'Let me remind you, from tomorrow I am due back at work. If I stay I shall technically be working.'
His mouth indented. 'Oh, very well. I'll make other arrangements for- Annette, but can you hang on for a few hours to give me a chance to work something out?'
She felt small and mean under his accusing eyes but, however much he disapproved of her, she couldn't bear to stay here. She had to get away, from him and from having to watch him with Annette. Was his sister right? Did he hope to get Annette back? It was none of Sian's business, but she couldn't believe those two were suited. Annette was right out of his league—couldn't he see that? Annette herself had realised it, even if only at the last minute. Or had she always known it, but only found the courage to run away at the eleventh hour? Even then she probably wouldn't have gone if Rick hadn't rung her and galvanised her into flight.
'OK,' she said flatly, staring at him and bewildered by his blindness about Annette. They would have been a very ill-matched couple—why couldn't he see that?
He turned and walked out of the house and she stared after him, that queer little pain nagging away inside her again. I'm jealous, she thought, wide-eyed with shock. How stupid! I'm jealous—but I hardly know the man, so why should I be?
She might not know him well, but one thing she was sure about it—she'd be more on his level than Annette had ever been.
Hot colour ran up to her hair. How ridiculous, she thought, angry with herself. What on earth made me think that? He wouldn't give me a second look!
Oh, but he has, her mind reminded her; he's looked more than twice, in fact. She stared at nothing, remembering the times when she had felt that powerful flare of attraction—or had she imagined it? Had she wanted to believe he was as aware of her as she was of him? It was so easy to deceive yourself—wasn't that what Cass was doing over Annette? If he thought they could ever be happy together he was deceiving himself. If Sian hadn't heard Annette's side of it already she would have been just as sure that marriage between Cass and Annette would be a recipe for disaster. The two of them were worlds apart. Why couldn't he see that?
'Are we going yet?' Annette said huskily behind her, and Sian turned and hurriedly smiled reassurance.
'Let's wait outside the house.'
Cass drew up shortly after that, and they drove to the hospital to find it besieged by reporters and photographers who jostled each other to get pictures of them arriving.
Cass and Sian hurried Annette into the hospital, and the burly porters held the clamouring mob back while they escaped up to the heart unit. Annette was in tears by then; Cass had his arm around her and was murmuring gently, but his grey eyes acidly reminded Sian that the mob outside were her people, she was one of them. Sian looked away, wishing she could deny it. This was one of those times when silence was the only defence.
They found Rick in the waiting-room. He came to take Annette away from Cass, his face jealous, resentful. Annette cried harder at the sight of him and clung, her arms round his neck.
'Oh, Rick, he isn't worse? Why can't I see him? I'm so scared. He isn't going to die, is he? Outside there are… they all shouted and tried to grab me as if I was a criminal or something… what's going on? When can I see my father?'
Rick had both arms round her, his chin on her soft hair. 'The sister says you can take a look at him, but he's under sedation, he won't know you're there. He's OK, though, Annette. He's going to be OK, in time. Whatever happens, you mustn't upset yourself or he may pick it up. You've got to be very calm and quiet before you see him.'
She struggled with her tears, shaking. 'I am, Rick. I'm calm and quiet.'
'Come and see Sister,' said Rick, leading her out, ignoring Sian and Cass. Sian sat down, grimacing, avoiding Cass's eye. Did it wound him to see Annette with Rick, to be forced to relinquish her to the other man? She wished she could leave at once, get away from here.
Cass prowled up and down, his hands in his pockets, his head bent, his face dark. Rick came back and Cass looked sharply at him.
'She's in there with her father.' Rick had a hospital mask tied round his neck, and had obviously just pushed it down from his mouth. He faced Cass belligerently. 'There's no need for you to stay. She doesn't want you here; I can take care of her from now on. Tonight, I'll take her to stay with my aunt. I've got a car, so that I can drive her back here in an emergency.'
Cass listened, his face a mask. He didn't answer, just nodded, and Rick turned on his heel and went, pulling up the mask over his mouth again. Cass stared after him and then turned to look at Sian.
'I'll drive you back to London now,' was all he said, in a quiet voice, but Sian would have given a great deal to know exactly what he was feeling.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cass didn't talk much on the drive back to London, and Sian was relieved about that because her thoughts were chaotic, and she needed to be quiet to sort them out into some sort of order. So much had happened in far too short a time, both around her, and inside her. She was bewildered, dazed, unsure—in fact, the only thing she was sure about at the moment was that she wasn't sure precisely how she did feel.
And he was the cause: this frowning man sitting beside her! He had done this to her! She looked sideways, through her lashes, and watched him driving, his grey eyes hard and fixed, his profile unyielding. A queer little tremor ran through her; an electric shock along her nerves.
It was crazy. She barely knew the man. It wasn't even twenty-four hours since he had first walked into her life, why should he have this devastating effect on her? Am I that impressionable? she asked herself, closing her eyes to shut out all sight of that lean, dark face in profile, the wind-blown hair giving him the look of some marauding barbarian, a dangerous invader coming unstoppably towards you while you stared, paralysed.
My imagination has run mad, she thought, laughter in her throat as she realised what she had been thinking. At that moment, Cass turned his head, still dark-browed, and snapped, 'What's funny?'
'I am,' she said, and he stopped scowling and looked surprised.
'Why?'
'Never mind, something I was thinking.' She looked at the speedometer and winced. 'Do we have to drive at this speed?' The car was touching ninety although it ran so smoothly that she hadn't realised it until then.
'Yes,' he said coolly.