He raised one eyebrow as he poured some more water. “And why should I? I think I drank a bit too much port last night, but migraines do not spring from an excess of liquor. Would you like a glass of water, my dear? It tastes unaccountably good.”

“It does?” She sounded dubious.

Quill put down his glass with a click and walked over to the bed. He bent over and kissed her lightly. But one touch wasn’t enough, so he sat down and ran his hands through her hair. “Let’s start over,” he whispered. “Good morning, my wife.”

Gabby’s cheeks turned rosy. “Quill, do you remember last—how do you …” She trailed off.

“Do I remember?”

“Last night, you and I—”

“Oh, Lord,” Quill said, chuckling. “I dreamt about you all night, Gabby. Did I caress you in my sleep?”

“Actually—”

He pulled her forward and Gabby lost hold of the coverlet she was holding to her neck. “I say!” he said, truly startled. “My beautiful wife is sleeping without her night rail!”

“Well, you—”

Quill groaned. “Oh, sweetheart, you must have felt as if I were attacking you. I truly apologize. I’m a beast. What happened?”

His wife was looking down at her hands. He pushed her curls back over creamy shoulders. “I like you without clothes. Perhaps I will pretend to be dreaming every night and disrobe you in the middle of the night.”

“Quill!” But the reprimand didn’t have its usual force.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, suddenly chilled. “Did I frighten you, Gabby? I’m so sorry; I can’t remember. But I assure you that this has never happened before and won’t happen again.”

“I know that,” Gabby said, almost inaudibly.

“What?”

“I said, I know it won’t happen again,” she replied.

Quill was lost. “What won’t happen?” He wasn’t terribly interested. “Perhaps I should make recompense for my impoliteness during the night.” His hand rounded the curve of her breast and he shifted her onto his lap. Gabby barely managed to clutch the sheet to her waist.

She swallowed. She had promised herself that she would deceive Quill only once, by giving him the medicine, and that afterward she would confess. And leave the house without protest if he sent her away.

“I don’t know why it is,” Quill was saying, his voice growing slightly hoarse. “I can’t seem to think about anything but you, Gabby.” He pushed her backward and she was laid out before him, beautiful, generous curves. “Why don’t we talk later, hmmm?”

“Quill—”

But his head was bent over her breast and she gasped into silence, her protest dying in her throat. Passion rose instantly, turned her legs to water. But guilt beat an opposing rhythm in her heart. Should they make love? Then he would realize that Sudhakar’s medicine had worked—perhaps he would think his injuries healed on their own.