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"You are an extremely difficult patient, cara," Aiden gritted out from between his teeth three days later. It was mid-afternoon and he had walked into her workroom, only to find her guiltily standing in the middle of the room. She was clutching the sketchbook that she had crept upstairs to retrieve, to her chest.

"I was bored," she whined. "So I thought if I had my sketchbook handy, I could work on some designs."

"Why didn't you call me or Phumsile to get it for you?"

"You were catching up on some work," and he had missed enough of it already, taking the week off to stay with her. "And Phumsile has dashed out to do some shopping."

"This is ridiculous," he growled, reaching her in one stride and swinging her up into his strong arms as if she were a featherweight. "You're being impossible. Why didn't you watch some TV, or read a book or take a nap, or anything until Phumsile got back?"

"Because I'm bored now," she complained sulkily and he muttered something in Italian beneath his breat