Turning out the elegant lamp next to the bed, wanting to shut out not just the day’s events but everything that troubled her, she closed her eyes. All she could do now was pray for an unbroken night’s sleep in which to recover her strength and to somehow find the will and the means to overcome her sorrow so she could carry on with life regardless. God knew her mother had had to do just that more than once. If she could do it, then so could her daughter...
* * *
In Kit’s dream, someone was tapping on the door. The repetitive sound didn’t seem to abate, and finally it pierced her already fitful sleep and made her realise it was no dream but solid, disturbing fact. Dazedly scrambling to sit up, she pushed back the silky curtain of hair that brushed her face and stared over at the door. All she could see beneath the edges was an unbroken sliver of dimmed light that came from the corridor outside. There was no evidence of anyone’s feet moving. Her head felt fuzzy and she couldn’t think straight. Icy fear had robbed her of the ability. Was she still dreaming? It was hard to tell.
When the tapping sound abruptly ceased, she sucked in a relieved breath and nervously glanced round the room. Perhaps it had been a dream after all?
The moonlight outside her window dappled the emerald-green counterpane that covered the bed with haunting shadows, and did the same to the various pieces of dark antique furniture that were arranged round the room. Kit’s heart galloped in fear in case a ghost suddenly appeared. She was already frightened out of her wits enough, without having to contend with some ghostly apparition!
When another bout of tapping broke the uneasy silence that had descended, this time with a bit more force, Kit remembered that Hal’s room was next door. What if he was in urgent need of her help? She was mortified that it hadn’t registered before that the knocking on the door was probably coming from him.
Shoving aside the counterpane, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurried across the rug-covered stone flags to open the door. Her heart was already bumping anxiously against her ribs even before she set eyes on the man who waited outside. When she did, her heart bumped even harder. He was sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired, with a fresh growth of dark beard studding his chiselled jaw, and gazing into Hal’s golden eyes was like stumbling onto a never-to-be forgotten glimpse of heaven.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
His answer was a provocative lopsided grin. ‘Nothing now that I’m looking at you, angel.’
The smoky cadence of his voice somehow transmitted itself to Kit’s muscles and made them feel dangerously weak. ‘How long have you been knocking on the door?’ she asked huskily. ‘I thought I was dreaming.’
‘I wasn’t keeping track of the time. I just thought I’d stay here until I wore you down with my dogged persistence, got you to come and see who it was and hopefully let me in.’
Unconsciously clutching her pyjama top, agitatedly twisting the material into a knot in the process, Kit stared at him in disbelief, suddenly realising the only reason he was standing was because he was using his crutches to help him. Hadn’t his father had the sense to get his wheelchair for him? She’d left him the car keys and had strongly emphasised that he shouldn’t let his son rely solely on his walking aids to get to his room. He’d already told her that the guest rooms on the ground floor were right at the back of the house.
‘Are you crazy? You should never have stood out there for so long. You’ll have to come in and sit down on the bed for a while.’
‘That invitation is music to my ears, sweetheart. I’m certainly not going to argue.’ He winced a little, as though the strain of standing upright had unquestionably taxed him.
Again Kit berated herself for not doing her job properly—for leaving him. It didn’t matter that he’d been with his father...no one knew better than she did what he needed. The impassioned thought sent a scalding, searing heat surging through her bloodstream that was like a swell of molten honey.
Biting down on her lip, she waited until Hal had passed her before shutting the door behind them. She noted he was still dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing to travel in. She had no idea of the time but it was obvious he hadn’t been to bed yet. What did he think he was doing, staying up so late, when his surgeon had told him it was extremely important he got as much rest as possible while his leg healed?
‘That’s better.’ Expelling a grateful sigh, he dropped down onto the rumpled green counterpane and handed her his crutches. ‘Can you put these somewhere?’