Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(33)

“I have to go through this before the morning,” he muttered, his fingers curving around her shoulder. “It won’t take long.”

She was a little surprised, a little disappointed and a lot relieved.

“Okay,” she replied quietly.

It felt weird, lying beside him while he read in bed. Weird and wonderful and warm and sweet and comfortable and a lot of other things it shouldn’t feel.

Moments ticked passed as he read and she lay there.

For a bit, she tried to read the papers. Then she realised what little she read made no sense to her.

He shifted papers around, dropped some, picked up others, somehow never disturbing her.

More moments passed and he started stroking her shoulder.

This made her realise she was tense and her body, of its own volition, began to relax.

More moments passed and the tips of his fingers slid up her shoulder, up her neck and his fingers started to play absent-mindedly with her hair.

She’d always liked it when anyone played with her hair.

Lying in Cash’s bed, his warm, strong body against hers, made it all the better.

In fact, she thought dreamily, it was the best.

More moments passed and she fell asleep.

Chapter Eight

Cash’s Reason

Somewhere in a dream, Abby heard, “Abby, I have to get ready for work.”

To this, her response was to curl her limbs more tightly around the dream Cash Fraser’s body. This had the added benefit of the front of her dream body pressing deeper into the front of Cash’s.

“Darling,” his low, deep brogue was husky and sounded, weirdly to Abby considering it was a dream, vaguely disappointed.

Then her body, not of its own volition, moved and the heat of Cash was gone.

Abby curled into his pillow and fell back to sleep.

* * * * *

Abby felt her hair slide off her neck and then the words, “Abby, I’m leaving,” semi-penetrated her unconsciousness.

Her eyes fluttered open and focused on Cash who in the dark she could see (just barely) was sitting, fully dressed, in the crook of her lap.

“What?” she asked sleepily.

“I’m going to work,” he replied softly.

“Oh.”

“I’ll be at your house just before seven,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said, settling deeper into his pillow then mumbled, “Will you call me today?”

“I’ll call,” he answered.

She snuggled into the pillow and whispered, “Good,” but before he could move she kept talking, “Last night, I thought we were going to begin.”

“Begin what?”

She let out a soft sigh and said, “You know, begin.”

His voice held a smile when he replied, “We did, Abby. Couldn’t you tell?”

She pulled his pillow to her chest and whispered, “Not really.”

“Then you weren’t paying much attention,” he muttered.

She was still not paying much attention. She’d started to drift back to sleep when she felt the covers pulled up over her shoulder and, after that, fingers trailed softly down her jaw.

Then out of nowhere something hit her and panic seized her chest in an angry claw.

As Cash’s hand moved away, her own shot out and caught his wrist in a vice-like grip.

She quickly got up on an elbow and her eyes flew to his shadowed form.

“Abby –” Cash started, sounding surprised and pulling at his wrist but before her mind kicked into gear and she could think what she was saying (or doing, or feeling), she interrupted him.

“You be careful in that car of yours,” she demanded, her voice hoarse with sleep and emotion.

She couldn’t see it but she felt Cash’s body go completely still.

She knew his eyes were on her but since she was having trouble breathing (oxygen, she felt, took priority), she didn’t care.

His other hand came up and he pried her fingers loose from his wrist. After he succeeded in his task, he took her hand in his, palm cupped to palm, and brought the backs of her fingers to his lips.

She felt him kiss her lightly there before he murmured, “Abby, nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“Just promise you’ll be careful,” she whispered.

“Darling, I promise,” he replied, his voice lower, deeper, throatier and she felt it glide through her system, calming her bizarre panic before he went on. “Go back to sleep.”

She nodded and settled back into the pillows as he kissed her hand again and let it go.

Then he was gone.

And Abby lay in his bed and wondered what just happened, why it happened, how she let it happen and what he thought about it.

Even though she considered all of this for a very long time, she never came up with any answers.

* * * * *

Cash Fraser was in a good mood.

This wasn’t entirely unusual but it wasn’t commonplace either.

One of the reasons for his good mood was that he had a call from his uncle that afternoon.

Normally a call from his uncle would have the opposite effect on Cash’s mood.

But the call meant that Alistair Beaumaris had seen the most recent picture of Abby and himself in the papers. The picture of Abby and Cash walking the dim, street-lit pavements of Bath, his arm around her, her body folded neatly into his side.