Appalled that he had begun to think of himself in such a scornful way, he quickly brushed his teeth, turned off the light, then returned to his bedroom grimly to face another disagreeable and painful night with nothing but his steadily worsening thoughts to keep him company.
As he lifted his hard-muscled frame out of the wheelchair and manoeuvred himself onto the bed he found himself fervently hoping that the feisty Kit Blessington’s presence would at least be bearable. Perish the thought that she might be the type of woman who chattered incessantly about inconsequential things and would very quickly get on his nerves, making him bitterly regret hiring her—even if her practical skills should prove to be as competent as she’d indicated.
* * *
Hal was having an early-morning cup of coffee with his sister when, true to her word, Kit Blessington arrived at the agreed time. Sam had dropped in on her way to work, determined to meet Hal’s new hired help as soon as possible, so she’d told him, her cat-like green eyes formidably serious. He knew it mattered to her a great deal that the woman passed muster because she adored her ‘little’ brother. He might resent her acting like his mother from time to time, but he didn’t deny it felt good to have her unstinting regard and concern. Especially when the only communication he’d had from his father since the accident was a curt e-mail that had included the line, ‘Didn’t I always tell you that pride comes before a fall?’
Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you? Hal had thought bitterly.
Tall and slender, with a gamine short hairstyle, his sister Sam looked as chic and sophisticated as always that morning in an elegant trouser suit. When Kit arrived the younger woman’s bohemian, far more relaxed mode of dress couldn’t have been more of a contrast. When he opened the door to let her in he saw that today her glorious red hair was precariously arranged up in a loose topknot that suggested it might easily topple at any moment, such must be the weight of the waving strands. Wearing a mint-green baggy knitted sweater beneath a man’s battered tan flying jacket, along with a pair of slim-fitting caramel cords, she was transporting what looked to be a fairly hefty brown suitcase.
Hal immediately told her to put it down before she dislocated her shoulder, adding, ‘What have you got in there? The kitchen sink?’
Flushing, she retorted, ‘You did say that this was a live-in position? All I’ve brought with me are the strictest essentials, Mr Treverne.’
‘Well, clearly they must indeed be essential if you’re trying to lug that beast around,’ he commented dryly.
Sam stepped up beside him and once Kit had sensibly lowered her suitcase down onto the parquet floor she leaned towards the younger woman to shake her hand.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Ms Blessington. You’ve arrived just in the nick of time. Henry’s got to get to grips with using his crutches today, so your presence will undoubtedly be appreciated. I’m Samantha Whyte, by the way—Henry’s sister.’
‘Hello. It’s nice to meet you too, Ms Whyte. It’s good to know that your brother has a close relative living nearby. It must be very reassuring for him in light of what he’s coping with.’
‘I don’t live that near, but I’m close enough to call in whenever I can to check that he’s okay. I have to warn you—Hal doesn’t take to being confined very easily. Hal is what family and friends call him, by the way. He’s apt to be like a bear with a sore head most days.’
‘Do you two mind not talking about me as if I wasn’t here?’ Biting back an angry expletive, Hal violently reversed his wheelchair and headed back towards the kitchen.
‘Don’t mind him,’ he heard Sam say soothingly behind him to Kit. ‘As I said, he’s a bit more irritable than usual since he broke his leg, but—’
‘Don’t you dare tell her that underneath my tetchy, disagreeable exterior I’m a veritable pussycat!’ he yelled. ‘Because I’m certainly not!’
His heart thumping hard inside his chest, Hal steered the wheelchair into the kitchen and straight away moved across to the oblong glass dining table to retrieve his rapidly cooling mug of coffee. He knew he was behaving like the worst bore in the world but he couldn’t seem to help it. Tonight, before bed, he might just have to succumb to taking those sleeping pills his doctor had prescribed. Right now he’d probably take the strongest ones he could lay his hands on if they would help him get at least an hour of unbroken sleep. ‘A bear with a sore head’ didn’t come anywhere near to describing the infuriated way he felt.