'Good morning,' he said. 'Is Annette awake?'
She shook her head. 'She's dead to the world. Any news from the hospital?'
'Her father made it through the night, if that's what you mean, but it's still touch and go. He's not conscious, though, so there's no real point in her going there until later. Let her sleep while she can.'
'Did you?' asked Sian curiously, turning towards her own room.
'For a few hours. You?'
Sian wished he would stop looking her over like that; it made her self-conscious and it was annoying because it must be automatic—the man was hooked on Annette. She wouldn't be surprised if he had already been in there this morning, checking on her.
'My housekeeper will have breakfast on the table in fifteen minutes,' he said as she closed the door of her room. 'If you're hungry, that is.'
'I'll be down,' Sian said, making for the bathroom to shower.
It was almost eight-thirty by her watch when she made her way downstairs, after checking again on Annette. Sian paused in the white-panelled hall, her gaze flying around it curiously. She hadn't had a chance to orientate herself in the house last night when they had arrived, and hadn't a clue where to go from here, but she admired the look of the place—flowers everywhere, the deep gleam of highly polished wood, a long-case clock near the foot of the stairs, a silver carriage clock on a table, reflected in an Art Nouveau mirror in a painted wood frame. The effect was charming. Was William Cassidy's housekeeper responsible for the well-cared-for look? She hadn't been in evidence last night, and Sian wondered where she was this morning. Maybe she was one of those invisible servants people had in fairy-tales. I wish I had one too, Sian thought, smiling.
'What's funny?'
His deep voice made her jump. She hadn't noticed him walking up behind her, and she spun around to face him, eyes wide and very bright.
'Oh, hello! I was wondering where to go.'
'I thought we'd eat in the morning-room,' he said, and she laughed.
'Oh, by all means!' she said drily, getting a hard, unamused look from him.
'I'd better check on Annette first, though.'
'I just did,' Sian said, stepping in front of him as he made for the stairs.
Their eyes met; his narrowed and hers were very green and very ironic.
'You've got the wrong impression,' he muttered. 'You don't need to protect Annette from me. I wouldn't harm a hair on her head.'
'I'm sorry, but you scare her,' Sian said, and his eyes blazed.
'I do what?' His voice rose, and there was violence in it.
Sian grimaced. 'If you snarl at her like that, I'm not surprised she gets scared!'
'I wasn't snarling,' he
snarled.
Sian laughed and saw his angry eyes blink. He looked hard at her and ran a hand through that thick, dark hair.
'I'm starving. Can we eat?' Sian looked around. 'Where is this morning-room?'
He gestured. 'This way.' They walked down a narrow corridor and into a sunny, square room overlooking a rose-garden. Sian went to the window and stared out, glad of the sunlight on her face, inhaling the dewy morning scent of the roses. She couldn't see any other building; the garden was enormous and bordered on one side by a high redbrick wall; on the other by the dark, secret mass of the New Forest. The garden was as immaculate as the house; the lawns smooth-shaven and edged with flowerbeds bursting with colour. He must keep quite a large staff, but they were not in evidence.
'What a lovely garden,' she said, turning back into the room.
'Thank you.' He held a chair back for her. 'Come and eat.'
As she sat down, a woman in a white apron bustled into the room carrying a tray of food which she began setting down on the table. Sian watched curiously, met the woman's brown eyes, and got a quick, friendly smile.
'Good morning,' she said.