“What way?”
“Like you are about to be flogged. I was jesting. Well, not about smelling like eggs, but that I hold a grudge.”
“About any of it? Including losing The Garland?” She had to ask... because it would be nice to have a true truce between them.
He seemed to weigh his answer, his sharp gaze considering her, and then he said, “Mrs. Crisp had piles and instead of telling me, she told you.”
“Oh, yes. Is she better?” The change of topic confused her.
“How would I know? Most of the women in this parish aren’t talking to me anymore. And I don’t understand it. I’m a good physician.”
“One of the best I’ve met,” she admitted.
“And yet Mrs. Crisp would rather suffer than speak to me? And why does cream relieve piles? Where did you find that notion?”
Gemma shrugged. “From my gran, who had it from her gran. Someone learned cream helps and so we share it. I have no idea why it works.”
His brows came together as he digested this. He grunted a response before saying, “And my other question? The one you don’t want to answer.”
How did he know?
“Well?”he demanded. “I’ve come to expect honesty from you, Gemma. Do they tell you they don’t want to speak to me?”
“No,” she said, startled by the thought.
“Wouldyounot talk to me about your health?”
“I would heal myself,” Gemma answered.
“If youweren’ta healer,” he clarified with some exasperation. “Would you be shy?”
“There are men who are shy,” she said in her defense. “They don’t like to talk to women about private parts of their body.”
“Health comes before modesty.”
Gemma gave an exasperated sigh. “Not if there is a choice. And,” she said, pausing thoughtfully, “is this why you are so angry with me? Because I told Mrs. Crisp to use cream?”
“I’ve been very clear why I’m angry—”
“You are jealous.”
The words just came out of her. There was no conscious thought and yet, there it was, the truth. The damning, disappointing truth.
He looked as if she’d slapped him. Of course, he scowled.
“Yes, go ahead, frown at me,” she said. “That is all you do, as if that is some sort of explanation for your bad moods. And you know what?” she continued, rising to her feet. “I have no idea what your true question is. Seriously, I don’t. So I can’t give an answer. Are you angry that I gave someone advice that worked or that I sold someone foot soaks? Or are you angry that I am encroaching on your sacred territory? Oh, dear, that’s a disaster,” she said with a mock shudder. “Or that some women are very modest and feel uncomfortable talking about private matters? I have no control over what anyone thinks. I imagine it is differentfor every patient.Maleand female. But I believe you know that. And if you don’t, then I question your powers of observation. However, what I am not here for is your grumpiness. No matter what I do, you find fault.” She shook out her skirts and started for the horse. “I’m going to ride back.Youcan take another dive in the pond—”
Suddenly, his hand grabbed her arm and whipped her around. He was on his feet. He’d moved with astonishing speed. Before she realized what was happening, his lips came down upon hers.
Hislips.
Onhers.
Gemma was so shocked, she let out a gasp... that evolved into a sigh.
Heedless of his damp body, she leaned into him. His arms came around her, gathering her close. Their lips fit perfectly. Her hips met his. Her breasts pressed against his chest. And she found herself greedily wanting more, yearning to be close to him.
This was how she’d imagined a kiss should be. Her husband’s kisses had been slobbery and port soaked, and a test of her endurance.
