‘Does your leg hurt?’
It’s the fifth time Damian’s asked me that, and if he doesn’t quit it soon, I’m going to throttle him.
We’re on the top floor of the bus heading back to the Old Town, and I’m regretting my decision to allow him to escort me home. Maybe I should say I’m in agony so he’ll be satisfied that I’m normal, but that would be lying.
‘No, it doesn’t hurt. You should probably stop asking me as my answer isn’t going to change anytime in the next hour.’ I keep my tone light, but firm.
But Damian frowns. ‘That’s so weird. Bitsy sank her teeth quite deeply into your flesh. I had to practically force her jaw open to make her let go, and you feelnothing?’
My nonbitten leg starts jiggling nervously as I sense he’s seriously starting to question why I’m not in pain.
‘Unless you’re in shock,’ he continues. ‘Maybe I should take your pulse.’
He reaches for my wrist, and I move my arm away hastily.
‘I have an extremely high pain threshold. It’s a thing,’ I tell him, and to my relief, he nods.
‘I’ve come across a few people like that at work. I once gave a guy a root canal without anaesthetic, and he didn’t even blink.’
‘Yes, I can relate. I’ve never had a root canal, but I know I could probably handle one without needing drugs.’
Damian raises an eyebrow and looks impressed.
The fact that he deals with teeth for his job is probably why he’s more curious than most people about pain thresholds. I need to get him off the subject.
‘Ah, your family was really nice about it. I hope Bitsy doesn’t get reprimanded too much.’
‘I wouldn’t worry. She’ll be mollycoddled for the next week by Mum.’
Before we left, his mum apologised profusely to me. She said the attack happened because Damian shut her in the laundry and Bitsy was upset that she was excluded from the lunch.
‘I thought it was a little unfair to blame you, though. If it was anyone’s fault, it’s mine. You were only trying to make me feel comfortable.’
Damian shrugs offhandedly. ‘Nah, you were the victim. It’s OK, I’ll cry about it later. I’m used to being the scapegoat,’ he says, not sounding too worried. ‘Bitsy is nuts anyway.’
But Bitsy isn’t nuts. I knew she would act like that. Random canine attacks are standard for me, especially as Edinburgh is so dog-friendly. I once had a chihuahua go for me on a bus—it wasn’t pretty.
I bite my lip and say nothing because I can’t tell him the truth. He’d freak out and get off at the next bus stop. Fortunately, there aren’t any dogs on board at themoment—two canine attacks in one day would really make Damian start wondering about me.
He strokes the back of my hand, and I relax, letting him. ‘Your hands are always so cold,’ he murmurs, and I tense up again.
‘I have bad circulation. It’s hereditary.’
Hmm, perhaps dating someone in the medical profession isn’t so wise after all? But it’s too late now. I can’t seem to extricate myself from this deepening attraction, and I’m not sure I want to. Damian is now attempting to warm my hands by chafing them in his own larger ones. He doesn’t try any more pulse taking, to my relief.
It’s actually pretty sweet.He’ssweet. And kind. The fact that he’s also gorgeous is giving him several extra brownie points.
‘Is this helping at all?’
‘Possibly. You might need to keep going for a bit longer, though,’ I say, watching his muscular forearms flex as he rubs my cold pale hands briskly.They’re never going to warm up, but I could get used to this ...
Chapter 14
Florence | London, 1888
Ladybird, ladybird,
Fly away home,
