Dominique wiped away some crumbs from the counter top. ‘Monsieur Raoul is not by nature a bad-tempered man.’ She stopped wiping to look at Lily. ‘You have no need to be afraid of him. He would never hurt anyone.’
‘I’m not afraid of him,’ Lily said. Well, maybe a bit.
The housekeeper’s gaze held hers for a moment longer than necessary. ‘He is in his study doing his emails. Will you take him his coffee for me? It will save my aching feet one more trip down that corridor.’
‘Of course.’
The door of the study was closed and Lily stood outside it for a moment, listening to the sounds coming from inside. She heard the click of a mouse and then a vicious swear word in English. She waited another beat before raising her knuckles to knock on the door.
‘Yes?’ The word was sharply delivered, like a short but vicious bark.
Lily took a steadying breath. ‘I have your coffee, Monsieur Caffarelli. Dominique asked me to bring it to you.’
‘Then bring it in, for God’s sake.’
She opened the door to find him sitting behind a desk that was almost as large as her bathroom back at home. He was dressed in gym gear, but it didn’t take away from his air of authority and command. If anything he looked even more intimidating. His shoulders looked even broader in a close-fitting T-shirt. The stark whiteness of the T-shirt against the tan of his olive skin was another reminder of his love of the outdoors prior to the accident. She saw the carved contours of his pectoral muscles. His strong arms were liberally sprinkled with dark coarse hair that trailed right down over the backs of his hands and to his fingers.
Something shifted in her belly as she thought of those tanned hands touching her smoother, paler ones...
‘Don’t hover,’ he snapped at her.
Lily set her mouth as she stiffly approached his desk. ‘Your coffee.’ She placed it before him. ‘Sir.’
His eyes warred with hers for a tense moment. ‘Sir?’
She gave him an arch look. ‘You don’t like being called sir?’
‘You’re not one of the servants.’
‘No,’ Lily said. ‘I’m a human being, just like you.’
‘You’re nothing like me, Miss Archer.’ A flash of irritation fired in his gaze. ‘Apart from the obvious male and female thing, you’re not currently confined to a wheelchair.’
‘Perhaps not, but I am confined to this château to work with you for the next month,’ she returned.
‘A week, Miss Archer,’ he said flatly.
‘A week, then.’
A tight silence crackled the air.
Lily glanced at his untouched coffee. ‘Is that all you’re having for breakfast?’
He gave her a don’t-mess-with-me-look. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Your body needs proper fuel. You can’t ask your body to improve if you don’t give it what it needs.’
His eyes glinted dangerously. ‘What does your body need, Miss Archer?’
Lily felt the slow burn of his gaze as it lazily traversed the length of her body, a hot, melting sensation pooling deep in her core. His eyes lingered for a moment on her mouth, as if he was wondering how it would taste and feel beneath his own. She felt a strong urge to moisten her lips but somehow refrained from doing so. ‘It’s not my body that is the issue here. It is yours.’
‘My body...’ He gave a little grunt. ‘I don’t even recognise it when I see it in the mirror.’
‘Muscle wastage is common after injury,’ Lily said. ‘We can work on that.’
His hazel eyes roved over her once more. ‘Are you going to work with me in the gym wearing that dress?’
She felt her cheeks heat up again. ‘No, I have a tracksuit upstairs.’