Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(50)
Author: Kristen Ashley

This time he would be entering as its owner, a goal which he’d spent a year doing all in his power to achieve.

It should have been a triumph.

Cash didn’t give it a thought.

He drove up the steep hill at the side of the castle and stopped at the arched, gated doorway set into the thick, stone wall that surrounded much of the castle.

He pulled the emergency brake, switched off the car and noted Abby’s hand was already on her door handle.

In an effort to forestall her, his own hand went to the area above her knee. But at his touch, she instantly jerked away. Whether this was anger, hurt or revulsion, he didn’t know.

He also didn’t care.

“Abby,” he called as she continued her efforts to exit the car, partially opening the door.

They had only moments before their arrival would be discovered. He had to get this done now. He had no time to waste.

Swiftly, he leaned across her, his fingers curling around the door handle, and he slammed it closed.

Her head turned to look at him. He could see her face dimly lit in the outside lights of the gate.

She didn’t look angry, hurt or revolted.

She looked blank.

Fucking hell, he thought.

He lifted his hand to her neck and held her there.

“Abby –” he started softly.

“Yes?” she asked, her voice as expressionless as her face and Cash wondered how long it would take to achieve his new goal of winning Abby back.

As usual, he didn’t delay.

“James talked to me this afternoon,” Cash told her.

She stayed silent but he felt her body grow stiff.

“In future,” he went on quietly, “if you have something to say to me, you contact me yourself. Is that understood?”

Her body stayed stiff but she gave a short nod. Her neck tugged against his hand, trying to pull away and he gave her a gentle squeeze indicating he wasn’t done.

She went still.

“You made me very angry today,” he said, trying to keep his voice gentle and she sat silent, eyes on him. “Tonight, instead of simply being angry at you, I took that anger out on you.” He paused and gave her neck another squeeze. “It won’t happen again.”

She remained silent, her eyes on his and he waited for some sign she understood but he didn’t get it.

Instead, all of a sudden her eyes moved to the side.

Then, surprising him, she leaned in, her hand coming to rest lightly on his shoulder and she pressed her lips against his.

He thought for a moment this was an act of forgiveness but before relief could fully form, mouth still on his, she whispered, “We’re being watched.”

Then her head tilted, she pressed closer, her fingers curled into his shoulder, and she opened her mouth under his, the tip of her tongue touching his lips.

He knew it was an act, a show for whatever audience they had.

And he didn’t care about that either.

He accepted her invitation and the opportunity it offered, opening his own mouth and drawing her tongue inside. One arm went around her to haul her soft body closer, his other hand fisted in the curls of her hair at her back, gently tugging down to manoeuvre her mouth so his would have better access.

Then he deepened the kiss and, gratifyingly, her hand moved from his shoulder, sliding up his neck and into his hair as her body yielded to his.

He knew then he had her.

Pressing his advantage, he kissed her until he heard that low, sexy noise she made in the back of her throat. A noise he discovered on Sunday that corresponded with a rush of heat between her legs.

And when he knew he could still reach her, his mouth broke from hers, slid down to her neck and Cash breathed in her perfume.

He heard her soft but heavy inhalations in his ear and he smiled against her skin.

“We’ll finish talking later,” he murmured.

She had no time to reply, there was a sharp rap on the passenger side window and Cash felt Abby’s body jolt in surprise.

“Is everything okay?” his step-cousin, Fenella, shouted and Cash saw her small face peering through the glass.

“Fuck,” he muttered right before Abby pulled away.

With no other choice (although he would have preferred to start his car, drive to Abby’s, take her back to her bed and finish what they’d started in the car, this time, with both of them finding release), Cash began to exit the car but he was intercepted by Abby’s hand on his arm.

He turned back to her and her hand came up toward his face, it hesitated then pulled back but stayed suspended and her finger circled.

“Lip gloss,” she whispered and two intensely unpleasant sensations hit him at once.

One was loss.

The other was remorse.

“Hello!” Fenella called from outside.

“Take care of it,” Cash demanded, ignoring his cousin, his brief sense of relief fading back to irritation again directed at himself.

He may still be able to reach her in one way but in another she was very far away.

“What?” Abby asked, her head turning from the direction of Fenella back to Cash.

“Take care of it,” he repeated and when she hesitated he continued with a note of warning in his tone, “Abby –”

“Oh all right,” she gave in, her voice soft but annoyed.

Cash was illogically pleased to hear her exasperation. It wasn’t a good reaction but it was a reaction and he felt that boded well.

Therefore he smiled when she leaned in, reached up, her hand resting on his cheek as her thumb wiped the gloss from his mouth.

“Who is that?” Abby whispered while her finger slid across his lips.

“My cousin,” Cash’s mouth moved under her thumb.

“Are you two okay?” Fenella yelled in the window.

Abby’s hand fell and she gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher before her head twisted toward the window and she called, “We’re fine. Be out in two seconds!”

With nothing for it, Cash sighed his displeasure that the moment was lost before he knifed out of the car and slammed his door. He rounded the bonnet, his eyes on Abby who had extricated her lip gloss and was fixing her lips in the mirror of the sun visor.

“I was worried that you two were fighting,” Fenella announced as he arrived at Abby’s door where Fenella was standing and Cash looked at his cousin.

Fenella Fitzhugh was Nicola’s first-born daughter and she looked like her mother. Blonde, petite and pretty but, unlike her mother, it was in a sharp, pointy-faced way. She was too short for Cash’s liking and far too thin.

She was also, as had been evidenced in the last few minutes, unbelievably irritating in an obtuse, coy way.