Lysander crossed the kitchen to duck his head under the lintel of the stillroom door. He paused there to smile privately at his beautiful wife. Gemma looked quite business-like in her apron and work-gown and was up to her elbows in something green and slimy and somewhat nasty.

She looked up, eyes wide. "Thank heaven you're here. I need help!"

He stepped closer, concerned.

"Please, scratch my nose!"

Chuckling, he rubbed a fingertip across the bridge of her dainty nose until she sighed in satisfaction. "Anything else, my Lady of the Dale?"

She looked up at him pleadingly. "Help me fill these vials?"

Lysander had no issue with helping in the stillroom. Unlike Bing, he harbored no dark suspicions of unholy doings in Gemma's herb lore.

"I'm sending some samples to the examination board at Cambridge," she said nervously. "This is my third batch. I was worried about getting it right."

With the help of some of Dr. Oakes's old comrades, Gemma had managed to persuade Cambridge University to consider her for admittance. Her battlefield experience had impressed them as well. Now Lysander was sure her herbal remedies would further persuade them.

It would take her a long time to complete her training, for Gemma could not bear to abandon the dale completely and had decided to take her courses in stages.

When the last bottles were capped, Gemma and Lysander washed up only to discover that the concoction had left deep green stains on their hands.

Lysander contemplated his inhuman flesh, then formed his fingers into claws and snarled at Gemma. "Rowr."

Her eyes widened and she backed away. "Don't you dare, Lysander Worthington. I'm a grown woman! I will not be tickled!"

She made a dash for freedom but Lysander reached a long arm about her waist and swept her off her feet. "Mine! Rowr!" He growled into her silken neck as she slapped at his monster claws amid her helpless giggles.

Then his hands slid higher on her ribs to find her breasts and her laughter turned to sighs. Mostly. Gemma had a hard time stopping her giggles once they started.

Lysander had become very good at working around that. Soon the apron lay crumpled on the floor and Gemma's bodice lay crumpled about her waist. Lysander lifted her to sit on her worktable and slid her skirts up to reveal tempting pale thighs above her stockings and garters.

"Wait." Gemma's hands stilled in the middle of interesting explorations of their own. "Where is Mr. Bing?"

"Mr. Bing took Mr. Bad Pony and Miss Topknot into the village to pick up a delivery. My family sent something from London on the mail coach." He lost himself in her hair, breathing in her herbal Gemma scent.

"Oh good." She wrapped her arms about his neck as he lifted her ankles to wrap them around his back. "Oh yes."