"But you didn't even persuade me. I kissed you. Is it my wanton nature?" she asked tearfully, chewing her bottom lip.
He considered the question seriously. "A spark is good between husband and wife. It helps keep the marriage fresh, stops either of the partners from wishing to stray.
"But you are not married. In which case, as your doctor I would advise fresh air and exercise and cold baths. Try to engage in useful activities which will take your mind off these desires you've been having."
She shook her head. "That's just it. I've never had such thoughts and feelings before. Maybe I'm injured in some dreadful way from the carriage accident? Or have contracted some sort of a fever. I have never felt so before, ever."
Blake immediately resumed his clinical detachment. He tested her forehead and reflexes once more.
"I don't think you're ill. Just the bruised ribs. I've often heard passion equated with a fever, but in your case, apart from a certain blush which I feel sure is due to embarrassment, you seem fine."
She sighed. "And you, Doctor? Have you ever-" She blushed again. "I'm sorry. It is a foolish question, and in any case, I have no right."
He tested her forehead again. "Have I ever coupled with a woman? Yes. I admit to being a sinner. I wanted to go to my marriage bed a virgin, but alas, the lady would not have me. Eventually I could no longer wait."
"I see."
"Have I ever behaved in so unrestrained a manner before? No, most definitely not. Where I work, I see every day the consequences of indiscriminate licentiousness. The disease, unwanted children, unwanted pregnancies the women try to get rid of using nostrums that usually kill them. The women who die in childbirth. The women who are battered by men who force them or simply enjoy hitting them. Women whose husbands insist upon their conjugal rights even when it is actually dangerous for them to do so."
At her confused look he nodded. "When the men have contracted a disease, as I've said. Also, just before and after a woman gives birth, for example, which are dangerous times. A woman needs time to rest before, and time to heal after.
"Women are supposed to be treated with respect, protected as the weaker gender, not in terms of mind, but in terms of their ability to physically fend for themselves in the face of a greater strength than their own. If I had a sister, I would not want her to be treated by any man the way I have just treated you."
She looked at him in wonder. "Do not reproach yourself so bitterly. You didn't hurt me. I didn't fear you, Blake. You did not force me, lie to me. Until you began to scold me I felt no shame. It was lovely."
He sighed. "Well, it ought not to be lovely with someone little more than a stranger to you. Though of course, with some men that might excite them. No ties, no commitments. Just pleasure, and never seeing you again. For all you know, I could have been married. You deserve and need more than this."
"And are you married?" she asked quietly.
"No," he admitted, shaking his head. "Not now. Not ever."
She stared. "You say that with such certainty."
"I'm committed to my work," he said, his tone clipped.
"Then what do you do for er, coupling, if you do not normally prey upon women in this fashion?" she asked with a lift of her chin.
He smiled tightly. "I have an old friend, a childless widow who is well past childbearing years who occasionally likes to have a special visitor. We talk. It's an outlet. It's not something I'm proud of, and I visit her seldom these days, but I'm still a weak man."
"Not nearly as weak as I am, apparently." She sighed and wiped her tears away with the backs of her wrists. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to cry. I didn't mean to do this- " She swept her hand down the bed.
"I hope this experience will frighten you enough to keep you safe," he said sternly as he refastened his shirt and began to put on the rest of his clothes. He needed whatever shielding he could get from the young beauty.
"Frighten… Yes," she said submissively.
Inwardly, though, she had to admit that the only thing which terrified her was never experiencing such wonderful bliss again.
"Good, I'm glad to hear it." He donned his jacket and fixed his cuffs, his demeanour that of a professional doctor once more, as if the last ten minutes had never happened.
"I shall leave you the cream. Reapply it once a day, and have one of the maidservants assist you with the wrapping."
He began to gather up all of his items from the room.
She stared. "Where are you going?"
"An error was made last night. For both our sakes we cannot allow it to remain uncorrected."