screaming bitch in a way that made an obviously edgy Cash furious.
And he had absolutely no problem letting that fact be known.
He did this by actually calling her a “lying, fucking bitch” right at the table.
At his words, Abby and everyone had been shocked speechless, even though Abby and (likely) everyone thought she deserved it.
Suzanne had, of course, been unrelentingly bitchy throughout the meal, not only to her sisters, but also to her mother and even, although subtly (she was a bitch but not a bitch with a death wish), to Abby.
And knowing his patience was wearing thin, in what Abby thought could only be desperation to press a reaction, any reaction, from Cash, Suzanne had cattily alluded to the fact that she’d serviced him in bed.
No joke, serviced him in bed!
She didn’t come right out and say it but her inference wasn’t lost on a soul at the table. It earned horrified gasps from Fenella and Honor, Alistair rolled his eyes wearily to the ceiling and Nicola jerked out of her quiet reverie to turn a sharp gaze on her daughter.
But before anyone could say a word, his voice low with fury, Cash growled, “You lying, fucking bitch.”
Once she’d pulled herself out of her speechless shock, Abby murmured a soothing, “Cash.”
Cash ignored Abby, his body rigidly controlled, he scowled at Suzanne in a way that made Abby grateful a table lay between them but Suzanne glared right back.
Everyone held their breath.
Suzanne broke the staring contest, turned to her mother and demanded, “Are you going to let him speak to me that way?”
“Yes,” Nicola said calmly and not only Suzanne’s but also Abby, Honor and Fenella’s eyes grew round at her single word.
“What?” Suzanne snapped.
“You’ve been prodding the sleeping lion all night, Suzanne,” Nicola replied softly, demonstrating uncanny mother’s observational abilities and she went on. “You wanted a response, you got one. You woke the lion, dear, don’t turn to me to pull you to safety.”
Fortunately this served to piss off Suzanne enough for her to jump up, throw her napkin on the table and storm out of the room.
After Suzanne disappeared, Nicola’s eyes slid to Cash and she apologised for her daughter. A muscle jumped in Cash’s cheek but he jerked his chin in acceptance of her apology.
Fenella quickly filled the conversational void with chatter and Abby, sitting next to Cash, curled her fingers on his thigh and gave him a reassuring squeeze.
Cash’s gaze came to her, still angry, but also, she noted, somewhat astonished.
Then the look faded as did his anger and his fingers curled around hers on his thigh. He gave them a squeeze then left them there, holding her hand under the table.
Without Suzanne there, and with Cash’s hand in hers, the rest of the evening had been kind of fun (if you didn’t count Alistair being totally fake and Nicola being practically silent, that was).
Now Abby stood by their bed in their room.
Nicola had given them a lush corner turret room. It had a heavy, ornate wardrobe, chest and bureau and was decorated in a mixture of olive and emerald greens and dove grey a bizarre colour combination, which, somehow, worked. And in its circular turret it had two inviting, overstuffed chairs sharing an ottoman and a small table.
Abby was wearing her cashmere robe and her favourite of the nightgowns Cash had given her. This one black silk, ankle length with daring, sexy slits on either side from the hem to her lower hip. The cut was simple, the back low and the gown fit her at bodice, midriff and hips fit like a second skin.
Abby was distractedly rubbing lotion in her hands and thinking that, even if Cash didn’t seem in the best mood (which was an understatement), she had more to tell him. More he needed to know.
She should have told him before but she figured him coming to terms with his ancestral legacy being haunted by an evil spirit who wanted to murder his new girlfriend was enough to handle.
In the meantime they’d been kind of busy.
But, Abby decided, it was time.
Even though she didn’t like it, she had to do it.
For Cash.
She heard the door to the bathroom open. She had her back turned to it and saw the light hit the room before Cash pulled the cord and it was extinguished.
She didn’t turn but she felt him come close then his hands went to her waist, slid around to her belly and put pressure there, pulling her back into his warm, hard, strong body.
His mouth came to her ear where he asked in his rough burr, “You doing okay?”
At the concern in his voice, Abby felt her heart leap, her belly melt and she turned her head. His came up and she caught his eyes as her hands went to his at her belly.
She didn’t answer him, instead she enquired, “Can we talk?”
Something she couldn’t catch flashed across his face before he murmured, “Of course.”
She took one of his hands in hers, curled it away from her body and then tugged on it, leading him to a chair in the turret. He was wearing navy blue pyjama bottoms and a dark grey, flannel robe opened at the front so she could see most of his chest and the tight muscle across his abdomen.
She ignored the view (and the fact that Cash looked good in a robe), pressed him into the chair and, unresisting, he sat. She then lifted one of his arms and settled in his lap, curling close.
For a brief moment, she felt his body tense under hers as she settled, almost as if he was surprised.
Then he relaxed, one of his arms curved around her waist, the other one came to rest across her lap, his fingers flexing into her hip.
His eyes caught hers. “What is it?”
Abby pulled in breath.
Then quickly and as gently as she could, she told him what Fenella, Angus and Honor said. Everything they said. About his father, about his father’s intentions toward his mother and him and lastly about Alista
ir (maybe) killing his father.
When she was close to finished, she lifted a hand to rest on the side of his face and leaned into him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, honey. I know this is a lot to process and I should have told you before. But I didn’t know how and–”
He cut her off with words as well as his fingers tightening their grip on her hip and his arm giving a squeeze. “Stop saying you’re sorry.”
She blinked at him. “But, I just told you there’s a possibility that your uncle murdered your father. Anyone would be sorry about that.”
“I know Alistair murdered my father,” Cash shared bluntly and Abby gasped at this news but he talked over her gasp. “I know my father intended to move my mother and me to Penmort.” Abby stared at him and Cash gave her another squeeze, his voice dipping low. “I know everything, Abby.”
“You do?” she breathed.
“Yes,” he said shortly, “I do.”
“How… when…” she stammered, “how?”
Cash shifted, twisting her so her back was against the arm of the chair, he pulled her body further across his lap, her legs were hanging over the other arm and his torso was partially resting on hers. It was a far more comfortable and intimate position and Abby’s brain registered just how much she liked it when he continued.
“When my father died, the police suspected Alistair but couldn’t pin anything on him. Even though the trail was cold, there was enough to explore so I took up the threads of their investigations. I found out the man who tampered with the brakes of my father’s car got nicked for another job. He told his cellmate what he’d done. With a little persuasion, his cellmate told me.”
Abby felt her heart start to beat faster.
“You should go to the police,” she encouraged.
Cash shook his head. “The person who Alistair paid to do it is now dead. Died in prison, diabetes. His cellmate is still alive but it’s hearsay. There’s no point.”
Abby put her hands to his neck and asked, “If you know, then how can you be here? How can you sit at his table? How can you –”
Cash interrupted her. “It’s my table, Abby.”
“You know that now,” she returned, “but you just found out Alistair isn’t a Beaumaris.”
“It’s been my table for two months,” Cash replied and Abby’s breath stuck in her throat. “Alistair is in debt up to his teeth. I bought the notes. If he paid the loans he’s taken against the castle, which he doesn’t, he’d be paying me.”
Abby felt her eyes grow round and Cash got closer.
“That’s why you’re here, darling. I’ve been playing with him for a year, making him think I might be interested in one of his stepdaughters in order to keep his attention off the fact I was stealing his house from under his nose. This weekend you’re here to rub his face in one failure, his not securing a Beaumaris to marry one of his stepdaughters, while I rub his nose in the ultimate failure for any Beaumaris, true or not, by informing him he needs to pack his bags and get… the fuck… out.”
Abby stared at him then whispered, “You’ve owned it all along?”
Cash nodded then went on. “I took it and then you gave me proof that it was mine in the first place. Either way, he’s out.”
Abby was stunned. Abby was also worried.
“But, what about Nicola?” Abby asked.
Cash muttered dryly, “She can stay.”
“Fenella? Honor?” Abby pressed.
His head descended and his mouth touched her collarbone. “I’m beginning to like them. You bring out the best in people. They can stay too,” he replied generously, Abby opened her mouth again but Cash beat her to it when his head came up and he stated flatly, “Suzanne goes.”
Abby stared at him a moment then her voice went soft. “So all this time, you knew your Dad wanted to marry your Mom?”
He shook his head, his jaw went hard as did his eyes and he muttered, “That was news.”
“Did you know he wanted you to inherit?” Abby asked.
“I knew he was scrutinising the covenant. I guessed why,” Cash replied.
“You need to talk to Angus,” Abby told him.
“I’ll talk to Angus, after you’re safe,” Cash agreed. “All of this will happen after we know you’re safe.”
“Cash –” Abby started to argue, thinking it was Priority One that Alistair get his due.
“Abby,” he broke in, “after you’re safe.”
Abby didn’t let it go. “You can’t wait! He killed your father, Cash. You’ve been working on this for –”
He cut her off. “After you’re safe.”
“Cash!” she snapped and his face came close to hers.
“After… you’re… fucking… safe,” he enunciated clearly, slowly and more than a little inflexibly.
All right then, after she was safe it was.
All of a sudden, all he said, what he’d done, dawned on her.
And she felt something odd steal over her, odd and thrilling.
She was, she realised, proud of him. It wasn’t her place to be proud but she couldn’t help it, she was.
And, she thought, the man who held her in his lap, in a turret, in his ancestral home, a home he’d been born to but denied and then cheated but he’d won it all the same, that man, Abby concluded, should celebrate.
And she knew exactly how he should do it.
Even though it scared the daylights out of her (for a variety of reasons), since she was living on limited time, she didn’t waste any of it.
Abruptly she asked, “Will you do something for me?”
His eyes moved over her face and she knew he was trying to read her mind.
Clearly failing, cautiously he replied, “That depends.”
She smiled.
When she did, his eyes dropped to her mouth but she pushed him back, slid off his lap, grabbed his hand and pulled him up from the chair. Then she tugged him to the door which she threw open and stepped out of the room.
With a sharp yank at her hand he hauled her back and she looked up at him.
“You’re not leaving this room,” he told her.
She smiled up at him. “I’ll be safe. I’m with you.”
Then she started to move forward again but Cash stayed planted.
She pulled at his arm. He still didn’t move.
She stopped, turned and softly uttered two words, “Cash, please.”
He looked to the side, pressing his lips together then his body came unstuck and he walked down the dark hall with her, down the stairs, his hand in hers, his body close.
She led him to the study and closed the door behind them.
She took his hand again, moved with him through the shadows to the huge desk which had been there for maybe hundreds of years. A desk his father used, his grandfather used, and so on.
A desk that Alistair used.
Abby walked Cash around the desk and pushed back the chair then stopped Cash in front of her, dropped his hand and leaned back against the desk.
“Abby, what in fucking hell –” Cash, she could tell, was losing patience.
Abby interrupted. “Alistair uses this desk.”
“And?” Cash asked irritably.
Her hands went to his waist inside his robe and she pulled him closer. She got up on tiptoe and leaned into him as his hands came to her hips.
“Abby –” he started.
She put her lips to his jaw and muttered, “I’m done with my period.”
She felt him grow still.
Her hands slid up his sides, around then up his back as she pressed against him.
His head tipped down as hers tilted back and she put her mouth to his.
Using every smidgeon of courage she had, her heart beating madly, she whispered, “Cash, I want you to fuck me on your desk.”
Cash’s body went solid.
For a moment.
But Abby didn’t have to ask twice.
His mouth captured hers in a bruising kiss
and her robe was off her shoulders in a flash, pooling on the floor at her feet.
All the while kissing her, Cash leaned forward and Abby arched back. He did something and she heard objects hit the floor but she didn’t pay much attention. She was busy trying to pull his robe down his occupied arms at the same time kissing him back.
When he was done clearing the desk, she tugged his robe off, he yanked her nightgown up then her underwear down and before she’d finished her gasp and stepped out of them, his hands were at her bottom, lifting her and planting her on the desk.
From that point on it went wild. It was rough, hard, wet, completely out of either of their control and every second was absolutely glorious.
Not long later, her back was on the desk and her behind at its edge. Her knees were cocked, her legs pressed high against his sides. One of her arms was wrapped around Cash’s back like she was never going to let go, the other hand in his hair, holding his mouth to hers.
She felt the delicious tightening, she knew what it was, she knew it was coming and, best of all, she knew it was going to be good.
Cash was driving deep. His mouth disengaged from hers and his hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back with a tender savagery that made her neck arch.
Cash’s lips went to her ear and he growled, “The best thing I’ve done in my whole fucking life is walk into that pub.”
Abby felt her heart squeeze and her breath catch but it was too late, she was too far gone. She couldn’t respond. All she could do was breathe his name.
He drove in deeper and demanded, “I want it.”
She did everything she could to hold back and wait for him.
“Cash,” she whispered.
He ground his hips into hers, way deep, beyond delicious, and his fist in her hair pulled her head back further as he ordered, “Give it to me, Abby. I want it.”
Seeing as it was one of the only things she could give to Cash Fraser, Fabulously Rich and Famous International Hot Guy and seeing as she wanted him to have everything he wanted she gave it to him.
* * * * *
After Cash finished and pulled away, he slid her underwear up her legs himself. After he’d done that, he gently slipped her off the desk to her feet. Holding her close to his body, he replaced her robe then let her go for a moment so he could replace his.