‘I’d better not. Your father might think it’s not very professional of me to sit next to you. He might think that I—that we—’ She was unable to finish the sentence and her cheeks coloured helplessly. As if desperately needing a distraction, she glanced round for a suitable place to sit. Selecting one of the armchairs positioned opposite Hal, she finally made herself comfortable.
‘That we are up to no good?’ he finished for her, his lips twisting wryly. ‘I hate that expression. Even if he doesn’t approve, do you think that’s going to stop me from wanting you or showing him that I want you?’
Exasperation was close to getting the better of Hal, because the need to hold Kit close had been mercilessly taunting him all day. In contrast, she had been unbelievably composed and pragmatic. How on earth was he going to convince her that he was in earnest about how he felt? That he didn’t just want a meaningless fling but something far more serious?
The depth and breadth of his intentions took him aback. Shaken, he shrugged off his jacket and dropped it onto the cushion beside him.
‘I told you that I can’t do this...that I—’ She stopped.
‘Need to be sensible?’
‘I know that you don’t want to hear that, but—’
‘My housekeeper, Mary, is going to bring us in some refreshments, and after that she’s going to go and get your rooms ready. I presume you and Miss Blessington are staying the night, Hal?’
His father’s timing couldn’t have been worse, Hal thought irritably. Yes, he wanted them to build bridges with him—that was why he was here—but equally he wanted to put things right between him and Kit—to get her to see that he wasn’t the spoilt playboy used to getting his own way that she might secretly fear he was...not a man who wouldn’t hesitate to use her and then cast her aside just as her mother’s ex-boyfriends had done to her. But it looked as if that particular conversation would have to wait until later, when they could be alone.
‘Yes, we are. I’d rather not ask Kit to drive us back to town tonight. And, by the way, I’m going to need a downstairs room—and so is Kit, in case I need her.’
‘That won’t be a problem. That’s settled, then. So, how have things been since the accident?’ his father asked, taking a seat in the high-backed armchair next to Kit.
The question was posed in the familiar non-committal and unemotional tone that Hal knew only too well. It was clearly too much to expect him to ask how he was feeling. Probably the only reason he’d referred to his son’s injury was so that he could once again tell him how reckless he’d been, proving his opinion that pride came before a fall to be unerringly right.
Unable to help himself, Hal immediately made it his mission to disappoint him. ‘Things are good—much better than I expected, given the debilitating nature of my injury.’ Glancing over at Kit, he was surprised to see that her hands were folded almost demurely in her lap and her eyes were downcast, as if she didn’t want to draw particular attention to herself...as if she believed she should be as unobtrusive as possible. Was it because coming face to face with the imposing grandeur of his home and meeting his father had overwhelmed her? Perhaps it had even made her nurse a feeling of inferiority? The mere thought that she might be entertaining such a self-deprecating idea made him see red. Apart from his sister, Hal didn’t know one other woman who could match her for sheer class...
‘In fact I went for a run in the park this morning. Didn’t I, Kit?’
‘This is a serious matter. I don’t think it’s something you should be joking about, Henry.’
The disapproving glance crossing his father’s features, plus the more formal use of his name, made Hal bristle. ‘Isn’t it? If we can’t laugh at the vicissitudes of life sometimes then we’ll all be permanently addicted to tranquillisers merely to help us survive. Personally, I’d rather feel the pain than dull it or pretend it isn’t there.’
‘Your son wasn’t entirely joking, Sir Henry,’ Kit interjected calmly, leaping to Hal’s defence. ‘We did go for a run in the park. At least, I ran as I pushed him in his wheelchair.’
‘Did you, indeed?’ Staring at her, his father blustered, ‘Did you really think that was a good idea when my son already has a broken leg, young woman? What if he had fallen out of the chair and hurt himself even more?’
‘There was no chance of that. For goodness’ sake, I’m an adult, not a child, and Kit was only trying to cheer me up.’ Hal was rigid with anger. ‘In any case, why is the thought of having some fun so alien to you, Father? Not everything in life has to be so damn serious. Do you even know the concept of relaxation?’