Eve bent her head in a politely attentive manner, not wanting to contradict the eminent doctor, even though his remarks were so far off course as to be lost in a sea of stupidity. She'd known this flaw of his all along.
Yes, although Dr. Sigmund did indeed have a brilliant mind and was one of the leading authorities on mental illness in the supernatural, he was still a member of the male gender, with a fallible viewpoint on women. He believed that women were often trials inflicted upon the male of the species, meant to test and improve them. He also believed that every illness of the mind had a sexual aspect. And while Eve believed that some mental sickness came from sexual starts, not every mental aberration revolved around coupling—unless you were an incubus or a succubus.
For a remarkable man, Dr. Sigmund could be remarkably obtuse. He didn't notice Eve's lack of appreciation as he continued with his dialogue. "Yes, people in general, most especially men, crave to be the top rooster in the henhouse, the cock of the walk, so to speak. Naturally, these cocks all want their beaks to be the biggest and their crows loudest of all. These barnyard crows cause all the hens to fall into line. When this doesn't happen, they envy. This envy then twists in their mind, making them sick. Women can also feel this. I call this theory cock envy, also referred to in polite circles as barnyard begrudgement. Problems can occur, causing mental aberrations as well as physical—men running about half-cocked, or with a cock who won't fight at all."
Adam was listening intently, since all this muck about sex and power struggles was highly entertaining to a person of the male persuasion. But he would bet his last groat that his wife was not amused.
Catching her eye, he smiled wickedly, feeling a sudden urge to egg the good doctor on, along with his wife. "Yes, I think you may be right. Over the years, I do believe I have seen evidence of this barnyard begrudgement. I myself have been fortunate enough never to have had cock envy. Probably that's why my marriage works so well. Not that I would crow about it."
"Indeed," Dr. Sigmund replied amiably.
Eve could feel her face heating. Envy his cock, her foot! The man was a chicken—a blight on fair and fowl alike, and a big, fat blighter! He also had a pronounced flair for the bawdy. She wished she could take drastic action by stuffing a gag in this great pretender's mouth.
"How fortunate," Countess Caligari spoke up, her eyes hot and her tone a little breathy. Glancing at Eve, she smiled slyly. "How very fortunate for both of you."
Eve wanted to beat her head upon the table—or rather, her fake, infuriating husband's head. She'd never envied any cock in her life, much less that of a figment of her imagination.
Catching her eye, Adam grinned and then winked at her, then went on with apparent sincerity, "Yes, we are both extremely lucky. I feel I can tell you in all confidence, that my Eve doesn't have this cock envy, either. I keep her well satisfied, you can believe." The last accompanied a speaking glance at Dr. Crane, who acknowledged it with an unblinking stare.
Take that, you nest-wrecker and rodent chaser, Adam thought nastily. He had known instantly that Dr. Crane was a shape-shifter of the avian sort. By the man's coloring and large eyes, Adam also knew instantly what kind of feathered foe this was, since he had traveled extensively and seen many kinds of monsters. He'd also read the Who's Hoo book of wereowls.
"Adam!" Eve spoke up. "I think we've had enough talk of roosters tonight."
The paunchy Count Caligari took that moment to add, "Well, I must say that my wife doesn't have barnyard begrudgement, either."
Eve pinched Adam's thigh, beseeching him with quiet desperation to be quiet, dreading what awful comments would next come out of his mouth. She quickly turned to Mrs. Sigmund and the countess, knowing when to plan a strategic retreat and run for her life. Her face pink with embarrassment and anger, she nodded to the two women. "Ladies, while your husbands view two of my patients, would you care to retire to the drawing room for a glass of sherry or Madeira wine?"
"Thank you, my dear," Mrs. Sigmund replied. "A glass of sherry sounds just the thing, as I fear I am rather weary of hearing about cocks, cocks, and more cocks. If I never hear of another cock it will be too soon. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't want to see one."
Eve barely managed to suppress a gasp of astonishment at Mrs. Sigmund's candid thrust at her husband. She shook her head and said, "Teeter will lead the way, and I'll join you shortly."
Crooking her finger at her cocksure husband, she made a terse request: "Adam, might I have a word with you now?"
He nodded, a wary look replacing his devilish grin. He clearly knew he was in for a tongue-blistering. But shrugging his shoulders gallantly, he accepted the challenge.
"Teeter, if you would escort our guests, Dr. Griffin and I will be in momentarily."
Once the room was empty of everyone but Adam and herself, Eve hissed wrathfully, "If I had my cutlass I would chop you up, you misbegotten son of a sea dog! How could you imply in polite company what you did about your…" Eve sputtered to a halt. "And what about that cock-and-bull vampire story you told! Locust therapy? Ha! If you're trying to horn in on—"
Adam touched her cheek. "My poor dear, there is no reason for you to fear for your family jewels. I've brought my own with me, and they are ample."
Eve's mouth dropped open in disbelief.
"Please don't trouble your little head. Ex-pirate though I am, I'll share them with you nightly," Adam continued.
"And in the morning, too. Twice in the morning if it would make you happy." His eyes twinkled. "Anything for my sweet wife. I am not a miser; nor will I ever be. What I have is yours to enjoy whenever you wish."
Eve's face turned from a becoming pink to a brash red, her jaw muscles tightening so that she thought she might have lockjaw. How dared he speak to her like this, this wretched, wicked stranger who had forced himself into her life in a strange and dishonorable manner? Now he was spouting off about what was yet to come!
"If I don't murder you before the night is through, it will be a miracle," she hissed.
"That's no way to speak to your beloved husband."
Without thinking, she swung a hard right at him, but the man was bloody fast and she missed. His grin made her try a second time. She missed again, and he dodged back on the balls of his feet.
"I've boxed in the ring for my supper a time or two, just to let you know. I can keep this up all night—along with other, more interesting and pleasurable things," he boasted.
Eve dropped her fists, feeling foolish, frustrated, and past infuriated. "Just who the bloody hell are you? And how did you know about my pretense? My father put you up to this, didn't he?"
"Why, I'm your husband, my dear! Let's save the explanations for when our guests leave."
"Of all the bloody nonsense." Eve sighed. "I don't know you from Adam."
Her new hubby threw back his head and burst into laughter. "You're about to, my darling Eve. You're about to."
Chapter Seven
You Can Catch More Werewolves with Honey… Not to Mention Pirates
As the group made its way to the patients' rooms, Eve held her breath, wondering what outrageous thing Adam would say next. For the moment, he was behaving. Still, she knew better than to trust a placid demeanor, rather like the calm at sea before a storm. A tad impatiently she waited and watched, which made her even more annoyed.