Chapter 13
Florence | Edinburgh, present day
Damian springs into action. He pries the crazed little dog’s jaw open, wrestles her off my leg, and whisks me into the family bathroom. I’m placed on the toilet seat lid, which has a fluffy peach cover, and my leg is propped on the edge of the bath.
‘My hero,’ I whisper as I lean back against the cistern, trying to keep a straight face as he kneels beside me, inspecting the damage. ‘Thank you for saving me. My leg was in danger of being gnawed off.’
He peers at my shin worriedly, and I suppose it looks a bit gruesome, but I consider it a minor flesh wound. I’ve had worse.
‘Now you see why I don’t like dogs,’ I joke, trying to make him laugh. But Damian’s still too concerned about me to crack a smile. He rootles through the vanity, looking for the first aid kit, and swears under his breath when he finds it.
‘There’s no fucking antiseptic wipes, only Savlon.’
‘Just bung a plaster on it, honestly.’
Anxiety and misery are rolling off him in waves, and I feel bad for him. After a sneak peek into his thoughts, I discover he’s stressing madly because he thinks I’m not going to like him after this.
‘Damian.’ I grasp his shoulder to reassure him that I’m perfectly OK. He stops fussing with the kit and looks at me.
‘What?’
‘I’m fine. It’s not life-threatening. It’s going to take a lot more than a tiny fluff ball to finish me off.’ Or keep me away from you.
He frowns, unconvinced.
‘Honestly, it looks worse than it is. Dogs always go for me. I must have been a cat in a former life.’
He smiles briefly at my joke, but then his face is back to serious mode.
‘I’ll do what I can for now,’ he says. ‘But you should make an appointment with your doctor to get it checked out—you might need antibiotics or a tetanus shot.’
‘You can give me an injection anytime, Dr Rhodes,’ I say huskily and get a half-hearted chuckle (finally). I stroke the back of his neck, attempting to soothe him as he washes away the blood, dabs Savlon gently on the wound, and opens a packet of plasters.
I’m quite enjoying him looking after me, and if my history is anything to go by, I do have a thing for hot doctors.
Damian carefully places a large beige plaster over the wound, and not a minute too soon, as the edges are already starting to knit together.
I move my hand up the back of his head, playing with the ends of his hair. He shudders, probably because my hand is cold.
‘All done.’ He pats my bare knee with his warm hand, and my pale skin tingles. ‘Is it sore?’
I shake my head, trying not to get too excited from his touch.
‘We’ll keep an eye on it.’
I nod. ‘Thanks, Doc. Do I get a lollipop now?’
He huffs a laugh. ‘I think we missed dessert ...’
‘Oh?’
He turns and holds my eyes with his as my fingers trace the soft spot between his ear and his cheek.
‘But maybe a kiss would help?’ he murmurs.
A slow wave of desire rolls through my body.
‘Yes, I think it would definitely help with the healing process.’
His mouth curves in approval, and his lovely lips inch towards mine. Mmm, I’ve been looking forward to snogging Dr Rhodes ever since our liaison in my bedroom.
We’re just about to kiss when there’s a sharp knock on the door.
‘Everything all right in there?’ calls Andrew. ‘You’re not amputating her leg, are you?’
Damian jerks back, and the first aid kit goes flying into the bath. He throws me a look of apology, hastily gets to his feet, and unlocks the door.
Andrew pokes his head in and grins when he sees Damian looking flustered, as if he knows he interrupted an intimate moment and is congratulating himself on his good timing.
I narrow my eyes and barely stop myself from growling.
It was pretty bad timing as far as I’m concerned, even if Damian’s parents’ bathroom isn’t exactly the most romantic of venues for a first kiss.
‘How’s the patient?’ asks Andrew, staring at my plastered shin. I pull down my dress to stop him from gawping.
‘She’ll live,’ I say. ‘Thanks to your brother’s handiwork.’ I lift my leg down from the bath, and Damian’s instantly by my side.
‘Take it easy,’ he urges, putting an arm around my waist and helping me to my feet.
Andrew smirks.
We walk down the hallway behind him to the lounge, and I sense Damian is torn about what to do next.
‘Do you want to come back to mine?’ he whispers in my ear. ‘I could make you a hot chocolate and look after you properly.’
I hesitate, sorely tempted by that offer. Not the hot chocolate so much, but him looking after me—and exploring that almost kiss. Even just snuggling with him would be divine. If I was a cat in a former life, Damian would most definitely be my catnip.
But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.
After the dog episode, I need to lie low, possibly distance myself from him and his family. His father was asking a lot of questions.
‘I should probably go home, get a blood transfusion or something.’
I say it as a joke but I’m serious. Ingesting roast beef is fine as it gets broken down and absorbed into my body over a period of days, but it’s not the nourishment I crave.
‘Yeah, all right then.’ He sounds disappointed, and I don’t want to be parted from him just yet either.
I think quickly.
Hester is out, but Sadie and Elliott are at the flat. Hopefully, Sadie is distracted enough by Elliott not to sense anything happening downstairs.
‘What about if you escort me home?’ I say, and Damian presses a kiss to my temple.
‘Perfect.’
***
‘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 feel nothing?’
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 the moment—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’s sweet. 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 ...