Penmort Castle

Chapter Seventeen All the Time in the World

Cash woke on his back, his arm outstretched and Abby was in another unusual but exceptionally sweet position. The curve of her spine was pressed against his side, the heels of her feet against his leg and her temple was resting on the back of her hand, which was curled around his bicep.

He turned into her, sliding his hand along the silk at her waist.

She was wearing one of the nightgowns he bought her the day before, a sexy, short, revealing, grey-green silk that complimented her eyes. The clerk in the exclusive boutique in London where he’d ordered the dressing gowns and, on Monday, seven nightgowns, had done her job well. Cash had told Moira to describe Abby’s appearance and have them send nightgowns which would suit.

They didn’t disappoint, sending Cash’s request by same-day courier as they did with the dressing gowns, each one was perfect and Abby had loved them. Not as much as cashmere but, she’d informed him, silk and satin (“the real kind”) were close seconds.

The nightgowns were an answer to Abby’s pyjamas which she’d unveiled Sunday night after he’d forced her, and her cat, to move in with him. Although he had to admit she looked cute in the striped, drawstring bottoms and fitted t-shirt, Cash found later when they were in bed he didn’t like the obstacles they presented.

Unlike getting her presents, it was safe to say she hadn’t been pleased at his demand to move in even though she didn’t utter a word. Cash had felt actual physical pain at his effort not to laugh in the face of Abby’s obvious struggle against her desire to argue.

However, Simon’s full report, e-mailed to Cash while they were in Germany, stated that Abby’s house was what, after close scrutiny of the report, Cash considered a health hazard. It needed new wiring, new plumbing, new appliances and new bathrooms. The carpeting was frayed in places, making it easy to trip, especially if one insisted on wearing high heels as Abby did, and needed to be replaced.

The list went on.

Simon had noted that a good deal of work had already been done, the roof, windows, chimneys and repairs to damp and dry rot. But there was still a good deal left to do to make it, what Cash would deem, habitable.

About five seconds after the lights failed Saturday night, Abby, Cash decided, was definitely not going to live there while he saw to restoring it.

She was going to live with him and therefore, likely, not return home for some time.

On that thought, he buried his face in her hair and fitted his body to the length of hers, breathing in the scent of her.

Last Wednesday Cash had discovered Abby’s secret.

She was not, as she wished him to believe, an escort for hire.

She was, instead, a woman who desperately needed money.

The day after they had dinner with his uncle, he’d investigated this himself and within hours put the pieces together.

Until he transferred the money into her account, her balance was naught. She was overdrawn and had substantial credit and loan debt. Her banking history exposed enormous expenditures which were likely repairs on her home. She’d had a job at one point but her salary was unbelievably low and that regular deposit had stopped some time ago. This indicated she’d lost her job and hadn’t had steady employment for some time, although she’d taken intermittent contract work.

Further investigation uncovered the fact that she’d amassed considerable debt in DC. It didn’t take close scrutiny to see that she should have sold the house she shared with her husband and further she had continued a lifestyle she could no longer afford on her salary alone. This left her in relatively dire financial straits when she left that life behind, which meant she was ill-prepared to absorb the expenses she couldn’t know she’d face, from what he could tell, upon arrival in the UK.

Why she sold herself rather than some of the valuable pieces of furniture and art in her home, Cash had no idea.

But he intended to find out.

He felt her nestle deeper into him in her sleep and he smiled into her hair.

He enjoyed this time, early in the mornings, before he woke her. This was when he had her, when she was sleeping. He also knew he had her, all of her, when he was fucking her.

The rest of the time, she was on guard.

He’d had her once, their first weekend together.

And he fully intended to have that again.

Her being on guard started the day of their fight and he hadn’t done himself any favours by punishing her that evening. She’d forgiven him, this he knew, but something had changed, that was clear.

She was trying to hide this from him. What she didn’t know was there was a big difference between Abby being Abby and Abby being the Abby she wanted him to think she was.

There were times when she came through. For example, when she hilariously repacked her heels after he’d unpacked them; when she first laid eyes on her Bavarian torte; when she panicked at the thought of him entering her house when there was a possibility of intruders; and when she’d received the nightgowns the day before.

But mostly she maintained a cautious distance, erecting and consistently fortifying walls that kept him out.

Cash intended to break down those walls. He intended to force her to admit her secrets. He intended to find out why she’d sold herself to him. Lastly, he intended to have all of her again, no holding back.

And he didn’t care how long it took.

His strategy was to be patient until the time came when that was no longer working. She was coming out more and more, fitting naturally into his life, letting that guard down more frequently, and he was carefully pressing this advantage.

He knew his end game.

She would be moving with him to Penmort. He would take care of her, giving her the life he felt she should have. And he’d be certain to maintain that life for her even after it was time for him move on.

He would, when the time was right, explain all this to her.

But not before she let him in.

Completely.

Or, of course, if he lost patience.

His hand smoothed over her, sliding up her nightgown then running down her naked hip. She hadn’t replaced her underwear after he’d taken her last night, demanding first that she stand beside the bed as he sat on its edge, his hands moving over the silk of her gown, pulling it up and then tugging down her panties until she stepped out of them. He hadn’t removed her nightgown when he’d fucked her last night and he wouldn’t do it now. He liked the sleek feel of the expensive silk. It further aroused him that he’d given it to her.

His hand moved over her belly, then down to the juncture between her legs and he found her.

She woke instantly, her soft, morning voice breathing his name.

At the sound and its effect on his body, Cash curled his other arm around her chest, holding her captive.

Then he listened, his body slowly, exquisitely tightening in response as he brought her to climax with his hand, all the while controlling her as she alternately pressed into his hand and struggled against his arm, trying to turn to him.

When he took her to the edge, her head twisted and only then did he lift his own to press his mouth against hers and absorb her moans.

But he wasn’t finished.

While she still trembled through her climax, he turned her to her back and kept at her with his hands, mouth and tongue until he could take no more and knew, from the urgency she was using her own hands, mouth and tongue, that she couldn’t either.

Only then did he enter her, his strokes fierce and uncontrolled, their mouths attached, tongues duelling alternating with teeth biting at each other’s lips. He knew he was close and it would be, as it always was with Abby, magnificent.

He listened to her sharp intake of breath. Her calf, with her thigh pressed into his side, curled around his back, her other leg wrapped around his thigh. He felt her convulse around him at the same instant his mind erased and his world centred on nothing but their sweet, tight, wet connection.

Then he came.

It was moments after, when Cash’s face was buried in her neck, his tongue tasting her that his world opened but only to allow all of Abby back in, her legs and arms tight around him, the feel of her breath against his neck, the scent of her sex in his nostrils.

It was then his life as he knew it shattered.

Because, softly, huskily, honestly, she whispered, “It’s never been this good.”

His body froze even as he felt triumphant adrenalin shoot through him, electrifying his whole system.

And under him, he felt her body freeze too.

But it was for an entirely different reason.

With body frozen solid, Cash’s all-of-a-sudden still form wrapped tight in her limbs, Abby listened to the stark silence in the dark room and wondered if she’d just done what she thought she’d just done.

That was, utter her true, supposed-to-be-buried-deep feelings out loud.

Cash’s head came up and Abby’s tense body grew even tenser, so tense it felt like it would splinter into a million pieces.

“What did you say?” Cash asked, his burr rougher than normal and not, Abby reckoned, because he’d just had an orgasm.

Yes, she had indeed uttered her true, supposed-to-be-buried-deep feelings out loud.

Her emotional warrior threw up her hands in disgust.

Jumping straight to damage control, Abby decided to play stupid, hoping it would fool him since she was stupid. Beyond stupid. Phenomenally stupid.

“What?” she asked.

Cash didn’t hesitate before repeating, “What did you say?”

Abby stayed with her stupid tactic. “Did I say something?”

There was silence a moment then Cash’s hand came to the side of her face, his thumb sliding along her bottom lip. When he spoke, his voice was even rougher, so much rougher it was harsh, yet sweet and warm, just like when he asked her forgiveness.

“Darling,” he started slowly, “repeat what you just said.”

Abby decided playing stupid wasn’t getting her anywhere so her next tactic would be escape.

She tried to move away but this didn’t work either because, firstly, Cash was strong, secondly, he was heavy and thirdly, he was still inside her.

So when his whole body tensed around her, his hips bucked and she had to bite her lip to hold back a whimper of pleasure.

When she stilled, Cash spoke, “You’re not going anywhere, love, until you talk to me.”

Fear started seeping into her pores and Abby decided to try a different tactic. “Don’t you need to get to work?”

There was another moment of silence before he demanded again, “Talk to me.”

Abby felt desperation creeping in along with the fear and therefore lied, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything that’s the truth,” he replied immediately. “For instance, what you just said.”

“Cash, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abby lied again and struggled underneath him but he contained her struggles with minimal effort.

When she stopped struggling, he spoke. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Her voice was higher, but cooler, denoting her fear and burgeoning anger (directed at her own stupid self) when she replied, “I don’t.”

“You do,” he insisted.

“I don’t!” she snapped and shoved at his shoulders but he only moved back an inch and then pressed in again.

With what he said next, Cash, Abby noted, also switched tactics.

“What do you fear?” he asked, making it clear he knew exactly what Abby wasn’t even allowing herself to understand.

Angry and now panicked, Abby ordered, “Get off.”

“Tell me what scares you,” Cash demanded.

“Get off!” she shouted and struggled anew.

This time he controlled her struggles not physically, but verbally.

“You said it’s never been this good.”

At the reminder of her words, Abby went still.

Deciding to run the full gamut of personalities in the hopes of making him think she was insane which, she told herself at that moment, would be a good thing, she feigned confused innocence. “I did?”

“You did,” he returned firmly and she knew he saw through her completely.

“Well, I’d just –” she started to explain or, more honestly, lie but he cut her off.

“No, don’t,” he said and she felt his eyes remain on her briefly in the shadows before his face went into her neck and he repeated on a whisper, “Don’t.”

She closed her eyes tight but he continued speaking and what he said next did what she thought would happen earlier.

It splintered her soul into a million pieces, in one fell swoop, taking all her puny defences with it.

“I’ll wait, darling. We have all the time in the world.”

At these words, Abby’s mind erased.

As if someone else was experiencing it, she felt his lips touch the hinge of her jaw then his head came up. The heat of his eyes was on her and his thumb stroked her cheekbone before his mouth touched hers softly then he gently pulled out of her and exited the bed. He tugged the covers over her and walked across the room.

She saw a sliver of light come from the bathroom before the door shut.

Mind perfectly blank, she took hold of his pillow, curled around it, pressing her face to it and closing her eyes, willing herself into denial, telling herself she’d forget, he’d forget, what just happened didn’t happen, they’d move on from here.

Against her will, Cash’s deep brogue floated through her consciousness.

We have all the time in the world.

She closed her eyes tighter and Cash’s scent came to her from his pillow as it did every morning she curled into it after he left her. It wasn’t just his cologne, it was the scent of his hair, his skin, him.

We have all the time in the world.

Then she remembered.

She remembered something she’d pushed so deep, its resurfacing caused pain, like she was pulling barbed wire out of her heart.

After Ben was killed, after the police left, after she’d called Jenny, she’d walked in a fog up to their bed and curled into his pillow.

And she breathed in the scent of him.

She stayed there for over a day, until Jenny came to the front door. She didn’t answer the phone, she didn’t eat, she didn’t drink, she often slept but she only took herself away from the bed to go to the bathroom.

She simply remained curled around Ben’s pillow, eyes closed, mind blank, breathing in the scent of him.

It was the only physical thing she had left. Not one of his belongings, it was a part of him, still there, still within reach, still able to fill her senses.

Days later, when Jenny had Abby functioning again, Jenny had started to tidy.

In a panic, Abby had taken the pillowcase and rooted through the wash hamper, sorting bits and pieces that still held his essence, shoving them in a plastic bag and hiding them in a place Jenny couldn’t find them.

And when Jenny would go to the grocery store or out on an errand, Abby would go to their walk-in closet, get the bag and pull out the pillowcase or one of his shirts. Then she’d sit in the corner of the closet amongst her shoes, his shoes and other detritus that she always promised herself she’d organise, the tangled evidence of their lives together, and she’d breathe in his scent.

Eventually, Abby stopped doing this and when Jenny came years later to help her sort through her life, Abby knew she’d found the bag Abby hadn’t touched for years. She also knew Jenny had disposed of it without saying a word to Abby.

We have all the time in the world.

That wasn’t true. It was despicably, awfully, unfairly, completely not true.

They may have years.

They could only have hours.

Abby couldn’t do it again.

Never, never again.

Her battered heart beating wildly, her mind held hostage to a panic so extreme she couldn’t begin to control her actions and she didn’t try.

She threw the covers off the bed and launched herself from it. She snatched her panties from the floor and tugged them on. She turned on the light and ran from the room to the guest bedroom where Cash had put her four suitcases after she’d unpacked on Sunday.

She grabbed two and ran back into the room.

Zee was standing on the bed. Still somewhat uncertain of his new surroundings he’d chosen elsewhere to sleep the last two nights.

Now, for Zee, at Cash’s or on the moon, it was kitty breakfast time.

In a panic, Abby ignored her cat and threw a suitcase on the floor, one on the bed and she pulled it open.

In the flurry of Abby’s harried movements, Zee took off and Abby ran to the wardrobe, throwing it open, seeing her clothes neatly hanging next to Cash’s. That was something she’d struggled with Sunday when she’d hung them. Now it tore at her shredded heart.

But she didn’t stop.

Not even taking the clothes from the hangers, she grabbed handfuls of them and hurried back across the room, tossing them into the suitcase and going back. And back. And back.

The door to the bathroom opened and Abby, with an armful of t-shirts from the dresser, halted, as did Cash, just steps from the bathroom door.

His hair was wet and he was wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. His eyes moved from her, to the bed, back to her.

It seemed, to Abby’s terror-clogged mind, this happened in slow motion.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Cash asked, his voice hitting the room like a whiplash, and Abby’s body jerked out of its temporary paralysis.

She walked to the suitcase and threw the clothes in.

“I quit,” she declared, heading back to the dresser. “I don’t know if you owe me or I owe you but whatever it is, we’ll just call it even.”

She was heading back to the suitcase with an armload of underwear when Cash’s fingers curled around her bicep, bringing her to an awkward stop.

Her eyes lifted to his and she demanded, “Cash, let me go.”

He didn’t respond to her demand, instead he asked, “You quit?”

She yanked at her arm but his fingers only grew tighter so she ceased this endeavour.

“Yes, I quit,” she told him.

His fingers squeezed deeper into her arm. “You quit what?”

“I quit being your escort,” she explained, “your pretend girlfriend. This isn’t working for me. Therefore, I quit.”

“My pretend girlfriend?” Cash repeated, eyes narrowed, and Abby was too much in a state to register that the air in the room had grown dangerously thick.

“Yes, your pretend girlfriend. I quit. Now, let me go,” she jerked at her arm but he still didn’t release her.

Their eyes held and she didn’t feel anything. So caught up in her act of self-preservation, the house could crash down on them and she’d rise from the rubble and continue packing.

Suddenly, his hand released her arm.

“All right, Abby,” he said quietly and she immediately walked to the suitcase, threw in her underwear and, seeing it was over-full, she hefted the top over and attempted to zip it closed.

“Would you like to tell me why you quit?” Cash’s voice came to her from behind.

No. No she definitely would not like to tell him that. Hell, she wasn’t even allowing herself to think of that.

“No,” she replied shortly.

“I see,” his voice said and Abby’s desperation increased as the zipper refused to budge against the gap created by her clothes.

Abby’s body was gently moved away as Cash murmured, “Allow me.”

Abby took a step back and watched him bend to her bag. He was still wearing his towel, the muscles in his back worked and she watched them with a detached fascination.

Therefore, at first she missed the fact that he wasn’t going for her zipper. He was picking up her bag. When he had it in his hands, he turned and tossed it to the floor. It landed, went skidding and slammed against the wardrobe, her clothes flying out in different directions.

“Cash!” she shouted but her breath left her in a whoosh as his arm hooked around her mid-section and she found herself on her back on the bed, Cash coming down at her side then rolling over the top of her.

She blinked rapidly several times and when he came into focus, he noticed and started speaking immediately.

And he used a voice she’d never heard before. It was somewhat like the hard voice he’d used when he first told her he took care of what was his. But now it held an edge of unbendable steel that sent her spiralling into a terror that made her recent demented panic seem like an insignificant tizzy.

“All right, darling,” he declared, “I’ll tell you how this is going to go.”

Abby went solid as she stared into his eyes, which were hard and glittering and very, very scary.

He continued. “I’m pleased you don’t want to be my pretend girlfriend, considering you haven’t been that since you begged me to fuck you the first time. I’ll not be paying you the next instalment on Friday as agreed, nor will I be paying the remainder you’re due at the end of our arrangement. Instead, I’ll be setting up a monthly allowance to be transferred into a joint account which you can draw on and not have to worry about taxes.”

At his words and their undeniable meaning, Abby’s breath caught halfway up her throat and lodged there.

Painfully.

Cash carried on. “If it isn’t enough, you’ll come to me and we’ll discuss it. You won’t get overdrawn and you won’t get into financial trouble.”

Something painful shot through her belly at what this statement revealed he knew but he kept right on talking.

“I’ll fix up your house so it’s safe and habitable. Then we’ll rent it, the payments will go into your current account, which you won’t touch. Ever.”

“Cash,” Abby forced out on a whisper.

He ignored her. “You’ll move in with me, properly, after my aunt and uncle’s party. If you want to work, you’ll work, but I’d rather you not as I travel often and I’d prefer you were with me. This will be your choice. Any salary you bring in also goes into your current account and you won’t touch that either.”

“Stop talking,” Abby begged.

Cash didn’t listen. “You’ll stay with me for as long as what we have remains good. When it doesn’t work for one or the other of us, we’ll move on. I’ll supplement whatever you’ve accrued so that you can live safe and comfortably no matter what might befall you until the day you fucking die.”

Abby was back to not being able to breathe.

“Is that understood?” Cash asked.

She shook her head.

Cash’s brows drew together as his face darkened.

Abby bravely ignored that and asked softly, “Cash, don’t you get it? This is over.”

“It’s not fucking over,” he clipped.

Abby, finally losing control of her emotions, cried in desperation, “It’s over!”

Then he said aloud what Abby had been battling for weeks and the words lacerated the tattered remains of her heart.

“It’s the best you’ve ever had, Abby. It’s better than what you had with Ben. You know it. I know it. Stop lying to yourself and stop hiding from me. It’s not only not over, you don’t even fucking want it to be over.”

Abby’s head exploded, white lights flashing in front of her eyes, rage tearing through her system, she shrieked, “How dare you Cash Fraser! How, fucking, dare you!”

And then, crazed, she fought him, striking out blindly with her fists, kicking with her legs.

It took him awhile to contain her, so frenzied was her battle, but he caught her wrists, controlling her angry pummelling. She kept at him, testing his strength, bucking and kicking, not attempting to get away but wanting to hurt him as much as she hurt.

Which was a lot.

Too much.

Too much not to let some of it go.

Then something occurred to her, registering on her brain as she watched the muscles in his arms move and flex. She felt the heat of him, the strength of him, the weight of the thigh he threw over hers, pinning her legs. She heard his breathing. She smelled his scent.

He was alive, he was real, he was solid.

And her anger turned to something else, a new kind of desperation as she pushed at his hands at her wrists in a different way, her neck twisting, her mouth finding his jaw, her tongue tasting him. Her lips moved up his jaw and found his already opened and her tongue darted in.

He released her hands and his arms moved around her, pulling her tight to him. She pushed off on her foot, rolling him to his back. Crawling on top of him, she used her mouth and hands on him, everywhere, gently setting his hands away any time he tried to touch her.

This was all about Cash. Alive Cash. Breathing Cash. Warm Cash. Just Cash.

Only when she finally straddled him, wrapping her fingers around him and guiding him inside, did she allow him to touch her. He knifed to sitting, one of his arms around her, his fingers twisting in her hair, pulling her head back, arching her neck.

She moved on top of him urgently, his mouth at her neck, her chest, and it didn’t take long before she exploded, feeling him take over her strokes with his hands lifting and pressing on her hips, his insistent rhythm prolonging her third orgasm of the morning until he slammed her down one last time and joined her.

She’d barely caught her breath when his fingers thrust into her hair at her scalp and he tilted her face towards his.

His mouth on hers, he declared harshly, “It’s not fucking over.”

The battle was lost.

Even Abby wasn’t stupid enough not to know that.

Therefore, she nodded her head.

“Say it,” he demanded.

Abby closed her eyes tight and his hand fisted in her hair.

“Abby, fucking say it,” he repeated.

Her eyes opened slowly and she whispered, “It’s not over.”

All of a sudden she was flying through the air only to land on her back with Cash covering her.

His mouth came to hers again and his voice was rougher, deeper, throatier when he informed her, “Darling, you just made me a promise. And you better fucking believe that I’m holding you to it.”

Before she could respond, he kissed her, hard, deep, long and wet.

And when he was done, again before she could get a word in, before she could even catch her breath, he stated, “I’m taking you out to dinner tonight. Somewhere nice. Be ready at seven.”

She stared at him, unable to speak.

“Abby, did you hear me?” he asked.

She nodded.

His eyes travelled over her face and she watched, captivated, as they grew warm and the hardness in his expression went soft.

His hand came to the side of her face and his thumb slid along her cheekbone.

“I know you’re terrified,” he murmured gently. “But I promise you aren’t going to lose me until one of us is ready to be lost.”

She hated it that he knew her thoughts, no matter how she strived to keep them hidden.

Tears filled her eyes and she sucked in her lips before she whispered, “You can’t make that promise, Cash.”

His mouth touched hers, his eyes open then he said, “I just did.”

He moved away, pulled her properly into the bed, covering her with the sheet.

She watched, mind again blank, as he dressed and came back to her.

He didn’t say a word as he slid the hair off her neck, leaned in and kissed her there.

But instead of leaving, like he normally did, his fingers curled around her neck, his eyes caught hers and held them.

He looked at her, silent, for what seemed like years but was only moments before his fingers gave a gentle squeeze.

He turned out the light and then he was gone.