Gemma sighed. Mr. Bing was only being protective. She was tempted to point out to him that should the very much larger and younger gentlemen in the upstairs room decide to do battle, it was not likely that Mr. Bing could do much about it. Then again, she'd seen Mr. Bing's wiry strength in managing Bad Pony and she had no doubt he would fight in a ferociously dirty gutter style that would do considerable damage, should it be necessary. She herself had kept a kitchen knife by her bedside last night, although she would never admit it to Mr. Bing.

"Mr. Bing, I shall remind you again that the gentleman didn't even hurt the ram."

Mr. Bing screwed his face into a frown that drew his bushy brows into a single spiky line. "Well, that's true enough. I still don't want you alone with him. It ain't proper. What would the doctor say?"

The same doctor who'd dragged his nineteen-year-old bride into battle? Gemma rather thought that Edmund would've handed her a fireplace poker and told her to watch his back, but she didn't bother trying to convince Mr. Bing any differently. She changed the subject. "I'm making eggs for breakfast," she said brightly, simply for the fun of teasing him.

Mr. Bing only scowled and stalked away, leading the horse to the stables and muttering under his breath. Gemma was quite sure the words were unfit for a lady's ears. She did not bother holding back her snicker as she continued around the barn to the coops.

She would make a fine plateful of eggs for the visitor, served with the toasted bread. In her experience, men always seemed to find large amounts of hot food to be quite mollifying.

"Food in belly," she growled in a primitive fashion. "Rowr."

THE BREAD WAS TOASTY and hot by the time their guest managed made his way down to the kitchen. Gemma heard his step in the hallway. She smiled to herself when she also heard Bing's boots thumping up the walk from the stables. The siren song of warm bread had struck once more.

"Won't you join us in the kitchen, sir?" she called out. "We don't stand on ceremony here, for there's no one to serve us but ourselves."

The shadowy form of her guest appeared just outside the door from the hall. He paused before he made his way into the kitchen.

Gemma had steeled herself against his fine looks. Yet she still found herself looking away when her troublesome responsiveness sent a tug through her lower belly.