Penmort Castle (65 page)

“Nicola
Fitzhugh,” Cash replied and watched her eyes go round. Deciding
she’d likely hear it soon enough, he might as well tell her, “Jane,
I’ve foreclosed on the house. Ms. Butler and I’ll be moving in
imminently. Mr. Beaumaris won’t be back. The Fitzhugh women,
however, will be staying.”

She stared at
him, mouth open, stunned speechless.

Then she made a
noise in the back of her throat that sounded like strangled
laughter. At the sound, her eyes bugged out in horror and she
choked back her mirth.

“Sorry, sorry,
erm, sorry sir, I’m just shocked,” she stuttered but although her
nerves weren’t gone, her eyes were bright and cheerful.

She was, Cash
knew, lying.

She wasn’t
shocked. She was happy. She disliked Alistair. She also probably
liked Nicola.

Cash wasn’t
surprised and he smiled. “It’s all right, Jane, he was an ass.”

She was now
staring at his mouth and he watched
her
cheeks get pink.

“Jane,” he
called and she snapped out of it with a jerk. “Coffee,” he reminded
her, “for Nicola.”

“Right, right,”
she muttered moving away, lifting her arms and waving her hands at
the side of her head. “I’m on it.”

“One more
thing,” Cash halted her, Jane turned and Cash finished. “I’m not
‘Mr. Fraser’ nor am I ‘sir’. You call me Cash.”

She gawked at
him, eyes wide, face aflame, before she nodded, her mouth forming a
smile and she began her retreat.

He watched her
move down the hall then he opened the door and entered.

Abby lay
motionless under the covers.

The black
circle of Zee lay ensconced at the back of her bent knees.

Cash moved
across the dark room, placed the tray on the table between the two
armchairs in the turret and turned on the standing lamp there. Soft
light filled the space.

He walked to
the bed and bent at Zee, his fingers sifting through the cat’s
silky soft fur. Zee lifted his head with a sleepy mew.

“You get
gourmet wet cat food for the rest of your life,” Cash muttered to
the cat and, as if Zee understood, he let out a stronger but still
sleepy mew and stretched his neck to press into Cash’s fingers
which were scratching behind his ears.

With a final
stroke for Zee, Cash moved away to sit in the curve of Abby’s lap
afforded by her position curled around his pillow. He looked at the
bedside clock and noticed it was nearly seven.

Obviously, he’d
slept in.

His eyes moved
back to Abby and he pulled her hair off her neck then rested his
hand there.

“Darling,” he
called but she didn’t move.

He gave her
neck a gentle squeeze and repeated his endearment.

She shifted
slightly, her eyes opened and only they moved to him. She kept her
face nuzzled in the pillow.

He thought,
somewhat distractedly, that she looked rather adorable.

“Please tell me
you aren’t going to work,” she grumbled sleepily.

“I’m not going
to work.”

She closed her
eyes. “Good, come back to bed.”

He would, he
knew, be delighted to do that.

Later.

However they
had to talk first.

“Abby, we have
to talk.”

Her eyes opened
immediately but this time her head turned.

“About what?”
she asked, her voice sexy and husky but there was an edge of
alertness to it.

“Get up, love,
this is an awake and functioning talk,” he told her.

“I don’t want
an awake and functioning talk,” she returned. “I want to sleep and
be awake and functioning on Thursday,” she closed her eyes again
muttering, “maybe Friday.”

His voice held
a gentle warning when he said, “Abby.”

She pulled in a
deep breath and then let it out in a heavy sigh before she came up
on an elbow, lifted a hand and pulled her hair from her face.

He noticed that
he hadn’t thought to take her jewellery off last night and he felt
a powerful sensation strike him at the vision of her in bed, hair
dishevelled, face grumpy and sleepy, wearing the silk and diamonds
he’d given her.

“All right,”
she gave in, cutting into his thoughts.

Cash stood, she
threw back the covers and he walked to the turret. He decided if
she didn’t notice he’d not remind her that she was walking around
barefoot in a nightgown, wearing tens of thousands of pounds worth
of diamonds.

Instead he
poured coffee in delicate china cups, adding milk to Abby’s, taking
his black with a sugar.

She’d donned
her cashmere dressing gown and had her hair pulled back in a
ponytail when he turned and handed her the cup and saucer. She
sipped at it as he sipped at his. Then he sat in one of the chairs.
Abby began to move to the other one but he caught her wrist, leaned
to the side, deposited his cup and saucer on the tray and carefully
pulled her in his lap so as to not spill her coffee.

She held her
body stiff, not a thing like the warm and pliant Abby who snuggled
close to him two nights before.

Cash knew,
instantly, even after her avowals of love in front of her husband,
his family and even her fucking cat, that this conversation was not
going to go as he’d hoped.

“What do we
need to talk about?” she asked guardedly, keeping her eyes on her
cup as she sipped again.

“Our future,”
he replied and at his words she choked and spluttered.

When she got
herself under control, her eyes moved to his.

He watched her
breathe looking like this wasn’t an easy, natural task

Finally she
whispered, “Yes, I agree. We need to talk about our future.”

“You start,”
Cash demanded, wanting to hear what he was up against right away so
he could tear it apart, explain the way it actually was, take her
straight back to bed and fuck her so hard she’d still feel him
inside her on Thursday.

Maybe
Friday.

She didn’t
argue as he expected.

She nodded,
leaned forward, put her cup and saucer on the tray and sat back,
folding her hands in her lap and continuing to hold her body
stiffly.

Then her eyes
turned to his. “I’m sorry I fell in love with you.”

Cash felt his
lips part in surprise.

That
, of
all things, he did
not
expect to hear.

She had these
last weeks, apologised for a number of bizarre things but this was
by far and away the most bizarre.

“Sorry?” he
asked.

She waved her
hand in the air and repeated, “I’m sorry I fell in love with you. I
wasn’t going to tell you but I didn’t want you to believe Vivianna.
It was stupid, I should have let you believe what she was saying
but I didn’t want you to. I don’t know why.”

“Abby –” he
began but she talked over him.

“Jenny told me
last night about your talk.” When he opened his mouth, she waved
her hand in the air again and said, “It’s okay. I’m okay with it. I
mean, I’m
not
, like,
at all
, but I have to be, don’t
I?” She didn’t let him answer and went on. “I like what we have.
No, I
love
what we have and I’d be really happy to stay this
way for as long as you want. But Jenny reminded me I’m kind of
weird in that I get attached, as in
really
attached, and
she’s right.” She took a deep breath and Cash thought he had his
chance to speak but she got there before him. “Even though, you
know, I love you and everything, I think it’s best if we just move
on. End it. Now. I don’t want it to be messy for you and I’m sure
you don’t want that either. I mean, it’s better for you this way,
trust me.”

Cash’s arms
moved around her and he pulled her closer to his chest, deeper into
his lap.

She didn’t
notice this and kept right on talking. “And I’m being kind of
selfish. I don’t want it to be messy either and I don’t want to get
more
attached, if you know what I mean.”

He tried to cut
in. “Abby –”

He failed as
she rattled on. “So a clean break now would be good. I mean, not
good
but better for all concerned. You’ve got your castle
and Alistair got what he deserved and Vivianna is in hell so all’s
well in The World of Cash. Which will make me feel a bit, you know,
more okay with everything, knowing it’s all good for you.”

She stopped on
a sharp breath that hitched in the middle and he realised she was
close to tears, her body stiff and tight. Her eyes not meeting his
were bright and she was, lastly but most importantly, completely
full of shit with this whole act.

He wanted to
laugh.

He didn’t.

He also wanted
to kiss her.

Something else
he didn’t do.

Instead, he
said softly, “Darling, look at me.”

Her gaze came
to his face but not to his eyes.

“Look at me,
Abby,” he repeated.

He watched her
teeth clench then her eyes lifted to his.

When their eyes
caught, he asked, “Are you finished?”

She bit her
lip, he felt his own lips twitch then she nodded and said, “I think
so.”

“Good, I’m
talking now,” he declared.

Her eyes went
funny, guarded and surprised and something else, something he
couldn’t read.

“Oh… kay,” she
replied hesitantly.

Cash didn’t
delay.

“I’m in love
with you,” he announced and her mouth dropped open but he went on.
“We’re not over. We’re never going
to be
over. There isn’t
going to be an end. This is it, you and me, in Penmort, you wearing
diamonds and silk and having coffee delivered to our bedroom every
morning.”

“Cash –” she
whispered, eyes wide, face pale, expressions clashing between shock
and awe.

“I’m not done,”
Cash stated and pressed on, “I know you still love Ben. I’m not
going to pretend I like it but I will try to live with it.”

“Cash –”

“Abby, stop
interrupting me.”

“Okay,” she
whispered and he felt her body start to soften in his arms and he
knew he was getting somewhere.

“You were right
last night, it’s early. We’ll take some time, learn more about each
other. Not much but we’ll do it. Then we’ll get married, have
children and live happily ever after, if you don’t annoy me too
much.” She gasped but he ignored it and continued. “I’ve spoken to
Nicola this morning and she and her daughters are going to give us
a few months. They’ll stay in Bath then move back here. I’m sure
you’ll agree they’ll be welcome here for as long as they wish to
stay.”

“Of course,”
Abby mumbled.

Cash kept
going. “I want you to know I’m not only fine with you becoming more
attached to me, I want it and you’re going to give it to me. I want
you so attached you can’t imagine a life without me. I don’t give a
fuck if that’s selfish, that’s what I want because, Abby, you must
know, I already can’t imagine life without you.”

He stopped
talking and watched as the brightness in her eyes became wetness
shimmering at their edges. One tear dropped to her cheek and slid
down her face.

Cash watched
its progress.

Finally she
whispered, “Are you done?”

Cash’s eyes
went from her lone tear back to hers.

“Yes,” he
replied.

She was still
whispering, nearly breathless, when she asked, “Are you sure, about
what you said?”

“Yes,” he
answered instantly.

“I thought –”
Her breath caught audibly, it sounded painful and Cash drew her
yielding body closer, tucking her deep into the protective fold of
his arms as another tear slid down her cheek. She sucked in air,
her hands coming up to rest on his chest and with visible effort
she continued. “I thought it was stupid to hope.”

“Hope for
what?” he asked softly even though he knew the answer.

She didn’t give
him that answer instead she whispered, “I thought it was
selfish.”

“What was
selfish, darling?”

“To have
something so good, so wonderful, with Ben.” His body grew tight but
her hand moved to rest on his face and she admitted, “It was stupid
to hope, selfish to want something even better, something that felt
magical
, something I thought I had with you.”

An overwhelming
sense of triumph coursed through him and Cash again wanted to kiss
her. This time it felt like a need rather than a desire.

Instead he
confirmed decisively, “You have it.”

Her face came
close.

She rested her
forehead against his, her nose alongside his, her eyes open and
looking deeply into his, she whispered, “I know.”

It was then
Cash surged out of the chair. Taking her with him, he carried her
to bed.

There, he
fucked her so hard it was likely she still felt him inside her on
Thursday.

However, he’d
never know, since he fucked her Wednesday night as well as every
night in between.

And some
mornings besides.

Edith’s Mental
Snapshots

“It’s too
early,” Abby, pacing the waiting room in severe agitation,
announced for the seventeenth time.

Cash’s eyes
went from the papers in his hands to his wife.

He knew it was
the seventeenth time because after she’d said it five times in the
car on the way to hospital, he’d started counting.

“Abigail, calm
down,” Mrs. Truman, sitting and knitting in a chair next to Cash,
demanded imperiously.

Abby whirled on
Mrs. Truman, narrowed her eyes and planted her hands on her
hips.

“Calm?” she
asked in a deceptively light tone.

“Yes, dear,
calm,
” Mrs. Truman answered, her voice gentling, “let nature
take its course.”

“Nature,” Abby
declared, her voice beginning to tremble, exposing her
not-very-controlled fear, “demands a gestation period of nine
months. Jenny’s baby has only had seven.”