Page 13 of A Duke's Keeper
“So?”
“Metal doesn’t complain.”
Renard stared at him. “You don’t have anything? Scotch? Whiskey? Sherry?”
“I don’t drink.”
Renard eyed him, appalled.
“The pain will subside when the bone is set.” Gregori watched her, that rage-inducing gleam of appreciation back in his gaze. “She should be unconscious by now. I’ve seen veteran boxers reduced to whimpering after such an injury.” He smiled at her as if she were a machine that had learned to crave tea and biscuits. “Truly remarkable. Do you have a dulled pain receptor?”
“Compartmenlistin.’” Her response was garbled.
Gregori’s face lit up. “Fascinating.”
Renard growled. “What’s so bloody fascinating?”
The younger man turned to him, his patience ever intact. “There’s a rough theory that if one’s mental fortitude is apt, a person can essentially close off parts of their body from experiencing specific emotions.” His gaze went back to Miss Forthright, awe in his tone. “I’d never considered it possible to block pain.”
Renard could only stare at the back of her head, her hair mussed and knotted. Block pain? A person would need to be a genius, a walking miracle, to pull that off. “Amazing.”
Gregori nodded. “Indeed.”
Miss Forthright spit the leather from her mouth, her tone dry. “If you two idiots are done treating me like some machine to dissect, I can’t block pain entirely and my shoulder does, in fact, hurt.”
Spoken like a woman who’d pricked her finger on an embroidery needle and not dislodged a bone from its socket.
Truly incredible. Renard shook his head. The woman was a dragon herself, rare and far too perfect to keep locked away. He’d figure out what that meant later.
He nodded to Gregori. “You heard the lady.”
Gregori reached up and placed a hand on her upper arm, the other on the subtle curve of her shoulder. “Turn your head,” he told her.
She turned away, bringing her nose a scant inch from Renard’s.
He felt her intake of breath as their gazes locked. Her eyes burned golden in the light, and the loveliest shade of pink stained her cheeks.
Renard swallowed.
Her gaze fell to his lips.
His body went taut, hot, and rod straight. He’d never met a woman so beautiful. Flawless skin, words that cut a man in two, and nerves stronger than iron.
He leaned forward, breathing that flowery scent deep into his soul. “Perfect.”
Her lips parted.
A nastypopsound filled the warehouse.
Miss Forthright jerked away with a quick cry.
Renard removed himself from around her, giving her space to rest on her good side on the table.
He ran a hand through his hair, his body hot and shaking. He looked down at his hands. What the hell was he doing? Was he going to kiss her? A woman locked in his arms and in pain?
He glanced her way.
On her side, loose hair fell into her face. Her pants steadied into a relieved sigh before she nodded to Gregori with a quiet, “Thank you.”
