Penmort Castle

Chapter Twenty Two Important Things Happen to Cash

Cash sat in the dark of his study on the ground floor, the moonlight streaming in through the windows he’d swivelled his chair to face.

His eyes were on the shadowy, bare branches of the trees he could see in his garden. His mind was on Abby, asleep upstairs in his bed, as well as on her foolish best friend who he was trying to find one good reason not to murder.

He didn’t want to murder her because she was foolish, he wanted to shake her for that).

No, he wanted to murder her because she’d pointed out something to Cash that evening that he’d not considered.

And something he couldn’t ignore.

After its dramatic start, the evening had progressed relatively well. The food had not been ruined and Abby recovered from her upset to be a gracious and amusing hostess. This was aided by Nicola and even, to Cash’s surprise, a far more relaxed, friendly and interesting Fenella and Honor. Mrs. Truman maintained her normal surly but hilarious behaviour and Cassandra was an unusual but amusing dinner guest.

Jenny, however, was quiet most of the evening, her face thoughtful, her eyes, Cash found, were nearly always watching Abby, Cash or the both of them together.

When Abby made tactful excuses for Cash to go to his study to work, he’d done so, gratefully, leaving the women to their conversation which had taken an alarming turn to some preposterous-sounding American television show about two “hot” brothers who hunted ghosts.

He was not in his study for long when there was a soft knock on the door.

He hoped it was Abby.

Why he hoped this, he didn’t know. So they could have a moment alone to talk about their dinner guests or to share a bit of quiet. Or, better yet, so he could put his hands on her, touch his mouth to hers, show her nonverbally how much it meant to him that she’d come rushing to the hospital in a panic at the thought he might be hurt.

However, it wasn’t Abby.

It was Jenny.

At his call, she put her head around the door and asked, “Can I have a quiet word?”

At this unforeseen turn of events, he went on guard but nodded.

Then Jenny came in, sat across from his desk and had her quiet word.

Or, more specifically, she had several of them.

And as she spoke, Cash’s hands itched to cup her shoulders and give her a good shake.

For, he found, she had overheard a conversation he had with James at a party some time ago, a conversation Cash remembered perfectly. She had not heard all of it, thankfully, but she’d heard enough of it for her, Jenny, to get the spectacularly asinine idea to pimp out her best friend.

Therefore she knew about Cash and Abby’s initial arrangement because she’d been the person who’d orchestrated it.

He also discovered Abby’s final secret, the reason why Abby sold her body and not her family’s possessions.

Jenny informed him about the enormity of loss Abby had endured the past six years (something he already knew). She also described Abby’s inability to cope with this as each blow landed one after the other (something he also had figured out). Further, she told him about the debt in which Abby had unexpectedly found herself (again, he’d already discovered this fact).

Finally, she explained how Abby had centred her attention on her house as the sole, remaining entity that represented her grandmother, mother, father and, lastly, and most especially, Jenny stressed, Abby’s dead husband, the dear, funny, caring, attentive, beloved, faultless Ben.

Then Jenny told Cash he had to back off, that Abby was clearly becoming confused. She explained to him, carefully, that whatever his agenda was, it was lost on Abby. Whereas he had some final purpose from which he’d move on without Abby, Abby was getting muddled and, cautiously, Jenny shared that she feared Abby’s heart was getting involved.

Therefore, Jenny told him, he had to have a talk with Abby to get her back on track or preferably wind up their agreement and let Abby get back to her “real” life. And, so Abby wouldn’t feel any harm from this, Jenny was perfectly willing to settle any debt that Abby might owe Cash or provide, through Cash, any further payment he might owe Abby.

Cash had been silent throughout her speech and when Jenny stopped talking, she swallowed and stared at him, obviously waiting for his answer.

“Are you finished?” Cash asked, his voice cool and controlled, his thoughts lethal.

“I think so,” Jenny answered.

“Obviously, Abby hasn’t had time to speak with you,” Cash told her.

Jenny’s expression turned confused. “Speak with me about what?”

“If she hasn’t spoken with you, then it’s not my place to explain,” Cash returned.

Jenny squared her shoulders. “If it’s about Abby, then you should tell me. Sometimes she gets –”

Cash cut her off by saying sharply, “Stop.”

Jenny’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes got wide. This was likely because Cash was angry and he’d been hiding it but he had decided it was time to let it show. She’d said enough, he wasn’t going to sit and listen to her belittle her best friend even if it was with the “best intentions”.

He didn’t know what he looked like but from her expression she read his rather severe displeasure.

He spoke again, his voice deceptively quiet but clearly unhappy. “I hope you’ve realised your mistake at encouraging your vulnerable friend to embark on such a,” Cash paused, searching for an appropriate word then found it, “questionable venture.”

“I –” she started but Cash cut her off.

“Luckily for you, Abby isn’t good at being a cold-hearted prostitute.” He watched Jenny blanch and carried on. “From practically the minute I met her, I knew she wasn’t what she said she was. I investigated her, discovered the truth and we’ve moved on from that. I’ll let Abby explain what that means when she’s ready.”

“But –” Jenny started but Cash talked over her.

“As for backing off, that’s not going to happen. Patience and understanding don’t work with Abby. Backing off means Abby retreating and I’m not going to allow her to do that.”

Jenny leaned forward and put her hand on his desk. “You don’t understand, she’s –” but Cash ruthlessly persevered.

“I do understand. I know she’s lost her parents, her grandmother and her husband. I know how. I know when. I know she hasn’t recovered, not from any of it and especially from Ben. I know she’s terrified of living her life and letting anyone in for fear of losing someone else. Even if I didn’t know it, the events of this evening would have demonstrated that fact rather forcefully.”

Jenny closed her eyes and he saw her knuckles get white as she clutched the edge of his desk.

He went on. “Now I’ll explain something you don’t understand.” He watched her eyes open and his gaze locked on hers. “You don’t know me and I don’t appreciate you making assumptions about me or my behaviour or my intent, especially in regards to Abby. I know you’re her friend but it’s none of your fucking business until Abby makes it so. Do you get my meaning?”

She sat back and he saw her teeth clench before she hissed, “Now you’re making assumptions about me.”

“I’m not the one who sat there and calmly described my efforts to pimp out my best friend,” he returned.

“I didn’t pimp her out!” Jenny snapped.

“No?” Cash replied.

She was shifting in her chair, not with discomfort but with anger. “You’ve known her, what? Two weeks? You’ve no idea what she’s gone through, what she was going through. Completely no idea.”

“No, Jenny. I have every idea,” Cash responded evenly.

“You can’t, I’ve known her for decades. I lived through all of this with her!”

“It wasn’t you she threw her arms around tonight,” Cash retorted.

“No, Cash,” she snapped, “it was me who stood behind her when she sat by her mother’s bed, her head on her mother’s hand, when Mom Deux took her last breath. It was me Ben called when Abby lost it when her Dad died. It was me Abby called after the police left when they gave Abby the news that Ben had been crushed to death in his own fucking car. It was me who had to phone Abby when her grandmother died. And it’ll be me who picks up the pieces after you’re through with her.”

Cash sat back and took in a breath through his nose, trying to find patience then he said, “All right, Jenny, then you’ve earned the right to know that, now, it’s me who’s restoring her treasured family home. It’s me who’s going to sort her latest financial disaster. And, for the foreseeable future, it’ll be my house you come to if you want to see your friend. Further, it’ll be me who gives Abby the life she deserves and it’ll be me who makes certain she carries on with that life even if I’m not in it. To make certain I’m clear, there will be no pieces to pick up. I’ll take care of her while she’s in my life and I’ll be certain she’s taken care of when she’s no longer in it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t gotten through to you at all, have I?”

“No, what’s gotten through is you’re intent on enabling the fear that’s keeping Abby from living her life,” Cash answered.

“Right,” she stood and glared down at him, “and I should encourage her to fall head over heels for some guy who’d pay for sex and who calmly sits there and tells me he’s going to keep doing it but in a nicer way, of course.”

Rage shot through him at her words but with some effort Cash remained seated and held her angry gaze. “Actually, what I’m telling you is that you shouldn’t stand in my way.”

“Is that a threat?” she snapped.

“No,” Cash replied truthfully and it wasn’t. Cash didn’t believe in threats. He felt strongly that you never threatened anything you had no intention of doing.

The truth was, if Jenny stood in his way with Abby, best friend or not, he’d show no remorse in getting what he wanted or in this case keeping what he had.

Jenny stared at him, her chest rising and falling quickly with her breathing.

Cash stared back coolly but he was still very angry.

Finally, she clipped, “Fine,” then she walked to the door but turned to him and declared, “I’d prefer Abby didn’t know we had this little chat.”

“I’ll not lie to Abby,” he told her, watched as she pulled her lips between her teeth and relented, “However, I also won’t tell her unless she asks.”

She nodded jerkily and put her hand on the doorknob and something Cash couldn’t control or explain made him ask, “Why don’t you want her to be happy?”

Jenny turned back to him, her face the picture of stunned, hurt surprise, and she whispered, “Of course I want her to be happy.”

Cash’s voice gentled when he assured her, “Jenny, I can make her happy.”

Jenny’s expression melted to one of thoughtful concern. “Yes, Cash. You already are” Cash felt her words hit him like strangely pleasant, velvet-gloved blows, but she went on. “But for how long? You want to give her the life she deserves? That isn’t a life filled with cashmere robes and diamond bracelets. That’s a life filled with happiness. If you take a part of her life, she might be missing out on someone who doesn’t start his relationship with her talking about when he’ll no longer be in it. And, that also means, however long you two last, somewhere along the line she has to start again.” Her voice pitched lower as her verbal blows became far less pleasant, in fact, they felt like jabbing knifepoints piercing his skin. “She’s had to start again enough, Cash. Don’t you think?”

With that, she opened the door and was gone.

And Cash stared at the door long after she’d gone, knowing and hating the knowledge that she was right.

Some time later, another knock came at the door and he tensed but this time it was Abby telling him their guests were leaving.

He’d walked to the front door with her to bid their guests goodnight. Jenny did well, giving him a cheek touch and a squeeze of the arm, indicating to those who might be watching that all was well between Abby’s best friend and her boyfriend.

He closed and locked the door and by the time he turned around, Abby had wandered down the hall. He followed her and found her in the spotless kitchen, getting a glass.

He stood at the end of the counter watching her fill the glass with water then she walked to him and grabbed her purse that was sitting on the counter by his hip.

“Abby,” he called, not certain what he meant to say, just knowing something needed to be said, but she was rooting through her purse.

“Mm?” she mumbled, pulling a small, thin, gold case out of her purse and opening it.

“Did you have a good night?” he asked softly and watched with rising unease as she selected four identical pills from the case, flipped the case shut and dropped it into her bag.

“Yes,” she answered distractedly and picked up her water.

“What’s that?” he enquired as her fingers closed around the pills.

“Ibuprofen,” she replied and started to lift her hand to her mouth but his own shot out and caught hers firmly at the wrist.

Her eyes flew to his and her brows drew together. “Cash.”

“The usual dose of ibuprofen is two tablets,” he told her.

“I know, but –”

His thumb moved along her palm, forcing her fist open. “Then take two.”

She was looking at him quizzically. “Two isn’t enough.”

He placed his other hand under both of theirs, turned her wrist and the tablets fell out of her now-opened palm into his own. He took two tablets and gave them to her, his fingers closing around the other two.

She accepted them but her gaze was still on his. “Cash, I’m telling you, two isn’t enough. Three isn’t enough. Only four will work.”

His eyes moved over her face and he saw she looked slightly pale and had a not-very-Abby-like pinched look to her mouth.

“Do you have a headache?” he asked.

“No,” she answered.

“What’s the matter?” he pressed when she gave no further explanation.

“I’d rather not say.”

“Do you often take double the recommended dose of medication?” he pushed.

“No, I don’t often take medication. Cash, I don’t get it, what’s the big deal?”

Cash sighed before saying, “Abby, if you tell me what’s the matter, I can call Tim and ask him what you should do about it.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re not calling Tim about this!”

“What is it?”

“I’d rather not say.”

His hand came to her neck and he put pressure there while saying warningly, “Abby.”

“I’ve got cramps, all right?” Her eyes rolled to the ceiling and she breathed, “Geez.”

Even with his mind filled alternately with the vision of a panic-stricken Abby somehow gracefully flying toward him in high heels outside an A&E and the disquieting conversation he’d had with her best friend, Cash still couldn’t stop himself from roaring with laughter.

While laughing, he used his hand to guide her close until he felt her hips against his. When he was done, he looked down at her and she was scowling at him.

“Cramps aren’t funny,” she informed him irritably.

His hand moved from her neck, down her back to circle her waist.

“I’m sorry, darling. Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Yes,” she snapped.

He gave her a squeeze. “Does it happen every month?”

“No,” she replied shortly, “every other month. Apparently I have a testy ovary. Now can we stop talking about this?”

He smiled while he told her, “It’s perfectly natural.”

“Yes, I am aware of that, Cash Fraser,” she retorted. “I still would rather not talk to my new boyfriend about period cramps. Jenny, I could talk to, but I don’t converse with Pete, my handyman, who was also my grandmother’s handyman, who I’ve known since I can remember, about period cramps. Okay?” Cash kept smiling at her and she heaved an enormous sigh before asking, “Can I have my tablets please?”

He lifted his hand and dropped the two tablets into her opened palm. Keeping his arm around her, he watched her take them deciding tonight was not the night to talk about their future, a future which had limits. Limits that Abby had to understand before she embarked on any future with him.

They’d talk about it tomorrow.

Or, Cash thought, after his aunt and uncle’s anniversary.

Or, he thought (understanding his own selfishness but, with Abby pressed close, not caring), even later.

She put her glass on the counter and relaxed into him.

“That’ll work?” Cash asked softly.

“In about half an hour, yes,” she replied.

“I’ll let you get to sleep and finish up in the study,” Cash told her.

A look crossed her face that he could swear was disappointment before she nodded.

His hand not around her lifted to her jaw, his thumb sliding along her soft cheek. “I’ll be up soon.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

She tipped her head back and he knew she expected a kiss. Not just expected one but wanted one. And not a demonstration of passion, but rather one of affection.

His eyes roamed her face, memorising the beauty of it in anticipation of tenderness, before his neck bent and he touched his mouth to hers.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered against her lips.

“Don’t be long,” she whispered back and gave his waist a squeeze with her hands before she pulled away and walked up the stairs.

He wandered the room, turning off the lights and extinguishing candles when, at the last lamp, he stopped and looked around.

His arrival that evening had not been conducive to him paying much attention to anything but Abby. Dinner was more Abby, her delicious meal as well as a throng of women in his dining room.

So he hadn’t noticed until now how Abby’s simple touches had transformed the room from what had always been only living space to what was now lived-in space.

He pulled in a slow breath and on the exhale, he muttered, “Fuck,” before he turned out the last lamp and walked up the stairs to his study.

Now it was much later and it had taken him some time to regain concentration on his work. He’d finished that, switched off his laptop, the lamps, turned his chair to the window and sat brooding in his darkened study like a character out of a Brontë novel.

On that thought, he pushed out of his chair and walked upstairs to his bedroom, seeing Abby’s motionless form under the bedclothes. Cash could tell, even in the dark, she’d curled around his pillow.

He prepared for bed, pulled back the covers and slid in. Careful not to disturb her, he tugged at his pillow. As she was asleep, and he always had her in sleep, she gave up the pillow in favour of him, her limbs curving around him as she pressed close. He put his pillow behind his head and settled back.

“Cash?” she whispered, her voice sexy and husky.

“Yes, love, go back to sleep.”

Abby had not lied when she’d told him she liked her sleep. Therefore, he was surprised when she got up on her elbow and pulled her hair out of her face.

“Is it late?” she asked.

“Close to midnight,” he replied.

“Are you tired?”

No. He wasn’t tired. He was in bed with Abby and her voice was just-woken-up-throaty. However, she’d also started her period and was uncomfortable even talking about it therefore he had a feeling she’d not be thrilled with the idea of having sex while on it.

Instead of answering her question, he said, “I have a meeting first thing in the morning.”

“We have to talk.”

His body went still but she didn’t notice it. She pressed into him, reaching across the bed, groping for a moment before she found the lamp switch and muted light filled the room.

He watched as she blinked adorably, her eyes adjusting to the light then they focused on him.

She further surprised him by keeping her position; her torso on his, her forearm came to rest on his chest, holding herself elevated but still close.

Her face was drowsy but the look in her eyes was serious.

Cash mentally braced.

With Abby, it could be anything. She could say something that would lead to a heated row. She could suffer an emotional breakdown. She could do something outrageous to make him laugh. Or she could put her mouth on him and make him come.

He had to be prepared.

However nothing he could do would prepare him for what came next.

“Something’s happened,” she told him.

“What?” he asked.

She looked away and bit her lip then sighed and looked back to him. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

His hands stole around her hips. “Darling, just start at the beginning. Whatever it is, it’ll be all right.”

Then she did something that so surprised him, his entire body reacted to it, tensing along his length as her hand came up to rest on his cheek.

And, with a soft voice, her eyes on his, she said, “I met this man yesterday at Mrs. Truman’s. I wasn’t going to say anything about him until the time was right but then Honor talked to me tonight.”

The tension in Cash’s body increased and she felt it, her thumb moved to his temple and circled there soothingly.

“Cash,” she whispered, “Penmort is yours.”

His body froze solid.

“I’m sorry?” he growled.

“Honor told me,” she said.

He felt his eyes narrow. “Honor told you what? Exactly.”

She licked her lips and took in a breath, “She told me she found your grandmother, Lorna’s, diaries.”

Cash’s eyes stayed narrow but now in confusion. “Keep talking.”

Abby nodded and went on. “She says she thinks no one knows about them. She’s read them. Cash,” she hesitated then in a soft explosion, she burst out, “God! I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Losing patience, Cash rolled her to her back, positioned his body on his elbow and loomed over her. “Just say it.”

She stared at him a moment then said swiftly, “Your grandmother was raped.”

Cash’s body jerked and instantly both her hands came up to frame his face.

“Cash, look at me, please, honey, look at me.” When the shock from her announcement receded, Cash’s eyes focused on Abby’s face. She was staring at him with a look that was immensely gentle and she whispered, “Alistair was the product of that rape.”

Cash blinked slowly.

Abby kept talking. “Honor says all you need to do is ask for a DNA test and Penmort is yours. She says she’s had a friend examine Penmort’s covenant and the castle can’t be held outside of the bloodline. Alistair isn’t of the line. Honor says the castle, and everything, is yours.” One of her hands moved away from his face and she went up on one elbow, getting closer as her other hand drifted down to his shoulder. “Honey, the castle has always been yours.”

His eyes never left her concerned face as sensations tore through him, some of them exultant, some of them toxic.

When his father had died, Penmort and its holdings were vast. They had to be for anyone to maintain such a huge property. There was land. There were lettings in the local town, both commercial and residential. There were investments. His father owned the controlling share of several lucrative businesses and kept a domineering hand in all of them earning a reputation as a clever but ruthless mogul.

At the time, it had been worth multiple millions, translated into today’s money, it would have been billions.

Alistair had dwindled that down to nothing. Almost as if he was doing it intentionally, he pulled out of good investments and threw money at bad ones. He sold the controlling shares, the properties, the lands and he lived high. Travelled widely. Spent freely. Until there was nothing coming in and thousands going out, monthly.

“That fucking bastard,” Cash exploded and then pushed away, hurling the covers wide, he knifed out of bed and looked for something to throw.

Instead, his eyes fell on Abby, who’d sat up in the bed and was watching him.

She was wearing an espresso-brown, silk nightgown edged in delicate ecru lace. A nightgown he’d bought for her. A nightgown that cost more than many people spent on clothes in a year. A nightgown the likes of which he’d worked since he was twelve years old, scratching his way up from nothing, so he could afford. And still he was working fourteen hour days so he wouldn’t blink at such a purchase.

“Fuck!” Cash roared, his arm shot out, his fist closed around the lamp and he yanked it out of the wall, the light going dead, and he threw it across the room.

He heard its glass base shatter against the wall then he heard Abby shoot out of bed.

Cash was pacing, the whole time Abby at his side, her hands on him. She tried to get in his way but he either abruptly turned and headed the other way or walked around her.

“Cash, please, stop, look at me,” she begged.

“We had nothing. My grandfather worked driving a fucking taxi. And we still had nothing,” Cash growled, his hand had shot through his hair, his fingers closing around the back of his neck and he kept them there as he paced. “Then he died, Mum couldn’t hold down a job for more than a few months, eventually no one would hire her, and we really had fucking nothing.”

Abby planted herself in front of him and threw her arms around him, crushing her body against his and she held on finally effectively halting him.

“Please, honey, stop walking,” she pleaded. “You might cut yourself. Let me clean up the lamp.”

At her words, something inside him imploded. He pulled viciously out of her arms but bent low, put one arm behind her knees and one at her waist. He lifted her and carried her to the bed. Tossing her on it, he came down on top of her.

“You’re not going to clean up the lamp, Abby,” he clipped. “You’re never going to clean anything again. Aileen’s going to clean up the fucking lamp. That’s what I fucking pay her for. That’s why I fucking work so goddamned hard.”

Her hands were on him, stroking his back slowly, soothingly, and she whispered, “Okay Cash.”

Cash felt Abby’s hands moving on him, her soft body under his, the silk of her nightgown against his skin and he sucked in breath.

On his exhale, he shared, “My father left the money, the holdings, everything, to my mother but Alistair took her to court. It was years, battle after battle, appeal after appeal. And he got it back.”

Abby’s hands stopped moving and her arms slid around his back to hold on tight.

“I looked through her papers,” Cash told her. “She had a case. A strong one. She was sick, drove her attorneys up the wall and then she ran out of money and they jumped ship.”

“Oh Cash,” she breathed softly.

He dropped his forehead to Abby’s and muttered, “I can’t fucking wait to see his face when I kick his ass out.”

Abby’s body went still under his, she hesitated then suggested quietly, “Maybe you should wait until after the anniversary celebration. I think Nicola’s looking forward to that.”

Cash replied instantly, “Oh, I’ll wait.” Then something occurred to him, he pulled slightly away and asked, “Why did Honor tell you this?”

He heard her hair slide along the covers as he saw the shadowy outline of her head shake in front of him. “I think,” she started then paused and went on warily, “I’m not sure but I don’t think Alistair was very,” she hesitated again then finished, “nice to them. Any of them.”

Cash caught her meaning. Alistair not being “nice” included Nicola.

In a low voice that came directly from his gut, he knew because he felt it, Cash promised, “He’s going to pay.”

Abby’s arms flexed around him and she warned, “Be careful, Cash. He scares me.”

Belatedly, Cash realised his weight was likely too much for her and he rolled to his side, taking her with him.

His arms moved around her and he pulled her close. Her arms stayed tight and she tucked her face in his neck.

“Don’t worry, darling. I won’t let him hurt you, or anyone, not again.”

Her head tilted back and she replied, her voice showing her surprise, “Cash, I’m not worried about me.”

His chin dipped down and he looked at her face in the shadows and he repeated, “I said I won’t let him hurt anyone.”

She pushed her body into his as she pressed him verbally, “Even you?”

It struck him, uncommonly slowly, that Abby was worried about him. And this knowledge sheared the edge off his anger.

His hand slid up her back, sifted into her hair and he tucked her face back into his neck.

“Even me,” he murmured.

She nuzzled closer and whispered, “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Cash demanded.

She nestled even closer and continued softly. “Well, I am. About you, your Mom. Nicola and the girls. And your grandmother. What she must have gone through.”

Absently, Cash’s fingers caught a lock of her hair and started winding it around his fingers.

“Don’t think about it,” Cash gave her the advice he was going to use himself.

“Okay,” she mumbled, “I’ll try.”

He held her until everything about her enveloped him, her scent, her feel, her touch, her warmth, the sound of her breathing. After he felt the peace only Abby could bring him, he pulled her right in the bed, yanked the covers over them and settled her into his side.

When he felt her head go heavy on his shoulder, her arm slackening around his stomach, he called, “Abby.”

“Yes, honey?” she mumbled sleepily.

His arm around her waist got tight and his fingers at her hip gripped her briefly.

“Thank you for telling me,” he muttered.

She gave him a squeeze and pressed deeper into his side.

“You’re welcome.”

He waited until her breathing evened, her body relaxed and he took her slumbering weight.

Only then did he allow himself to sleep.