Well, he was handsome. And kindhearted. And so unassuming, if that was the right word for his calm acceptance of her directions. Perhaps it was only that she had met with so much opposition to her role as healer that the sheer novelty of encountering a man who accepted her expertise and trusted her enough to allow her to take the lead without argument — well, she rather felt as if she had found a unicorn in her stable!

Her mouth watered. Something smelled good!

Nibbling at her lower lip with curiosity, she hesitated outside the kitchen and peeked around the doorjamb. There she saw two men, one small and bent, the other tall and dark. One loud and one quiet. One old and one young.

Mr. Bing was wearing her apron as he lifted a pan out of the baking oven set into the wood-burning range. Mr. Worthington stepped aside to make room for Mr. Bing with one hand holding a dripping whisk in the air.

Mr. Bing cursed and dropped the pan on the worktop yanking one hand away and promptly sticking his thumb in his mouth. Mr. Worthington glanced at him, then once he saw that Mr. Bing was more irritated than injured, he turned back to his brisk whisking of something on the stove.

How charming! Men wearing aprons in her kitchen? Gemma felt a slow, wide smile spread across her face. This was a most agreeable development indeed!

She straightened, cleared her throat rather obviously, she thought, and sauntered into the kitchen. At the sight of the two fine fellows there, she pasted on a ridiculous expression of astonishment and clapped her hands like a child.

It did not do to be too subtle with menfolk.

"Oh my heavens! What an absolutely marvelous smell! What are you two up to?"

It was adorable how they both eagerly presented their offerings. Mr. Bing had puffy Yorkshire pudding in his pan, though dropping it had flattened it somewhat. Mr. Worthington mutely held out a pot full of lumpy gravy.

Despite the odd choice of dinner-for-breakfast, Gemma admired it all tremendously, lathering the praise on thickly. Another woman would've looked askance at her exuberance, but the men simply looked very pleased with themselves. Even Mr. Worthington wore an expression of unsmiling pride.

Gemma allowed them to see her to the table and serve her. The pudding was over-baked and leathery, and the gravy had curdled and suffered an excess of salt but she chewed valiantly and took small sips of water. She managed to clean her plate of the very generous serving which she had been bestowed.

She pushed her plate away and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "How wonderful! And so thoughtful. And not at all under-baked, Mr. Bing! Mr. Worthington, the gravy was highly savory!"

There. They were well praised and not a bit of it had been a lie.