The Firebrand Who Unlocked His Heart

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

MILLS & BOON

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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.’