“Call me Abby,” Abby invited.
Alistair’s face cracked into a false grin. “Abby.”
“I used to be an interpreter and translator,” Abby answered and Cash felt his body go still as she unveiled this crumb of knowledge that he didn’t know. She appeared not to notice his reaction and continued, “I can read and speak four languages, well five, if you count English.”
“Really? How interesting,” Nicola put in. “What languages?”
“French, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese,” Abby answered. “It’s been awhile. I’m a little out of practice.”
“It’s probably like riding a bike,” Nicola assured on a smile.
“I hope so,” Abby replied, smiling back.
“You said ‘used to’. What happened?” Suzanne, seated opposite them next to her mother on a sofa, asked and Abby’s head turned toward her.
“Oh, life,” Abby stated vaguely and went on, “you know how it is.”
“No, actually, I don’t,” Suzanne returned, her voice not containing curiosity but hints of acid. “How is it?”
“Suzanne,” Nicola muttered in a warning tone.
“How did you two meet?” Fenella entered the conversation, changing the subject and Cash felt rather than saw Abby turn her head to look at him but his eyes were on Suzanne.
“In a pub,” Cash answered, his gaze moving to Fenella, who was seated on the arm of the sofa.
“A pub?” Honor enquired as if the very idea of meeting someone in a public house was not only common, but foul, and Cash’s eyes sliced to her.
“A pub,” he repeated firmly and watched as Honor, under the heat of his glare, took a small step back and behind her mother. His eyes moved to Abby, his voice growing softer, and he continued, “You were wearing white.”
Abby stared at him a moment and Cash watched as warmth seeped into her hazel eyes. Then her hand came to rest lightly on his thigh.
“Yes, I was,” she replied with gentle surprise as if it was ten years since they met, not just over a week.
Alistair cleared his throat and Cash felt Abby’s body start against his side as the all-too-short spell was broken.
“You’re obviously American,” Alistair observed when Abby turned to him. “What brings you across the pond?”
Abby didn’t hesitate in answering. “I inherited the family home when my grandmother died just over a year ago.”
“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.