Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(14)

And he didn’t give a good God damn.

For comfort’s sake, her arm stole around his waist though her hand never left his stomach. When he looked down at her again she was peering around his body at the calling photographers.

Cash saw that she had not managed to compose her expression. Her customary aloofness had disappeared, the alarm was still there (the wonder, unfortunately, gone), and Cash again found himself thinking she looked rather adorable.

“It’ll be all right,” he murmured his assurance.

Her eyes shifted to him and, still unguarded, he read immediately that she most definitely didn’t believe him.

And it was right there for him to see, there was no thinking about it.

Abigail Butler, the woman who very much wanted him to believe she was a remote, impersonal, accomplished call girl was instead downright adorable.

Taking in her endearingly disgruntled look, Cash couldn’t, if under torture, have stopped himself from throwing his head back to laugh.

* * * * *

And that was one of the pictures printed the next day, along with one of the kiss.

Abby with one hand on Cash’s stomach, the other arm around him, her upper body curled into his side but she was walking forward even as her head was tilted back. She was regarding Cash with what looked like loving irritation. Cash’s arm was around her waist, his head was tipped back, his attractive face full of laughter.

* * * * *

Fifty miles away, in a cold, sturdy, ancient castle situated on a steep cliff, its parapets facing the waters of the Bristol Channel, Alistair Beaumaris sat amongst the used china and silver of the breakfast table, looked at the picture and it put him in a very bad mood.

Alistair was brother to the true heir of Penmort, Anthony, who had, to Alistair’s way of thinking, foolishly sired an illegitimate son to a Scottish beauty but never wed her. Nevertheless, upon his brother’s death, Anthony bestowed the Beaumaris fortune on her as well as the castle.

After his brother committed this heinous act, Alistair had spent thousands of pounds in the attempt to convince the courts it was impossible to bequeath “outside the family” as well as convincing them the fortune went with the castle.

And, fortunately, he’d succeeded in these endeavours.

Now, unfortunately, Alistair Beaumaris needed Conner Ewan “Cash” Fraser. He needed him to marry one of his stepdaughters.

Not that he liked Cash Fraser. Indeed, he hated the man. In fact, his preference would be to see him just as dead as his father and if he didn’t need him he would make his preference a reality, just as Alistair had done with Cash’s father.

Not even that he liked his stepdaughters and wanted them to make an excellent match. He didn’t hate them. They could be tolerable some of the time. However most of the time they were wholly annoying and he had no problems telling them so and explaining exactly and in some detail how they were.

No, he needed Fraser’s money.

And that reminder put Alistair in an even worse mood.

* * * * *

The ghost of Vivianna Wainwright floated two inches from the high ceiling directly over the cluttered table, not, for now, allowing her presence to be seen or felt.

She looked down at the picture in the paper and her spectral eyes moved lovingly over the tall, dark man.

They grew hard as they shifted over the cool, blonde woman.

Vivianna’s mood was not bad.

It was murderous.

Chapter Four

The Phone Call and the Picture

Abby heard the phone on her bedside table ring, ripping her from a deep, fitful sleep and Zee made a mew of disapproval as he stretched his four legs out, arching his back into Abby’s belly.

She peered at the clock and saw it was just after eight in the morning.

Cash had her home before ten with no necking, likely much to the disappointment of Mrs. Truman who Abby saw peering through her draperies at them when they arrived. Though he walked her to the door, he didn’t attempt to come in, didn’t attempt to give her a goodnight kiss but also didn’t leave until she’d made her way safely inside, closed the door and had turned on the light in her bedroom.

Still, even though she was in bed early, she didn’t get to sleep until the wee hours.

This was because she spent hours tossing and turning with the realisation that she’d, again, done something thoroughly and completely stupid.

Although there were other stupid things she’d done in the last thirty hours (many, many of them), her Latest Stupid Abby Act Obsession currently centred around that kiss.

When she’d kissed him the day before at the pub it had been to make a point and it was under her control.

However, wiping her lip gloss from his mouth had been habitual. It was something she’d done for Ben countless times. She was, of course, a girl who liked her lip gloss.

She didn’t know why she did it to Cash. She just had and she’d kicked herself for it before burying the memory deep in the recesses of her mind.

But she couldn’t bury that kiss. It was right at the surface.

The smell of Cash, the feel of his body against hers, his hard mouth and, finally, the sweet touch of his tongue.

He tasted of brandy which he’d drunk after dinner. Brandy and the rich chocolate torte with clotted cream he’d had for dessert.

Good God, but he tasted good.

She’d felt the touch of his tongue from her mouth, through her body, to the tips of her curled toes.