Then his face assumed the look she’d seen a million times. It was the look he got when he was being serious and trying to cut through her stupid, stupid, stupid stupidity.
“You gotta let yourself be happy.” His voice was fierce and demanding and it was at that moment that Abby realised she’d forgotten Ben could be pretty bossy too.
“Ben –” Abby started again only to be interrupted again.
“I don’t want to hear it, beautiful. This can’t go on, the way you’ve been.”
“But I –” Abby began again only to be interrupted again.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he leaned in, “let yourself be happy.”
Abby stared at him.
“Promise me, Abby,” Ben insisted.
As his gaze held hers, Abby felt the tears burning in her eyes.
Finally she whispered, “I promise.”
He watched her a moment then pulled back. He turned to Kieran and Jenny who were both standing in each other’s arms.
Jenny was silently crying.
Kieran’s face was white and his throat was moving convulsively.
Ben lifted his hand to them, a sob broke from Jenny and Kieran’s arms tightened around her.
Then Ben looked at Cassandra and nodded.
Cassandra lifted her wand and started speaking and Abby felt sudden, fierce anguish rip through her.
She pulled from Cash’s arms and got as close as she could to Ben’s glimmering form. She lifted her hands as if she could press them against his fading chest and tilted her head back.
“I love you,” she choked, tears clogging her throat.
Ben’s hand came toward her face but it was melting away as his voice floated through the air, “I know, baby, I love you too.”
Then he was gone.
A whimper of sorrow slid from Abby’s throat and she was turned into Cash’s arms. She wrapped her own arms around him and buried her face in his chest, the sobs tearing through her, her body trembling uncontrollably. Cash’s arm at her back tightened, his fingers digging into her side, his other hand slid up, fingers curled warmly around the back of her neck and through this, Abby sobbed.
Suddenly, fear sliced through her, she pulled back and her eyes cut to Cassandra.
“Tell me he went to a better place!” she demanded loudly.
Cassandra’s face was gentle when she replied, “He went to a better place, mate. I promise you, he went to a better place.”
Abby stared at her a moment, assessing her honesty then she turned away and pressed her forehead to Cash’s chest and took a deep breath to control her tears.
Then another emotion, this one anger, took hold of her, her head tipped back and she shouted at Cash, “I hate Vivianna! She’s a bitch!”
Cash’s hand moved from the back of her neck, his arm coming around so his fingers could curl at her neck at the side.
“She’s gone, darling.”
“Good!” Abby snapped. “She’s pissed me off. All this drama! For what? Seriously! What a bitch!”
Cash stared at her a moment with the look on his face that he got when he was openly wondering about Abby’s sanity when Jenny called out knowledgeably, “Don’t worry, Cash. Anger is good. You only have to worry when Abby gets quiet. If she’s blabbing and pissed, all’s well.”
Abby twisted to look at her friend and demanded, “Shut up, Jenny.”
“I’m just saying –” Jenny started.
“Shut up!” Abby shot back.
“All righty then,” Jenny mumbled and Kieran’s mouth twitched.
“People!” Mrs. Truman cut in sharply, she was peering over the side of the parapet. “We’ve got company.”
Everyone moved to the edge and looked down to see the flashing lights of police cars. Something was happening with four policemen, the Fitzhugh women, Alistair and a man who Abby could swear, even from that distance, was Cash’s friend James.
“What on –” she breathed but Cash was on the move.
He grabbed her hand and she and Cash led the way. Everyone clattered down the stairs from the turret (this made dangerous by Zee darting between Abby’s legs on more than one occasion), down the hall, descending more stairs and then swiftly out the front door.
Abby hustled to match Cash’s long strides as he guided them across the courtyard to the police.
“What’s happening?” he asked when they’d stopped and Abby noted that Alistair’s face was red and he’d been in mid-bluster when they arrived.
“We’ve had a reported disturbance,” a policeman answered Cash’s question.
“What sort of disturbance?” Mrs. Truman demanded to know as if the last hour of disturbance upon disturbance hadn’t happened.
“We’ve got thirty-seven people at the station claiming they’ve seen a ghost and an extra seventeen people reported the same via the phone,” another policeman responded.
“A ghost!” Mrs. Truman shouted then lied through her teeth, “Codswallop.”
Jenny giggled
Abby turned wide eyes to Cash.
But Cash wasn’t listening. He was looking at James.
His eyes moved to the policemen who looked like they were both talking to, and positioning themselves to detain, Alistair.
“And why are you here?” Cash asked the second set of policemen.
One of the policemen’s eyes flicked to Cash but then went back to Alistair as he answered, “I’m sorry to tell you this, sir, but we have a man being questioned at the station. He’s alleging that he was paid by your uncle to tamper with your car. We need to take Mr. Beaumaris in for an interview.”
“He did it,” Mrs. Truman announced baldly and both the police positioned around Alistair looked at her.
“How do you know that?” one of them asked.
“I’m seventy years old,” Mrs. Truman explained on a humph as if his question was beyond ridiculous and beneath her notice but she was forced to reply, if only to demonstrate good manners. “At my age, you learn to read people. Just look at him,” she gestured to Alistair as if that was all it took to try and fry him.
“I didn’t attempt to kill my nephew,” Alistair lied.
“You did and there’s proof,” James cut in, everyone looked at him and he carried on, “Mick Johnstone recorded your conversation.” Alistair’s face blanched and James’s eyes moved to the policemen. “He records all of his conversations for insurance and future extortion. Ask him about the tapes.”
“And you came across this information how?” one of the policemen queried.
James shrugged. “He told his girlfriend then cheated on her. She kicked him out but he owed her money and never paid. She was willing to talk and she did.”
“Did you offer her money to talk?” a policeman enquired and James shook his head.
“No, she was happy to talk.” His eyes moved to an Alistair who no longer looked pompous but was having difficulty hiding his fear. “She’s pretty annoyed.”
“You men,” Suzanne remarked, “I hope you’ve learned from tonight’s events that it’s best never to cross a woman.”
“Amen to that,” Honor muttered.
One of the policemen approached Alistair saying, “You need to come with us.”
“I will not leave my home!” Alistair declared, pulling his arrogance around him like a shield and stepping back.
The other policeman moved forward. “You come willing, or we’ll be forced to arrest you and you’ll come in cuffs, your choice.”
Alistair stared, the police braced and everyone watched.
Tense moments slid by.
Finally Alistair’s shoulders straightened and his chin tilted back.
“I’ll want to call my attorneys immediately,” he demanded.
The policemen moved forward, one of them took Alistair’s arm.
“Of course,” he muttered.
Abby waited and watched Cash’s uncle, hoping he’d turn, say something to Cash, maybe apologise for being such a jerk or say something to
Nicola, again something like apologising for being a jerk.
But he didn’t look back as the police led him away.
James glanced at Cash then followed the police.
Everyone stood silent as the police car drove Alistair Beaumaris from Penmort Castle hopefully, Abby thought, for the final time.
“Well, it appears all’s well at Penmort,” one of the other set of policemen commented.
To which Suzanne muttered, eyes still at the gate where they last saw Alistair, “You can say that again.”
Again everyone stood quiet and watchful as the second set of police took their leave.
Abby’s mind was so blank, all thoughts forced out likely in an effort at self-preservation so she could keep her sanity, that when Nicola spoke, she jumped.
“Honor, my dearest, I think now we could all use some champagne.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cash Claims Penmort, His New Family and Abby
Cash woke early, Abby’s warm, soft body a dead weight heavy against side. Her arm was draped across his midsection, her thigh thrown over his.
Last night after they made their way through an alarming amount of champagne or more accurately, the women and Angus had, Kieran and Cash stayed sober because someone had to just in case party guests, the police or any supernatural beings returned, Cash had led a drunken, giggling Abby to bed.
He’d taken off her extraordinary dress, slid her black nightgown on her body and guided her to bed.
She’d curled into him and fell asleep as if she hadn’t a care in the world however this was likely because it was less falling asleep and more passing out.
As he did every morning, Cash gave himself a moment to experience the intensely pleasant, peaceful feeling of Abby in bed at his side before he carefully moved away, trying not to disturb her.
The minute she lost purchase on his body, her arms snagged his pillow and she curled around it. There was something moving about her doing that every morning when Cash left her side but he didn’t give himself time to dwell.
Cash nabbed his dressing gown, shrugged it on, tightened the belt and walked from the room, soundlessly closing the door behind him.
He went directly to the kitchens where a woman named Jane, who he knew did the cooking for the castle, was sitting on a stool reading the paper and sipping coffee.
The minute she saw Cash, she jerked straight and jumped from the stool.
“Mr. Fraser,” she murmured, “you’re an early bird. No one is ever up this early. It’s always just me.” Then she blathered on nervously, “I come in early to get myself sorted and because I like the castle when it’s quiet. It never feels peaceful, except in the mornings.”
Jane would, Cash hoped, find things different from this day forward.
“I’m always up this early,” Cash informed her of a fact that she would need to know as she was now in his employ. He didn’t, however, share that with her but instead requested, “Can you prepare breakfast for myself and Ms. Butler, please?”
“Of course, what would you like?” she replied.
Cash considered the question and smiled to himself when he could say with authority what Abby’s preferences were for breakfast. “Coffee, strong, and something light. Croissants and fruit.” She nodded and Cash continued. “Give it some time, half an hour or more and, if you would, please deliver it to our room.”
She nodded again and busied herself with her task. Cash watched her a moment then looked about the vast kitchens, rooms used to prepare food for his line for centuries.
Now his kitchens.
Cash smiled again and walked out of the room.
Slowly he allowed himself time to move through his home.
He strolled through the armoury, the billiard room, library, conservatory, drawing room, inner and outer halls, dining room but stopped in the study. The tips of his fingers glided across the desk, another smile forming on his lips before he turned and looked out the still dark windows of pre-dawn at the back of the desk, his brain knowing there were acres of wood and pastureland surrounding the castle beyond the tor. Land, luckily, that Alistair had not yet sold. Land, now, that Cash owned, as his father before him and his father before him and so on.
He left the study, climbed the steps and walked to the gallery. His mind did not wander to the events of the night before. Instead he walked to the light switch, flipped it on and strode directly to Alistair’s portrait.
His hands went to the frame and he lifted it, pulling it off its mount, he turned its face away and set it on the floor against the wall.
Once done with this task, Cash turned to the alcove where his father’s portrait hung. He took hold of it and moved it to the gallery proper. He hooked it on the mount which had held Alistair’s portrait and straightened it, stepping back to make certain it was positioned properly.
Even though it was half the size of Alistair’s pretentious painting, it looked far more like it belonged where it was.
Studying his father’s image, Cash again did not let his mind wander to the night before. As with most everything else that happened last night, he’d process it with Abby when the time was right.
Instead he felt something settle in him, as if the small task of switching paintings was a far more grand and important feat than wresting his legacy out of the hands of a man who’d abuse his family and commit fratricide.
Cash considered this feeling and realised what he felt was justice.
He walked through the room, turned out the lights and headed to his and Abby’s room.
As he moved through the house, Cash saw a glow coming from the sewing room. The door was open and he stopped in it to see Nicola, her face free of makeup, the heels of her feet up on edge of a plush armchair, hair loose around her shoulders, arms wrapped around her calves, body enveloped in a soft throw, eyes staring unseeing out the dark window.
She looked, Cash thought, twenty years younger.
Her expression in profile was not sad nor was it troubled.
It was hopeful.
“Nicola,” Cash murmured.
He watched her jump and her eyes flew to him.
“Cash,” she whispered but she didn’t move.
Cash walked in. “You’re up early.”
She smiled up at him as he came within a few feet of her chair. Still she didn’t move.
“I haven’t slept,” she told him.
“I’m sorry,” Cash said.
“I’m not,” she replied.
Seeing she was going to remain in her casual pose instead of assuming the role of courteous hostess per usual, Cash moved away from her. Her demonstration of casualness and familiarity, Cash noted incidentally, was something he enjoyed.
He sat on the arm of the chair opposite her.
“A great deal happened last night,” he remarked watching her closely for signs of post-traumatic stress.
Her hand came out from under the throw and she waved it in front of her.
“That,” she stated, “Fenella, Suzanne and Honor filled me in last night.” She grinned at him in a way she’d never done before. Her grin was filled with her usual friendliness but now also had an easy openness that was something else Cash decided he liked.
It was then the sharp realisation hit him as to just how guarded she’d been, likely due to necessity, when Alistair had been around.
“Last night,” Cash said, his voice had grown deeper, “what I said about you and the girls staying here, I meant it.”
Her hand disappeared under the throw and he saw her pulling it tighter.
“I know, dear,” she mumbled, her eyes moving back to the window, “but we couldn’t.”
“You can,” Cash asserted and her gaze came back to him.
“You’re very kind, but we couldn’t.” When Cash opened his mouth to speak she shook her head. “I don’t know where we’re going but we can’t stay here with you.”
“Why not?” Cash asked and he watched her expression turn confused.
“I… well,” she hesitated then continued, “you and Abby will want some time to –”
Cash cut her off. “Yes we will.”
The confusion left her face, she nodded and her lips tipped up at the ends. “So, we’ll go.”
“No,” Cash returned, “you’ll all stay at my home in Bath for a few months. Then you and the girls, if they haven’t moved on, will come home.”
“Cash,” she started.
“Nicola, I’m not arguing about this.”
“We can’t,” she said more forcefully, her heels coming off the edge of the chair and she leaned toward him.
“Of course you can,” Cash retorted firmly. “You’re family.”
At his words Nicola pulled in a sharp breath and her eyes widened in what looked a good deal like wonder.
Cash decided to take that as the end of the discussion and stood, declaring, “It’s decided.”
Nicola stood with him, clutching the throw to her shoulders.
When he made a move to the door, her hand came out from under the throw and Cash stopped.
“Since Robbie,” she started, her voice cracked and she stopped.
Cash waited, knowing Robert Fitzhugh was her first husband, a man who died young after a valiant but ugly and ultimately unsuccessful battle with cancer.
Cash watched Nicola swallow, take in a deep breath and then she said in a stronger voice, “After Robbie, I messed up. I kidded myself for years but since he died, well, since he died, we haven’t had a real family.”
“You do know,” Cash returned and he saw tears fill her eyes. He also saw the hope come back and some joy but there was also sadness.
It was the sadness that cut through him like a razor.
“You miss him still,” Cash noted gently and he saw pain cross her face.
“Every day,” she whispered.
That was precisely, after watching Abby with Ben last night, what Cash didn’t want to hear.
Clearly, with her next words, Nicola read Cash’s face as well.
“She will too,” Nicola said softly, her eyes tender on Cash even as her words scored his soul. Nicola carried on. “But since she now has you, it’ll be like she misses her parents. People she loves but who’re now lost. She’ll never stop loving him but she’s a sweet girl with a lot of love to give and a lot of life in front of her.” Nicola moved forward, her hand caught Cash’s and squeezed. “Cash, my dearest, she’ll always love him but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have plenty of love to give to you.”