crumbs they deigned to dole out now he was so much less than he’d been. Even the doctors played that game, holding out the possibility his sight might return, though never guaranteeing it.
‘Your foot must be paining you after all.’ He heard her put something on the paving stones.
‘You know that for a fact, do you?’ He’d got tired in hospital of the staff dictating what was best for him and how he should feel. Till he’d discharged himself early and come here to recuperate in private.
‘I’m guessing. You’re cranky, but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt in thinking there’s a reason for your tone.’
To his surprise, his mouth lifted in a twist of amusement that pulled unused muscles tight. He couldn’t remember smiling since the accident.
‘Where’s your sympathy for the poor maimed invalid?’
‘Probably the same place your manners are.’ She paused and lifted his foot carefully to place it on something cushioned. A towel on her lap? For some reason he rather enjoyed the idea of her kneeling at his feet.
‘Besides,’ she said as he felt gentle fingers touch his heel, ‘You’re not an invalid.’
Declan’s mouth tightened and his hands curled into fists. Great, just great: another happy-clappy optimist. Just like the last rehab worker.
‘What do you call this, then?’ he jeered, jerking a hand in the direction of his glasses.
‘Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean you’re an invalid. The man I saw doing lap after lap in the pool was fitter and more agile than most people I know.’ Her hold on his foot changed. ‘This may hurt a little.’
It hurt a lot, but Declan was used to pain now. Getting walking again on that bad leg had taken more guts and determination than anything he’d ever done. It had been harder even than turning his back on family connections when he was a kid determined to build a business his own way.
‘Most people can see what they’re doing.’ Was she deliberately obtuse?
‘Are you looking for sympathy?’
‘No!’ Not that. Just …
Hell. He didn’t know what he wanted. Just that he was tired of do-gooders telling him to look on the bright side.
‘Good.’ She pressed something to his heel. ‘This is just to stop the blood. I don’t think it needs stitches but I’d like the bleeding to slow before I dress it.’
‘You’re one tough cookie—is that it?’ For the first time he wondered what sort of person his housekeeper was. What had made her so cool and capable in the face of a growling employer who wasn’t fit company for anyone? ‘Are you trying to prove yourself to me?’
‘I’m simply trying to help so you don’t get an infection in this foot.’ Not even a hint of impatience in that controlled tone. For an unsettling moment Declan was reminded of his kindergarten teacher who’d had a way of quieting rambunctious little boys with just a look.
‘What are you smiling at?’
‘Was I smiling?’ He firmed his mouth into its habitual line.
‘This may hurt.’
Good. It might focus his straying mind.
Pain sliced through him as she applied antiseptic.
‘What do you look like, Ms Daniels?’
For the first time she hesitated. Intriguing.
‘Average,’ she said firmly.
‘On the tall side,’ he amended.
‘How do you know?’
Declan shrugged. ‘The way you fitted under my arm.’ He paused. ‘What else?’
‘Is this really necessary?’
‘Indulge me. Think of it as the job interview I never gave you.’
‘You’re saying my job’s in doubt?’ For the first time a hint of emotion coloured her voice. Panic?
He shook his head. ‘I’m not that unreasonable, just curious.’
He heard a huff of exasperation and then she was winding a bandage around his foot with deft movements that assured him she knew exactly what she was doing.
‘I’ve got light hair, light eyes and pale skin.’
‘Freckles?’ Why he bothered to tease when he couldn’t see her reaction he didn’t know. But despite her calm responses Declan felt her disapproval. It shimmered around him. Tired as he was of his own company and his limitations, even that was preferable to solitude.
How pathetic could he get? Taunting the woman because he was bored, bitter and defeated by the guilt that clung like a shadow.
‘Yes, as it happens. A few.’ Her voice dropped a little and he caught a husky edge as she snapped shut the first-aid kit.
Declan surged to his feet. ‘Thanks. Now, if you’ll just lead me to the edge of the pergola, I can find my way from there.’
Chloe stopped in the open doorway to the vast book-lined library. It had been updated with a state-of-the-art computer on the antique cedar desk and a phone that looked like it could hold conference calls to several countries simultaneously. Hand raised to knock, she paused at the sound of Declan Carstairs’ voice.
‘OK, David. There’s no help for it, you’ll just have to stay there. Don’t worry about it.’ Her employer thrust a hand back through his hair in a gesture of clear frustration. ‘No, don’t send one of the junior staff in the meantime. I don’t want anyone here gawping and …’ He hunched his shoulders. ‘Never mind.’
He turned and she caught his expression. His face was drawn with weariness. Lines etched the corners of his mouth and furrowed his brow. Then she caught a glimpse of his eyes and wondered with a jolt if it was tiredness or something akin to despair that shadowed his face.
The notion surprised her. He’d seemed so vibrant, so arrogantly in control just half an hour ago. Even as he’d been dependent on her to lead him and remove the glass from his foot, there’d been no question but that he’d been the one calling the shots, and not just because he paid her wages. The force of his personality made him dominate any situation.
‘No, I’ll just have to wait till you—’
He broke off and lifted his head as if scenting the air, his head swinging round inexorably to where she stood in the doorway.
Dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that was unnerving.
Even knowing he couldn’t see her, Chloe had to resist the urge to straighten her neat skirt and blouse or lift a hand to ensure that flyaway curl hadn’t escaped again. Heat trickled through her veins and her skin flushed.
‘Call me later, David, and update me.’ He disconnected the
