Penmort Castle (32 page)

Something you
couldn’t have.

And it hurt
because she knew it was wrong to betray Ben’s memory. She knew it
was wrong to have the desire to move on, not to something else, but
to something that felt better than what she had before.

And it hurt
because she knew she was being selfish. Most women didn’t even have
the beauty of what she had with Ben much less the glory of all that
was Cash.

To control the
tears, she allowed herself a moment of weakness.

Knowing he was
asleep and she was safe to give a piece of herself away, she
wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled closer to his solid
warmth.

And she fell
asleep.

* * * * *

Cash felt
Abby’s weight settle into him.

His arm
tightened around her and he bent his knee until his thigh was
pressed against the heat of her. In sleep, she accommodated him by
hooking her leg around his hip.

Thoroughly
entwined, Cash felt the peace invade.

And he allowed
himself to sleep.

Séance

Cash pulled his
Maserati into her drive and Abby watched as he turned off the
ignition.

Then he got out
and she did as well. She closed her door and watched him go to the
trunk and pull out not only her, but also his suitcases.

He put one on
the ground, slammed the trunk, picked it up again and his eyes came
to hers.

Then he walked
right passed her to the steps that led to her front door.

I guess Cash
is spending the night,
she thought on a sigh and followed
him.

Germany had
been good or, as with anything to do with Cash, too good.

Indeed, it was
exceptional or (although Abby was trying not to think this way, she
was, as ever, finding it supremely difficult) one could say it was
even magical.

It hadn’t
started that way.

In fact, they’d
almost had another row before they left.

This happened
when they were both in her bedroom the morning she packed.

Cash was
standing in the bay window talking on his BlackBerry and
alternately watching her and looking outside, his gaze resting on
her far-off view of the sea (one of the many things about her house
that she loved most, and, incidentally, so had Ben).

She’d closed
her suitcase, pleased with her efforts and the fact that she still
had ten minutes to spare, and proclaimed, “Done!” as if she’d just
successfully climbed Mount Kilimanjaro (which it felt like she
had).

Still on his
phone, as calm as you please, he walked to her suitcase, opened it,
dug under her clothes and took out three pairs of high-heeled
shoes.

She watched as
one-by-one he tossed each shoe into a corner of the room.

First, she
stared at the shoes and made a mental note to have a word with him
about how he handled her designer gear. Though she made another
note to do it when her head wasn’t about to explode.

Then her eyes
went to his.

When their eyes
caught, he put his palm over the Blackberry and ordered,
“Flats.”

Forgetting for
a moment that she was his dutiful escort, not his recalcitrant
girlfriend, she’d marched to the shoes, marched back to her bag and
repacked them.

The whole time
she was at her task, Cash watched.

When she was
done, he said into his phone, “One second.”

Then he took it
from his ear, again put his palm over it and uttered one word
only.

“Abby.”

Without
hesitation, mimicking his implacable tone, she returned,
“Cash.”

They stared at
each other and Abby mentally prepared for battle.

Then to her
shock, he sighed, shook his head and finally smiled.

“We’ll buy you
a helmet in Munich,” he teased, the smile had reached his eyes and
she watched as they warmed. Abby felt the now-familiar pleasantness
invade her system at being the recipient of a smile from Cash
accompanied by that soft look.

Then turning
back toward the sea, he put his phone to his ear.

For their
entire trip, that had been the only time they’d disagreed.

Everything else
had been wonderful.

Ben and Abby
had never travelled well together. They were great once they got to
their destination but getting there, and getting home, had never
been fun.

Ben always
complained about how much Abby packed. Further, he liked to be at
the airport an hour before the hours before they actually had to be
there, something which drove Abby insane. He was not fond (to say
the least) of Abby’s penchant for duty-free shopping. Even though
he usually didn’t mind her spending, when they were travelling it
annoyed him that she’d blow half of their budget before they even
left the country (but Abby couldn’t help it, the deals were just
too good to pass up).

Cash didn’t
care how much she packed (he just didn’t like her heels), not even
when he had to carry her heavy suitcase down to his car. And she
didn’t get a chance to duty-free shop as Cash owned his own
plane.

Yes. His own
plane
.

Like everything
else he owned it was sleek and expensive but not ostentatious. It
was a six-seater jet, a luxurious one but not overly-large nor
overly-well-appointed. It was comfortable and well-stocked but he
didn’t have gorgeous, rail-thin, model-type flight attendants
wearing mini-skirted, cleavage-busting uniforms. They had to make
their own coffee, well Abby did, Cash was on his laptop the whole
trip.

With some
effort Abby hid how stunned she was he had his own plane.
Obviously, he was Expensive-Escort, Diamond-Bracelet, Cashmere-Robe
Loaded but owning a jet took it to a new level.

She had to hide
her shock again when, once they arrived in Munich, they went to the
opulent Mandarin Oriental and were shown to an elegant suite which
included a king-sized bed and walk-in closet.

She wasn’t
surprised however when he tipped the bellman, closed the door and
took Abby into his arms for a quick but thorough kiss before
telling her he needed to get to work.

Thus started
their time in Germany and Abby thought it would be just like
home.

It wasn’t.

Firstly, Cash
didn’t wake up at five o’clock, turn to her for a heated, but
quick, mind-boggling session of lovemaking and leave.

He woke up at
six, turned to her for a heated, but long, lingering, mind-boggling
session of lovemaking, after which he held her for awhile, asking
her questions in a soft voice like what she was going to do that
day and stroking the small of her back or playing with her
hair.

Then
he
left.

She spent her
days in Munich’s gardens, museums and churches as well as shopping,
but not buying (for herself, she got Jenny a souvenir for watching
Zee).

Late afternoon,
he’d call to warn her he was returning to the hotel but he always
gave her plenty of time to get back to meet him there.

They spent
their nights in the city’s famous beer gardens with Cash
introducing Abby to her new favourite thing, Prinzregententorte, a
culinary extravaganza including seven thin layers of cake separated
with chocolate buttercream and covered in chocolate glaze.

The minute the
cake plate was placed in front of her, her eyes hit it and rounded
in greedy, exultant wonder. Cash took in her look and burst out
laughing.

After he
finished with his hilarity, he partially stood, leaning across the
table, one hand on its top, the other one wrapping around the back
of her head and with everyone watching and his mouth still smiling,
he gave her a hard, short kiss that stole her breath.

He kissed her
after she’d eaten the cake too. Since he had a piece as well, that
kiss tasted better but Cash kissing her with a smile on his face
was definitely the best.

He also spent
their evenings conducting gentle, but thorough, interrogations.

He asked about
her mother, father and grandmother but, notably and thankfully, not
Ben. He asked about her former job and where she went to
school.

He also shared
his history, telling her more about his mother, a bit about his
grandfather and explaining that, outside a couple of visits in his
youth, he had little to do with Alistair and Nicola. Indeed, until
very recently, he never spoke to them.

He also shared
bluntly that he didn’t like nor trust Alistair (Abby had kind of
guessed that) and had little patience for his cousins, particularly
Suzanne (which Abby had also kind of guessed).

However, it was
clear he held a fond regard for Nicola.

It was Penmort
Castle that made him, as he called it, “heal the breach”.

She couldn’t
blame him for wanting to experience his legacy, even in an unfair
outsider way. If she had a legacy like that, she’d want the
same.

Further, he not
only asked about, but shared his own favourite books, movies and
music as well as guiding them into a hilarious conversation about
their
least
favourite books, movies and music.

She answered
his questions because, she told herself, it was her job.

Not because she
liked doing it. Not because she found it easy talking with him. Not
because she was curious about his past and his family and how such
a magnificent man as he fit in that strange viper’s den. Not
because she was fascinated to know his favourite movie was
Touch
of Evil
and his favourite book was
In Cold Blood
.

No (she told
herself), it was just a job. Only a job.

She wasn’t in
Munich with a handsome, fascinating man who not only wanted to know
more about her but also easily shared more of himself.

She was there
to do her job.

That was
it.

After they’d
eat, drink and talk, they’d stroll through night-time Munich
hand-in-hand and walk off the beer and the Prinzregententorte.

After that,
they’d go to their suite and he’d lead her to the bed (or, Friday
night, it was the shower,
then
the bed) where he again made
love to her, hot, long, and lingeringly.

It was
different for them in Germany. He worked less, spent more time with
her and all else, she found (and struggled against) could be
forgotten. Their time together was more relaxed without the outside
world pressing down on them. It was like being on a vacation but
with Cash’s work intruding however insignificantly.

Which made it
much,
much
harder for Abby to remember she was playing a
role rather than living a dream.

So by the time
they made it home late Saturday evening, she was contradictorily
both refreshed and exhausted.

Cash had
declared they were spending the night at her house because it was
closer to the airport. Abby had attempted, all the way home, in a
polite way, to prevent this.

As she followed
him up the steps to her door, she knew she’d failed in this
endeavour.

She had the
keys ready and was beginning to reach around him when his hand came
up and he took them from her.

In one of the
myriad ways Cash was different than Ben, Abby noted that Cash had
made a habit of doing things for her.

Ben would open
her car door or he’d make her a drink sometimes when she didn’t
even ask, or do other little things here and there that were mostly
random but always thoughtful and definitely sweet.

Cash took this
behaviour to extremes. He opened car doors, restaurant doors, hotel
doors,
every
door. He made a point of positioning himself
closest to the street when they walked along sidewalks something
she remembered from years ago when her grandfather was still alive,
that he told her was the hallmark of a true gentleman. He asked her
preference for food and drink before the waiter arrived then
ordered for her. Even though she held a hotel key card to their
room, when she was with Cash, she never used it. She never once
touched her suitcase. He, or a bellman, carried it everywhere.

Indeed, the
only things he’d allow her to do was make him coffee, pour him a
whisky or cook his food.

Abby was
beginning to find this grating.

She might, if
circumstances had been different, have found his gallantry
attractive. She would, however, probably have explained the extent
of it was unnecessary.

She might,
again if things were different between them, find getting him a
coffee, a whisky or dinner, something she enjoyed doing.

Instead, she
found this a reminder that she was
his
. It reminded her that
not only did she work for him, he owned her and, as he’d told her
more than once, he took care of what was his.

She wasn’t his
cherished partner, she was his valued possession.

He clearly took
care of his possessions, his home, his car, his jet.

She was just
one of many of his expensive belongings and this behaviour reminded
her of that.

“Cash, you had
the bags, I could open the door,” Abby stated and even though an
escort would have kept her mouth shut, Abby was tired so she
didn’t.

His eyes moved
to her. “Yes,” he replied quietly, “but you aren’t going
inside.”

Abby blinked at
him in confusion, saw his eyes move to the bay window of her living
room and his chin lifted. Abby’s eyes followed and she saw, just
dimly, what looked like flickering candlelight shining through her
curtains.

Her body
froze.

No one should
be there and certainly no candles should be lit.

Jenny knew they
weren’t returning until late and she hadn’t a clue they’d be coming
to Abby’s. Even if she’d wanted to leave them a warm welcome just
in case, she wouldn’t have left a candle burning.

“Oh my God,”
Abby breathed, “someone’s in there.”