Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(88)
Author: Kristen Ashley

For she knew upon feeling the immense relief that Cash was alive and well that she cared about him. And she had to admit, finally, that what she and Cash had was good. No, it wasn’t good, it was great.

No, it wasn’t even great, it was magical.

She couldn’t kid herself anymore and she didn’t even want to.

But this time, she’d been given a boon. She already knew their time together would be short. That meant she could prepare. And that was exactly what she was going to do.

She was going to pack as much into her time with Cash as she could fit. And she was going to savour it while she had it. She was going to stop living her life in fear.

She was just going to live.

Abby thought Jenny would be thrilled to hear this though she didn’t tell Jenny that Cash had intimated the end at the same time he was initiating the beginning.

Instead, Jenny got a strange look on her face and gave Abby a hug.

Abby leaned back in her friend’s arms and asked, “Are you okay?”

Jenny pulled her lips between her teeth and bit them.

When she released them, she nodded and said, “Just happy for you.”

She didn’t look happy nor did she look okay but Abby let it go.

When Jenny was ready to share what was troubling her, Jenny would share. That had always been the way no matter how much Abby wheedled her.

So she let Jenny have her space.

That’s when Angus called.

Jenny handed Abby the phone and Angus told her he’d been at the castle and “on the job” for the last two nights but the “ghosty she-bitch”, a.k.a. Vivianna wasn’t showing.

“She’s a clever girl but not more clever than A McPherson!” he decreed grandly.

Then, without further ado, he told Abby his scary plan. A plan which consisted of Abby going to the castle and offering herself up as bait to a murderous, vindictive ghost.

Angus had already spoken with Fenella and Cassandra and everything was in place. Alistair and Nicola were out for the evening as was Suzanne, none of them to return until late.

Honor and Fenella would have Abby over to dinner and Abby would draw out Vivianna so Angus could take her down. However, Cassandra would give Abby some protection and Angus would give her some coaching before Abby went in.

Though, Angus assured her, Abby had nothing to fear. Angus would always be a “hairsbreadth” away.

There were a variety of things Abby didn’t like about this plan.

First, she didn’t want to be bait. Vivianna was a spirit-bitch-from-hell and Abby didn’t want to be anywhere near her until she had to be near her.

Second, she didn’t want to be bait (Abby thought that was worth pointing out twice).

Third, dinner with Honor and Fenella to draw out a ghost meant that she’d have to tell Cash she had other plans, plans that didn’t include him, and she didn’t figure he’d like that much.

That morning before he left for work when he, as usual, slid her hair off her neck, she felt it and she woke. Her eyes opened when his lips touched her skin.

She looked at his shadowy form and he murmured, “I’m leaving, darling.”

She’d muttered back, “Hang on,” and with sleepy energy she’d flipped her legs around his body and jumped out of bed. He rose with her and she grabbed his hand, led him to the guest bedroom and flicked on the lights.

“Abby –” he started but Abby was mumbling sleepily to herself.

“I should have come in and got it last night but I…” she stopped by the bed and he halted beside her, looking puzzled and somewhat impatient. She let go of his hand, reached under the pillow and pulled out an envelope. “Honor said she’d leave it here and she did,” Abby finished.

Cash’s eyes went from hers to the envelope and Abby explained about the copied diary pages and the safety deposit box.

Abby had not had time to process their emotional evening or any of the profound secrets Cash had let slip during his tirade. Secrets about his surprising history of being poor (something about which she had no idea, she thought, especially with his manner, that he’d been born to money, lots of it). Secrets about his father leaving his mother and him a fortune that had been taken away (something which neither Angus nor Honor or Fenella mentioned and she wondered if they knew). Secrets about the reason he worked so very hard (something which made her heart hurt).

That morning, he seemed none the worse for wear, his usual charismatic self. But a deadly light shone in his dark eyes when she explained what the envelope contained.

When she was done, his arm went around her waist, he hauled her into his body and his mouth came down on hers in an intense, thorough, mind-numbing kiss.

When he was done, her knees were weak and she sagged into his body.

After she recovered, she lifted the envelope and slapped it on his chest. This was done in an effort to be cute and try to control her heated body caused by the ferocious triumph she felt in his kiss and her concerns about what that might mean for his safety.

“Be smart with this, Mr. Fraser. Don’t make me regret giving it to you,” she teased mock-severely and he smiled but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

His eyes were still deadly serious.

His fingers closed around the envelope and he tucked it into his inside jacket pocket.

Then his hand went into her hair and he asked, his burr so rough it vibrated against her skin, “Fancy living in a castle?”

A shiver slid through her at his question, right before it hit her he was Penmort’s master, true and legal.

Her eyes moved over his handsome face and she realised it suited him.

Instead of answering his question, Abby snuggled closer and admitted, “That night we were there, Alistair stood by the fireplace and I thought he seemed out of place.” Her fingers curled into his lapel, she went up on tiptoe and tilted her head back as she got closer to his face. “You wouldn’t seem out of place. As crazy as this sounds, a castle suits you, Conner Fraser.”

At her words, his fist tightened in her hair, his mouth crushed down on hers and if she thought the first kiss was filled with ferocious triumph it was nothing to this one.

He’d lifted his head nary an inch when he was done and asked, “How long does your period last?”

“Not long,” she’d breathed, still recovering from the kiss and having some difficulty in this endeavour.

“How long?” he pushed.

“A couple of days,” she answered.

He grinned against her mouth and muttered, “I won’t make it.”