Maybe it was the way he was looking at her—maybe it was because she was tired—or maybe it was because she didn’t want to be friends with this man.

She wanted only to think of him as Harry’s father—her employers—she didn’t want him to try and be her friend. It felt … dangerous. He made her thoughts fly in directions she didn’t want them to go.

‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in for the night.’

Suddenly his hand was in her hair, and he leant down and kissed her lightly on the lips. For a moment the world spun. ‘Goodnight, then, Colleen. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Dear Reader

I almost always write my Medical Romances from my personal experience as a nurse, and this one is no different.

When Harry is badly injured in a car accident his father, barrister Daniel Frobisher, is determined to do everything in his power to save the son he didn’t know he had and barely knows. His research for the right person to help his son leads him to sparky nurse Colleen McCulloch.

Following an accident that left her brother brain-injured, Colleen has made it her mission to make sure every patient under her care is given the best possible chance to improve. So when she meets Harry, who has lost almost everyone he loves, how can she resist taking up Daniel’s offer of a job? Particularly when it gives her time away from her disastrous love-life …

Soon sparks fly, and as Colleen begins to see the tortured and grieving man behind Daniel’s cool façade, professional distance goes out of the window and she becomes involved with this small, hurt family. And if Daniel makes her feel something that no man has ever made her feel, doesn’t she just have to find a way to deal with that too?

I hope you enjoy Colleen and Daniel’s story.

Anne Fraser

About the Author

ANNE FRASER was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the health sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.

Recent titles by the same author:

MISTLETOE, MIDWIFE … MIRACLE BABY

DOCTOR ON THE RED CARPET

THE PLAYBOY OF HARLEY STREET

THE DOCTOR AND THE DEBUTANTE

DAREDEVIL, DOCTOR … DAD!† MIRACLE: MARRIAGE REUNITED SPANISH DOCTOR, PREGNANT MIDWIFE*

* The Brides of Penhally Bay

† St Piran’s Hospital

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Firebrand
Who Unlocked
His Heart

Anne Fraser

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my wonderful and thankfully healthy daughters,

Rachel and Katherine.

You inspire me.

CHAPTER ONE

‘I’M SORRY, but the answer is still no,’ Colleen said.

Daniel Frobisher leaned back in his chair and wiped an imaginary fleck of dust from his dark-grey suit. He narrowed his eyes at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He looks like a tiger studying his prey just before it attacks, Colleen thought. He was in his late thirties, she guessed, with light brown hair and intense green eyes. He had the kind of face that you wanted to stare at as if it were a painting. Long, straight nose, full mouth and cheekbones most models would give their designer gowns for. He was almost too good-looking. Men who looked like him were too unreal somehow.

‘I’ll pay you well. Very well,’ he said in his Oxbridge accent and then went on to name a weekly sum that made Colleen’s head reel. What he was proposing was more than she earned in a month. More than she earned in two months, come to think of it, but money wasn’t the issue here.

‘I don’t need the money; besides I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is,’ Colleen said firmly. The last part wasn’t exactly true, but there was no need for the man in front of her to know that.

This wasn’t the first time she had said no. She had told Daniel Frobisher’s assistant—what was his name again? Haversham or something—the same thing over the phone only a few days ago.

‘If Mr Frobisher can’t spare the time to come and see me for himself, I’m afraid that tells me that he is not committed to making his son better,’ Colleen had told Haversham. ‘In order to make the greatest improvement, his son is going to need round-the-clock, intensive treatment. That means his father helping. A lot. And if he can’t spare the time to meet me …’ Colleen paused ‘… it’s a non-starter.’

‘Mr Frobisher is a very busy man,’ Haversham replied. ‘He would have come personally if he could have. He asked me to represent him in this matter.’

This matter? It was Frobisher’s son they were talking about.

‘Look, please tell him I’m sorry about his son, really I am. But if Mr Frobisher is as wealthy as you say he is, there are other arrangements he could make that would work better for him.’

She had said a polite goodbye, and forgotten all about it until this morning, when Daniel Frobisher himself had appeared, demanding to see her.

‘There is a gorgeous-looking man asking to see you,’ Lillian, the receptionist, had said, having come to find Colleen in the staff room where Colleen was giving her report to the on-coming staff before leaving for the day. ‘I told him you were busy, but he says he needs to speak to you—right now.’ Lillian’s eyes had been round. ‘You’ve been keeping him a secret from us, you naughty thing, although I can quite understand why. If I was two-timing my boyfriend—especially with someone who looks like that—I don’t think I’d be telling anyone either.’

‘I’m not two-timing Ciaran with anyone,’ Colleen had protested. ‘How can you even suggest such a thing? Tell whoever it is that he’ll have to wait—or to come back on Monday.’

‘Honey, whatever you’ve been up to with that man, he’s not going anywhere.’

Mystified, Colleen had peeked around the corner. Lillian was right. Whoever he was, he was a hunk. Just because she was engaged to Ciaran didn’t mean she couldn’t recognise yumminess when she saw it. But the man pacing the floor, irritably checking his watch every couple of seconds, wasn’t anyone she had met before. She would have remembered.

‘I’ve never seen him before in my life. Did he give you a name?’ Colleen had whispered to Lillian.

‘Says he’s called Mr Frobisher.’

So the too-busy man had come in person this time. Well, she’d be telling him exactly the same as she’d told Haversham. But he’d have to wait until she’d finished the handover to the night staff and changed out of her uniform.

After finishing the report, Colleen had gone to say goodbye to her patients, most of whom were getting ready for the day, either on their own or with help from the nursing staff. She had to use some fancy footwork to avoid being mowed down by Jake in his motorised wheelchair. ‘Hey, Jake, you’re not at Silverstone now,’ she had chided affectionately. Jake was one of their longest residents on the rehab ward. When he’d come to them he’d been immobile and angry following a motorbike accident that had robbed him of the use of his legs. But since he’d been given the motorised chair, he’d become determined to be as independent as possible. He would be going home in a couple of weeks and she’d miss his cheeky grin.

Her last stop had been the room immediately opposite the nurse’s station. Kiera Flannigan was an eighteen year old who had been involved in a serious road-traffic accident six months earlier that had left her paralysed from the neck down. Like Jake, she had initially refused to have anything to do with the rehab programme that had been devised for her. Colleen had spent hours by her bed, cajoling her, talking to her, refusing to let the teenager give up. And her efforts had paid off. Kiera was still paralysed—there was no hope of an improvement—but she was able to use a special computer that allowed her to use her breath to type on to a screen as well as guide her wheelchair around the ward.

‘Hey, Colleen,’ Kiera had typed. ‘Are we going dancing tonight?’

‘Too tired, Kiera. Need my beauty sleep,’ Colleen had replied. ‘What have you got planned for the day?’

‘School work. Ugh,’ Kiera had typed. ‘Exams soon. Would rather go dancing.’

Colleen ached for the pretty girl. She’d been with them for four months and, like Jake, she’d be going home soon. The staff on the unit had done a charity bungee jump to raise money so that Kiera would be able to take her computer home with her. The rehabilitation unit—the only one of its kind in the south of Ireland—was funded entirely by charitable donations and, although people were generous, there was always a need for more money to buy specialised equipment such as Jake’s motorised wheelchair and Kiera’s computer. At the moment the coffers for equipment was running very low.

‘And the blog? How’s that doing?’ Colleen had asked.

‘A hundred hits a day,’ Kiera had typed. When Kiera had mastered the computer she’d complained of being bored. There was only so much she could do to keep herself occupied. Colleen had suggested she start a blog for other spinal-injury patients. Kiera had eagerly taken to the idea and it had been an immediate success.

Thirty minutes later, having changed in to her civvies, Colleen was ready to leave. In reception, Frobisher was still pacing up and down and looking at his watch with barely concealed impatience. She’d forgotten that he was waiting to see her.

‘I’m Colleen McCulloch,’ Colleen said. ‘You wished to see me?’

Frobisher stopped his pacing and glanced at his watch pointedly.

‘Sorry for keeping you waiting,’ she said, slipping on her jacket.

He held out his hand. His grasp was firm. ‘Daniel Frobisher. Look, is there somewhere we can talk?’

He was so tall she had to tip her head back just to meet his eyes.

‘I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time coming here. The answer is still no. I already told your Mr Haversham I can’t take on the care of your son. I’m sorry, but as you can see, I already have a job. I did give him a couple of other names to try.’

‘I’ve taken time I could ill afford to come here, so I think you could at least hear me out.’ There was no mistaking the impatience in his voice and Colleen felt herself prickle.

Before she knew what was happening, Frobisher grabbed her by the elbow and was steering her out of the ward. ‘I can’t stay in this place,’ he said tersely. ‘I’ve had enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime. Is there somewhere else we could go to talk?’

‘As I said, there’s nothing to talk about.’ Colleen tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but his grip was too strong. Was he planning to abduct her? From the grim look on his face she wouldn’t put it past him.

She told herself not to be ridiculous. He was hardly going to bundle her into a car in full view of half of Dublin.

But that was exactly what he did. His car, all sleek black and chrome with darkened windows, was waiting right outside the front door of the hospital, where nobody, absolutely nobody, not even Mr Sylvester, the head of the unit, was allowed to park. She was in the back of the car alongside Frobisher so fast she hadn’t even had a second to call for help.

He was really beginning to annoy her, sick son or no sick son. She tried the handle of the door as the chauffeur-driven car moved off.

‘Would you please stop this car and let me out. This minute!’ Colleen tried to keep her voice steady. ‘Driver! Stop the car. Immediately.’ She scrabbled in her bag looking for a weapon, but all she could find in the jumble of used tissues and coins was a notebook, a pen, her purse and a bottle of perfume. She pulled it out and brandished the bottle at him. ‘If you don’t, I’ll spray you.’

Instead of letting her out, Frobisher pressed a button and a glass screen swished up between them and the driver. ‘You’re going to disarm me with perfume? Then what? Do the same to my driver?’ Amusement flickered in his green eyes and softened the severity of his angular face. ‘All I need is thirty minutes of your time.’ His eyes grew solemn. ‘I promise I’ll bring you back as soon as we’ve talked. All I want is for you to hear me out before you make up your mind.’

Something in the way he said the words, the unexpected timbre of sadness in the tone, made her pause and look more closely at him.

Despite his astonishing good looks there were lines around his eyes and a tightness to his mouth as if he were unused to smiling. Instinctively she knew that this man was in pain. A whole lot of pain. Not that it excused his high-handed behaviour, but she could at least spare him a few minutes.

‘Very well,’ Colleen conceded reluctantly. ‘I’ll listen to what you have to say—not that I think it will make much difference, mind. But I’m not going to do it here. I’m starving. I missed my tea break and if I don’t have something to eat soon I’ll probably pass out on the floor of this car. There’s a café I go to all the time just around the corner. Tell your driver to stop there.’

‘You promise you won’t try to run away?’

Colleen smiled at the image of her running down the streets of Dublin with this man hot on her heels. If there was a more unlikely scenario, she couldn’t think of one. ‘I promise. I’ll give you as long as it takes for me to eat. But that’s it.’ She held out her hand. ‘Do we have a deal?’

Cool fingers pressed hers. Yikes! Did the man have a buzzer in his hand? Something had to have caused the electric shock that ran up her arm. Quickly she pulled her hand away.

When he saw the café a look of astonishment crossed his face. Admittedly, the café wasn’t much from the outside, but inside it was warm and cosy and sold the best Irish breakfasts this side of Dublin. Colleen often stopped there on her way to or from home or work—not least because her best friend, Trish, owned the place.

‘Are you sure you want to eat here?’ Daniel said doubtfully. ‘I could suggest somewhere else.’

There was no way she was going to drive any further with this man.

‘It’s either here or nowhere,’ Colleen said firmly. ‘It’s only a five-minute walk home for me from here. And I need my bed.’

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. She didn’t want to give him any clues to where she lived. She had the uneasy feeling that he would have no compunction about staking out her flat once she had made him realise that she was serious about not taking the job.

‘Okay, you’re the boss.’ Then he smiled. It was only the briefest smile, vanishing almost before Colleen was sure she had seen it, but in that millisecond his face was transformed, making him look younger and, if possible, even more devastatingly good looking.

The windows of the café were steamed up from the combined breaths of customers filling up on Trish’s renowned breakfasts before setting off for work or college. Trish scurried over to them as soon as they were seated in Colleen’s favourite place by the window. Behind Frobisher’s back, Trish wriggled her eyebrows and pretended to fan herself with her hand.

‘I’ll have my usual, please, Trish,’ Colleen said, pretending not to notice.

‘And you, sir?’ Trish was practically drooling.

‘Coffee. Black. No sugar.’

With a wink at Colleen, Trish sashayed away. Frobisher didn’t even look at Colleen’s friend. He had to be really worried about his son not to. Trish was gorgeous and most men fell instantly in love with her as soon as they set eyes on her. She was always fending off wannabe suitors.

‘Okay. You asked me to listen to you so I’m all ears— though to be honest, I can’t think there’s anything you can say to me to convince me.’ She softened her tone. ‘As I told Mr Haversham—and you—I already have a job here. A job I just happen to love and have no intention of leaving. Besides he told me your home is in London. I’m afraid that in itself makes it impossible. Even if I weren’t working already, I couldn’t leave Ireland. So you see, you’ve wasted your time coming out here, Mr Frobisher.’

‘Call me Daniel.’

‘Daniel, then. Have you tried an agency? From what Mr Haversham told me, your son needs round-the-clock care. There are one or two excellent units in London that I could recommend.’

Trish came back with two coffees and a plate of egg, sausages, bacon and toast. Daniel’s expression changed to one of mild incredulity. Had the man never seen a woman eat before? As Colleen added enough ketchup to her satisfaction and speared a slice of sausage on her fork, Daniel fished a photograph out of his top pocket and handed it to Colleen. She set aside her knife and fork and studied the picture. It was of a beautiful woman with blonde hair and shining eyes. It had been taken on a beach with the sun setting in the background. The woman had her arm around a boy who was smiling self-consciously into the camera. Judging by the brilliant green eyes, which were exact replicas of the ones staring intently at her, there was no doubt whose child he was.

‘That was taken just over two years ago,’ Daniel said softly, ‘when my son, Harry, was ten.’

Haversham had told her Harry Frobisher was twelve. Didn’t Daniel have a more recent photograph of his son, or was this simply his favourite one?

‘That’s your wife with Harry?’

‘My ex-wife. We were divorced. Eleanor was killed outright in the accident that injured my son.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ Colleen had to stop herself from reaching out and laying a comforting hand on his. Instinctively she knew the gesture would not be welcome.

Daniel’s expression was unreadable. ‘She had just collected Harry from his boarding school when it happened. They were on their way to the airport …’ He hesitated as if his thoughts were turning inwards, reliving the horror.

‘And your son was badly hurt?’ she prompted gently.

Pain flashed across Daniel’s face. ‘Harry’s injuries were severe. He was in a coma for almost a week. For a time I thought he wasn’t going to make it.’ Daniel’s voice had become clipped, almost as if he were talking about something that had happened to someone else.

‘Harry regained consciousness a month ago. He can’t talk and his movement is limited.’ Daniel’s mouth twisted. ‘For God’s sake, he can’t even feed himself. My child is a prisoner in his own body.’

‘It’s early days yet,’ Colleen said softly. ‘He could improve a great deal in the next six months—with the right kind of care.’

Daniel took the photograph from her hands and placed it carefully back in his pocket.

‘So they tell me. But I’m not convinced he wouldn’t do better at home, getting individual attention from someone with your reputation. I don’t just want good care for my son; I want him to have the best. From everything I’ve learned about you, I believe you are the person he needs. I understand you were a physiotherapist before you became a nurse. I also understand that you specialise in looking after young patients and have had personal experience of this kind of injury.’

Colleen paused, the forkful of egg and toast halfway to her mouth. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Let’s just say that I did my research.’ He studied her calmly. ‘I would never offer anyone a job without checking them out. You trained at Guy’s. I asked Professor Ludwig and without any hesitation he recommended you. I believe if anyone can fix my son, it’s you. And I’m prepared to do anything, pay anything, to make that happen.’

‘Fix your son?’ His choice of words chilled her. What—as if he was a broken car or something? Nevertheless, she spoke as gently as possible, knowing from experience that parents sometimes took years to accept their child’s prognosis. ‘I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that. Even if he gets six months of intensive care and rehabilitation, it doesn’t mean he’ll ever make a full recovery. He may never be the child he once was. In fact—and you should be prepared for this—it’s unlikely he’ll be the child he once was. A brain injury that kept Harry in a coma for a week must have been pretty severe.’

Daniel leaned across the table and fixed his startlingly coloured eyes on Colleen. ‘At least say you’ll think about it.’

God, she hated it when people put pressure on her. Despite her unease about the way this man chose to go about finding someone to look after his son, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. No one should have to go through what Daniel was going through. She knew that better than most. Ten years ago, her youngest brother, Cahil had been in the same situation as Harry. That’s why she did what she did. But however much compassion she felt for Harry, what Daniel was asking was impossible.

‘I’m sorry—the answer is still no.’ Colleen pushed the last piece of sausage around her plate and dunked it in tomato sauce. ‘Look, I’m sorry about your son, really I am. But I’ve got a job and I can’t just up and leave. And I’ve got a life here in Dublin—a fiancé, my family …’

‘Three brothers—’ Daniel’s green eyes bored into hers ‘—two of whom still live at home. Your youngest brother, Cahil, suffered a head injury ten years ago. I believe he’s now his school’s football-team star striker.’

For the first time in as long as she could remember, Colleen was speechless.

‘You’re engaged to your childhood sweetheart, Ciaran, but don’t live together,’ Daniel continued. ‘You’ve started to build your own house and when you have enough money to finish it then you’ll get married. Some may think that’s old fashioned …’ he paused ‘… unusual, even.’

Anger knotted in her stomach. To think she’d felt sorry for him! Research into her suitability as a nurse for his son was one thing—even if she hadn’t applied for the job—but digging into her personal life? That was too much.

‘How dare you snoop into my life …?’

‘I prefer to call it research and I dare because I want to do what is best for my son.’

‘No doubt you do—but it still doesn’t give you the right to—’

‘You could get a six-month sabbatical from your job. What I’m willing to pay you will be more than enough for you to finish building your house, with plenty left over for a wedding. In addition, I’m also prepared to make a substantial contribution to your rehab unit. I looked into their accounts and my donation would enable them to buy some much-needed equipment. I’ve spoken to your boss and he’s agreed to release you for up to six months—by the way, he has nothing but praise for your nursing skills. As far as being separated from your fiancé and your family is concerned, you’ll have as much time off as you need once Harry is on the mend and I’ll even arrange a private plane to fly you back to Dublin whenever you want.’

Colleen let out a whoosh of air and sat back in her seat. ‘You’ve thought of everything haven’t you?’

‘I’ve had to. For Harry’s sake, I will do whatever it takes to make him better.’ Daniel swallowed and for a second the mask slipped again and she saw such naked pain in his eyes that she sucked in a breath.

‘My son needs me,’ Daniel continued. ‘And I need you. Help me get my son back. Don’t think of doing it for me, if that makes it easier. Think of doing it for him.’ For a few seconds silence hung between them. ‘Please.’

Colleen studied him for a moment. She had the impression that this man wasn’t used to pleading. His insistent green eyes and his obvious distress about his son drew her in, making her want to help him, but still she hesitated. He was asking a great deal and she didn’t know enough about Harry to know whether she was the right person for the job.

Daniel pulled another photograph from his pocket. ‘This was taken three weeks ago.’

Colleen took the second photograph from him. Harry was lying in a hospital bed. Despite the tube running from his nostril he still looked beautiful with his silver-blond hair and smooth pale skin. Her stomach twisted at the blankness in his green eyes.

Her mind spiralled back to those early days when Cahil had been injured. He, too, had lain in a hospital bed, looking up at them with unseeing eyes. The doctors hadn’t held out much hope. But Mammy had refused to give up on her child. She had insisted on taking Cahil home and as a family they had worked around the clock to coax him back to health. It had taken months to get him to feed himself and even longer before he was walking and talking again, but now, as Daniel pointed out, he was recovered enough to play for the school football team.

Daniel must have seen her hesitation. ‘At least say you’ll meet him,’ he pressed. ‘Come to London with me. If, after you’ve met him, you still feel you can’t take up my offer, I promise you, there will be no hard feelings. Your unit will get its donation irrespective of what you decide.’

Before she had a chance to answer, Daniel’s mobile rang. He looked at it and frowned. ‘I’m sorry, but I really have to take this.’ He stood up and headed for the door. ‘I’ll just be a few minutes.’

As soon as he’d stepped outside, Trish scurried over to the table and sat down opposite Colleen.

‘Who the hell is that gorgeous hunk of flesh? Why haven’t you told me about him? God, Col, I didn’t know you had it in you!’

Colleen’s head was still full of images of Cahil and Harry. She shook her head to clear it and looked outside to where Daniel was talking on his phone.

‘What? Oh, that’s Daniel Frobisher. He wants me to go to London to be his son’s private nurse.’

Trish looked disappointed. ‘I thought he was your new lover.’

Colleen knew she shouldn’t really be shocked. Trish always said the first thing that came into her head. She glared at her best friend.

‘Have you forgotten I’m engaged?’ she said, indignant.

Trish let out a whoosh of air. ‘And have you forgotten about the doubts you’ve been having? That in itself is a good reason to go to London. It will give you space to make up your mind about how you really feel about Ciaran.’

Perhaps Trish was right. Ever since she and Ciaran had become engaged, Colleen had been feeling unsure. She should be on top of the world, instead of feeling as if she was being dragged towards a deep hole.

‘It’s only pre-wedding jitters,’ Colleen said, more emphatically than she felt. ‘I do love Ciaran, of course I do. I feel comfortable with him. Isn’t that what marriage is about? Mutual respect, shared interests …?’ She glanced towards where Daniel was standing, still talking into the phone. She couldn’t imagine anyone feeling comfortable with him. He was too intense, too restless, too … Just too much of everything!

‘Heavens to glory, girl!’ Trish said. ‘Feeling comfortable with someone is not a basis for marriage. If you want comfort, why don’t you buy yourself a pair of slippers? Oops, I forgot. You do have slippers. Those crazy things that look like you’re wearing two dead lambs on your feet. Where’s the excitement with you and Ciaran? The glamour? The passion? The can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other kind? Where’s the drinking champagne at lunch time?’

‘I don’t like champagne,’ Colleen said with another nervous glance outside. If Daniel came back inside, he’d hear everything Trish had to say. Her friend was in full flow and Colleen knew she wouldn’t stop until she’d had her say. ‘I prefer tea, as you well know.’

‘See! That’s exactly what I mean. You don’t have to like champagne to drink it. Most people drink it because they like the bubbles and because it makes them act all silly.’

‘I don’t like acting silly.’

Trish’s expression grew serious. ‘No, you don’t. You used to, though. Now you never let your hair down. Life is supposed to be fun, Col. Look, I’m not saying Ciaran isn’t a nice guy, but nice is the operative word. You need someone to pull you back out of that safe, cosy, insular world you choose to live in these days. How old are you, Col? Twenty-six? And have you travelled, made wild, passionate love on a beach, bought a pair of shoes you couldn’t afford because they made you feel a million dollars? No, you wear bunny slippers and dress like a farmer’s daughter most of the time and your idea of a big night out is a trip to the local pub to play pool with Ciaran and your brothers. Not exactly the romance of the century, is it?’

Colleen squirmed in her chair. God, Trish made her and Ciaran sound so boring. It was too much, even from Trish!

‘But I am a farmer’s daughter. Anyway Ciaran likes me the way I am.’

‘You’re a beautiful woman, Col; anyone would give their eye teeth to look like you—which is stunning, God help the rest of us—whatever you chose to wear. But when was the last time Ciaran looked at you? I mean, really looked at you?’

Instead of Ciaran’s face, an image of dark green eyes, drilling into hers, flashed into her head. She glanced outside. It was clear Daniel was coming to the end of his call. She had to shut Trish up before he came back inside.

‘I wouldn’t dream of making love on the beach,’ she hissed. ‘Sand would get everywhere and someone might see. But of course, if I wanted to, I could do that with Ciaran. We might yet.’

The door swished open and Daniel was walking towards them. Trish stood up and bent over Colleen.

‘The question is, do you want to?’ she whispered.

Colleen was feeling decidedly unsettled when Daniel sat down in the chair Trish had just vacated. Unwelcome though Trish’s word were, they only echoed what Colleen had been thinking these last few months. Perhaps Trish was right and Daniel’s offer was just what she needed? Time, on her own, to think.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect the call to take so long.’ He smiled at her and unaccountably her heart thumped against her ribs. ‘Have you had time to come to a decision?’

Damn! Why did the way he looked at her make her feel as if they were the only two people in the room?

Daniel’s green eyes brought back the image of Harry lying on the hospital bed. Colleen’s heart twisted. She knew she couldn’t walk away, not without meeting Harry at the very least. Ciaran always said she was a soft touch.

‘I’ll come to London and meet your son,’ she said, finally. ‘I’ll make my decision then. However, if, for any reason, I don’t think I’m the best person to care for your son, either because he doesn’t react well to me, or because I think he’ll be better off in a rehab unit, then I won’t take the job. Is that understood?’

There was no mistaking the relief on Daniel’s face. ‘In that case,’ he said, signalling for the bill, ‘shall we get going?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘GET going? What now? Right this minute?’

‘No time like the present. I need to know whether you’re going to take the job. You’re off duty for the weekend, aren’t you?’

Was there anything he didn’t know about her life?

Daniel was flicking through his wallet, otherwise he would have noticed that Colleen’s jaw had dropped. She closed it quickly.

‘I can’t go right now.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I need to pack, make a couple of calls, have a sleep.’ She couldn’t just go to London at the drop of a hat. Trips needed careful planning. ‘Besides don’t you need to make plane reservations?’

Daniel dropped a twenty-pound note on the table and, without waiting for his change, took Colleen’s elbow and steered her towards the door. This elbow-steering thing he had was beginning to get out of hand. She cast a desperate glance at Trish who grinned and held two thumbs up. So no help there then.

‘I have a plane. It’s waiting for us at the airport. I’ll take you home and you can pick up anything you might need. You can sleep on the plane.’

‘But..’ Her voice come out as a squeak.

Daniel held the door open and ushered her out. He stopped and stared down at her with his mesmerising eyes. ‘Look, you agreed to meet Harry. The hospital wants to discharge him on Monday, Tuesday at the latest. If I don’t take him home, they’ll transfer him to the nearest rehab unit and I’m not having that.’ He smiled tightly. ‘I promise you, I’ll have you back home tomorrow at the latest.’

He opened the car door and once again she was bundled inside. But there was no reason she could think of, apart from the ones she had raised and he’d swept aside, not to go with him. Ciaran was going to Wales with her brothers for the weekend to watch some rugby match. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask her whether she wanted to go, too. Not that she did, but it would have been nice to be asked. Come to think of it, when had she and Ciaran last done something on their own? Something on the spur of the moment, something romantic? Once more, she felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

‘Okay, I’ll come, but I have to go home and collect some stuff first.’ At least Trish couldn’t accuse her of not being spontaneous this time. Truth was, it felt good. Exciting. She would text Ciaran and let him know she was going to London. Maybe that would rock him out of his complacency.

‘Good girl,’ Daniel said. ‘Where to?’

Good girl! What was she—a puppy?

Colleen gave him the address and, as the car moved away, she sent Ciaran and her mother a quick text telling them she was going to London and would call them later. Colleen usually went home for her days off, even when Ciaran wasn’t there, but wasn’t Mammy always telling her that she should stay in Dublin and enjoy herself with her friends sometimes? Why was everyone so determined to tell her to enjoy herself? It wasn’t as if she went around with a face like a camel’s behind all the time. Sheesh!

When the car pulled up outside her flat, Colleen jumped out and ran up the step, telling Daniel she’d be half an hour. To her consternation, when she stopped to open the communal door with her key, she realised that Daniel was standing behind her. The faint scent of expensive aftershave drifted up her nose and she could almost feel the energy vibrating from his body.

For some reason her hand was shaking and she struggled to get the key to work. Daniel leaned over her shoulder. ‘Let me,’ he said. The touch of his hand on hers sent that electric shock up her arm and she dropped her hand, letting him take charge of the key. Now she was enclosed by the circle of his arms and she had to concentrate hard to stop her breath coming out in gasps. Anyone would think she’d never been close to a man in her life.

‘I thought we agreed you would stay in the car,’ she said. Annoyingly, despite her efforts, she still sounded breathless.

‘Did we?’ he said, mildly. ‘I don’t remember that.’

Daniel followed her up the three flights of stairs to her flat. This time she managed to open the door first time. She turned to him. She didn’t want him inside her home. She needed some time to compose herself. ‘Thank you. I can cope fine from here.’ She thought she managed the note of sarcasm perfectly.

To her dismay he ignored her and followed her inside her studio apartment. Couldn’t the man take a hint? But she could hardly order him out of her flat without appearing rude, and she was never rude.

Spying a pair of tights lying discarded on the arm of a chair, she hurried across and scooped them up. Then, through the open door of the bathroom, she noticed her panties and a towel on the floor so she hurried over to scoop them up, too, before shoving the whole lot into the washing machine. Her coffee cup from last night and her supper dishes were still in the sink, but she’d been in a rush to get to work after being held up by a fascinating programme on the television on anteaters.

‘Nice place,’ he said drily. He picked up a magazine from the floor. The Bride. His lips twitched. ‘Interesting dress she’s wearing.’

Colleen snatched it from his hands and shoved it on top of the pile she’d still to read. It tottered there for a moment before the whole lot slid to the ground, fanning out on a heap on the floor. Knowing her face was probably beetroot, she took a deep breath. She never, ever got flustered. What the heck had got into her?

Daniel grinned at her and for a second she thought her heart had stopped beating.

‘I’ll be back in a sec,’ she said and sought the refuge of her bedroom. She closed the door and leaned against it. Look, she told herself, firmly, he’s only a man in a fancy suit, even if he does have a heartbreaking smile. God, God, God. Where had the last thought come from?

She set about packing her weekend bag, forcing herself to concentrate on remembering everything. Slippers? Check. Clothes, including clean underwear? Check. Toiletries? She’d pick them up from the bathroom on her way out. What else? Did a person need a passport to travel on a private plane?

She poked her head out of the door. Daniel had made himself comfortable on one of her chairs and was flicking through The Bride magazine, an incredulous look on his face.

‘Do I need my passport?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Er … Dublin isn’t part of the UK, if you remember?’

Colleen slammed the door shut. Now he’d think her an idiot too! By the time they got to London, he’d probably have decided to employ someone else. But why should she think that? He was interested in her for her professional skills—not interviewing her as a potential wife!

Once her bag was packed, she looked in the mirror to check her hair. She was pale with dark smudges under her eyes, but there was nothing she could do about that. Sleep was what she needed. In her feverish haste to pack her bags so that she could get Daniel out of her flat her hair had come loose from its braid and wisps were falling into her eyes. She grabbed her hair brush and redid the plait, making sure every last one of her unruly locks was contained. Then she added a slick of lipstick and she was ready. Or as ready as she’d ever be. For once she wished she had listened to Trish on one of their many futile shopping expeditions—at least as far as Trish was concerned—and had bought a dress she could have worn. Something that would give her confidence.

Daniel got to his feet when she came back out of her bedroom with the slow indolence of a lion waking up from a sleep.

‘I just have to get my wash bag and I’m ready,’ she said.

He took her overnight bag from her hand. ‘Let’s go, then.’

Daniel slid a look at Colleen as they were driven towards the airport. She wasn’t anything like he’d expected.

When she’d turned Haversham down he’d been shocked. No one had ever refused to do something for Daniel before. And the salary—one most people would have found it hard to refuse—hadn’t made the slightest difference. Her refusal had made him more determined to secure her services than he’d been before. And he’d been keen then. Especially after the ringing endorsement her old consultant at Guy’s had given her. ‘She’s a tiger,’ he’d said, ‘and she never gives up. Don’t let that innocent face fool you. What Colleen wants, she gets. Nothing and no one stands in the way of Colleen McCulloch when it comes to what is best for her patients. She’s not always conventional, but she’s always right. That’s what makes her special.’

Somehow he’d imagined the redoubtable Nurse McCulloch, whom everyone he’d spoken to had praised to the sky, to look older, to be more severe. Instead she looked like a teenager with her curls escaping from its elastic band and falling in wisps over her face that she constantly and ineffectually tried to tuck back in. He liked the way her mouth turned up at the corners as if in a permanent smile, even the way her eyes flashed when she was annoyed about something. He’d even liked the way her flat looked. Okay, some might say that it looked as if the occupant had been fighting with a pack of wild animals that had found their way into her home, but there was a good feeling about her small flat with its bunches of wild flowers arranged haphazardly in jam jars. It reminded him somehow of his mother’s holiday home in Dorset. The memory made his stomach clench. That cottage had been Eleanor and Harry’s home until the accident. Now his son was lying in a hospital bed, unaware that his mother had died and that all he had left was a father whom he barely knew.

Daniel stole another look at Colleen. He was more determined than ever to have her as Harry’s nurse. He hoped to hell she lived up to her reputation.

CHAPTER THREE

SO THIS was how the other half lived? Colleen thought, looking around the interior of the plane. If she were honest, a tiny little bit of her was impressed. Only a minuscule bit, mind. The other part of her felt slightly ridiculous having the attentions of a stewardess all to themselves on the tiny, if luxurious, twin-propped plane. And ridiculously under-dressed in her boy jeans and T-shirt, carrying nothing but an imitation designer handbag over her shoulder.

Almost as soon as they’d taken off, Daniel had taken out some papers and a laptop. Once she’d had a good look around and got over the excitement of being on a private plane—and she couldn’t pretend for the life of her that she wasn’t—even if it might make her look like a country bumpkin in Daniel’s eyes—she’d fallen asleep.

She’d only woken when Daniel had bent over her and whispered that they were landing and she needed to fasten her seat belt. For a moment when she’d opened her eyes, she couldn’t remember where she was. She’d been having a lovely dream. A dream where she was behind someone on a horse and they were galloping off somewhere. As she stared groggily into Daniel’s eyes, she realised with a guilty start that the person on the horse hadn’t been Ciaran. It had been someone with green eyes—the man looking down at her, in fact.

She had hidden her embarrassment by escaping to the small onboard toilet and splashing her face with cold water.

When they were escorted through Heathrow airport and towards a sleek, black, stretch limousine. Colleen noticed people nudging each other, puzzlement etched on their faces as they tried to place them. Daniel with his snazzy suit and air of confidence had to be someone famous and as for Colleen, she must be some pop or film star—someone of importance—surely under-dressing to fool the media?

The thought made her smile. She might as well enjoy her moment in the limelight—it was probably the only one she would have until her wedding day.

They sat in silence as they were driven to the hospital. Daniel had his laptop out again and was deeply immersed in whatever he was reading. She’d never met anyone quite so focused on the task in hand before. One minute his attention was completely concentrated on making her do what he wanted, the next minute he was totally engrossed in whatever was on that laptop of his. She simply couldn’t make him out. But it was his son that concerned her. How badly had his brain been injured? What was his prognosis? She wouldn’t take this job unless she was sure she could help him.

Whizzing along the motorway seeing London city silhouetted in the distance, Colleen felt a thrill of excitement. She’d always planned to come back to London, but somehow the opportunity had never arisen. Ciaran wasn’t the adventurous type. He always said that he didn’t see the point in travelling to foreign places when you had everything you needed on your own doorstep.

Although she’d never admit it to Trish, sometimes Colleen longed for a bit more excitement. Was she just being foolish for secretly wanting Ciaran to whisk her away to Paris for a weekend? As he’d said, it’d be a waste of money when they needed every penny to get their house finished before the wedding. But a girl could dream, couldn’t she?

The car swung sharply to the right, pulling up outside the familiar buildings of Guy’s, the hospital where Colleen had trained. She knew from what he’d told her that Harry had been in ITU before being transferred to the high-dependency unit and then to the paediatric ward.

In the ward, posters covered the walls in an attempt to make the unit as cheerful as possible. Every room was a single and a large bright day room filled with toys lead off to the left.

Daniel paused at the very last room and held a finger to his lips. ‘We have to go in quietly. Harry gets startled by any loud noise and it unsettles him.’

‘Why don’t you go in to see Harry, first, while I chat to the nurses?’ Colleen suggested. ‘Then I’ll come in and say hello.’

Daniel nodded briefly and Colleen went to find the nurse in charge of the ward. When she explained who she was and why she was there, she was directed to an office. A woman with short dark hair looked up from her paperwork and held out a hand. ‘I’m Sister Lipton.’

Sister Lipton waited until Colleen was sitting down before she continued. ‘So you’re the person who’s to be Harry’s private nurse?’ she said. ‘Mr Frobisher has told us of his plans.’

Colleen didn’t bother to correct her. She had yet to decide whether she was going to take Harry on.

‘I have to tell you that I think taking Harry home at this point is a mistake,’ Sister Lipton continued.

‘Can I ask why?’

The nurse frowned. ‘Apart from the fact that there are excellent rehab facilities in London, there is the small matter of the fact that Mr Frobisher doesn’t seem to know how to interact with his son.’

‘Oh?’

‘Harry was in ITU for a week with a GCS score of three. During that time Mr Frobisher, perfectly understandably, refused to leave his son’s bedside. But instead of talking to Harry, as we suggested, Mr Frobisher mostly spent his time working on his laptop. Furthermore, I gather he caused the nurses some problems with his demands.’ She sighed. ‘He insisted on bringing in specialists of his own to assess his son. In fact, he had all sorts of demands. Some of them reasonable. Some less so.’

Colleen hid a smile. She had no doubt that Daniel hadn’t been the easiest relative to have around. But what Sister Lipton said about Daniel not interacting with Harry was more of a worry. Nursing staff could only do so much; the rest was up to the patient and their loved ones.

‘Mr Frobisher tried the same sort of thing when we moved Harry here once the lad was stable,’ Sister Lipton continued. ‘I’m afraid he and I clashed more than once. In many ways I won’t be sorry to see the back of him.’

‘But you don’t think he should have Harry at home? I can assure you that I’ve worked with patients like Harry for many years and Mr Frobisher is fully committed to ensuring that Harry receives as good quality care at home as he does here.’

‘That may be,’ Sister Lipton said. ‘But it’s Harry’s attitude to his father that worries me. When Harry first regained consciousness he was very agitated. As you know, we see that a great deal with patients like Harry, but it didn’t take long for us to notice that it was his father’s presence that seemed to distress the boy. We asked Mr Frobisher not to spend so much time on the ward. He wasn’t happy, as you can imagine, but even he could see he wasn’t helping matters. And as we expected, Harry was—and is—much calmer when his father isn’t around.’

Colleen decided to let that pass for the moment. She would make up her own mind. As it stood, Daniel was all the family Harry had left. No one should be keeping the pair apart. Besides, she was getting irritated with Sister Lipton’s assumption that she knew best. It had been the same when Cahil had been in hospital. No one had wanted Mammy to take him home, but nothing could stop her mother when her mind was made up. It was one of the ways they were exactly alike. And taking Cahil home, surrounding him with the people who loved him most, had been the right thing to do.

‘What can you tell me about Harry’s treatment and progress to date?’ she asked.

Sister Lipton took her through a detailed summary of Harry’s medical treatment. ‘As far as we can tell, there is no reason why Harry shouldn’t make a good recovery over time. There appears to be no lasting damage to his brain. In fact, we’re a little surprised that he hasn’t progressed quicker. He seems to understand simple instructions, but we’d really be expecting him to be saying more than the odd word by now. He also has some movement, but not as much as we would expect at this stage.’

‘We both know that patients even with apparently identical injuries can progress at different rates. No brain injury is exactly the same,’ Colleen said. ‘I’ve seen many cases, as I’m sure you have, where recovery is sudden and dramatic. Perhaps this will be the pattern for Harry?’

No doubt Sister Lipton was an excellent nurse but the way she had spoken about Daniel had made Colleen’s blood boil. Just like patients, relatives were different when it came to how they dealt with their loved ones’ injuries. Perhaps Lipton was the kind of nurse who expected the relatives to treat her with deference. Frankly Colleen preferred the relatives who made it their business to be involved with their child’s care. And despite Daniel’s high-handedness, she was sure he only wanted the best for his child.

When Colleen had finished speaking to Sister Lipton, she went along to see Harry.

With the blinds drawn, she could barely make out the frail figure lying on the bed in a tangle of sheets. An older woman in a nurse’s uniform was checking Harry’s blood pressure while Daniel stood looking out of the window.

Careful not to make any sudden noise, Colleen approached the young boy and her heart constricted. Even in sleep, Harry’s forehead was creased in a frown. His legs and arms twitched, as if he was being chased by the hounds of hell. Poor mite.

As if sensing her presence, Harry’s eyes slowly opened and stared right at her. His eyes were the same startling green as his father’s, but where Daniel’s were sharp and focused, Harry’s were clouded with confusion.

‘Hi, Harry,’ Colleen said softly, ‘My name is Colleen. I’m a nurse and I look after people who have hurt their heads.’

Harry’s eyes shifted from Colleen to Daniel and back again.

Keeping her voice as soothing as possible, Colleen continued. ‘May I sit down on your bed, Harry? That’s great. There’s no need to be scared, I’m here because your dad asked me to come and meet you. He loves you very much.’

Mutely, Harry continued to stare at her.

‘Harry, I want to hold your hands—is that okay?’ She slipped her fingers round his. They felt stiff and cold. ‘That’s excellent, Harry. Now squeeze as tight as you can, sweetheart. Squeeze as if I’ve just pinched your MP3 player and all your favourite tunes.’

The minutes passed and still Harry continued to stare at her. Colleen willed him with every fibre of her being to respond. Please, Harry, come on, you can do it, darling. Squeeze, squeeze.

She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until she felt the slightest of pressure from Harry’s fingers. His eyes locked on hers, only for a moment, but long enough for her to see the fear in his eyes. She held the boy’s hand until he relaxed and the fear gradually receded. She already knew there was no way she could walk away from this child.

‘That’s excellent, Harry. Well done. We’re going to be great pals, I just know it. In a few days we’re going to take you home with us.’

Harry’s eyes shifted until he was looking over Colleen’s shoulders. She was aware that Daniel had come to stand behind her.

‘Go!’ Harry said clearly.

‘What is it, Harry? Do you want me to go?’ Colleen asked.

With an enormous effort Harry raised his hand until he was pointing at Daniel. It was obvious that he wanted his father to leave the room.

Colleen turned around. Daniel looked shaken. ‘Why don’t you wait for us outside?’ she said.

Daniel hesitated. ‘Go on,’ Colleen said. ‘I’ll only be a moment.’

When Daniel left she turned to face Harry again.

‘What is it, Harry? Don’t you want to go home and be with your father? I’ll be there, too.’

Harry looked at her. A tear slipped from his eye and Colleen brushed it away.

‘Mum,’ he said. ‘Want Mum.’

‘Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry your mum isn’t here. But your dad wants you at home with him. Together we’re going to do everything we can to make you better. You can speak a little now, so there’s no reason your speech won’t come on. And you can move your arm, so with a bit of work we should be able to get much more movement back. It’ll mean hard work, but your dad and I will be there to help you every step of the way. C’mon, what do you say? Shall we give it a go?’

Green eyes studied her for a moment. ‘‘kay,’ Harry said finally, before turning away and closing his eyes.

Outside Daniel was pacing up and down, looking as if he wanted to find something to kick.

‘Maybe he should stay here,’ he said. ‘He clearly doesn’t feel comfortable with me.’ It was the first time Colleen had seen Daniel look anything less than certain and her heart went out to him.

‘The brain injury could be causing confusion, or it could be that he simply doesn’t recognise you. Patients with head injuries often suffer from memory loss on and off for quite some time. When we get him home and he has his familiar belongings around him, I’m sure he’ll settle down.’

A look of relief crossed Daniel’s face. ‘You said “we”. Does that mean you’ll take the job?’

‘It does. I think I can help.’

Daniel pulled a hand through his hair and studied her. It was a few minutes before he spoke. ‘At least I got one thing right. I found you. Thank you for agreeing to stay. Harry needs you.’

And something tells me you do, too, boyo.

‘Okay,’ she said, ‘let’s make plans to get your son home.’

CHAPTER FOUR

COLLEEN had flown home later that day on Daniel’s plane. Moving to London for what could be months necessitated more than the few belongings she’d packed. And if Harry was to be discharged on Tuesday she needed to be back in London tomorrow evening at the latest. Daniel had offered to send someone to her flat to pack her things for her, but she’d refused. No one was going to trawl through her cupboards except her. After she’d packed and cleared out her fridge, she had phoned Ciaran to let him know what she’d decided. He’d been disappointingly blasé about the fact he wouldn’t see her for a few weeks.

She was being daft, of course she was. Ciaran loved her. Just because he didn’t create fireworks because he might not see her very often over the next few months was no reason to feel a little … disappointed? Deflated? Unappreciated?

Relieved?

If anything, the last twenty-four hours had deepened the feeling of unease she felt whenever she thought about her impending marriage.

As before, she flew back to London on Daniel’s private plane. Her third flight in less than two days. She could get used to this way of travelling. No endless queueing for her bags to be checked, or to go through security or to have her passport examined. Everything happened as if by magic. As soon as she stepped into the arrivals’ hall, Daniel’s driver was waiting to take her suitcase, his car right outside, so she barely had to walk.

Colleen reached for the car door before the chauffeur had a chance to open it for her. She looked up at him and smiled. ‘I’ll lose the use of my own arms if I don’t use them.’

‘Yes, madam.’

‘Oh, no. None of that madam stuff. Please call me Colleen.’

‘Yes, madam.’

Oh dear.

Suddenly the driver grinned and held out his hand. ‘I’m Mike.’

She shook it, feeling relieved. Much more of that madamising malarkey and she would have gone crazy.

They had driven through London before coming to a halt in front of large wrought-iron gates that swung open as if sensing their arrival.

Once again, Colleen got to the door before Mike could do it for her.

‘I don’t suppose I can carry my own bags?’ she said to him.

‘No need. They’ll be taken up to your room and unpacked for you,’ Mike replied, taking her embarrassingly bedraggled-looking bags from the boot.

Colleen looked up at the most enormous mansion she’d ever seen. It was like something out of Country House Rescue, except she had no doubt that there would be no crumbling plasterwork or peeling paint in Daniel Frobisher’s palace. Hooking her handbag over her shoulder, she skipped up the sweep of steps. As if by magic, the huge front door swung open, revealing a man in his early fifties, wearing the same black suit, white shirt and tie as the uniform of the chauffeur.

‘Welcome to Carrington Hall, Miss McCulloch.’

Colleen held her hand out. ‘Mr Haversham, I presume?’

The man couldn’t have looked more shocked had she attacked him with a deadly weapon. Colleen let her hand drop.

‘Mr Haversham is Mr Frobisher’s personal assistant. I’m Burton, Mr Frobisher’s butler.’

Did people really still have butlers? This felt more and more like she was in a period costume drama.

‘Please call me, Colleen. Don’t you have a first name, Mr Burton?’

‘Just Burton, miss. Please follow me,’ the butler said, taking her bags from Mike. ‘Mr Frobisher sends his apologies. I am to tell you that he is unable to welcome you personally, but unfortunately he has pressing business to attend to. He says he’ll see you at dinner.’

Colleen hid her dismay. Daniel had made all that effort to get her here in the first place, but couldn’t spare the time to greet her! If he truly cared about Harry, shouldn’t his son and not a business deal be his first priority? The sympathy she’d been feeling towards him faded. If he thought he could hand Harry over to her and leave it at that, he’d made a mistake. She was here to help him care for his son and Daniel’s involvement was absolutely critical. She had to make that clear and the sooner the better.

‘He had pressing business, did he? Well, I would like you to get Mr Frobisher on the telephone and let him know that his presence is needed here.’

Burton raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Mr Frobisher does not care to be interrupted when he’s working.’ Was she mistaken or did Burton shudder slightly, as if remembering a time when he had made the mistake of interrupting his boss? Well, she wouldn’t be so easily intimidated.

‘If you could let me have his telephone number, then I’ll call him myself.’ Colleen scrambled around in her bag for her phone, eventually finding it caught up in some sweet papers. One day she would have to find the time to give her bag a good clear-out. She waved her mobile at Burton. ‘Number, please?’

This time, the penguin-suited man did shudder. And folded his arms. And looked at her with unmistakable resolve. ‘As I said, Mr Frobisher will see you at dinner. In the meantime, maybe you’d like to see your room?’ He looked at her and his lip curled. ‘And freshen up. Perhaps change?’

The cheek. There was nothing wrong with her freshly washed jeans and T-shirt. She was here to work—not look like something from a catwalk.

‘I’d rather go straight to Harry’s room to make sure everything’s in order,’ Colleen said stiffly. She’d only been here ten minutes and already she was wondering what she’d let herself in for. ‘That’s why I’m here. I understand from what Mr Frobisher said that his son will be coming home the day after tomorrow. I’m sure there is a fair bit to organise before then.’

Burton jumped back, startled, as she swept past him. The marbled hall with its high-vaulted ceilings and imposing staircase took Colleen’s breath away. This was more like the entrance to a private hotel than a house. But despite the grandeur, it wasn’t a place she would call home. It was too dark and gloomy with its wooden panelled walls and deep-green wallpaper.

‘But, miss, Mr Frobisher insisted …’

‘Mmm … well, see, here’s the thing.’ Colleen waved a finger in the air. ‘I’m here for Harry. Everyone—and I mean everyone—is second in importance to that. So, which way to Harry’s room?’

‘If you wait here, miss, I’ll just get Mr Frobisher for you. He’s working from home today,’ Burton replied, regaining his composure.

So Daniel wasn’t even at work? He was here all the time, yet couldn’t be bothered to make the time to greet her. If possible, she felt even more uneasy. None of this matched the little she knew of Daniel. In Dublin and at the hospital, she hadn’t doubted for a second that he cared about his son.

She heard Daniel’s footsteps on the marbled floor before she saw him. Somehow she’d expected him to be suited and booted again, not wearing faded denim jeans and an open-necked pearl-grey shirt. His dark hair was kind of mussy, as if he’d been pulling his hands through it, and he had the beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow. It made him look more approachable and really quite sexy in an uptight British way.

‘Colleen, welcome. Did you have a good flight?’ he asked, with only the briefest of smiles.

‘Everything about my trip was great, thanks,’ Colleen replied, coolly.

‘I gather you wish to speak to me. What is so important that it can’t wait?’

‘I’d like to see Harry’s room, but Mr Burton appears reluctant to show it to me. He seems to want to pack me off to my room so I can change. I tried to tell him that I don’t need to rest or change or freshen up, or whatever it is that he seems to think I need to do, but he’s not having it. I’m not in the least bit tired, I’m almost as clean as I was when I showered this morning and I want to see Harry’s room. Is that a problem?’

A smile, more genuine this time, crossed Daniel’s face.

‘Of course not. Burton was just following instructions. Guests normally like to settle in to their rooms when they arrive.’

‘But I’m not a guest, sure I’m not.’

Something glinted in Daniel’s eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn it was laughter. He regarded her calmly without saying anything. She already that knew that he wasn’t exactly a chatterbox. But if he thought his silence would make her back down meekly, he had another think coming.

‘Here’s the thing,’ she continued doggedly, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing, ‘I’m here to do the best job I can for Harry, but in order to do that—what I say goes. Do we understand each other?’ Colleen held her breath as she waited for Daniel to reply. Despite the instant connection she’d felt with Harry, she couldn’t work here unless she had free rein to do what she thought was best for him. She needed to make that absolutely clear from the start. Daniel studied her through narrowed eyes.

‘Perfectly. But let me make something clear, too. If, at any time, I feel you are not up to the job, I will find someone else.’

He was pinning her with that look again. Her heart was galloping like one of the horses in the field back home. Jeepers, life in this household wasn’t going to be easy.

‘Have you forgotten that you were the one who hounded me to take the job and not the other way round? But that’s fine by me, just as long as whatever happens, you don’t renege on your donation to the rehab unit.’

‘I never go back on my promises, Colleen.’ The words were quietly spoken, but held a thread of steel. ‘And something tells me you don’t either.’

Colleen just couldn’t make Daniel out. For two pins she’d insist on being taken back to Ireland. If it weren’t for the fact that Daniel was right—she never backed out of a promise. She’d told Harry she’d be here when he came home and she’d keep that promise.

‘Despite the way you went about securing my services, I’ve agreed to care for your son and I would never, ever let my—er—relationship …’ damn, that was the wrong word, but it was too late now to find a better one ‘… with a parent affect the way I treat a patient.’ And that was true. Even if she’d never felt like kicking someone before.

His smile was catlike. ‘At least we understand each other.’

Colleen let her breath out slowly, willing her heart rate to return to normal. ‘Okay, now that that’s out of the way, shall we get on?’

Daniel looked at his watch. ‘It’s okay, Burton, I can manage from here.’ He turned his gaze back to Colleen. She’d forgotten just how green those penetrating eyes of his were—even when he was frowning. ‘I can give you ten minutes. Follow me. Harry’s bedroom is on the second floor.’

Colleen remained silent for the rest of the way up the curving stairs and along the carpeted hallway lined with old-fashioned portraits of stuffy men in uniforms and aristocratic women in evening dresses. Daniel threw open the very last room at the end of the long corridor.

‘This is Harry’s room,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I’ve installed a hospital bed as you can see. You’re in the suite next door.’

Colleen glanced round, taking in the bare walls and almost-empty shelves. An electric wheelchair stood in front of the unlit fireplace. She walked over to the bookshelf and tilted her head to the side, reading the titles along the spines: Great Expectations

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