“Cash, your father said take me to the gallery,” she shouted.
He’d taken two steps outside when he lost control of her squirming body. She slid for a second out-of-control down his arm before he caught her. His arm under her shoulder blades, the other rounding her thighs, he put her safely to her feet.
Then he grabbed her hand and started to move.
Abby planted her feet but her shoes skidded across the stone as he pulled.
He stopped, spinning around to look at her and clipped, “Abby!”
“Cash, no,” she cut him off as the others came dashing out of the house to surround them, “we have to go to the gallery.”
Cash ignored their audience and bit out, “We’re not going to the f**king gallery.”
“We have to finish this tonight!” Abby yelled desperately.
Why she cared anymore about the end of Vivianna, knowing she and Cash were through, was a mystery to her.
No, she had to admit, it wasn’t.
Jenny was right.
Abby was in love with Cash. She was in love with him and Penmort was his legacy. He wanted it and she wanted it for him. All of it. With none of it controlled by a ghosty she-bitch.
She didn’t have the chance to sort through the sad fact she was, indeed, in love with Cash Fraser, International Hot Guy, in love with him enough to risk her life, because he tugged briskly at her arm.
Abby stayed determinedly fixed.
“We’ll find another way,” he declared when she didn’t move.
“There is no other way,” she shot back.
He leaned into her and repeated on a shout, “We’ll find another f**king way!”
A different Scottish voice, this one disembodied, came from behind Cash. “Take her to the gallery.”
Cash turned and he, Abby and their entourage stared into the vacant dark.
“Angus?” Honor called softly.
“Take her to the gallery,” Angus’s voice, closer and softer now although he still didn’t appear, encouraged again. “Don’t worry, laddie, I’ve got your back.”
Cash stared in the direction of the voice, lips thin, jaw clenched and Abby held her breath.
Finally Cash growled, “Something happens to her –”
Angus’s voice cut him off. “I’ve got your back. More importantly, I’ve got hers.”
Cash closed his eyes and sucked breath into his nose. Then his eyes opened and they sliced to Abby. She watched a muscle leap in his cheek before he moved toward her.
“Let’s f**king do this,” he muttered, hand still in Abby’s, he led her back through the door but once they were inside, he stopped and looked back at Kieran. “Get them safe, off the castle grounds.”
“We’ll go with you,” Nicola, clearly having recovered from her shock and morphing straight into Mom Mode, offered.
“No,” Cash replied shortly and turned back but he was thwarted again.“Well, I’m going,” Mrs. Truman proclaimed, Cash came around again and he and Abby watched as the older woman stomped toward them on her granny pumps.
“You’re not coming with us,” Cash stated firmly.
“I am,” Mrs. Truman retorted, halting and glaring up at Cash.
“No, you are not,” Cash returned.
She planted her hands on her h*ps and snapped, “Yes I am, Cash Fraser. You can’t tell me what to do. I don’t care how tall you are!”
Abby felt then quelled the crazed desire to laugh out loud.
“I’m coming too,” Jenny put in, coming to stand by Mrs. Truman.
“And me,” Fenella moved forward as well.
“Me too,” Honor joined the group.
“I am too,” Suzanne announced, not joining the group but striding confidently forward, she rounded Cash and Abby and went straight to and up the stairs.
“Fucking hell,” Cash muttered and his eyes moved to his uncle. “Can you do one thing for your wife and get her to safety?”
But alas, at Cash’s query, Alistair Beaumaris proved he was the Jerk to End All Jerks.
“You’ll not be in my house, doing whatever-it-is-you’re-going-to-do, without me in it,” Alistair announced and stomped forward too, skirting a now even angrier Cash and heading toward the stairs.
Nicola gracefully linked arms with Kieran as if they were about to embark on a moonlit stroll, not battle a she-bitch-from-hell and moved forward. “Well, it looks like we’re all going.”
“Jesus,” Kieran mumbled, pained eyes on Cash and everyone shoved in the door, moving around Cash and Abby and climbing the stairs.
Cash looked down at Abby and remarked dryly, “You’re racking up quite a debt, darling, because I think, somehow, you owe me for this too.”
Abby bit her lip and shrugged but this time Cash did not laugh, chuckle, smile or even grin. He glared at her so ferociously she gulped at his scorching look and then he led her toward the stairs.
However behind them a disembodied male chortle could be heard and Abby knew Cash definitely heard it.
She knew this because his hand squeezed hers painfully tight and he muttered, “You definitely f**king owe me.”
Abby didn’t have time to worry about Cash’s dire statement.
She had stairs to climb.
She held her breath through the first set of stairs then she let it go on the landing only to hold it again on the second.
It wasn’t until they hit the gallery that she allowed herself to relax.
Not relax relax, as in, putting your feet up with a book and a nice, big glass of pinot noir at the end of a trying day. But just kind of relax, as in making it up a stairwell made dangerous by a phantom yet the real battle still yawned ahead of you.
The gallery was ablaze with lights and everyone was there when they entered.
“Maybe I should go get some champagne,” Honor offered.
“Nobody f**king leaves this room,” Cash returned immediately, dropping Abby’s hand and cutting a scowl throughout the group.
Honor’s brows went up and her eyes slid to Abby.
Abby gave her a grimace of solidarity but shrewdly decided against speaking.
“Well I, for one, think this is very interesting,” Suzanne remarked from across the room.
She was standing, arms crossed under her br**sts, the cle**age bared by her fuchsia gown that had a daring V which went nearly to her navel became all the more pronounced with her stance. She had a foot out and a hip jutted and her eyes were aimed at Alistair.
“Suzanne, please,” Nicola begged, “now is not a good time.”