Not only that, she was putting herself in danger for no other reason but to make his legacy safe. It had nothing to do with her but she was doing it anyway.
Risking her life.
For Cash.
When his thoughts came back to the room, the edge he’d carried all his life had faded away. The peace he felt with Abby settled around him like a warm, nurturing shroud.
And at that moment, Cash Fraser vowed he was going to keep that peace and the only person in his life who’d ever given it to him.
Not for awhile.
Forever.
Abby completely missed his life-altering resolution and was still seething. “It took everything I had not to walk right across the room and kick him in the shin.”
He grinned at the visual she created, uncrossed his arms and walked to her as she stood, no longer pacing but planted and solid and glaring at him.
He stopped close and slid his arms around her. “Are you done?”
“No,” she snapped.
He waited. She was silent.
Then she took in a deep breath and said, “Okay, maybe I’m done.”
Cash burst out laughing and while doing so he felt her body relax. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him.
He looked down at her to see she’d tipped her head back to watch him laugh. The anger had gone out of her face. The awe he’d seen only once had replaced it.
Then she whispered, “I love it when you laugh.”
That shroud drew closer, grew warmer and his arms tightened around her.
He didn’t comment on her words, instead he asked, “Are you okay?”
“You mean after crashing your fabulously expensive sports car into a wall?” she queried in return.
He felt his mouth twitch. “Yes, after that.”
“Pretty much,” she replied. “Though now, if we have to make a quick getaway, we have no wheels.”
“A rental will be delivered within the hour,” Cash told her.
She looked surprised for a minute then she smiled and relaxed further into him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“No, but I will be,” he answered.
Her arms gave him a squeeze and her head tipped to the side. “What do you think Suzanne is up to?”
“No idea,” Cash replied.
Though he did have an idea, however he was willing to ride it out and see where it took them.
“Surprising ally,” Abby whispered.
Cash bent his head and put his mouth to the skin below her ear, not wanting to talk about Suzanne, not wanting to talk at all, and murmured, “Indeed.”
As his tongue touched her neck, Cash felt her body tremble against his and immediately he started walking her backward toward the bed.
She didn’t resist and her hands slid up his back but she commented softly, “You seem weird today.”
Cash’s mouth glided to her jaw then across her cheek to her lips.
“Not weird,” he said against her mouth.
“I –” she started but her legs hit the bed and Cash kept moving, forcing her body to fall back, his going with her, his mouth taking hers in a kiss before he landed on top of her on the bed.
One of her hands sliding in his hair, she kissed him back.
They would, Cash thought before his mind cleared of everything but Abby, her perfume, her soft body under his, her hands on him, talk later.
Right then, Cash was intent on salvaging the afternoon.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nicola
Abby stood at the mirror over the bureau spritzing perfume at her ears and wrists.
Cash had showered first while she dozed in bed and he dressed while she was taking a long, relaxing bath. When she was towelling off, he’d called through the door that James was there and he had to go talk to him. He didn’t explain why James was there and he’d been gone before Abby had a chance to ask.
That afternoon Cash had left their room once, to go get them some food for a light lunch. After making love and eating, they’d spent hours in bed, cuddling and whispering to each other about what could be causing Nicola’s strange mood, what was behind Suzanne’s even stranger behaviour and both their surprise at Fenella’s demonstrated fortitude.
Well, Abby did most of the whispering. Cash spent his time holding her, running his hands over her skin and gliding his lips along her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, her collarbone (and other places besides).
He would, however, often mutter things like, “Mm,” or “I’ve no idea,” or “Let’s just see how it plays out, shall we?”
Other than that, he seemed pretty happy to let Abby talk her way through things using him as a mostly silent sounding board.
Abby noted that Cash was completely at ease with all the nefarious goings-on.
Abby was not.
Regardless of spending the afternoon in bed with Cash and her relaxing bath, Abby was wired.
Although Cash appeared laid back about the attempt on his life, he was that morning more intense with Abby than ever.
Cash, Abby thought, was always a bit intense but this was different.
Not in a bad way. In a good one.
A really good one.
One that made that blooming hope in her heart start to blossom out-of-control even though she knew it was stupid, stupid, stupid to let that feeling flourish.
That afternoon she felt his intensity of the morning somehow settled even though it didn’t diminish. It was as if he’d come to some conclusion.
Although Abby wanted to know what that conclusion was, she didn’t ask him to share, scared of what it could mean.
Hope and his actions were pressing her to think it would be good.
Reason and her indisputably bad luck made her think it would be bad.
The time was nigh for what would have been the end of their arrangement. She was to pretend to be his girlfriend for the three weeks prior to the weekend at the castle then continue for one week after.
Then it would be over.
And, Abby thought, maybe now that he was close to getting what he’d worked so hard for, it was time for him to move on to his life as master of the castle, a life without Abby.
The rational part of her brain reminded her that Cash had asked her to move into the castle with him.
The much stronger irrational part of her brain reminded her that her luck sucked and she’d learned the hard way that all good things came to an end usually heartbreakingly sooner than she expected.
On that thought she picked up the diamond bracelet Cash gave her and struggled with the complicated clasp for a moment before securing it.
Then she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Her great-grandmother’s gown was a bold, red satin with a long, flowing skirt. The bodice came up in a soft, inverted V at the base of her throat where there was an opening through which a wide band of satin was fed through. This band held up the bodice at her chest and went over her exposed shoulders, crossing between her shoulder blades and holding the dress in place at her sides. The rest of the back was open with a drape at the small. The hem of the skirt swept the floor with a decorous hint of a train.
Abby wore a pair of red pumps with satin-covered, pencil-thin, four-inch heels, pointed toes covered entirely with bugle beads and complicated, thin, beaded ankle straps.
She’d dried her hair with curlers in to give it volume, parted it at the side and swept the sections back softly in a twisted, loose knot at the nape of her neck.
Regardless that the satin fit smooth and snug to her skin, she’d somehow managed (magic?) successfully to hide Cassandra’s protection amulet which hung from a thin silver chain to rest between her breasts under the dress.
She’d done her makeup in the only one word style she had, though it was emphasised when she spoke it aloud, the look was “Drama!”
The only other adornment she wore was Cash’s bracelet and a pair of her mother’s ruby studs in her ears, the rubies surrounded
by small diamonds.
She thought, assessing herself, she didn’t look half bad.
“Please, God,” she mumbled to the mirror, “don’t let me die in great-granny’s dress.”
After her muttered prayer, the door opened and Cash walked in.
Abby turned to look at him and her breath caught in her chest.
He was wearing a black tuxedo, clearly expensive, with an immaculate cut which made it obvious it was tailored just for him. His crisp, white shirt had a series of pin-tucks at the chest, there was a flash of gold at his cuffs but other than that it was simple and, on Cash, alarmingly masculine.
Abby felt her knees go weak and she had to put her hand to the bureau to hold herself upright.
Then she caught the hungry look in his eyes as they swept the length of her and her fingers clutched the edge of the bureau as her weak knees were joined with a full-body tremor.
She had the distinct feeling he liked the dress.
Deciding something must be said before she spontaneously combusted under his hot gaze, she muttered, “You look nice.”
His eyes, resting in the region of her belly, cut to hers and he replied, “You don’t.”
Abby felt her body jolt at his words, thinking she’d misinterpreted his look, and whispered, “I don’t?”
He started walking toward her slowly, his eyes holding hers captive.
“No,” his voice was low and rough, “the word ‘nice’ describes a lot of things. What it does not describe is you in that fucking dress.”
Abby stood solid as he stopped close in front of her and his hand came up. The tips of his fingers slid down the satin at her side from the curve of her breast to her waist where his hand flattened and his fingers curled, pressing forcefully into her flesh, searing her there like a brand.
It was safe to say she wasn’t wrong in her first conclusion about how Cash felt about her dress.
“Cash –” she breathed but he talked over her.
“After this is done, we have to talk,” he announced.
At the serious look on his face Abby’s worry came crashing back and she swallowed her fear before querying, “About what?”
Cash didn’t hesitate with his reply. “About you. About me. About our future.”
Her heart hammering, the fear taking control, her voice was higher when she enquired, “What about it?”
His fingers at her waist pulled her closer and his head dipped further to look down at her. “Not now. Later. Now we need to focus on getting through the night.”
Abby stared at him, holding back the fear (just barely) and requested, “Maybe you can give me a hint.”
His hand slid around her back, it encountered skin and stilled for a brief moment then pressed in, moving her to him.
His face dipped closer. “Things have changed.”
“What things?” Abby asked.
“Everything,” Cash replied firmly yet mysteriously.
Abby had no idea what that meant but before she could ask, he touched his lips to hers.
When his head came up, he muttered, “Now, darling, you need to focus on tonight.”
“Okay,” she agreed but even as she did, she didn’t.
There was no way in hell she’d be able to focus on taking down a ghosty she-bitch when Cash’s life was also in danger and her future with Cash was in question.
On that thought, her brain reminded her of her pledge to live the time she had with Cash to the fullest. So their upcoming, scary-as-heck talk might mean the end, now they were still in the middle.
Not to mention, she might end the night flung out a window.
Obviously there was no time like the present.
Therefore she decided to carry on like there was going to be no end. Or, if there was, however that might come, she was intent to give him something which he could use to remember her even after she was gone.
She lifted her hand to rest on his cheek and whispered, “I have something for you.”
She saw a flash in his eyes but before she could read it or lose her courage, she pulled away and walked to the bedside table.
She opened the drawer and retrieved a small, black velvet box, tied in a black satin ribbon.
She came back to him, held the box in the palm of her hand between them and caught his eyes.
Then she murmured, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
His gaze held hers for a moment then dropped to the box. She saw a muscle leap in his jaw, a reaction that usually indicated he was angry. She bit her lip in concern but his hand came up, he took the box from her, pulled at the bow and tossed the loosened ribbon on the bureau before he flipped open the box with his thumb.
Inside was a pair of cufflinks Abby purchased while out shopping with Jenny the day Angus called. They were gold, set with oval onyx. Seeing them, she thought they were smart, handsome, elegant and very Cash therefore she felt at the time he had to have them.
Now, spying the cufflinks in his cuffs, also gold, probably more expensive than her gift, she thought they were kind of lame.
How many men needed two pairs of gold cufflinks?
Hurriedly she told him, “I didn’t think when I got them. I just liked them. Of course you already have a pair.” His eyes went from the cufflinks to hers, their black depths were blazing but she couldn’t quite read why so she blathered on. “You don’t have to wear them. If you don’t like them, I can take them back and find something else. A tie pin or –”
She stopped talking when he caught her in his arms, jerking her forward almost violently. She crashed into his body and his arms held her tight as he buried his face in her neck.
“I like them,” he said into her neck and Abby lifted her hands to his upper arms and held on.
“You do?” she whispered.
He didn’t take his face from her neck but his arms tightened to the point he was squeezing the air out of her.
“Yes,” he replied, “I fucking well do.”
Okay, he was saying the f-word and she didn’t know if that was good or bad.
However she had a priority concern.
“Cash,” she wheezed, “I can’t breathe.”
He let her go instantly, took a step back and immediately exchanged his cufflinks for hers.
Abby watched this and no matter how stupid she knew it was, her careening thoughts shifted back to hope.
After he’d completed his task, without looking at her he went to his briefcase that was sitting beside one of the armchairs in the turret. He put the briefcase in the seat of the chair, bent to open it and came back to her, carrying his own small, black velvet box, this one tied with an ivory satin bow.
He again got close, leaned in, his fingers curling around her wrist, he lifted her hand palm up and deposited the box in it.
The whole while he did this, Abby stared up at him.
He let her wrist go and put a hand to her neck.
“I hesitate to give you a gift after the last time,” he murmured his voice low but teasing, “however, it is Valentine’s Day.”
She pulled herself out of her trance and looked down at the box. She lifted her other hand and yanked at the bow. She did as he’d done and tossed the ribbon to the bureau before opening it.
In it was a pair of extraordinary diamond chandelier earrings. A not-small-by-any-stretch-of-the-imagination diamond at the base led down to a complicated fall of diamonds set in platinum.
She stared at the earrings, frozen in shock not only at their beauty but at their obvious cost. She didn’t know what to do and had no clue what to say.
She lifted her eyes to his and stupidly whispered the first thought that came to her mind, “You one-upped my present.”
At her words he threw back his head and burst out laughing, his arms snaking around her to pull her again tightly to him.
She absorbed his laughter into her body and held onto his waist.
He pulled back slightly and touched a finger to her ear before saying softly, “As charming as those
are, darling, I want you to wear my diamonds.”
“Cash,” Abby replied, her fingers curling around the box still in her hand as they went straight to her ears to take out the rubies, “you’d have to pay me not to wear your diamonds.”
He chuckled at her words and held her loosely as she switched her jewellery and then leaned into him to peer around and check herself in the mirror.
“They’re exquisite,” she breathed.
Cash’s arms flexed around her and she straightened to look up at him.
“Yes,” he murmured, his eyes on her face, “exquisite.”
Abby felt her body melt into his as her arms wrapped around his waist.
“I want to kiss you,” she told him, “but it’ll mess up my lip gloss.”
As his head descended, he muttered, “Fuck your lip gloss.”
In the end, not only did she have to repair her lip gloss, they had a post-gift-exchange, Valentine’s Day make out session that might have been so long and intense, Abby thought it should be entered into a record book.
Needless to say they were late descending the stairs to join the party.
* * * * *
“Jennifer, don’t get drunk,” Mrs. Truman snapped at Jenny.
“I’m not getting drunk,” Jenny snapped back.
“Pumpkin, you’re getting drunk,” Kieran put in on a smile.
Jenny shot a glare at her husband and then tipped back her champagne glass, draining it down her throat.
Abby pressed her lips together and her gaze locked with Cash’s. He was standing at her side holding a glass of champagne, looking cultured and amused and almost criminally attractive.
Abby tore her eyes away from Cash and studied her friends.
Jenny was wearing a fantastic champagne-coloured strapless silk dress with princess-seams, built-in boning and a mermaid-tail skirt. There was a tiny, chiffon ruffle along the bodice. Her hair was swept back in an elaborate up-do and she looked amazing.
Kieran wore a well-cut dinner jacket and was more than his usual handsome.
Mrs. Truman looked like The Queen times about five thousand. She was wearing a boxy grey gown. From enormous shoulder pads to hips and down the long sleeves the gown was elaborately sequined and beaded. The silvery-grey, chiffon skirt was gathered effusively at the bottom of the sequins at her hips, floating down to her stout-heeled, square-toed, dove-grey satin, granny pumps.