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He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “That was all?”
“Yes.”
“How sick was she?”
“Pretty sick.”
They drove on in silence for a few minutes, and she began to think he’d dropped the subject.
He hadn’t. “The scars on your stomach. The ones I saw that day you stripped in the studio. They’re small and faint. Could have been from keyhole surgery.” He sucked in a breath before looking over at her. “You donated a kidney.”
It wasn’t a question. The man certainly had an artist’s eye for detail. Most people didn’t even notice the scars.
She shrugged it off. “It was no big deal. I had two.”
“What if something goes wrong with yours? What then?” His knuckles had gone scarily white.
“Between my sisters and me, we have seven kidneys. We figured we could pass them around between us as needed.”
For a second, she could have sworn his eye was twitching. As they drove up the dark, empty road away from town and towards home, Duncan reached out and took her hand. He wove their fingers together and rested their hands on his thigh.
“That is the most selfless thing I’ve ever heard.” He gave her a strange look. “I don’t really know you at all, did I?”
She flushed and looked away, watching as the softly lit exterior of the mansion came into view.
“I plan to fix that,” Duncan whispered as they drove through the gates.
They sat in silence as he parked outside the front door. As soon as they were inside, Donna gave him a polite smile.
“Goodnight, Duncan. See you in the morning.” She turned towards the stairs.
“Wait a minute.” His hand swamped hers when he took it, reminding her again that he was so much bigger than she was. “It’s barely nine. This date isn’t over yet.”
“I want to go to bed. I’m exhausted.” The
ir date had worn her out.
“Later.” His eyes held a dark promise that made her stomach clench. “First, we have dessert.” He held up the takeaway bag.
Donna didn’t see the point in prolonging the agony. They had no idea what to say to each other, and Duncan aggravated everyone within range. She also had suspicions that he’d hit Marcus. When they’d left the restaurant, the owner was nowhere in sight, and the other diners wouldn’t even glance in Duncan’s direction. That was not her idea of a perfect date. She’d rather have been home talking to invisible people. And didn’t that say a whole lot about the state of her life? “Why can’t we just give up and go to our rooms?”
He stopped in front of her, making her collide with his back. When he turned, he steadied her. “Because, Angel, that dinner was the worse date in history. It might have been eighteen years since I last did this, but even I could tell how painful it was. If we don’t salvage some of this evening, we’ll never be able to look each other in the eye again.”
He had a point. “One hour. That’s all I’m giving you to redeem yourself.”
“I’ll take it.” Without hesitation, he took her hand and led her towards the orangery.
***
If one hour was all he had, Duncan wanted to make every second count. He would salvage their evening if it killed him.
“Dragging me behind you while you move at the speed of light isn’t a good start,” Donna complained.
He instantly shortened his stride and slowed as he felt his cheeks heat. It was humiliating. Grown men didn’t blush. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. Fiona’s legs were longer, and I’m used to that. Notice, I said longer, not prettier. I’ll take better care.”
He moved to keep walking but was pulled back when Donna didn’t follow. He turned to see what the problem might be and found her staring at him with tears in her eyes.
His heart sank. He’d screwed up. Again. “I shouldn’t have said anything about your short legs, should I?”
