Penmort Castle (42 page)

With that, she
opened the door and was gone.

And Cash stared
at the door long after she’d gone, knowing and hating the knowledge
that she was right.

Some time
later, another knock came at the door and he tensed but this time
it was Abby telling him their guests were leaving.

He’d walked to
the front door with her to bid their guests goodnight. Jenny did
well, giving him a cheek touch and a squeeze of the arm, indicating
to those who might be watching that all was well between Abby’s
best friend and her boyfriend.

He closed and
locked the door and by the time he turned around, Abby had wandered
down the hall. He followed her and found her in the spotless
kitchen, getting a glass.

He stood at the
end of the counter watching her fill the glass with water then she
walked to him and grabbed her purse that was sitting on the counter
by his hip.

“Abby,” he
called, not certain what he meant to say, just knowing something
needed to be said, but she was rooting through her purse.

“Mm?” she
mumbled, pulling a small, thin, gold case out of her purse and
opening it.

“Did you have a
good night?” he asked softly and watched with rising unease as she
selected four identical pills from the case, flipped the case shut
and dropped it into her bag.

“Yes,” she
answered distractedly and picked up her water.

“What’s that?”
he enquired as her fingers closed around the pills.

“Ibuprofen,”
she replied and started to lift her hand to her mouth but his own
shot out and caught hers firmly at the wrist.

Her eyes flew
to his and her brows drew together. “Cash.”

“The usual dose
of ibuprofen is two tablets,” he told her.

“I know, but
–”

His thumb moved
along her palm, forcing her fist open. “Then take two.”

She was looking
at him quizzically. “Two isn’t enough.”

He placed his
other hand under both of theirs, turned her wrist and the tablets
fell out of her now-opened palm into his own. He took two tablets
and gave them to her, his fingers closing around the other two.

She accepted
them but her gaze was still on his. “Cash, I’m telling you, two
isn’t enough. Three isn’t enough. Only four will work.”

His eyes moved
over her face and he saw she looked slightly pale and had a
not-very-Abby-like pinched look to her mouth.

“Do you have a
headache?” he asked.

“No,” she
answered.

“What’s the
matter?” he pressed when she gave no further explanation.

“I’d rather not
say.”

“Do you often
take double the recommended dose of medication?” he pushed.

“No, I don’t
often take medication. Cash, I don’t get it, what’s the big
deal?”

Cash sighed
before saying, “Abby, if you tell me what’s the matter, I can call
Tim and ask him what you should do about it.”

Her eyes went
wide. “You’re not calling Tim about this!”

“What is
it?”

“I’d rather not
say.”

His hand came
to her neck and he put pressure there while saying warningly,
“Abby.”

“I’ve got
cramps, all right?” Her eyes rolled to the ceiling and she
breathed, “Geez.”

Even with his
mind filled alternately with the vision of a panic-stricken Abby
somehow gracefully flying toward him in high heels outside an
A&E and the disquieting conversation he’d had with her best
friend, Cash still couldn’t stop himself from roaring with
laughter.

While laughing,
he used his hand to guide her close until he felt her hips against
his. When he was done, he looked down at her and she was scowling
at him.

“Cramps aren’t
funny,” she informed him irritably.

His hand moved
from her neck, down her back to circle her waist.

“I’m sorry,
darling. Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Yes,” she
snapped.

He gave her a
squeeze. “Does it happen every month?”

“No,” she
replied shortly, “every other month. Apparently I have a testy
ovary. Now can we stop talking about this?”

He smiled while
he told her, “It’s perfectly natural.”

“Yes, I am
aware of that, Cash Fraser,” she retorted. “I still would rather
not talk to my new boyfriend about period cramps. Jenny, I could
talk to, but I don’t converse with Pete, my handyman, who was also
my grandmother’s handyman, who I’ve known since I can remember,
about period cramps. Okay?” Cash kept smiling at her and she heaved
an enormous sigh before asking, “Can I have my tablets please?”

He lifted his
hand and dropped the two tablets into her opened palm. Keeping his
arm around her, he watched her take them deciding tonight was not
the night to talk about their future, a future which had limits.
Limits that Abby had to understand before she embarked on any
future with him.

They’d talk
about it tomorrow.

Or, Cash
thought, after his aunt and uncle’s anniversary.

Or, he thought
(understanding his own selfishness but, with Abby pressed close,
not caring), even later.

She put her
glass on the counter and relaxed into him.

“That’ll work?”
Cash asked softly.

“In about half
an hour, yes,” she replied.

“I’ll let you
get to sleep and finish up in the study,” Cash told her.

A look crossed
her face that he could swear was disappointment before she
nodded.

His hand not
around her lifted to her jaw, his thumb sliding along her soft
cheek. “I’ll be up soon.”

“Okay,” she
whispered.

She tipped her
head back and he knew she expected a kiss. Not just expected one
but wanted one. And not a demonstration of passion, but rather one
of affection.

His eyes roamed
her face, memorising the beauty of it in anticipation of
tenderness, before his neck bent and he touched his mouth to
hers.

“Go to sleep,”
he muttered against her lips.

“Don’t be
long,” she whispered back and gave his waist a squeeze with her
hands before she pulled away and walked up the stairs.

He wandered the
room, turning off the lights and extinguishing candles when, at the
last lamp, he stopped and looked around.

His arrival
that evening had not been conducive to him paying much attention to
anything but Abby. Dinner was more Abby, her delicious meal as well
as a throng of women in his dining room.

So he hadn’t
noticed until now how Abby’s simple touches had transformed the
room from what had always been only living space to what was now
lived-in space.

He pulled in a
slow breath and on the exhale, he muttered, “Fuck,” before he
turned out the last lamp and walked up the stairs to his study.

Now it was much
later and it had taken him some time to regain concentration on his
work. He’d finished that, switched off his laptop, the lamps,
turned his chair to the window and sat brooding in his darkened
study like a character out of a Brontë novel.

On that
thought, he pushed out of his chair and walked upstairs to his
bedroom, seeing Abby’s motionless form under the bedclothes. Cash
could tell, even in the dark, she’d curled around his pillow.

He prepared for
bed, pulled back the covers and slid in. Careful not to disturb
her, he tugged at his pillow. As she was asleep, and he always had
her in sleep, she gave up the pillow in favour of him, her limbs
curving around him as she pressed close. He put his pillow behind
his head and settled back.

“Cash?” she
whispered, her voice sexy and husky.

“Yes, love, go
back to sleep.”

Abby had not
lied when she’d told him she liked her sleep. Therefore, he was
surprised when she got up on her elbow and pulled her hair out of
her face.

“Is it late?”
she asked.

“Close to
midnight,” he replied.

“Are you
tired?”

No. He wasn’t
tired. He was in bed with Abby and her voice was
just-woken-up-throaty. However, she’d also started her period and
was uncomfortable even talking about it therefore he had a feeling
she’d not be thrilled with the idea of having sex while on it.

Instead of
answering her question, he said, “I have a meeting first thing in
the morning.”

“We have to
talk.”

His body went
still but she didn’t notice it. She pressed into him, reaching
across the bed, groping for a moment before she found the lamp
switch and muted light filled the room.

He watched as
she blinked adorably, her eyes adjusting to the light then they
focused on him.

She further
surprised him by keeping her position; her torso on his, her
forearm came to rest on his chest, holding herself elevated but
still close.

Her face was
drowsy but the look in her eyes was serious.

Cash mentally
braced.

With Abby, it
could be anything. She could say something that would lead to a
heated row. She could suffer an emotional breakdown. She could do
something outrageous to make him laugh. Or she could put her mouth
on him and make him come.

He had to be
prepared.

However nothing
he could do would prepare him for what came next.

“Something’s
happened,” she told him.

“What?” he
asked.

She looked away
and bit her lip then sighed and looked back to him. “I don’t even
know where to begin.”

His hands stole
around her hips. “Darling, just start at the beginning. Whatever it
is, it’ll be all right.”

Then she did
something that so surprised him, his entire body reacted to it,
tensing along his length as her hand came up to rest on his
cheek.

And, with a
soft voice, her eyes on his, she said, “I met this man yesterday at
Mrs. Truman’s. I wasn’t going to say anything about him until the
time was right but then Honor talked to me tonight.”

The tension in
Cash’s body increased and she felt it, her thumb moved to his
temple and circled there soothingly.

“Cash,” she
whispered, “Penmort is yours.”

His body froze
solid.

“I’m sorry?” he
growled.

“Honor told
me,” she said.

He felt his
eyes narrow. “Honor told you what? Exactly.”

She licked her
lips and took in a breath, “She told me she found your grandmother,
Lorna’s, diaries.”

Cash’s eyes
stayed narrow but now in confusion. “Keep talking.”

Abby nodded and
went on. “She says she thinks no one knows about them. She’s read
them. Cash,” she hesitated then in a soft explosion, she burst out,
“
God!
I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Losing
patience, Cash rolled her to her back, positioned his body on his
elbow and loomed over her. “Just say it.”

She stared at
him a moment then said swiftly, “Your grandmother was raped.”

Cash’s body
jerked and instantly both her hands came up to frame his face.

“Cash, look at
me, please, honey, look at me.” When the shock from her
announcement receded, Cash’s eyes focused on Abby’s face. She was
staring at him with a look that was immensely gentle and she
whispered, “Alistair was the product of that rape.”

Cash blinked
slowly.

Abby kept
talking. “Honor says all you need to do is ask for a DNA test and
Penmort is yours. She says she’s had a friend examine Penmort’s
covenant and the castle can’t be held outside of the bloodline.
Alistair isn’t of the line. Honor says the castle, and everything,
is yours.” One of her hands moved away from his face and she went
up on one elbow, getting closer as her other hand drifted down to
his shoulder. “Honey, the castle has always been yours.”

His eyes never
left her concerned face as sensations tore through him, some of
them exultant, some of them toxic.

When his father
had died, Penmort and its holdings were vast. They had to be for
anyone to maintain such a huge property. There was land. There were
lettings in the local town, both commercial and residential. There
were investments. His father owned the controlling share of several
lucrative businesses and kept a domineering hand in all of them
earning a reputation as a clever but ruthless mogul.

At the time, it
had been worth multiple millions, translated into today’s money, it
would have been billions.

Alistair had
dwindled that down to nothing. Almost as if he was doing it
intentionally, he pulled out of good investments and threw money at
bad ones. He sold the controlling shares, the properties, the lands
and he lived high. Travelled widely. Spent freely. Until there was
nothing coming in and thousands going out, monthly.

“That fucking
bastard,
” Cash exploded and then pushed away, hurling the
covers wide, he knifed out of bed and looked for something to
throw.

Instead, his
eyes fell on Abby, who’d sat up in the bed and was watching
him.

She was wearing
an espresso-brown, silk nightgown edged in delicate ecru lace. A
nightgown he’d bought for her. A nightgown that cost more than many
people spent on clothes in a year. A nightgown the likes of which
he’d worked since he was twelve years old, scratching his way up
from nothing, so he could afford. And still he was working fourteen
hour days so he wouldn’t blink at such a purchase.

“
Fuck!
”
Cash roared, his arm shot out, his fist closed around the lamp and
he yanked it out of the wall, the light going dead, and he threw it
across the room.

He heard its
glass base shatter against the wall then he heard Abby shoot out of
bed.

Cash was
pacing, the whole time Abby at his side, her hands on him. She
tried to get in his way but he either abruptly turned and headed
the other way or walked around her.

“Cash, please,
stop, look at me,” she begged.

“We had
nothing. My grandfather worked driving a fucking taxi. And we still
had nothing,” Cash growled, his hand had shot through his hair, his
fingers closing around the back of his neck and he kept them there
as he paced. “Then he died, Mum couldn’t hold down a job for more
than a few months, eventually no one would hire her, and we
really
had fucking nothing.”