Never Underestimate a Caffarelli. Melanie Milburne
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could work around that.’
‘What else?’
‘I’d like to have a look at your diet.’
‘I eat a balanced diet.’
She glanced at his almost empty wine glass, her mouth set in a reproving line. ‘Yes, well, there’s always room for improvement. Do you take any supplements?’
‘Vitamins, you mean?’
‘Yes. Things like fish oil, glucosamine, vitamin D—that sort of thing. Studies have shown they help in the repair of muscles and tissues and can even halt the progress of osteoarthritic change in your joints.’
He gave a bark of scorn. ‘For God’s sake, Miss Archer, I’m not arthritic. I’m only thirty-four years old.’
Her small chin came up. ‘Preventative health measures are worth considering no matter what your age.’
Raoul pinned her with his gaze. ‘How old are you?’
Her frown came back but even deeper this time and she seemed to hesitate over her reply. ‘I’m...I’m...twenty-six.’
‘You looked like you had to think about it for a moment.’
She gave a tight movement of her lips that didn’t even come close to being a smile. ‘I’m not keen on keeping a record on birthdays. What woman is?’
‘You’re very young to be worrying about that,’ Raoul said. ‘Once you’re over thirty, or even forty, it might be more of an issue, but you’re still a baby.’
She looked down at the soup in her bowl, that same little frown pulling at her forehead. ‘My father died on my birthday when I was seven years old. It’s not a day I’m used to celebrating.’
Raoul thought of the tragic death of his parents so close to his own birthday. Rafe had been ten; he had been eight, just about to turn nine, and Remy only seven. His parents’ funeral had been on Raoul’s birthday. It had been the worst birthday present anyone could imagine—to follow those flower-covered coffins into the cathedral, to feel that collective grief pressing down on him, to hear those mournful tunes as the choir sang.
To this day he hated having flowers in the house and he could not bear the sound of choral music.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘What about your mother? Is she still alive?’
‘Yes. She lives in Norfolk. I see her whenever I can.’
‘You live in London, yes?’
She nodded. ‘In a flat in Mayfair but, before you get all excited about the posh address, let me tell you it’s got creaking pipes and neighbours who think nothing of having loud parties that go on until four or five in the morning.’
‘Do you live alone?’
Her eyes flickered with something before she disguised it behind the screen of her lowered lashes. ‘Yes.’
Dominique came in to clear their plates, ready for the next course. She looked at Lily’s barely touched soup and frowned. ‘You are not hungry, mademoiselle? Would you like something else? I should have asked. Was the soup not to your liking?’
‘No, please, it was lovely,’ Lily said. ‘I’m a bit jet-lagged, that’s all. I suspect it’s affected my appetite.’
‘I have some lovely coq au vin for the main course,’ Dominique said. ‘It is Monsieur Raoul’s favourite. Perhaps that will whet your lagging appetite, oui?’
‘I’m sure it will,’ Lily said with a smile.
Raoul felt a spark of male interest when he saw Lily’s smile. She had beautiful white teeth, straight and even, and her smile had reached her eyes, making them come alive in a way they had not done previously. He felt a stirring in his groin, the first he had felt since his accident. He tried to ignore it but when she brought her gaze back to his he felt like a bolt of lightning had zapped him. She was stunningly beautiful when she wasn’t holding herself so rigidly. Her brief smile had totally transformed her rather serious demeanour. Why did she take such pains to hide her assets behind such drab clothing and that dour expression?
‘I hope I haven’t offended her,’ Lily said once Dominique had left.
‘She’s not easily offended,’ Raoul said with a hint of wryness. ‘If she were, she would have resigned the day I returned here after my accident. I wasn’t the best person to be around. I’m still not.’
‘It takes a lot of adjusting to accept limitations that have been imposed on us,’ she said. ‘You want your old life back, the one where everything was under your control. But that’s not always possible.’
Raoul picked up his wine glass again but he didn’t take a sip. It was more to have something to do with his hands, which increasingly felt compelled to reach across the table and touch one of hers. He wondered if her skin felt as soft as it looked. Her mouth fascinated him. It had looked so soft and plump when she’d smiled, yet now she held it so tightly. She gave off an aura of containment, of rigid self-control.
He gave himself a stern mental shake.
He was reading her aura?
‘That sounds like the voice of experience,’ he said. ‘Have you been injured in the past?’
Her expression closed like curtains coming down on a stage. ‘I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came here to help you.’
‘Against my will.’
She gave him a challenging look that put a defiant spark in her gaze. ‘I’m leaving first thing in the morning, as you requested.’
Raoul didn’t want her to leave, or at least not yet. Besides, his brother had paid a king’s ransom for her services. The no-refund clause she’d insisted on irritated him. She would be home free if he let her pack up and leave before she had even started.
No, he would make her stay and make her work damn hard for the money.
He gave her an equally challenging look. ‘What if I told you I’d changed my mind?’
‘Have you?’
‘I’m prepared to give you a week’s trial. After that, I’ll reassess.’
Her expression was wary. ‘Are you sure?’
‘When do we start?’
She reached across the table and snatched his wine glass away. ‘Right now.’
Raoul tightened his jaw. He knew he was using alcohol as a crutch. Normally he was appalled by such behaviour in others, but he didn’t take kindly to being treated like a child who didn’t know how to practise self-restraint. ‘It helps me sleep.’
‘Alcohol disrupts sleep patterns. Anyway, Dominique told me you were a bad sleeper.’
‘I wasn’t before.’
‘Do you have nightmares?’
‘No.’ He could tell she didn’t believe him, but there was no way he was going to tell her about the horrifying images that kept him awake at night. The pain he had felt on the impact would stay with him for life. The fear that he would drown before anyone got to him had stayed with him and made him break out in a cold sweat every time he thought of it. He couldn’t bear the thought of being submerged in water now, yet he’d used to swim daily.
‘I have a list of supplements I’d like you to take,’ she said. ‘And I want to introduce some aquatic exercises.’
Raoul held up his plastered right arm. ‘Hello? This isn’t waterproof. Swimming is out of the question.’
‘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