'You'll be risking a legal action if you do,' he threatened, his brows black and menacing.
'You wouldn't dare! You know it happened, and if you take legal proceedings that will only prove I'm telling the truth.'
'You think you are, you mean!' he said in furious irony.
'Oh, now you're going to say I imagined it all, I suppose?'
'No, but you're imagining a hell of a lot! Sian, you're intelligent…'
'Thank you! Am I supposed to be flattered enough to forgive and forget?'
'Will you let me finish?' he suddenly shouted, and she jumped, nerves on edge, then glared resentfully at him.
'Don't you shout at me! Who do you think you are?'
'Will you listen for one minute?' He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, and she went into panic. Pulling free, she turned and opened the car door, almost falling out. She didn't wait to see how Cass took that. She started to run, out of the lay-by, into the nearest cover, which happened to be the little wood whose trees crowded the roadside. Sian crashed through the close-set branches, leaves brushing her face, brambles clutching at her clothes, scratching her legs.
Behind her, she heard the slam of the driver's door and the running thud of feet which meant Cass was pursuing her. She was in such a state of wild tension that she almost sobbed, her breathing thick and tortured. Running faster, she dived deeper into the shadowy woodland, through green ferns, the dappled light from above flickering all around her and making her head ache.
Cass caught up with her in a little hollow full of towering beech, the earth beneath them deep with leaf-mould from years of autumn falls. Sian felt his hands descend on her arms and struggled, shaking, until he spun her to face him, and as she looked up at him, breathlessly protesting, he bent his head and took her mouth with bruising force.
She could have struggled, but she didn't. She was so angry that she met the kiss on tiptoe, her mouth as full of fury as his. They kissed in an act of war, then his arms went round her and held her punishingly tightly, and her arms went round his neck and her hands closed on his hair, winding it round her fingers, pulling it, clutching it ruthlessly. Her rage burned out on his lips, and she winced at the consuming violence of his hands as they roved over her, but when at last their mouths parted in sheer exhaustion, she was breathing as if she had run a marathon, and Cass almost staggered back until he could lean against a beech trunk, still holding her, like a man rescuing a drowning victim who is himself almost dead when he crawls on to dry land.
They looked at each other dazedly.
'Damn you!' Sian whispered with her last scrap of energy.
His mouth went crooked; he looked down wryly and took a series of gasping breaths. 'You're driving me mad,' he said, and she was shaken, her face flushing hotly. He laughed, watching her. 'Are you going to listen to me now?'
'Say what you like, I'm too tired to argue,' she muttered, trying to free herself.
He wouldn't allow it; his hands tightened and she gave up, letting her body lean slackly on him since he wouldn't let her stand by herself. Let him take her weight, then, until she could find the strength to get away.
'You aren't thinking, Sian,' he said flatly. 'Why should I deliberately force you off the road?'
'That's obvious! Because it was me who helped Annette run away from you, and then made the headlines with the story of how you got left at the altar!'
His mouth twisted and his eyes were steel bright. 'OK, I wasn't very happy about that…'
'You hated me for it! Your ego couldn't take the humiliation.'
'My ego is a lot tougher than you seem to think!'
The dry tone made her pause and laugh. 'That's certainly true!' His ego was dented, perhaps, but she had never been able to believe that he was so crazy about Annette that her flight had hurt him deeply or wrecked his sense of identity. He was too assured, too successful; if any man had a firm idea of himself, it was William Cassidy. A girl like Annette couldn't destroy that self-image, although she must have hurt his pride.
'And I didn't hate you,' he said softly, and she looked quickly away, a funny little tremor running through her. 'I didn't deliberately force you off the road, either,' Cass went on, watching her in a way she found disturbing. 'That was an accident. Bad driving, I'm afraid, and I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you—we don't need legal interference, do we? You can trust me. Name the compensation you want and it's yours. Of course, your car will be replaced—a new one, you can pick it out yourself.'
'Bribery now,' Sian thought, aloud, her green eyes speculative and slanting sideways to watch him. 'What exactly is going on? What are you hiding?'
'Don't let that imagination of yours loose again!' She pushed his hands down and this time he let go of her, his face hard and wary.
'Were you really driving that car?' she demanded.
He hesitated and she stiffened. 'Look, can we drop the subject?' he asked, turning away. 'I think we should get back—you must be dead on your feet. This has been quite a difficult evening for you and you ought to be resting, not running about a wood in the dark.'
It wasn't dark yet, although the twilight had gathered thickly enough to give his face a shadowy menace. Sian couldn't sec him well enough now to tell what he was really thinking, but she was sure he was playing some complicated game with her; there was sleight of hand here, although she wasn't certain how or why.
'And if it wasn't you, who was it?' she persisted, and he sighed heavily.
'Sian! Drop it!'
'I'm getting warm, am I? How close am I?'
There was a silence; she could almost hear him thinking, even if she couldn't see his face.
'Not nearly close enough,' he said suddenly, his voice mocking, and his arms went round her again before she could evade them.
'You're not distracting me again!' she muttered, turning her head aside.
'Why not? You've been distracting me for days. I can hardly keep my mind on anything else when you're around.'
'Except Annette, of course!' Sian murmured bitterly.
'Can we leave Annette out of it?' he frowned.
'Hardly! You were going to marry her just the other day. I realise how you must feel, but I can't say I find it flattering that you keep making passes at me to stop yourself thinking about her!'
'I didn't say I was doing that!'
'You didn't have to!'
'Oh, you read my mind, did you?'
'I don't know about your mind—but I can tell when a man really fancies me, and when he's using me as a stand-in for another woman, and I don't like it!' She broke free again and began to walk back to the car, feeling suddenly tired and weak-legged. She swayed slightly, and at once Cass caught up with her and put his arm right round her.
'Lean on me. You're a crazy girl, do you know that? Haven't you had enough drama for one evening? Why did you run off like that?'
'Shut up,' she muttered, stumbling over a fallen branch on the path.
Cass halted her with one hand and a second later had lifted her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, as if she were a sack of potatoes.
Sian gave a cry of wordless protest, and he slapped her lightly on the behind. 'You're in no state to walk, so stop arguing!'
He was right, but she gave him a token kick in the ribs, all the same, and heard him grunt in surprise.
'What was that for? I'm only trying to help you, and if you had a shred of honesty you'd admit I was right.'
'Why do you think I kicked you? I hate people who are always so sure they're right, even when they are!'
He laughed shortly then. 'I don't think I'll ever understand what makes you tick! You're a mystery to me, but then, most women are incomprehensible to most men.'
He gently deposited her in the car and they drove off through the falling night. Sian closed her eyes and half drowsed, in a drained state of sleepy contentment. It was only as they drove up towards his aunt's house that she realised that he had successfully put a stop to her questions about the car crash
.
Mrs Cassidy met them on the front steps of her home. 'My dear Sian, this is terrible! Are you sure you're well enough to leave hospital? You look so pale. I can't tell you how sorry I am! I blame myself.'
'It wasn't your fault.' Sian smiled wearily at her.
'But you were a guest in my house! I apologise, for my whole family!'
Sian looked hard at her, then at Cass, whose face was blank.
'OK,' he said curtly. 'Now we've got that out of the way, shall we get her to bed before she passes out again?'
His aunt said with dignity, 'Of course, right away, but I wanted to apologise before anything else.'
'Thank you,' Sian said, smiling at her again.
'I'll take you up to your room.' Mrs Cassidy turned towards the stairs.
'Oh, my luggage was in my car!' Sian paused, frowning, and Cass said quietly, 'I had it taken out. It's in your room now. And your car is at the local garage, being repaired.'
'Thanks.' She followed his aunt without looking his way again.
'Are you hungry, my dear? What would you like to eat? It can be sent up to your room—an omelette? Or…'
'Omelette would be wonderful,' Sian said, quite hungry now that she actually thought about it.
'I'll order it right away.' Mrs Cassidy opened a door. 'I hope this room is comfortable enough for you. Why don't you get into bed and I'll send up your supper at once, so that you can get to sleep quickly. You're sure a meal won't keep you awake? I couldn't eat at this hour, but when I was young I remember I had a cast-iron digestion—what about you?'
Sian laughed. 'I think I'll sleep tonight, whatever I eat! I could sleep on a clothes-line after the day I've had!'
The older woman's face clouded over again. 'Yes, I'm sure. When I think what could have happened! Why, you might have been killed! I'm so appalled, my dear. That one of my own family could do such a thing!'
Sian tensed, watching her intently, but at that moment Mrs Cassidy glanced back and they both saw Cass on the top stair, watching them, listening. Mrs Cassidy excused herself and went back to join him, and Sian wryly closed the bedroom door.
The room was enchanting: a very feminine room with delicate pink curtains, a silver-shot cream wallpaper, a pink carpet and a modern four-poster bed with floor-length curtains of white gauze. The bed-linen was just as delightful: a lace bedspread over a pink broderie anglaise duvet cover and lace-frilled pink pillows. Sian went into the en-suite bathroom and changed into her nightdress after washing, and inspecting her dramatically bandaged head. She noted wryly that she was looking distinctly pale and interesting, but she no longer had a headache.
She had just climbed into bed when there was a knock at her door. 'Come in!' she called, and then felt a jab of alarm when she saw Cass walking towards her. 'What do you want?' she asked, stiffening against the high-piled pillows, before she noticed the tray he carried. She had been too busy looking at his face to see what he had in his hands.
'Your omelette.' He deftly adjusted the tray which suddenly had hinged legs which fitted neatly over Sian's lap on the bed, turning the tray into a table.
'How clever!' she commented as he whisked a silver cover off to reveal the golden half-moon of the omelette.
'My aunt's housekeeper filled it with tomatoes and mushrooms and herbs,' he said as she eyed the plate.
'It looks delicious. Thank you.'
'I'll be back for the tray later—would you like coffee? Or would it keep you awake?'
'No, I don't think I'd better drink coffee,' she said, wishing he wouldn't keep looking at her. Her nightdress was too revealing; her bare shoulders and throat seemed to fascinate him, and Sian felt like pulling the sheet up to her chin, but that would be to admit she found his gaze disturbing, and she wasn't going to do that. She didn't want him to know he had any effect on her at all.
He nodded and vanished, and she gave a long sigh of relief.
The omelette was as delicious as it looked. Sian ate it slowly, drank some of the chilled milk that had been sent up with it, then leaned back on the pillows and closed her eyes, yawning.
'Sleepy?'
His voice made her start; her lids flew up and she blinked to find him so close, inches away, although she hadn't heard him come into the room. He sat down on the side of the bed and her colour rose hectically. She looked aside, afraid of looking into his eyes.
'Very. It's been a long day.'
'How do you feel?' he asked, pushing aside a clinging strand of blonde hair which was hiding the bandage on her forehead.
'OK, thanks.' Sian felt him staring at her head, but kept her lashes lowered, wishing he would go.
'I hope you won't have a scar there.' Cass brushed the hairs back over the bandage, then slowly ran his hand down over her head, making a little shiver pass through her. 'Cold?' he asked, his fingers lightly stroking along her bare shoulder.
'I want to go to sleep,' she huskily said. 'Goodnight.'
'You ate the omelette—was it good?' He took no notice of her hint.
'Very, thank you. I enjoyed it.' He was gently playing with the lace-trimmed strap of her nightdress, pushing it down over her arm and up again, and Sian was nervously aware of everything he did.
'This room is perfect for you,' he murmured. 'All pink and silver, and your nightdress matches exactly, as if you'd known.'
'Your aunt will wonder what you're doing in here,' Sian said desperately, pushing his hand away as it strayed lower and his fingertips softly trailed over her half-covered breast.
'My aunt has gone to bed.' He bent closer and his lips touched the curve of her shoulder; it wasn't so much a kiss as the butterfly brush of a wing, gone almost before she had felt it, yet the impact of it made her gasp and, on a reflex action, close her eyes.
'Don't!' she whispered, trembling.
'You're quite a puzzle, Sian,' he said. 'Brisk career girl one minute, and then you sit there looking like a little girl and acting as though you'd never been kissed in your life! Every time I think I'm getting to know you, you pull another surprise on me—another rabbit comes out of the hat! I can see I won't be bored while you're around.'
Sian hid her smile, her head turned aside. 'I don't say I'm bored, Mr Cassidy, but would you mind leaving so that I can get some sleep?'
He laughed softly. 'Sometimes there's a touch of the cat about you, too! Quite a complex mixture, in fact.'
'Goodnight,' Sian insisted, and he got up, the bed springs making a squeaking protest.
'Goodnight, Sian,' he said, and bent quickly before she had warning of his intention. His mouth was warm and possessive; there was nothing tentative about the kiss, it was given with command and assurance, even though it didn't linger. Sian heard him collect the tray from the floor where she had placed it before he had come back, then he was gone, the door closing quietly.
She opened her eyes and the room seemed lonely, far too empty. She threw several pillows to the end of the bed and turned out the light before lying down with just one pillow under her head. Cass had said she was a puzzle, but he was just as bewildering to her. She wished she knew how he really felt about Annette. Why had he asked her to marry him? And had it been him driving the white sports car, or was he covering up for someone else?
Sian had picked up hints, clues—she suspected it might have been his sister, Magdalena, but why should Magdalena have forced her off the road, then driven on deliberately, leaving her in the ditch?
What grievance did Magdalena have against her? Presumably the same one Cass had—that she had helped Annette, then printed the story in the newspaper she worked for! Sian could understand why Cass might be burning with secret rage about that, and even understood that his sister could be very upset too, but surely Magdalena couldn't be angry enough to risk killing a total stranger? If Sian went to the police, Magdalena would be charged with hit-and-run driving, and face a stiff penalty. Would she have been so stupid? Come to that, of course, the same applied to Cass, but Sian found it increasingly hard to belie
ve he would have left her. It wasn't in character.
She slept very late next day, and only woke up when hammering started in the garden. At first, Sian wove the noise into her dreams and made it the crash of her heart in panic as she ran from some nebulous terror; then, as she began to wake, she thought her head was thudding as it had just after the accident. It was only when she opened her eyes and saw the strange room that she fully surfaced to remember where she was and what had happened. She lay there, staring around, one hand going up to her forehead to finger the bandage. Her head no longer hurt. She felt quite normal—except that she was saturated with sleep, heavy and stupid with it. She had been dreaming all night; fragments of strange dreams littered her memory, but when she tried to make sense of them she failed.
Cass had been in them. That much she was sure about. Cass had been in them all!
She pushed that aside hurriedly; she didn't want to think about Cass. Getting slowly out of bed, she stretched, lazy as a cat, then went to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, she warily peered out, but there was no sign of Cass or any of his family. There were people in the garden, all strangers, workmen in overalls and dungarees, in shirt-sleeves and jeans. They were putting up a giant green canvas tent on the billiard-table smooth lawn. Others were erecting stalls nearby. The hammering came from one big man without a shirt at all who was driving the tent-pegs into the ground, wielding a hammer as big as himself.
Sian dropped the curtain back into place and went to run a bath, then looked through the clothes she had brought in her case. She laid a choice out on the bed and went into the bathroom to take a leisurely soak in the foamy water. It was half an hour before she emerged, smelling of musk and flowers, her naked body wrapped in an enormous pink bath towel.
She opened the door to find herself face to face with Cass, inches away from her. He grinned, eyes mocking as they drifted downwards to view the whole of her.
'I was just about to knock!'
'What are you doing in my room?' she bristled, flushed.
'I brought you some breakfast!'
She followed the gesture of his hand and saw the tray on her bed, biting her lip with self-irritation. 'Oh. Thanks.'
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