“I find it doubtful that marriage will change the situation,” Gabby noted with a rather surprising use of logic. “I’m afraid that we shall have to expect the migraine, Quill. It sounds to me like a physical reaction. One of my friends in India, Leela, always vomits after eating papaya.”

“Yes,” Quill admitted, giving up the dream that married sex was different. “I wish it was only a question of papaya.”

“Have you spoken to doctors about it?”

“I have,” Quill said rather bitterly. “I have consulted with Sir Thomas Willis himself.”

At Gabby’s raised eyebrow, he continued. “Willis is the leading specialist on migraine headaches. He had the temerity to inform me that I must be wrong in my description, as his theory precluded migraines resulting from head injury.”

“How very annoying! Did you convince him of your symptoms?”

“Yes,” Quill said dryly. “The next time I suffered an attack, I had him brought to the house. Willis had to admit that it looked as if I was suffering a migraine. But since he’s convinced that migraines are caused by swollen vessels in the brain, he declared my case an exception. In the end, it turned out he had no medicine other than laudanum anyway.”

Gabby put her hand over his, stopping his fingers’ lazy movement. But Quill refused to move his hand when she tugged, and just dropped a kiss on her hair.

“Quill, I think we should speak about this rationally. I need you to tell me about the…the marital act.” She said the last bit quickly and then launched into her idea. “We’ll have to figure out exactly what stimulates your headache and then avoid it. That is how Sudhakar discovered why Leela was vomiting and losing weight. She loved papaya and was eating more and more, trying to soothe her stomach.”

“I love your breast,” Quill said silkily. And then, “Who’s Sudhakar?”

Gabby turned her face up to his and scowled. “I shall go sit over there, Quill, if you can’t be reasonable.” She pointed to a chair by the fire.

“I’ll be reasonable.” The arm Quill had wound around her shoulder and hips held her to him like a vise. Somehow Gabby’s warmth and sensual presence made his despair seem overblown. Perhaps he could just bring her to pleasure and ignore his own—

Gabby shifted in his lap, and he gave up that idea.

“All right,” Gabby said, having made herself comfortable. “Sudhakar is the vaidya of the village I grew up in. A vaidya is a kind of doctor who specializes in poisons. Sudhakar explained that Leela was being poisoned, but only because papaya didn’t agree with her stomach. In fact, why don’t I write to Sudhakar?”