‘Not swimming, per se. Walking in water.’
He gave a disdainful laugh. ‘I can’t even walk on land, let alone in water. You’ve got the wrong guy. The one you’re looking for died two thousand-odd years ago and had a swag of miracles under his belt.’
She gave him a withering look. ‘You can wear a plastic bag over the cast. It will help your core stability switch on again to be moving in the water.’
Raoul glared at her furiously. ‘I want my life switched on again! I don’t give a damn about anything else.’
She pressed her lips together as if she were dealing with a recalcitrant child and needed to summon up some extra patience. ‘I realise this is difficult for you—’
‘You’re damn right it’s difficult for me,’ he threw back. ‘I can’t even get down to the stables to see my horses. I can’t even dress or shave myself without help.’
‘How long before the plaster comes off?’
‘Two weeks.’
‘You’ll find it much easier once it’s off. Once your arm is strong enoug
h, you’ll be able to do some assisted walking on parallel bars. That’s what I did with my last client. Within twelve weeks she was able to walk without holding on at all.’
Raoul didn’t want to wait for twelve weeks. He didn’t want to wait for twelve days. He wanted to be back on his feet now. He didn’t want to turn his house into a rehabilitation facility with bars and rails and ramps everywhere. He wanted to be able to live a normal life, the life he’d had before, the life where he was in the driving seat, not being driven or pushed around by others. The grief and despair of what he had lost gnawed at him like a vicious toothache. How would he ever be happy with these limitations that had been forced on him?
He could not be happy.
He would never be happy, not like this.
How could he be?
Dominique came in with their main course. ‘Would you like me to cut the chicken into smaller pieces for you, Monsieur Raoul?’ she asked as she set his plate in front of him.
‘No, I would not,’ Raoul said curtly. ‘I’m not a bloody child.’
Lily gave him a reproachful look once Dominique had left the room. ‘You’re giving a very convincing impression of one, and a very spoilt one at that. She was only trying to help. There was no need to bark at her like that.’
‘I don’t like being fussed over.’ Raoul glowered at her. ‘I refuse to be treated like an invalid.’
‘It’s always much harder for people with control issues to accept their limitations.’
He let out a derisive grunt of laughter. ‘You think I’m a control freak? How did you come to that conclusion? Was my aura giving me away?’
‘You’re a classic control freak. That’s why you’re so angry and bitter. You’re not in control any more. Your body won’t let you do the things you want it to do. It’s galling for you to have to ask anyone for help, so you don’t ask. I bet you’d rather go hungry than have that meat cut up for you.’
Raoul curled his lip. ‘Quite the little psychologist, aren’t you, Miss Archer?’
She pursed her mouth for a moment before she responded. ‘You have a strong personality. You’re used to being in charge of your life. It doesn’t take a psychology degree to work that out.’
He gave her a mocking look. ‘Well, how about I read your aura, since we’re playing amateur psychologist?’
Her expression tightened. ‘Go right ahead.’
‘You don’t like drawing attention to yourself. You hide behind shapeless clothes. You lack confidence. Shall I go on?’
‘Is it a crime to be an introvert?’
‘No,’ Raoul said. ‘But I’m intrigued as to why a young woman as beautiful as you works so hard to downplay it.’
She looked flustered by his compliment. ‘I—I don’t consider myself to be beautiful.’
‘You don’t like compliments, do you, Miss Archer?’