Penmort Castle by Kristen Ashley
“Why?” Abby asked and her voice sounded strangled so she repeated it, “Why? Why are you telling me this? Why are you doing this? For Cash? To Alistair?”
Honor’s face changed, pain, anger and heartache, likely for herself and even for her mother and sisters, all chased through it but as feminine feet came down the stairs all she said was, “You love him and, because of that, I can trust you. And I know Cash is a good man. I also know Alistair is not.”
And her tone said eloquently that her words about her stepfather were true.
Abby had no time to deny her love for Cash or thank her or give her the hug she probably desperately needed as the others arrived.
Honor’s hand dropped from her arm and Abby watched as the guard slid back over her expression.
“Cash’s whole house is gorgeous!” Fenella shrieked.
“It’s impersonal,” Mrs. Truman announced. “This is the only room that’s homey.”
Nicola’s eyes were on Abby, her face soft, and she said, “I think the house is lovely but you’re right. This room is definitely the most welcoming.”
Abby watched as Nicola’s hand reached out and her fingers touched a hyacinth on the bar. Then she smiled at Abby, indicating she knew exactly why the rest of the house was cold and this room was warm.
Abby, still reeling from her conversation with Honor, gave Nicola a weak smile and quickly looked away.
As Honor started handing out drinks, Abby stiffly started to make Jenny’s Manhattan, her mind awhirl with an all new set of earth-shattering worries.
“You okay?” Jenny whispered and Abby, not having noticed her friend had gotten close, jumped.
“No,” Abby whispered back and then continued, “we’ll talk later.”
Jenny opened her mouth to speak but Abby’s mobile, lying on the counter, started ringing.
“I’ll finish this,” Jenny said, taking the cocktail shaker from Abby and Abby moved across the kitchen and grabbed her mobile.
The display said, “Unknown Caller” and Abby was disappointed it wasn’t Cash. She was beginning to get worried.
She slid it open and put it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Is this Abigail Butler?” an efficient female voice asked.
“Yes,” Abby replied, ready to launch into her kind, but firm and very short “no thank you” speech that she delivered to all telephone marketers.
Then the female voice spoke and what she said opened a hole under Abby through which Abby fell, plummeting uncontrollably toward the painfully blazing molten core at the centre of the earth.
“This is Emma at Mr. Fraser’s offices. There’s been a car accident and Mr. Fraser’s at hospital.”
“What?” Abby breathed, clutching the phone to her ear so tightly, pain shot through her fingers and it was a small miracle the phone didn’t fuse to her ear.
“A car accident. Mr. Fraser’s at hospital,” Emma repeated.
“What hospital?” Abby asked sharply, her voice overloud, cracking through the air like a gunshot and the hum of conversation in the room silenced.
“Royal United,” Emma answered then went on speaking but Abby didn’t listen, she slid her phone shut with a snap, dropped it on the counter and shot to the oven, turning it off. She didn’t look at anyone as she ran to her purse and grabbed it.
“Cash has been in a car accident. He’s at the hospital. I’ve got to go,” she announced, hearing the gasps and murmurings of surprise but she kept going, mind blank, her body’s functions performed through an acute but focused panic.
She moved swiftly, taking the stairs two at a time. In the distance, she heard her mobile ring again but she didn’t go back for it.
She was in the foyer, her coat in the crook of her arm, when she was swung back with a firm hand on her arm.
It was Jenny.
“Abby –” Jenny began.
Abby yanked her arm free. “I’ve got to go.”
“Abigail!” Mrs. Truman barked.
Abby swung to the older woman and screamed, “I’ve got to go!”
Mrs. Truman wasn’t trying to detain her and she wasn’t wasting any time. She had her purse and was putting on her coat as she started to issue orders.
To Jenny she said, “You drive. Abigail’s car is right outside. I’m coming with you. I know where Royal United is.”
She shoved through Jenny and Abby and pulled open the door, looking back.
“Nicola, blow out the candles and make sure the house is safe. We’ll meet you there.”
Then she leaned forward, grabbed Abby’s hand and tugged her gently out the door to the car.
Abby gave Jenny the keys, threw her coat through the door and got in the backseat of her car, buckling up. Mrs. Truman sat up front with Jenny. She listened as Mrs. Truman softly gave directions and Jenny drove safely, efficiently, but very quickly.
Abby sat in the back, her body feeling strangely numb considering she was breathing heavily but her mind was flashing from thought-to-thought.
Or, more accurately, image-to-image, sound-to-sound and feeling-to-feeling.
She saw Cash sitting at the table in the pub the first time she laid eyes him, so handsome he took her breath away at the same time he scared her so much, she almost turned around and left.
She heard Cash’s deep, rich laughter that first time in his car after he met Mrs. Truman.
She heard his beautiful voice on the phone telling her he was thinking about their first, full-on kiss.
She felt his warm, strong hand on her neck.
She saw his eyes when he’d warned her she’d made a promise he was going to make her keep.
She saw him casually tossing her shoes across the room.
She felt the strange, moving, tender touch of his lips last night.
She heard his voice telling her they had all the time in the world.
Her hands came up and curled around the back of Jenny’s seat and she pleaded urgently, “Jenny, go faster.”
Jenny didn’t take her eyes from the road as she muttered softly, “I’ll get you there, honey.”
Mrs. Truman twisted toward Abby and her face, usually composed, sometimes angry, other times grouchy, was now filled with unhidden concern.
“Abigail, breathe,” Mrs. Truman ordered gently.
Abby’s eyes shifted to the older woman, her breath coming in short pants. “I am.”
Mrs. Truman shook her head. “Deep breaths, dear,” when Abby didn’t obey, Mrs. Truman repeated, “Deeply, Abby. Breathe deeply.”
Abby nodded and took in a deep, shuddering breath. Mrs. Truman watched her as she took in another one then another. Only when Abby’s breathing became controlled did Mrs. Truman turn back to the road and continue with her directions.
What felt like a year later, Jenny turned into the A&E entrance of Royal United Hospital and Abby released her seatbelt in preparation for exiting the car.
When she straightened from the belt, out the front window she saw Cash standing with a man outside the doors to A&E.
Standing. Eyes open. Body intact. There was no blood. There were no cuts. No gaping wounds. No bandages. No slings. No limbs in casts. No crutches.
Just tall, handsome, beautiful, breathing Cash.
Abby threw open the door the minute Jenny came to a halt. She shot out of the car and ran on her high-heeled shoes like she’d been told she had only one second to reach him, to get her hands on him or he’d disappear forever.
The man he was with saw her, his face registered surprise and Cash’s glance followed his. Abby watched Cash’s brows draw together as he saw her. He started approaching but stopped because Abby didn’t slow. He only had a moment to brace before she hit him, full-body, full-velocity, full-weight. On impact, his arms came around her and he went back on a foot.
“Abby, what on –” he started but Abby shoved her face in his neck and wrapped her arms so tightly around him she felt her muscles strain with the effort to hold on.
She felt
Abby didn’t get a chance to respond, not that she would have. Her mind was blank and she had no faculties left to her but the ability to hold on tight.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Mrs. Truman demanded from somewhere behind Abby.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Abby heard Cash reply.
“She got a call. She was told you were in a car accident and at the hospital,” Jenny informed Cash and at her words Cash’s body went still but his arms constricted.
Then she heard him mutter a terse, “Fuck,” before he hesitated and she actually felt him forcing his body to relax before he called, “Abby.”
Abby didn’t move.
One of his arms still tight around her waist, the other hand came into her hair as he urged, “Darling, look at me.”
Abby still didn’t move.
He gave her hair a gentle tug. “Abby.”
Her head came back, she looked at him and the minute her eyes locked on his, hers filled with tears.
He saw it, his face went soft and he muttered, “Darling.”
“You’re all right,” she whispered, her voice sounding husky and choked but filled with blissful relief.
“I’m fine,” he murmured, his hand going from her hair to stroke her spine. “I wasn’t in an accident. Moira was.”
“Moira, who’s Moira?” Mrs. Truman wanted to know but Cash didn’t answer, his eyes were on Abby.
“Moira?” Abby asked.
“Yes, darling,” Cash told her.
Abby blinked, reality beginning to intrude, the black nightmare slowly edging away.
However, not enough for Abby to move even a centimetre away from Cash’s hard, warm, living body.
“Is she okay?” Abby queried.
“Banged up but they’re releasing her. We’d both just left the office. I was behind her when it happened. I stayed while we waited for the ambulance and then came to the hospital to wait until Glyn got here.” He shifted their bodies so she could see the man he’d been standing with. “This is her fiancé, Glyn.”
Abby’s eyes moved to the man, shorter than Cash by several inches, he was fair, blue-eyed and he looked a mixture of worried and stunned, the former for Moira, the latter, likely, at Abby’s behaviour.
Reality crashed in and Abby’s arms loosened their hold but Cash’s didn’t.
He held her close as Abby said to Glyn, “I’m so sorry. I thought it was Cash.” She took in a shaky breath and repeated, “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Glyn said and his eyes moved to Cash. “I’d better get back to Moira. Thank you for staying.”
“Not a problem,” Cash returned and Glyn nodded, his gaze swung around the assemblage and then he turned back to the A&E and walked in.
“Cash Fraser,” Mrs. Truman’s curt voice came at them and Cash let one arm drop as he turned both Abby and himself to face the older woman when she went on, “would you care to explain how this could happen?”
Abby took one look at Mrs. Truman and knew that in all her bad moods, this one was the worst. She looked outraged.
“Mrs. Truman –” Abby started, knowing exactly how it happened.
She’d panicked and overreacted, she hadn’t let Emma tell her the whole story before she freaked out and took off.
She was so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Cash’s voice talked over hers. “I don’t know but I’m sure as fuck going to find out.”
He was reaching in his inside pocket of his suit jacket and Abby’s fingers curled around his wrist.
“It was me,” she whispered when his hand stilled and his head tilted down to look at her. “It was me. I think Emma was going to explain, but I heard ‘car accident’ and you at the hospital and I –”
“That still doesn’t explain why Fraser didn’t call himself,” Mrs. Truman snapped.
“I did. Four times. Her mobile was going directly to voicemail,” Cash returned and Abby knew why this happened, she’d been on and off the phone with Jenny and Fenella several times, giving them the complicated directions through Bath to Cash’s house. Cash went on. “I had to follow the ambulance to the hospital so I called my office and told them to phone Abby and explain that I’d be late.” His eyes came back to Abby’s and a muscle was working in his jaw. “Obviously, they didn’t perform that simple task very well.”
“Please don’t be angry at anyone, it was me. I –” Abby started.
“Abby, there’s a big fucking difference between ‘Mr. Fraser will be late due to his PA having a car accident’ and ‘There’s been an accident and Mr. Fraser is in hospital’,” Cash replied, his voice holding a sharp edge of anger.
“Cash, really –” Abby started to protest but Cash cut her off.
“Abby, a minute ago you were staring at me with tears in your eyes and I could feel your heart beating through my fucking clothes,” he clipped, the sharp edge of anger became blunt and heavy. “I don’t employ staff to terrify my girlfriend. I employ them to be professional and know how to fucking communicate.”
“Cash!” Abby cried, worried she’d gotten the Unknown Emma into serious hot water but he ignored her and looked at Jenny.
“I’ll take Abby home,” he informed Jenny and Abby’s eyes moved from being narrowed in annoyance at Cash to Jenny.
Abby saw her friend was staring at her. Jenny’s face was pale, her eyes were knowing and her lips were pulled in between her teeth. This last was probably to stop herself from speaking, as in asking Abby what in the heck was going on in her screwy, messed up head.
“Oh thank God, you’re safe!” Nicola called, rushing forward with Fenella on her heels, Honor and Cassandra striding up quickly behind them.
“Jesus,” Cash muttered.
Mrs. Truman turned toward them and waved both hands in the air.
“It was a mistake. Someone named Moira was in a car accident. Cash was being a good employer. All’s well,” she announced then turned back to Cash, silently conveying it was his fault if her next words were true, “except, maybe, the chicken.”
“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, I –” Abby started but stopped when Cash’s arm gave her a non-too-gentle squeeze that stole her breath and her ability to speak.
“Oh, my dear, not at all. We’re just glad Cash is all right,” Nicola said, smiling kindly back and forth between Abby and Cash, both her face and body showing visible signs of relief.
“Now I really need a G&T,” Cassandra muttered to Honor and Honor grinned, straight-out, no guard up, not only at Cassandra but also at Cash and Abby.
“I hope dinner isn’t ruined!” Fenella fretted somewhat loudly.
“We’ll throw together an omelette or something if it is,” Nicola suggested, turning everyone around by ordering in the kind of voice only a mother could pull off, “Everyone, back to the car.”
They all moved away but not until after Abby showed Jenny the key to Cash’s house on her key ring (all the while avoiding her searching eyes) and Mrs. Truman gave Cash one last glare.
As Abby’s BMW disappeared from sight, Abby turned to Cash and looked up at him.
“I feel like an idiot,” she told him, because she did.
“Don’t,” he commanded, voice steely.
His hands coming to her neck and he brought her forward several inches, his head bending so his forehead rested on hers. She could see his black eyes, intense with some feeling she couldn’t read but whatever-it-was made her heart skip several beats.
“Don’t,” he repeated, this time softly, his fingers flexing at her neck.
Abby was trying to avoid the look in his eyes and how it was making her feel but he was so close, she couldn’t escape it.
“I hope Moira’s going to be all right,” she whispered.
“She will,” Cash replied.
Abby’s eyes moved to the side away from his but something happened to her.
It was like
Her eyes closed and she heard her voice say so quietly there was nearly no sound, “I’m glad it wasn’t you.”
She felt his mouth on hers and before giving her a soft kiss, he said there, “I know, darling.”
Then her body, still not under her control, moved into him, closer, closer, until her head went under his chin, her hips connected with his, her hands curled into the lapels of his suit jacket, her cheek rested on his chest and his arms slid around her waist.
In her ear, she could hear his heart beat and against the skin of her cheek, she could feel it and all she could smell was the scent of him.
She let go of her breath and, also against her control, she felt for the first time in six years, at peace.
Chapter Twenty
Two Important Things Happen to Cash
Cash sat in the dark of his study on the ground floor, the moonlight streaming in through the windows he’d swivelled his chair to face.
His eyes were on the shadowy, bare branches of the trees he could see in his garden. His mind was on Abby, asleep upstairs in his bed, as well as on her foolish best friend who he was trying to find one good reason not to murder.
He didn’t want to murder her because she was foolish, he wanted to shake her for that).
No, he wanted to murder her because she’d pointed out something to Cash that evening that he’d not considered.
And something he couldn’t ignore.
After its dramatic start, the evening had progressed relatively well. The food had not been ruined and Abby recovered from her upset to be a gracious and amusing hostess. This was aided by Nicola and even, to Cash’s surprise, a far more relaxed, friendly and interesting Fenella and Honor. Mrs. Truman maintained her normal surly but hilarious behaviour and Cassandra was an unusual but amusing dinner guest.
Jenny, however, was quiet most of the evening, her face thoughtful, her eyes, Cash found, were nearly always watching Abby, Cash or the both of them together.
When Abby made tactful excuses for Cash to go to his study to work, he’d done so, gratefully, leaving the women to their conversation which had taken an alarming turn to some preposterous-sounding American television show about two “hot” brothers who hunted ghosts.