Page 44 of On Circus Lane

“Oh dear, I may have to kiss you after all.”

His words are light, but his eyes are hot.

I swallow hard. “Are you throwing the bet?”

He immediately shakes his head. “A bet is an honourable undertaking.Neverbet on anything you’re not prepared to put your back into.”

“I’ve heard less innuendos in the comedy repeats on the Dave channel,” I say tartly.

He laughs and draws me over to a low wall. Edinburgh lies spread out in front of us. The city is brown and grey in the dim light, and in the distance the green hills rise into the darkening sky. Occasional shafts of sunlight light their tops like fairy rays. Heavy clouds scud across the sky, and the wind is fierce, blowing me back a little until he braces me by standing behind me. I swallow hard as he rests his chin on my shoulder and shudder at the feel of his breath on my skin.

“So,” I say hoarsely. “Do you have anything to say?”

He points beyond me at the river glistening in the distance. “That’s the Firth of Forth. Firth means estuary in Scottish. There’s a cannon here called the One O’Clock Gun. It fires six days a week at that time, but it was originally intended to let the ships anchored on the Firth know the time.”

“That’s a very loud alarm clock.”

“Not to mention, it would have been rather heavy on your bedside table.”

I laugh, and he steps back. I immediately feel cold without his hot body against mine. “How am I doing?” he asks.

“Well, the cannon fact was a belter, I have to say.”

He laughs. “I’m saving the best for last.”

“You are?” I shake my head in amazement. “If I’d got that stupid ticket, I’dneverhave seen all this.”

“Really?” He looks shyly pleased, and I smile at him.

“Well, maybe if I’d read the guidebook, but I’d probably have been more focused on the big picture.”

“Ah, the small things are just as important. Didn’t Bob Ross teach you that?”

He walks down the incline towards the gift shop on the corner. “Where are we going?” I call. “You said within the castle boundaries. If you’re breaking that, you’re reneging on the bet, and you know whatthatmeans.” I stop and pucker my lips dramatically. He laughs but keeps walking.

“Come on,” he calls.

He avoids the crowds surging towards us and edges to the left of the gift shop. He stops and I go to stand beside him, following his gaze and wondering what we’re looking at. It looks like a tiny drinking fountain attached to the wall of the shop with flowers inside the bowl that are bright in the cold gloom. He shoots me a sidelong look and pulls me further into the corner out of the way of a group of tourists. “Well?” he says.

“It’s a drinking fountain?”

“It’s something much more interesting than that,” he says proudly. “It’s the Witches’ Well.”

“What’s that?”

He steps to one side, revealing the sign he’s standing in front of. “This is the spot where witches were executed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The stake was around here, and the well commemorates the poor women’s deaths.” He gestures me over. “Look, you can see the evil eye and healing hands carved here. The spout is under the snake’s head, but you can’t get water anymore.”

I look at the tiny well and then at the crowds surging around us, all intent on getting into the castle. Like me, I suppose.“That’s so sad,” I say slowly. “This horrible thing happened here, and no one notices.”

He touches one of the flower petals, his fingers gentle on the scarlet flower. “Someone does.” He looks up. “You’d be surprised how many people notice things.”

I stare at him for a long second, feeling utterly discomposed. “Well, you won. You definitely beat the castle.” I’m surprised when he makes a moue of sadness instead of looking jubilant. “What’s that face for? You won.”

“DidI?” he asks, mock seriously. “I mean, I’m sure I saw you hiding a yawn at certain points.”

I bite my lip to hide the smile. “Well, I was brought up to be good-mannered, but ithasbeen tough this morning to conceal my deathly boredom.”

“Poor you,” he says, inching closer.

---