Penmort Castle

Chapter Fourteen Spectre

“Call an ambulance,” Abby heard Cash’s deep, terse voice order from very close.

“Get some towels,” Nicola’s voice came from further away.

“Oh my God. The blood. I think I may be ill,” Honor remarked from even further away.

Abby felt herself being carried and knew she was in Cash’s arms before she opened her eyes to see his rigid jaw up close, her temple resting on his shoulder.

“Cash,” she whispered and his head jerked to look at her.

“She’s awake,” Fenella noted gratuitously.

“You’re all right, love,” Cash murmured his soft assurance but his troubled expression belied his words. He turned to face forward again as he carried her into the drawing room.

“Honor, I said get some towels,” Nicola was closer, crowding Cash as he laid Abby on the sofa.

“What happened?” Alistair asked, looming over the back of the sofa, brows drawn, his strangely unsettling (and not in a good way) eyes locked on Abby.

“Give her a moment,” Nicola demanded as Cash sat next to Abby’s hip, carefully took her wrist in his hand and slowly pushed back her torn, bloodied sleeve.

Abby watched him do this and it was then it came back to her.

She’d been at the sink, drying her hands, looking in the mirror in the bathroom, wishing she had her lip gloss handy (because, every girl knew, in any intense, gruelling, overly-emotional situation, which that night had been from the start, you needed lip gloss) when through the mirror she’d seen the vision behind her.

Seen it and seen through it.

A woman, dark hair, beautiful, pale face, her long hair streaming as if caught in a fierce wind and her old-fashioned violet dress floating in tatters around her.

Her expression was filled with blatant, frightening, evil hatred.

Abby had had no time to react when the vision moved toward her so fast it was shocking.

Abby screamed the terror that suddenly gripped her just as she felt a sharp thrust between her shoulder blades. She just got the chance to lift her hand to cushion her fall but the push was so strong, her hand went through the mirror. The mirror shattered around her wrist, the shards cutting her and the sudden pain mixed with some water on the floor and being off kilter made Abby slip. She went down, her forehead, with her weight and momentum behind it, slamming against the basin.

And then everything went black until she was in Cash’s arms.

And at that moment, lying on the sofa, Abby knew she had to get out of there.

Now.

“Cash,” she whispered urgently and his eyes went from her arm to her face.

“Quiet, darling,” he muttered, his gaze lifted to her forehead and narrowed.

Then his hand left her arm and came to her face, his palm resting against her cheekbone as his thumb cautiously tested the bump on her forehead.

At his tentative touch, Abby winced at the pain and jerked her head against the cushion of the sofa. Cash’s hand moved away immediately and his eyes locked on hers.

“Fucking hell,” he swore.

Abby didn’t have time for her possible concussion. There was a haunting afoot and apparently the ghost in residence did not like her.

At all.

“We need to get out of here,” Abby demanded, not caring about appearing rude in front of her audience because she thought it was more important to exit the premises immediately since the place was fucking haunted.

Cash had no time to respond for Honor arrived, announcing, “I’ve got the towels.”

Cash’s head came up. “Get me a bowl of warm water. Gentle soap.” Clearly whoever he was addressing hesitated because he barked, “Now!”

Abby’s eyes moved and she saw Honor scurry from the room as Nicola turned to Fenella.

“Get a flannel, dear. With some ice,” Nicola requested.

Abby’s hand came to Cash’s arm and she tried to lift up.

“Cash, really, we have to go,” she said but Nicola was at the side of the sofa.

The lady leaned in, tucking a pillow under Abby’s head as she pressed on Abby’s shoulder to settle her back.

“Just be still, Abby. Let Cash have a good look at you,” Nicola cajoled softly.

Abby’s eyes went from Nicola to Cash who was wrapping her arm in a towel. On the way there she caught Alistair staring daggers at her from his place behind the couch.

It was then Abby realised that she was going to have to be clever.

This was not good. At the best of times, Abby was far from clever.

However, clever at that moment included not informing them she’d just seen an actual ghost, much less been viciously shoved into a mirror by one.

“I’m sure I’m all right,” she told Alistair.

“You’re not going to sue me are you?” Alistair demanded to know and Nicola gasped.

Then she snapped, “Alistair! What’s the matter with you?”

His eyes moved to his wife. “She’s American. They sue.”

“I’m not going to sue you,” Abby assured him and pushed up on her free elbow. “I’m really all right. I just slipped on some water and fell.”

Cash’s eyes pinned her and he commanded, “Lay back.”

“Really, I’m fine. I just feel a little silly, that’s all,” she told Cash.

“Abby, lay back,” Cash repeated.

“Cash –” Abby started.

“Abby, fucking… lay… back,” Cash clipped, eyes narrowing and since he was using the f-word in that way, Abby felt it prudent to do as he commanded.

She laid back.

“Here’s the water,” Honor arrived with a glass bowl of soapy water and a tea towel, Trevor at her heels. She laid the bowl on the table by the sofa and Cash turned to it immediately.

“Do you need me to call the ambulance, sir?” Trevor asked Alistair.

“No!” Abby cried. An ambulance might take forever and she needed to get out of there before the black-haired phantom came back, dragged her up the nearest steep stairwell only to send her plunging back down to her grisly death. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

“Call the ambulance,” Cash ordered Trevor.

“Cash, I said I’m fine,” Abby butted in as Trevor left the room.

Cash’s eyes came to her. “You lost consciousness.”

“I know but –”

“I want them to look at you,” he went on.

“Well, I understand that, but I can tell you I’m –”

“Abby, this isn’t up for discussion,” he finished and the way he spoke those words said plainly he was finished.

“Oh all right,” she muttered but she didn’t even attempt to do it with good grace.

At that, Cash’s face changed, went soft, his black eyes grew warm and he murmured, “Now I’m beginning to think you’re fine.”

Abby jumped at her chance. “Good, then can we –?”

“No,” he cut her off shortly.

She gave him a glare.

He accepted it calmly then turned back to the water.

“Here’s the ice!” Fenella, for some reason, shrieked upon entry and rushed forward.

Nicola took the ice and sat on the arm of the sofa, holding it lightly to Abby’s forehead while Cash deftly but cautiously cleansed her arm.

Abby rolled her eyes up and looked at Nicola. “I’m so sorry I ruined your lovely evening.”

“Hush, dear. This didn’t ruin anything. Let’s just get you seen to,” Nicola replied kindly and Abby went silent and decided to spend her time not thinking about her imminent death at the hands of a see-through spectre, but instead, contemplating her evening.

Abby liked Nicola, she would be hard not to like; Nicola was lovely.

Abby also thought she might like Fenella and Honor. They were both a little unusual but in entirely different ways. Fenella was kind of cute, in a drama queen, slightly grating way. Honor was harder to read but Abby got the weird sensation that her prickly demeanour was a defence mechanism, against what, Abby didn’t know.

Alistair was a contradiction. Instinctively upon meeting him, Abby didn’t like him. His eyes were strange, definitely calculating and almost cruel. But his manner was welcoming and friendly. Abby didn’t buy it and she had the feeling Cash didn’t either.

On the other hand, Abby disliked Suzanne intensely. The woman was not nice in any way and she was also rude. How Suzanne could be borne of Nicola’s loins was beyond Abby.

And lastly, there was Cash.

And that evening she’d been given yet something else to worry about.

Because, stupidly (as usual) she’d not thought about the time when circumstances would necessitate Cash playing the devoted, adoring boyfriend back to Abby’s devoted, adoring girlfriend. The thought hadn’t cross her mind.

Therefore, she’d been unprepared to experience Cash acting like her loving boyfriend.

Even though she knew it was pretend. Even after what he’d done at her house. Even after she’d insanely almost forgiven him for his callous behaviour in her bedroom when he’d been so sweet to her in the car. Even after all that, she hadn’t been ready.

She hadn’t toughened herself against how it would feel to have him do such things as casually hold her hand, kiss the side of her head and call her “exquisite”, a compliment, said in Cash’s rough, deep burr, that far exceeded any Abby had ever received.

But it was fake.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t what she had with Ben.

It wasn’t what her mind told her it was, which was that it was something far, far better than what she had with Ben.

That would be an impossibility.

For what she had with Ben was real and it was wonderful.

And what she had with Cash was make-believe even if it felt fantasy-land remarkable.

And she had to remember that.

This was a job, her job, but Cash also had to play his part.

And it was clear that in the meantime he fully intended to enjoy that for which he’d paid handsomely.

And it was also clear that he wouldn’t allow Abby to stand in the way of him getting that. He’d taught her that lesson earlier. He was quite content to live his part of the pretence as long as Abby lived hers.

If Abby stepped out of the role for which she was paid she would be punished.

And therefore she renewed her oath to keep her head screwed on straight and remember, always, always, always, this was a job. Just a job. And one day soon, he’d walk away and she’d get on with her life.

Firm (she told herself even though she didn’t believe herself) in her resolve she watched Cash place the bloodied towel in the bowl, he wrapped her arm in a clean, dry towel and when he was done his eyes came to her.

“The cuts aren’t that bad,” he said.

“I told you,” she returned.

“I still want them seen to,” he went on.

She rolled her eyes on a sighed, “Whatever,” and heard Cash’s chuckle.

Her eyes rolled back only to see his face close to hers. Nicola removed the ice and Abby made a mental note always to pay attention right before his lips touched hers.

He moved away a scant inch and remarked softly, “We’re going to have to talk about those heels you’re always wearing.”

Abby blinked, confused at his declaration, and asked, “Why?”

His face didn’t move away while he explained patiently, “Because, darling, they’ve become a health hazard.”

He couldn’t be serious.

Could he?

Abby tried honesty.

“It’s been so long, I don’t think my body can readjust to wearing flats. My spine might collapse and I’ll become crippled,” Abby told him, not joking in the slightest but, even so, Cash chuckled.

“We’ll take that chance, shall we?” he suggested but in a way that was more a command than a suggestion.

“Cash, I can’t wear flats. You’ll be, like, towering over me all the time if I wear flats,” she told him.

He moved back and his hands came to rest on either side of her as he said, “I like that idea. If I’m towering over you, it might have the additional bonus of intimidating you so you’ll do what I say instead of arguing all the time.”

“I don’t argue all the time,” Abby argued.

His brows went up, making his point nonverbally.

Abby glared.

The sound of approaching sirens filled the room.

“Saved by the paramedics,” Abby breathed dramatically and watched Cash’s devastatingly effective smile before his fingers came to curl around her neck to give her an affectionate squeeze then he moved away.

When he did, Abby’s eyes fell on Alistair and she sucked in breath.

Alistair was looking at Cash and the way he was doing it was exactly like the ghost had looked at Abby.

His face was filled with wicked, murderous, hatred.

A terrified shiver raced up her spine and it was worse than the fear she’d felt at seeing a ghost. This man, she knew, intended Cash harm and for some reason that was worse than the thought of harm coming to Abby.

Before she had a chance to process this new worry, the paramedics arrived.

They’d shown a light in her eyes, asked her silly questions about day, time, current location, bandaged her arm and declared her fit but they gave Cash warning signs and symptoms of concussion.

They left and Alistair was back to his good-humoured self (probably because he was walking Cash and Abby to his front door).

Cash settled her coat on her, handed her bag to her and Abby embraced Nicola, Fenella and even Honor while Cash donned his own.

She touched her cheek to Alistair’s as he asked, “You’ll be at the celebrations?”

Abby pulled away and nodded and Alistair’s eyes took on a happy but devious look that gave Abby a bad feeling.

“Good,” he muttered but Abby didn’t think it was good at all.

Abby shook off her thoughts of doom telling herself that her first encounter with a real, live (well, dead, but still existing) ghost was making her see things that weren’t there and looked at Nicola.

“You’ll tell Suzanne we said good-bye?” she requested politely.

“Of course,” Nicola assured but her embarrassment at her daughter’s rude behaviour was evident and Abby felt for her.

Abby smiled, leaned in and gave her arm a squeeze. Then Cash took her hand and they left.

As they walked Cash threaded his fingers through hers and lifted their hands to press them against the side of his chest.

Abby’s brain, making clear where it stood in Abby’s battle to guard her heart, registered that it was nice walking with Cash that way. So nice, Abby’s brain decided it would walk that way with Cash anywhere. To his car after a dinner party or through the very fires of hell, it didn’t care.

When they made it to his car and he’d beeped the locks and opened her door, Abby had control over her wayward thoughts and she turned to him.

“I’m sorry about this evening.”

Cash’s chin dipped down to look at her.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked.

“Well,” Abby went on, pointing out what she thought was obvious, “because I was snotty to their daughter then broke their mirror, fell and lost consciousness in their bathroom and ended their evening with a visit from an ambulance.”

His arm went around her, his other hand coming up to fist in her curls, pulling her head gently back further to look at him.

“Suzanne’s a bitch and always has been. You handled yourself well, considering. You were within your right to walk across the room and slap her.”Abby emitted a soft gasp at his brutally honest words but he continued, his voice dipping softer, throatier and far, far sexier.

“You handled yourself beautifully,” he said and Abby felt a rush of warmth she had to fight back as he went on. “And as for apologising for your accident, darling, I’m beginning to realise that, regardless of how charming it is, I’m going to have to teach you to stop doing it.”

“What do you mean?” Abby asked.

“You apologise a lot,” he replied.

“No I don’t,” she returned.

She saw his smile before he remarked, “You argue a lot too.”

Abby stayed silent and Cash brought her closer as his face got to within a breath of hers.

“Earlier tonight I did something to you that I deeply regret. Now you’re standing in my arms apologising for my family being rude and for slipping on water. Do you not see that’s absurd?” he asked.

She had to admit, he made sense.

She wasn’t going to tell him that.

And she wasn’t going to give into the deeper warmth that invaded the region of her heart at him admitting to “deeply” regretting his earlier behaviour.

Instead, she told him, “I’m tired, Cash, can we just go home?”

He hesitated and she got the vague feeling he was disappointed before his arms got tighter and he lifted up to kiss her forehead.

“Of course, love,” he said there and looked down at her again. “which home would you prefer?”

She wanted to go to her home and her bed and her warm, fluffy cat who was evil in a cute way, not evil in a scary, murdering ghost way, but she knew that wasn’t smart.

“Yours,” she answered.

His mouth touched hers lightly, he moved back and guided her safely into the car, slammed the door, rounded the hood, got in, turned the ignition and they were away.

And Abby couldn’t help but feel, until Penmort Castle was lost in the distance, that the whole building watched their departure.

Her body was rolled onto its back and she felt a strong knee pressing insistently between her legs.

Her eyes opened and in the shadows she saw Cash’s face disappear in her neck right before his mouth slid along its length. His hand smoothed up her hip, taking her nightgown with it, then went under it and up, to close with intent around her breast.

“Cash,” she whispered.

At the sound of his name, his thumb slid across her nipple and his head came up.

Fire shot from her nipple to between her legs and Cash murmured, “How are you feeling?”

“I was feeling great because I was asleep,” she informed him, her voice still husky from slumber.

His lips touched hers and he suggested against her mouth, “Let’s see about making you feel even better.”

Then he went about the business of achieving that aim.

Spectacularly.

Abby was on top, straddling Cash who was deep inside her. Her back was arched, one of his arms wound around her waist, his other one high at her back, fingers curled under the joint of her arm. His head was bent and his lips were drawing her nipple inside his mouth with a sharp, delicious pull when her hands fisted convulsively in his hair and she came.

Hard.

It was so wild, beautiful and out-of-control, her hips, as if they had a mind of their own, ground into his, the walls around the heart of her flexing tightly. She felt him rigid, deep inside her and it was as if her whole being existed between her legs.

His head moved away from her breast and if she’d been aware of them, she would have wanted to halt the telltale rasping moans that accompanied her climax.

Before she was through, he twisted, she was on her back and he was driving into her, deeply, almost violently, his hand curled around the crown of her head, the fingers of his other hand going between them and she gasped aloud when he touched her. Her orgasm exploded anew, bigger, wilder and she cried out his name before her head came up and her teeth sank into the flesh at his shoulder.

His hands moved to the backs of her thighs, pulling them high against his sides and he thrust harder, faster and she heard his sharp intake of breath before his hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back, his open mouth sought hers and she blissfully accepted the deep sigh of his climax.

It was some time after that Abby realised this was not the way to start her first day of having her head screwed firmly on straight.

His hips pressed gently into hers as he murmured against her neck, “Exquisite.”

At his word, Abby shivered before he pulled out gently, rolled them to their sides but his hand glided over her bottom and down the back of her leg, keeping it hooked over his hip.

His fingers trailed up her spine, cupped her head, tucked her face in his neck and remained there, lazily playing with her hair.

“We have things to talk about, darling, but I have to get to work,” he said over her head.

Last night on the long ride home, she’d fallen asleep. Cash had gently woken her in the car and she’d leaned heavily against him on the short walk to his door (how he found a parking spot directly opposite his front door, she had no clue and groggily thought it unfair). After Cash made her take two paracetamol, they’d gone straight to bed, Abby breaking one of her most closely held rules of never, but never, going to bed without taking off her makeup and putting on moisturiser.

Apparently being assaulted by a spirit from beyond the grave took it out of you.

At the current moment, she didn’t know what they had to talk about.

What she did know in her post, double-orgasm addled brain was that she needed a swift retreat and a call to Jenny for another “it’s-only-a-job” pep talk mixed with an oh-my-God strategy session on how to survive a murderous ghost.

“That’s okay,” she muttered into his neck.

“Do you feel like cooking tonight?” he asked and she tilted her head back to look at him. His chin dipped down and she felt his eyes on her in the early morning dark.

She also felt herself wishing, even though she knew she shouldn’t, that his gentle concern was real.

“I conked my head and scratched my arm, Cash, I’m not an invalid,” she told him, her words made soft by her voice. “Stop worrying about me.”

His head dropped further, his forehead coming to rest against hers.

“Abby,” he said and something in the way he said her name made her brace, mentally throwing up walls because she knew that tone, harsh but sweet and unbelievably warm, a tone she’d never heard from him before, was akin to an emotional battering ram. “Darling, you show it, you act it but I need you to say it.”

Abby’s breath caught and she forced herself to let it free.

“Say what?” she whispered.

“That you forgive me,” he replied.

Her throat closed and tears burned the backs of her eyes.

She was right, the walls around her heart splintered ominously under his attack.

“Say it,” he demanded.

She swallowed.

“Abby, please, fucking say it,” he growled, the words were curt, their meaning anything but.

“I forgive you,” she whispered and she knew she did and further, she knew that was stupid too.

She had no time to dwell on this, his arms went tight around her, his mouth crushed down on hers and he gave her a world-tilting kiss.

When his mouth broke from hers and Abby’s mind and body recovered from his words and his kiss, she realised she was in worse trouble than she first imagined.

And she imagined it being pretty, dang bad.

But she knew then this wasn’t just going to be a battle over her emotions.

This was going to be the epic battle of a lifetime.

Cash broke into her thoughts. “I’m sorry, love, but you’re going to have to get up with me.”

Her body went still at that alarming news.

What was next? Was he going to handcuff her to his side and make her spend the day with him?

“Why?” she asked, her voice as alarmed as she actually felt and he laughed.

Her head tilted back to look at him, not thinking one damned thing was funny.

His chin tipped down and she saw the white flash of his teeth indicating he was still smiling.

“You can go back to bed in a minute,” he assured her. “I just want to check your arm.”

Oh, that was it.

Abby relaxed.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she told him dismissively, sliding her head down on the pillow.

“I want to check,” he returned.

“It’s fine,” she repeated and got a tight, warning squeeze of his arms in response.

“Abby, I want to fucking check,” he finished in a not-to-be-denied voice.

With no other choice Abby gave in but not without muttering, “Geez, you’re stubborn.”

His arms got tighter and he said, “Yes, I am and I’ll remind you why.”

Abby didn’t like the sound of that.

Cash went on. “You’re mine. And, darling, I’ll repeat as necessary until you get it into that obstinate head of yours, I take care of what’s mine. Is that clear?” he finished on another arm squeeze.

Her mind on the epic battle that lay before her which seemed to get worse by the second, Abby grumbled a barely distinguishable, “Yes.”

When she did, the tension she didn’t realise was in Cash’s body slid away, he rolled, taking her over the top of him and pulled them up.

He knifed out of bed, Abby going with him, he took her to the bathroom and did exactly as he wanted.

Fifteen minutes later, her cuts covered with antibiotic goo and bandaged anew, Abby crawled back into bed as she heard the shower start.

She lay awake in bed long after Cash got ready, came back to bed, pulled her hair from her neck and kissed her there after telling her he was leaving.

She didn’t just lay awake.

She lay awake gripped with fear.

Fear of ghosts.

Fear of Alistair’s intentions.

Fear of Cash.

Fear of her own weakness.

And fear that, one way or another, either propelled off the side of an ancient castle by a vengeful spirit, or conquered by a beautiful warrior, her life as she knew it was going to end.