He was slowly working it through. “The patient takes the medicine and then performs the activity that brings on migraines. So the medicine has healed my concussion?”

“The medicine soothes that part of the brain—” She faltered, unable to make sense of the connections between injured limbs and injured brains.

“And if this medicine had not agreed with me, Gabby. Would I be lying in that bed, unable to move at all?”

“Oh, no,” she said eagerly, meeting his eyes. “There are no ill consequences when it doesn’t work.”

“What else did Sudhakar say about it?”

Gabby bit her lip.

“What else did Sudhakar say about the medicine?” Quill’s words were evenly spaced, although she felt as if he had shouted them.

“In some situations, it is a dangerous poison,” she mumbled. She looked imploringly at Quill. “But he promised that there would be no ill consequences, even if the medicine didn’t work. And it did work.”

But he was turning away, pulling on a robe. “So you gave me a dangerous poison,” he said. His voice sounded almost disinterested. “You must have been desperate, Gabby. Was it worth it, last night?”

She didn’t pretend not to understand him. Tears were falling hotly on her hands. “I couldn’t stand to see you in pain.”

“But you felt no guilt when you lied to me, Gabby? When you gave me a medicine that may well have killed me?” He turned around, and she shivered at the look in his face. “When my mother bought such a drug, at least she graced me with the decision whether to take it.”

Gabby’s voice was strangled. “You would have refused!”

“That is correct. I would not have taken it.”

“I had to,” she whispered. “I couldn’t see you suffer.”

“Somehow you seem to have missed the fact that I abhor deceit, Gabby.” His tone was almost genial. “So I ask you again: do you think last night was worth it?”

In his face she could read the ruins of her marriage, as clear as day.

But he continued, relentless. “As I recall, I believed you were an angel. Quite a joke under the circumstances. Did you laugh? I don’t remember you laughing.” His voice was as sharp as the prow of a ship cutting through fog.

“I love you,” Gabby managed to say.

“I forgave my mother because she bought the potion out of love,” he said. He had no need to continue.

“You destroyed our marriage because our relations weren’t enough for you? Or was it because you wanted me to be more…more manly?” For all his control, he was practically speaking through clenched teeth.

“That wasn’t it!” Gabby cried. “I couldn’t see you in pain. I couldn’t bear it!”

“We had previously made love without my incurring a migraine, if you remember,” Quill pointed out. “Therefore I can only believe that you found the experience inadequate.”