Penmort Castle

Chapter Nineteen Two Important Things Happen to Abby

Abby opened the front door to Cash’s house to see Mrs. Truman standing on his stoop, Jenny, Nicola, Fenella, Honor and Cassandra all behind her.

“Parking is atrocious!” Mrs. Truman snapped by way of greeting then pushed in, grumbling, “We must have walked three miles to get here.”

“We didn’t walk three miles,” Cassandra muttered with a grin in Abby’s direction.

“Felt like it,” Mrs. Truman groused, shrugging off her coat.

Abby ignored Mrs. Truman and welcomed the other ladies with a cheek-to-cheek touch, took their coats, hung them in the cupboard under the stairs and led them all to the garden level.

When they arrived downstairs, they were all looking around in wonder.

“We’ve never been to Cash’s house. It’s gorgeous,” Fenella squealed and Abby looked around.

She’d lit some candles. She’d also gone shopping in Bath that day. She bought a tall, large, cylindrical, glass vase out of which sprouted fragrant, white, hyacinths that sat dead centre on the dining room table. Another identical, but smaller, vase held the same flowers and sat on the edge of the bar that separated the kitchen from the seating area. A third sat on the table between couch and armchairs, also stuffed full with hyacinths.

During her shopping efforts, Abby had purchased a handsome, scarlet-red table runner which ran the length of the dining table. Cash’s sleek, classy, black crockery lay amongst his silver and glassware, the plates hiding the circular, quilted grey pads that Abby also bought. Scarlet napkins Abby picked up with the table runner were folded in rectangles and sat at a slant on each plate.

The aroma of roasting rosemary chicken filled the air and Nina Simone sang softly in the background.

Abby was pleased with Fenella’s comment and further pleased that she was right. Cash’s place was gorgeous but now it didn’t look just show-home gorgeous, it looked home-home gorgeous.

“What’s that smell?” Mrs. Truman, sniffing the air disdainfully, demanded to know.

“Chicken,” Abby answered.

“Chicken?” Mrs. Truman clipped. “I thought we were going to have beef.”

“You talked about beef,” Abby told her. “I never talked about beef.”

Mrs. Truman shot her a glare and then mumbled, “I was expecting beef. All day, I’ve had a taste for beef. Now I get chicken.”

Abby fought a smile and caught Nicola staring at Mrs. Truman in barely-hidden horror.

“Ignore her. She’s crotchety,” Abby told Nicola. “You’ll get used to it.”

Nicola’s eyes came to Abby and she nodded, looking relieved at Abby’s amused acceptance of the older woman but Mrs. Truman spoke.

“I’m not crotchety. I’m particular,” Mrs. Truman informed Nicola. “I like things a certain way. Manners. Behaviour,” her eyes came to Abby, “for instance, people keeping their promises.”

“I didn’t promise you beef,” Abby asserted.

“You did,” Mrs. Truman told her.

“Didn’t,” Abby shot back.

“I’m going to look at the rest of the house,” Jenny cut in. “Abby, you want to show us around?”

Abby’s eyes went to the clock.

Cash had said he’d be home by six thirty but it was five past seven. It wasn’t unusual that he was late, what was unusual was that he hadn’t called.

She shook her head at Jenny but invited, “You all have a look. I’ll get everyone a drink.”

“White wine,” Mrs. Truman ordered sharply as she headed for the stairs, not even attempting to conceal her curiosity at viewing the rest of Cash’s house. Then she finished, “Chilled.”

“That sounds good to me,” Nicola put in, following Mrs. Truman.

“Me too,” Fenella added. She was right on her mother’s heels.

“You know what I drink,” Jenny told Abby and turned to the stairs.

“G&T,” Cassandra requested, moving after the others.

“I’ll just help Abby,” Honor, to Abby’s surprise, stated and the women climbed the stairs.

“That’s nice of you,” Abby muttered, even though she was unsure. She hadn’t yet made her mind up about Honor.

Honor’s eyes were on the stairs and after Cassandra’s booted foot disappeared, she turned to Abby and said in a whisper, “Not really, I needed a chance to talk to you when Mummy wasn’t around.”

Abby went on guard and looked at Honor.

Her face seemed intent, though not unfriendly, but something about it made Abby mentally brace.

Still, Abby replied in a soft voice, “Okay. Can we talk while we make the drinks?”

Honor nodded and Abby asked her to see to Cassandra’s gin and tonic, telling her where to find the liquor and glasses while Abby went to the fridge for the wine.

When she had the wine and was uncorking it, she turned to Honor. “What is it?”

Honor glanced to the side, her eyes catching Abby’s. “Fenella told me what’s going on.”

Abby bit her lip, not sure this was a good thing.

Honor continued, “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re crazy. I know Vivianna exists, I know what she does. So does Suzanne. And, he’s never mentioned it, but I know Alistair does too. The only person who hasn’t seen her is Mummy.”

Abby pulled the cork out of the bottle and asked, “Really? Why not?”

Honor shrugged. “Don’t know. Always thought that was strange, but she never shows or makes a peep when Mummy’s around. Anyway, she, Vivianna I mean, doesn’t do harm to us girls. I think she even likes Suzanne.”

Abby could understand that. Evil, Abby guessed, would know (and like) evil. She didn’t mention this philosophy to Honor for obvious reasons and Honor kept talking.

“I get the feeling she hates Alistair. A lot. She’s always doing things to annoy him when Mummy’s not around. Moving his stuff. Tripping him up as he’s walking through the house. Screaming when he’s on the phone.” Honor stopped and shivered, mumbling, “God, I hate it when she screams.”

Abby’s hand arrested while taking down a wineglass. “She screams?”

Honor nodded. “That’s the worst. It isn’t like a regular scream. It’s low, eerie, sinister. Just hideous.”

“That’s awful,” Abby whispered, thinking it bloody well was.

Who could live like that?

“Yes,” Honor replied and her eyes went to the stairs before she moved to the refrigerator for ice. “We don’t have much time and that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It isn’t?” Abby enquired and Honor shook her head.

“I wanted to talk about Alistair,” she told Abby and dumped some ice into Cassandra’s drink.

Abby’s body went solid and she had to force herself to pour the wine while querying, “What about him?”

“He’s dangerous.”

Abby stopped pouring the wine, stared with stunned, frightened fascination at Honor and breathed, “What?”

Honor came close, took the bottle from Abby and began to fill the glasses, all the while talking swiftly. “He’s not a good man. I don’t like him. Neither does Fenella. We never did. When Daddy died Mummy…” She stopped and Abby watched her force a swallow, betraying an intense emotion that made Abby’s heart go out to her before she forged ahead. “Things weren’t good for Mummy. She was…” Honor halted again and finished with the wine, putting the bottle on the counter. “Let’s just say, she had to marry Alistair. She didn’t marry him because she loved him, she married him because she needed to find a way to take care of us and she had no choice.”

“Oh Honor,” Abby whispered, feeling for Honor and definitely for Nicola, but Honor shook her head again.

“It’s okay, we’ve all gotten used to it. Even Mummy. The thing you have to know is, a long time ago, I found the diaries,” Honor told her.

Abby’s brows drew together in confusion “The diaries?”

“Yes, Lorna’s diaries,” Honor answered. “I found them in the library, years ago, and kept them hidden. I don’t think anyone even knows they exist.”

“Who’s Lorna?” Abby asked.

“Anthony and Alistair’s mother.”

Abby just looked at her, not knowing what this meant and Honor got closer, her eyes going to the stairs then back to Abby and she started speaking quickly again.

“See, Alistair isn’t a Beaumaris. Lorna was raped.” At this news, Abby sucked in breath and put her hand to the counter to hold on but Honor continued. “Some gardener did the deed and then took off. Very unpleasant. She never told her husband, I don’t know why. She should have. Maybe, back then, they didn’t talk about that kind of thing or he wouldn’t have believed her. Doesn’t matter, she didn’t. Before the rape, she was happy, except for Vivianna. She was in line for the axe from Vivianna, I just know it. From what Lorna wrote Vivianna was playing with her, getting ready to go in for the kill. He loved her, Richard Beaumaris did, you could tell from what she wrote. Except, after Alistair was born, Richard turned on her. He knew Alistair was not a Beaumaris, thought she’d cheated on him. His love died and Vivianna backed off when it did but Lorna never said a word.”

“Oh my God. That’s horrible,” Abby whispered, her heart hurting, thinking about Cash’s grandmother living that sad life.

Honor nodded and gave Abby a look that said she definitely agreed but she kept talking hurriedly. “According to the diaries, regardless of how he was conceived, Lorna loved Alistair. She loved both her boys. Anthony and Alistair never got on, though. Lorna thought it was as if Anthony could sense what made Alistair. Furthermore, Alistair was not a nice kid, she loved him but he did things that scared Lorna. Scared and confused her. Things, I think, she only told her diary.”

“That’s not good,” Abby muttered.

“No, it isn’t,” Honor agreed. “And he hasn’t changed. Really hasn’t changed. So much so, I think he could, and probably did, meddle with the brakes on Anthony’s car.”

Abby felt her eyes grow wide and her fingers clenched the counter anew while she breathed, “No.”

“Yes,” Honor returned, “Alistair hated Anthony as much as Anthony hated Alistair. Fenella told me what Angus McPherson said and it all makes sense. He had motive. Hatred, of course. But Anthony was spending all his time in Scotland with Myra and then Cash came along. If Anthony was going to move to the castle with his family, it’s likely he was going to kick Alistair out.” Abby nodded that this made sense and Honor went on. “But, the thing you have to know is, this means Alistair doesn’t own the castle. Cash does. True and legal. All Cash has to do is ask for a DNA test.”

The importance of this news hit Abby like a physical force and she rocked back. Honor either didn’t notice it or more likely was on a mission to get all of her story out before the others returned.

“I had a solicitor friend of mine look at it and the castle’s covenant is precise. First, the castle never, but never, goes out of the hands of a blood Beaumaris, which Cash is and Alistair isn’t. Second, it’s passed down from father to son. Always father to son. If there is no son then to a daughter. Only to a brother if the castle’s master dies without any heir. My friend looked up some records and Anthony was having the covenant scrutinised when he died in order to alter it so Cash could inherit. But, in the end, he didn’t have to. Regardless of Cash’s legitimacy, he was the next in line to inherit. Anthony knew that. Alistair knew it too. Cash was too young and Cash’s mother too crazy and too poor to fight it but my friend says it was all his, all the lands, all the money, all the investments, all the businesses, and especially Penmort. It’s always been Cash’s. Always. All this time,” Honor finished.

Abby found she was breathing heavily and they heard the others approaching so Honor leaned in, took hold of Abby’s upper arm and her voice was soft but urgent.

“I’ve put the diaries in a safe deposit box but I’ve copied the pages about the rape and I have them with me. Before I leave, I’ll put them somewhere and tell you where to find them. And I’ve written down the information on the box and will leave you the keys so you can take Cash there,” Honor told her.

“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 Cash’s arms tighten as his voice murmured in her ear, “Darling, what’s happened?”

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 she no longer had control over her actions, like something deep in her that she didn’t know was there surfaced and took command.

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.