“Oh Abby, I’m sorry to hear that,” Nicola murmured and Abby smiled at her.
“So you just dropped everything and moved to England? That seems a bit extreme,” Suzanne remarked and both Cash and Nicola opened their mouths to say something when Abby spoke.
“Yes, well,” she said on a friendly smile. “there wasn’t much to drop.”
“Pretty girl like you? Didn’t leave a man behind broken-hearted, did you?” Alistair queried half in jest and Cash felt Abby’s body go solid.
“No,” Abby answered.
“I find that hard to believe,” Suzanne commented and Cash decided he was done.
In a low voice, he ordered, “Suzanne. Enough.”
Suzanne widened her eyes in mock innocence and asked, “Enough what?”
“Enough of the third degree,” Cash responded instantly.
“Well, she’s very pretty, Cash. I can’t imagine you’re the first man in her life,” Suzanne retorted. She had, Cash surmised, sensed something and she honed in on her target with lethal ease. Suzanne’s eyes, as hard as her tone, moved to Abby when she continued. “Cash is family. We’re just trying to get to know you.”
Abby’s chin lifted but she smiled politely at Suzanne when she agreed, “Of course. And you’re right. Cash wasn’t the first man in my life.”
“Well, of course not. That’d be ludicrous. You have to be at least thirty,” Fenella put in and Abby’s head swung to her.
“Thirty-eight,” she informed Fenella and Fenella’s mouth dropped open.
Suzanne ignored her sister’s second change of subject and pulled it back to one she preferred. “So you did leave a man behind.”
“Not exactly –” Abby started as Cash’s body got tight in order to control his temper, Nicola leaned forward to intervene but unfortunately Alistair got there before anyone.
“Well, you’ve outdone yourself now. You’re with Cash. And he’s a Beaumaris. Whatever idiot let you leave him behind is no match to Cash,” Alistair declared with false pride.
“Alistair!” Nicola snapped but Abby spoke at the same time.
“I was married,” she stated.
“Oh dear, a divorcee,” Honor muttered in mock horror and Abby’s head turned to his cousin but Cash was finished.
“Abby isn’t divorced. Her husband was killed,” he clipped, his abrupt, angry tone ending the ridiculously inappropriate conversation.
Nicola’s sharp intake of breath was audible and Cash watched the blood drain from her face. Fenella, Honor and even Suzanne had the good grace to look uncomfortable.
Alistair, however, looked strangely snide.
But Abby clearly didn’t read Cash’s tone and continued, her voice low but strong, her eyes locked on Suzanne. “Seven car pileup on the highway. Two other people died too but not like Ben. Ben died instantly. He was the only one to die instantly,” she paused then went on, the words innocuous, her tone making them heart-wrenching, “at the scene.”
Cash felt his chest tighten and, ignoring their onlookers, he used his arm to curl her into him before murmuring, “Darling, you don’t have to talk about this.”
Abby moved her hand from his thigh to his chest, her pale face lifted to his, her eyes, he saw, held unconcealed pain.
He knew exactly what it cost her when she whispered her lie, “It’s okay. They’re your family, they should know.”
He realised that she was playing her part and playing it beautifully.
He also realised he hadn’t once regretted his decision to pay two hundred thousand pounds for her.
Until that instant.
She pulled away, her hand leaving his chest, and looked back at Suzanne. “I loved him. He died four years ago and there hasn’t been anyone since,” her back straightened before she said, “until Cash.” Cash watched her head tilt enquiringly, her eyes never leaving Suzanne. “Do you have any more questions?”
“Not right now,” Suzanne returned coolly but she shifted on her seat in a way, Cash thought distractedly, that made her look uncharacteristically uneasy.
“You’ll let me know when you do,” Abby replied politely but pointedly.
Suzanne had no retort.
Abby’s body stayed tense and only when she felt Cash’s fingers squeeze her shoulder did she relax against him.
At that moment Trevor walked in with their drinks.
Cash watched Nicola lean toward Suzanne before she hissed angrily under her breath, “We’ll talk later.”
Trevor served their drinks and as Abby took a sip, Cash used Trevor’s distraction to catch Abby’s attention.
When her head tilted back to look at him, he murmured, “Are you all right?”
With uncustomary openness, she whispered, “No.”
“I’ll explain things about my family later,” he promised.
She gave him a look that said clearly she really didn’t want to know. Her look was so adorable, he couldn’t help but laugh.
Then he dipped his face, rested his forehead against hers and muttered softly, “You’re exquisite.”
She blinked as her lips parted and, Cash thought, that was adorable too
“I hope you two are hungry,” Alistair boomed, again breaking the moment and Cash had to bite his lip to halt his angry retort.
But the moment was gone, Abby pulled away, turned to Alistair and Cash lost her yet again.
And from there the night progressed with no more turmoil. No “earthquakes”, no offensive interrogations and Abby handled herself beautifully.
By the end of dinner it was clear Nicola liked her. Fenella seemed taken with her. Honor thawed enough to be slightly charming. Even Alistair wasn’t a match for Abby’s unique blend of candour and humour and, to all appearances, began genuinely to enjoy the evening.
They were walking back to the drawing room for after dinner coffee and liqueurs when Abby asked the direction of the restroom and Fenella guided the way.
Upon entry to the drawing room, Suzanne absented herself immediately, not partaking in coffee and not waiting to bid Abby farewell.
Fenella joined them as Suzanne exited the room and was settling herself on the arm of the sofa with her cup of coffee when they heard Abby’s piercing scream.
At the hideous sound, Cash felt his blood run cold but he didn’t hesitate.
Slamming his brandy on the table, he knifed off the couch and sprinted to the bathroom, threw open the door and halted at what he saw.
Abby, her right arm bloodied, was lying unconscious on the floor surrounded by reflecting shards of mirror.
Chapter Fourteen
Spectre
“Call an ambulance,” Abby heard Cash’s deep, terse voice order from very close.
“Get some towels,” Nicola’s voice came from further away.
“Oh my God. The blood. I think I may be ill,” Honor remarked from even further away.
Abby felt herself being carried and knew she was in Cash’s arms before she opened her eyes to see his rigid jaw up close, her temple resting on his shoulder.
“Cash,” she whispered and his head jerked to look at her.
“She’s awake,” Fenella noted gratuitously.
“You’re all right, love,” Cash murmured his soft assurance but his troubled expression belied his words. He turned to face forward again as he carried her into the drawing room.
“Honor, I said get some towels,” Nicola was closer, crowding Cash as he laid Abby on the sofa.
“What happened?” Alistair asked, looming over the back of the sofa, brows drawn, his strangely unsettling (and not in a good way) eyes locked on Abby.
“Give her a moment,” Nicola demanded as Cash sat next to Abby’s hip, carefully took her wrist in his hand and slowly pushed back her torn, bloodied sleeve.
Abby watched him do this and it was then it came back to her.
She’d been at the sink, drying her hands, looking in the mirror in the bathroom, wishing she had her lip gloss handy (because, every girl knew, in any intense, gruelling, overly-emotional situation, which that night had been from the start, you needed lip gloss) when through the mirror she’d seen the vision behind her.