Memories—not his. That sparked something in the back of Domina's mind, some odd passage she had come across poring over books, trying to find something suitable. Jeffries had shelved it; it seemed, after all, quite silly in the face of what limited information Theo had given her. But now that he said it, she couldn't put it out of her head. He spoke, and she rose, moving to a nearby shelf and glancing at spines until she found the one she was looking for. She brought it back to the table just as he began rolling up his sleeve.
His tone startled her. Theo was not a nervous man; he was not a forthcoming man. She stared at him rolling up his sleeve and his earnest face, his dour frown—and Domina paused. She set the book down carefully on the table.. There was the impulse to reach out and place her fingers on his wrist—she was a physical woman by nature, all kisses and touches and grazes of skin on skin. But that didn't feel appropriate. This was a strange moment, a raw moment, and she wasn't entirely sure what to do. She sat down and looked at him seriously. "Darling," she said, in quite a different way than normal, "you needn't even ask."
Her eyes flicked back down to his arm. If it wasn't burns—what was it?