No More Lonely Nights Read online

  Two nurses, hurrying past with their caps a little askew and flushed faces, gave Cass a curious, grinning look, then giggled at each other. It wasn't often that they saw a man in full morning dress with a wilting buttonhole, stalking their hospital corridors like Hamlet's father on the battlements!

  Cass was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice them; his jaw showed stubble deepening and his brows were heavy with a frown. What was he thinking? Nothing cheerful, by that expression.

  Rick was watching him, too, and seemed to like what he saw even less than Sian did.

  'I wish he'd clear off!' he burst out suddenly, and Sian looked at him, green eyes sympathetic.

  'He seems genuinely concerned about Annette's father. I think that's why he stays.'

  Rick scowled, but shrugged. 'Oh, maybe. Her dad was at school with his, you know. Old Mr Cassidy died a few years back, but he and Annette's father were always good friends; they used to play chess once a week. Her dad worked for the firm when it only employed a handful of people; he worked there all his life, until he retired early. He was only fifty-six, but I think he took voluntary redundancy. He was a bit aimless once he'd stopped work. No wonder he had a heart attack when Annette ran away. He had nothing in his life but Annette, and that's Cassidy's fault. He must have asked Mr Byrne to retire early, and now he probably feels guilty.'

  Sian frowned. 'I gathered that this heart condition was already known—are you sure that isn't why her father retired early?'

  'Who told you that?'

  'Mr Cassidy.'

  Rick laughed scornfully. 'And you believed him? Annette didn't tell me that. She said they were laying a few older members of staff off, giving them a lump sum to retire early, and her father had been asked to go voluntarily. She never mentioned ill health.'

  Sian screwed up the empty paper cup which had held her coffee and threw it into a waste-paper bin, where it rattled around. What was the truth? Had William Cassidy lied to her? Or had Annette been kept in the dark about her father's state of health? Sian remembered her saying that her father was worried about leaving her alone if he died—why should he have been worrying about death unless he was ill? If he was in his middle fifties that wasn't so very old, and in the natural course of events Annette should have been married with children long before her father had to face death.

  'Of course,' said Rick with a faint sneer, 'it could be that Cassidy didn't want his future father-in-law working on the factory floor. He didn't really know Annette until he took her on as his secretary eighteen months ago. That was around the time her dad was asked to retire, now I remember it. Then Cassidy started showing an interest in her and dating her. He swept her off her feet—can you blame her? He could give her such a good time: flashy cars, night-spots, expensive dinners. Once he flew her to Paris in a private jet just to have lunch—showing off, dazzling her with his money. Of course she couldn't resist it. What girl could?'

  'Very few,' agreed Sian drily. Nobody had ever swept her off her feet in that style; she just wished they would. It must be great to be flown to Paris in a private jet for lunch! Take me to it, she thought, grimacing.

  Rick's hands balled into fists. 'So I quit,' he said. 'I wasn't staying around to watch. If she preferred him and his money, well…'

  'But she changed her mind and ran away to you,' Sian gently reminded him.

  He smiled then; his face changing. 'Yes, she came to her senses. She wouldn't have been happy with him, you know. Annette didn't grow up in that high-powered world of his, and she wasn't very easy in it. The longer it went on, the more she realised she didn't fit—with him or his friends and family.'

  Sian glanced again at Cass, who was still prowling to and fro, like a tiger measuring his new captivity in a cage. Even at a distance he had a restlessly energetic air and a total assurance.

  'What on earth did he see in her?' she thought aloud, then shot Rick a horrified look, but he didn't seem insulted by the question, just shrugged as though it was one he had often asked himself.

  'If you want my opinion, I reckon it was a whim—she was different and he was bored. He'd have realised he had made a mistake sooner or later, but by then he might have ruined Annette's life.'

  'His family didn't approve, anyway?' Sian couldn't help wondering what would have happened if Rick hadn't rung Annette on her wedding morning. Would she have gone through with the wedding? What exactly had Rick said to her? Hinted at suicide? Wasn't that what Annette had said? Had Rick meant it? Or had he just been talking wildly? Whatever he had said, it had had quite an effect; it had broken off Annette's marriage plans, but Sian was unconvinced that Annette knew what she was doing or what she really wanted, even now. She was too volatile, too easily influenced. She wasn't old enough to have a real relationship with a man. She ought to be by now; she was in her early twenties, wasn't she? Sian began to be curious about this father who lay seriously ill up in the wards. What was he like? And how much influence had he had on his daughter?

  Rick shook his head, laughing shortly. 'You must be joking! No, they did not approve—especially his sister, Magdalena. She married last year, some guy with a long pedigree, a lot of money and a face like a Pekingese. Ever since, she's acted as if she was too good to walk on the same ground as the rest of us. You'd have thought that Annette was insulting her by just breathing the same air. She went out of her way to make it clear just what she thought about the marriage.'

  'Didn't you say Mr Cassidy's father was dead?'

  Rick nodded. 'So is his mother—there are only the three Cassidys left. The sister, his younger brother Malcolm, who works in the design department, and him.' Rick jerked his head sideways to where Cass was standing in the corridor, then jumped to his feet as he saw that Cass was talking to a man in a white coat.

  'That could be the doctor! He looks as if he's telling someone bad news, doesn't he? Why is he telling Cassidy? He isn't marrying Annette, I am! It's me who should be talking to the doctor.' Rick headed for the door angrily, squaring his shoulders ready for battle, but before he reached them the man in the white coat began to walk in the opposite direction and Cass turned, his face grave.

  Sian had followed Rick. She felt her interference might be needed if the two men came to blows.

  'What's happened?' Rick demanded belligerently.

  Cass looked at him with cool, grey eyes. 'His condition is still serious; it isn't hopeless, though.' He glanced sideways at Sian. 'Would you go and talk to Annette? She's very upset, it seems, but she won't leave the ward and she can't stay there. The ward sister insists that she can't see her father again tonight.'

  'Of course,' Sian said, but Rick shouldered past her.

  'I'll go. It's my place to be with Annette.' He glared at Cass, defying him to argue, but Cass shrugged.

  'OK. Maybe you're right.'

  Rick almost ran and Sian watched him, frowning. Cass watched her, thoughtfully. 'And what were you talking to him about? I wonder if I was wise, allowing you to come along. I keep forgetting you're a reporter. I hope you weren't milking him for information, because if you print any of this…'

  'Yes?' she queried, lifting her brows at him. 'What will you do? Huff and puff and blow my house down?'

  He laughed shortly. 'Something like that.'

  'I'm shaking in my shoes!'

  He considered her with his head slightly to one side, his mouth wry. 'I wish I was sure I could trust you.'

  Green eyes alert, Sian asked, 'Oh? Why?'

  'I'm faced with something of a problem. Annette can't sit up in the waiting-room all night, and they won't let her see her father even if she does, but where else is she to go? She can hardly spend the night in her own home, alone, and in the circumstances I don't think Wesley should stay there with her.'

  'I don't see what this has to do with me—'

  Sian began, and he suddenly snapped, his face dark red with temper.

  'If you let me finish, you'll understand what it has to do with you!'

  'Sorry,' sh
e said drily. He was jealous, of course; he wanted to keep Rick away from Annette, and was that surprising? He didn't want Annette to spend what should have been their wedding night with another man.

  He ran a hand through his dark hair, mouth twisting. 'No, I'm sorry. I'm dead on my feet. This has been quite a day for me, remember.'

  She nodded. 'You must be very tired.' And miserable and angry and a lot of other things, she thought, watching him with sympathy. In fact, on the whole he was behaving very well. Many men in his situation would have been quite different; bitter and vindictive, to say the least. William Cassidy was being positively saintly. Viewing the hard angles of his face, the cool assurance of those eyes, Sian suddenly wondered about that. Was his generosity entirely without motive? Surely he didn't still hope to get Annette back?

  Or did he?

  'I'm dying to lie down and sleep my head off,' he admitted with a self-deriding grin. 'But I can't do that until I've sorted this out. And that's where you come in. Will you stay at my house with Annette tonight?'

  Sian's mouth dropped open. 'At your house?'

  'If she's urgently needed at the hospital she'll have to have transport on hand and she doesn't drive. If she stays at my house I can drive her to the hospital at once, without any delay in getting a taxi.'

  Sian viewed him curiously. He was certainly clever. He had made that reasoning sound very plausible, but she suspected his motives all the same.

  He met her eyes, his face darkly flushed, his jaw tensed. 'Well? Will you? But if you do, I want your word that you won't print a word about all this. Just for once in your life, act like a woman, not a reporter.'

  'I act like a woman most of the time,' Sian threw back, herself flushing and resenting the way he'd talked.

  'Do you?' He didn't seem convinced, and his brows arched. 'Well, act like one now. Forget that Annette is in the news. She needs your help. Don't take advantage of that.'

  'I ought to slap you!' Sian said, seething.

  Suddenly he laughed, his face changing and a mocking amusement in his eyes. 'I wouldn't advise it. I'm bigger and tougher than you are.'

  'And less scrupulous, for all your talk about my lack of scruples!' she accused him. He went on smiling down at her, but his eyes were narrowed and hard and watchful.

  'Will you stay, anyway?' he asked, and she nodded, grimacing.

  'I suppose so. You can have it your way.' She paused, eyeing him. 'As usual,' she added, and was furious when, instead of being angry, he grinned and looked pleased with himself.

  CHAPTER THREE

  'No!' Rick burst out, reddening, as soon as Cass suggested his plan. 'Annette isn't spending the night at your place. Over my dead body!'

  Sian saw the look in Cass's eye and interrupted before he could retort. 'What does Annette think, though?' she coolly asked, and they all looked at Annette, who seemed quite oblivious of what was going on, her face grey and drawn. She was standing there staring at nothing, but when Sian put an arm around her Annette started violently and looked at her in shock.

  'What?'

  Sian gently repeated the suggestion that they should both spend the night at the Cassidy house. 'It isn't far from the hospital and if…if we had to get back here in a hurry…'

  'I could drive you,' Cass said when Sian paused and looked at him.

  Annette didn't even glance at him. She just nodded. 'Thank you.'

  Rick frowned. 'Annette, wouldn't you rather go to a hotel or…'

  'Be practical,' Cass interrupted curtly. 'At this hour no hotel would take you in. You have no luggage and you look as if you've been dragged through a hedge backwards.'

  Rick glared. 'She could stay at her father's house.'

  'If she needed to get back here in a hurry she would have to get a taxi, and it's much further away, too. My house is six minutes from here—her father's is at least twenty minutes away, and if she had to get a taxi that could treble the time involved.'

  Annette didn't seem to be listening to their heated argument; she stood there with hanging head, hands slack at her side, body trembling slightly. Sian was worried about her. She must be exhausted; emotionally and physically drained. She looked impatiently at the two men. They were supposed to care about the girl. Why were they fighting over her instead of looking after her?

  'Can we go?' she broke in sharply. 'Annette ought to be in bed.'

  The men looked at Annette then, and Rick bit his lip and put his arm around her. Annette gave a sigh and leaned on him, closing her eyes. Cass turned away.

  'I'll get the car and pick you up outside.'

  He spun around and walked away rapidly. Sian stared after him, her brows together. Had it hurt to watch Annette cling to Rick? It must have done, of course, but William Cassidy was a strong man. He would handle his emotional scars, human beings did. Sian made a face, remembering her own pain not so long ago. It hadn't been quite as deep or as agonising as this situation must be to William Cassidy, but it had been bad for a while and she had come through it. Not that William Cassidy would thank her for telling him that, at the moment. People hated you if you said something about time healing all wounds. You couldn't blame them. Clichés were infuriating when you were hurting badly.

  She almost fell asleep in the front seat of the limousine. It glided so smoothly, almost silently, through the warm night, and nobody spoke a word all the way to Cass's house.

  When they pulled up at the end of a winding drive, in front of a big house whose facade she could barely see in the darkness, Rick helped Annette out and Sian stood waiting while William Cassidy unlocked the front door.

  'If you want a room you're welcome to stay,' he told Rick, who reacted as if he had been stung.

  'No, thanks!'

  He kissed Annette, who looked up at him helplessly. 'You aren't going?'

  'I'll stay with an old friend. See you tomorrow.' Rick turned and looked at Sian. 'You will take care of her?'

  She nodded. 'I promise. She'll be safe while I'm around.'

  Rick turned on his heel and walked away, his feet crunching on the gravelled drive, his shape soon swallowed up in the shadows of the trees lining the drive.

  'I'll take you straight upstairs,' Cass said, switching on the hall light. Annette blinked and gave a stifled sigh, looking around the elegant place with hunted eyes. She had fled all this, but fate had dragged her back.

  She had been here before, she knew the house, but Sian didn't, and in spite of her weariness she couldn't help feeling curious and staring around her as they followed William Cassidy upstairs.

  He opened a door and gestured. 'I leave it up to you—you can either share this room, or one of you can sleep here and the other sleep in the room next door.'

  Sian looked at Annette questioningly. 'What do you want to do?' The room had twin beds in it; it was spacious and beautifully furnished. She would have been quite happy sharing it with Annette, but the other girl shook her head in a tired, indifferent way.

  'I'd rather be alone for a while.' She walked slowly into the room and shut the door on them. Sian frowned, and looked at Cass.

  'Should we leave her alone?'

  'It might be the best thing for her,' he said, frowning too, his lean face shadowed by stubble and his eyes hooded by weary lids. 'Come and see the other room.'

  It was smaller, but charming: all gold and cream with brocade curtains and French period furniture, a deep-piled carpet, a bed which Sian looked at yearningly.

  'I hope you'll be comfortable,' William Cassidy said, and she pulled a face at him.

  'Tonight I could sleep on the floor.'

  He laughed then. 'You won't have to—there's a bathroom en suite, of course, through that door, and that opens out into Annette's room, if you want to check on her during the night.' He fingered his chin, staring down at her and smiling crookedly. 'I think you may even find something to wear in the chest of drawers. This was my sister's room. She got married last year, but she didn't take all her things with her. Quite a few clothes sti
ll seem to be around. I'm pretty sure there's a nightie in one of the drawers.' He paused. 'I'd better see if Annette needs anything, too.'

  'I'll do that,' Sian said quickly, and was given a slanted glance. His mouth was grim.

  'Very well. Goodnight.'

  The door closed with a snap. He hadn't liked it when she had insisted on dealing with Annette, she realised. Well, it had been his idea that she should come here; Rick trusted her to keep William Cassidy away from Annette, and she was going to protect the girl if she could. Annette had been through enough already today. Sian would never have acted the way Annette had; but she still felt sorry for her.

  She felt a little odd, rummaging through drawers full of his sister's belongings. From what Rick had said, Magdalena Cassidy would have been indignant if she knew that a stranger, and a common reporter at that, was fingering these delicate, delicious, dreamy concoctions of satin, silk and lace, which must have cost the earth.

  Surely the girl hadn't forgotten them? Or was she so wealthy that she didn't miss them and had another room full of such things in her new home? Rick had said she had married a wealthy man. Sian drew a filmy nightie out and gazed at it enviously. Lucky Magdalena. Sian could only afford nylon.

  She threw the nightie over her arm and went to see if Annette was still awake. The room was in darkness and there was no sound from the bed when Sian whispered, 'Annette? Are you OK?'

  Sian hesitated, though. She tiptoed over to check that Annette was actually there and saw the other girl's white face; a blur in the shadows. Annette had her eyes shut. She must have lain down fully dressed under a quilt, and she was breathing so quietly that Sian thought she might already be asleep. Well, she had had so many shocks today; she might have keeled over and fallen into a weary sleep. Sian tiptoed back to the door and returned to her own room.

  She washed in the en-suite bathroom and put on Magdalena Cassidy's enchanting nightie, a floating creation of blue satin and lace by Janet Reger. She combed her hair and yawned, climbing into bed a moment later. She switched out the light and her eyes closed gratefully, only to open not long after-wards when she heard a creak on the landing outside the room.