Her clothes were dark for mourning but he could see the glistening stain of blood. Rapidly, he removed all of his things from the table and came to help her up. “I’m heavy,” she warned.

“I doubt it,” he retorted, hooking an arm behind her knees and placing her on the table. She undid her clothing, leaving only an undergarment around her breasts. Viktor’s eyes latched onto the angry garnet slash across the side of her waist. “Why didn’t you say something?” he asked, furious. Admittedly it was not mortal but it was freely bleeding before his eyes.

“I wasn’t top priority,” she replied calmly.

“You are to me!” he said, readying a needle and thread. He paused. “I…I’m sorry. That just came out.”

She was quiet for a moment. “It’s a pleasant surprise. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Luckily, compared to as deep as bullets can go, this one only grazed you, but this will hurt,” he warned.

She nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Lie on your side,” he instructed. She curled her arm under her head, facing him. He lifted a hip onto the table to sit above her. Inserting the needle did not hurt as much, but after the second stitch, he tugged on the thread, sealing the flesh together. She flinched, gripping the table. After a couple more, she relaxed somewhat, enduring.

Viktor’s eyes glanced at her raiment. “I must ask…what exactly are you wearing?”

A smile flashed on her face but she dared not laugh while he worked. “Were you expecting a corset?”

“I am not knowledgeable enough to expect anything.”

She swallowed. “People across the channel call it a brassiere. I made some adjustments. I’m not interested in my breasts filling in the shape of a cone.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“You have no idea what I said, do you?”

“None at all.”

She smiled again. “Breasts are soft enough to take the shape of whatever is holding them, that’s all.”

He made a sound of acknowledgment and they fell into silence. He finished the last stitch and began cleaning around it. He swallowed. “Jacqueline…”

“Yes?”

He thought about how he wanted to phrase this. “Last night…when…why didn’t we…?”

“Nothing was going to happen.”

He blinked and then cleared his throat. “Uhm—hm—why not?”

She peeked at him from where her head rested on her elbow. Jaq smiled warily. “Firstly, you were drunk. Secondly, I was drunk. Also…do you know the correlation between alcohol and impotence?”

Viktor’s hands stilled. His lips parted and he looked at the ceiling, embarrassed. “Well now I am thoroughly mortified.”

Jaq giggled slightly. “Don’t be. It reminded me that you’re my employer. And you’re not the first man to suffer the pitfalls of drinking.”

His brow furrowed. “How do you know?”

Hers lifted. “I have these people in my life called friends, who liked to share their sexual ventures or failures. Saara is very knowledgeable…and informative. And if cards are on the table, Isabelle’s innocence made her think I am a virgin.”

Viktor’s eyes flicked up at her. “She was wrong?”

She eyed him. “It is an old fashioned way of thinking that a penis and a vagina are what breaks virginity. Does that bother you?”

He processed that and set his materials down. “I…” he sighed. “I’m not knowledgeable enough to be bothered.”

Viktor reached over for the roll of bandage material. As he lightly held the absorbent material over the sutures, he ventured, “Would it have bothered you? If…I hadn’t been…impaired? That is to say if we had actually—”

“We wouldn’t have,” she finished.

“How do you know?”

“You’re still my employer even if I’m the closest thing to a friend you’ve ever had,” she said. “I would have…taken care of you. And that’s it.”

Viktor nodded his understanding. “You can sit up.” Holding the cloth on her waist, he began rolling gauze around her torso. “Don’t tell Owensby he was right. I’ll never live it down.”

She looked at him curiously. “About what?”

“You are beautiful.”

Jaq looked at him, but his eyes were focused on his work. “Thank you.”

Viktor’s gaze lifted. “You seem puzzled.”

“I am,” she admitted. “It’s just…Mrs. Wroll was the first woman invited into your house. And then at the club you seemed more uncomfortable than anything—”

“Did you think I preferred men?” he asked.

“Maybe. I didn’t think you preferred anyone,” she revised. “You never seemed… interested.”

“Because I wasn’t,” he admitted. “What happened at the club…I owe you an apology. I never intended for you to have to do such a thing, nor that I would…react.”

His eyes returned to his hands as he pinned the gauze in place. When his eyes lifted he did not expect the soft smirk on Jaq’s face. “You’re a man in his prime, Viktor. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He pressed his lips together, shifting his pelvis so their knees were parallel. After a moment he said, “People hail me as a knight of science but I have no idea what’s happening to me. Tell me I’m not alone in whatever this feeling is?”

His eyes locked with hers. Jaq’s lips parted as she absorbed the. . . lost . . . expression there. “You’ve really never...felt anything before…have you?”

Viktor stood from the table. “Forget it,” he said quickly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?” she inquired, not affronted but shocked by his mood change.

Viktor recommenced putting things in his medical case. “I know every part of a person’s body while they lie on my examination tables, but on a live human being, you know your way around far better than I do.”

Her mouth dropped a little. “Poor Viktor. You’ve been praised by your nation, are perpetually employed, and all your troubles revolve around your arousal catching up with you.”

He stared at her, stunned.

“I’m twenty-four. A spinster to some people. Which translates to a hussy no one will marry. There are very few socially acceptable options at this point, so I made my own. When a girl finishes crying at night her only option left is to have a drink and dance it off. Yes, I’ve kissed men before. Not for money but because I wanted to. Sometimes I had to take it further just to make them go away. You complain about a the lack of sexual arousal or the sudden arrival of it, while it’s disconcerting how many men come after a woman who wants nothing to do with them. Stick to knowing that you know nothing.”

Viktor’s bright, greenish-amber eyes stared back at her widely. “What did you do after the club?”

“Nothing,” she answered, puzzled. “I went to bed.”

“Have I ever made you cry?”

“What? No,” she winced, “but it wasn’t the nicest thing, being shoved away like something vile.”

It was Viktor’s turn to gape. He turned fully to her. “You are not vile to me. I was uncomfortable. I was humiliated, but by no fault of yours.”

“I know, so I didn’t say anything,” she supplied. “Then you starting getting undone about cucumbers.”

He had been setting his case by the stairs, but now he stepped toward her, “That is because I don’t bloody well know how to act around you! I’ve never been in this position—I’ve hardly touched a woman. You overrun my senses and you’re so bloody quiet all the time! You speak your mind so passionately but your silence on this matter between us is excruciating!”

Viktor paced in front of her. Jaq did not know what to say. “Like that. That physically ails me.”

Thomas came into the room and Viktor whirled around. “What’s ailing? Oh—did I interrupt something?”

“No. You didn’t. Jaq was injured, that’s all.”

She lifted her shirt, examining how wearable it was. Thomas chuckled. “Alright. Will you be needing a loan, Miss Jaq?”

“I don’t think Owensby will want me wearing his shirts,” she declined.

“I’ve got my own here,” Thomas offered. “I’m living here for a while. You can use one of mine. It’s no problem.”

He smiled and disappeared. Viktor finished packing his things and Thomas returned, rounding the table to hold the shirt out for Jaq. “Thank you,” she said, shrugging into it.

“Ooph,” he grimaced. “A bullet bit you?”

Viktor’s chin moved and he peered at Thomas looking at Jaq’s bandage before she closed the shirt. She looked smaller in it.

“That’s my fault,” Thomas continued. “Next time, run in front of me, will you?”

Jaq smirked at him. “Only if you insist.”

“I do,” he smiled. “Whenever you’re ready, Owensby has his mind set on chatting with that psychic tonight.”

He strolled out of the room. Jaq cleaned her blood off the worktable and began folding her shirt in such a way that it could be set down without the blood seeping through. Viktor observed this and said, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Sir Doctor, after laundering your clothes, stains are not a challenge.”

He stepped in front of her when she turned to leave. “I’ll raise your salary so you can have new shirts. Leave it here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You just want Owensby to find a bloody, raggedy shirt and deal with it himself.”

“He may go catatonic,” Viktor nodded. “One can only hope.”