Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(136)

As his tongue touched her neck, Cash felt her body tremble against his and immediately he started walking her backward toward the bed.

She didn’t resist and her hands slid up his back but she commented softly, “You seem weird today.”

Cash’s mouth glided to her jaw then across her cheek to her lips.

“Not weird,” he said against her mouth.

“I –” she started but her legs hit the bed and Cash kept moving, forcing her body to fall back, his going with her, his mouth taking hers in a kiss before he landed on top of her on the bed.

One of her hands sliding in his hair, she kissed him back.

They would, Cash thought before his mind cleared of everything but Abby, her perfume, her soft body under his, her hands on him, talk later.

Right then, Cash was intent on salvaging the afternoon.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Nicola

Abby stood at the mirror over the bureau spritzing perfume at her ears and wrists.

Cash had showered first while she dozed in bed and he dressed while she was taking a long, relaxing bath. When she was towelling off, he’d called through the door that James was there and he had to go talk to him. He didn’t explain why James was there and he’d been gone before Abby had a chance to ask.

That afternoon Cash had left their room once, to go get them some food for a light lunch. After making love and eating, they’d spent hours in bed, cuddling and whispering to each other about what could be causing Nicola’s strange mood, what was behind Suzanne’s even stranger behaviour and both their surprise at Fenella’s demonstrated fortitude.

Well, Abby did most of the whispering. Cash spent his time holding her, running his hands over her skin and gliding his lips along her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, her collarbone (and other places besides).

He would, however, often mutter things like, “Mm,” or “I’ve no idea,” or “Let’s just see how it plays out, shall we?”

Other than that, he seemed pretty happy to let Abby talk her way through things using him as a mostly silent sounding board.

Abby noted that Cash was completely at ease with all the nefarious goings-on.

Abby was not.

Regardless of spending the afternoon in bed with Cash and her relaxing bath, Abby was wired.

Although Cash appeared laid back about the attempt on his life, he was that morning more intense with Abby than ever.

Cash, Abby thought, was always a bit intense but this was different.

Not in a bad way. In a good one.

A really good one.

One that made that blooming hope in her heart start to blossom out-of-control even though she knew it was stupid, stupid, stupid to let that feeling flourish.

That afternoon she felt his intensity of the morning somehow settled even though it didn’t diminish. It was as if he’d come to some conclusion.

Although Abby wanted to know what that conclusion was, she didn’t ask him to share, scared of what it could mean.

Hope and his actions were pressing her to think it would be good.

Reason and her indisputably bad luck made her think it would be bad.

The time was nigh for what would have been the end of their arrangement. She was to pretend to be his girlfriend for the three weeks prior to the weekend at the castle then continue for one week after.

Then it would be over.

And, Abby thought, maybe now that he was close to getting what he’d worked so hard for, it was time for him to move on to his life as master of the castle, a life without Abby.

The rational part of her brain reminded her that Cash had asked her to move into the castle with him.

The much stronger irrational part of her brain reminded her that her luck sucked and she’d learned the hard way that all good things came to an end usually heartbreakingly sooner than she expected.

On that thought she picked up the diamond bracelet Cash gave her and struggled with the complicated clasp for a moment before securing it.

Then she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her great-grandmother’s gown was a bold, red satin with a long, flowing skirt. The bodice came up in a soft, inverted V at the base of her throat where there was an opening through which a wide band of satin was fed through. This band held up the bodice at her chest and went over her exposed shoulders, crossing between her shoulder blades and holding the dress in place at her sides. The rest of the back was open with a drape at the small. The hem of the skirt swept the floor with a decorous hint of a train.

Abby wore a pair of red pumps with satin-covered, pencil-thin, four-inch heels, pointed toes covered entirely with bugle beads and complicated, thin, beaded ankle straps.

She’d dried her hair with curlers in to give it volume, parted it at the side and swept the sections back softly in a twisted, loose knot at the nape of her neck.

Regardless that the satin fit smooth and snug to her skin, she’d somehow managed (magic?) successfully to hide Cassandra’s protection amulet which hung from a thin silver chain to rest between her br**sts under the dress.

She’d done her makeup in the only one word style she had, though it was emphasised when she spoke it aloud, the look was “Drama!”

The only other adornment she wore was Cash’s bracelet and a pair of her mother’s ruby studs in her ears, the rubies surrounded by small diamonds.

She thought, assessing herself, she didn’t look half bad.

“Please, God,” she mumbled to the mirror, “don’t let me die in great-granny’s dress.”