“I’m certain it did,” she said with a note of melancholy. “But it dinnae take long for him to figure out it was all an act.”
“What did he do then?” Laura asked.
And for the first time since coming back to the abbey, Emilie told the entire story. With every word, her heart hurt even more.
She’d been avoiding these thoughts for days, too scared of the pain if she allowed herself to relive it all. But there was something healing and cathartic in finally voicing it all, even though it also hurt with every word that she spoke.
“And he was kind to ye? The entire time?” Laura asked when Emilie had finally finished speaking.
She paused for a moment, thinking it over.
“He was never unkind,” Emilie responded honestly. “But he had a fierce protectiveness about him that meant I always felt protected. I was safe with him. I never doubted that.”
Laura nodded, giving Emilie a sly, sidelong look.
“And what about yer other wifely duties?” she asked, her voice laced with innuendo.
Heat rushed into Emilie’s cheeks. She focused intently on chopping the carrot in her hand, trying her best to make sure each and every slice was equal.
She could feel Laura’s eyes on her face, and Emilie tried her best to remain unbothered. But she knew deep in her soul that she did not succeed.
Images swarmed Emilie’s mind, and she could see and remember it all. She remembered the kisses, the look on Archer’s face, the moment his mouth claimed hers.
She remembered the way his hands felt as they roamed her body, and the way his eyes had seemed to glow as he had sunk to his knees before her.
Pain. Sharp, hot pain grabbed Emilie’s attention, and her eyes went wide.
She had lost herself so entirely to the fantasies that she’d stopped paying attention to where the knife was going, and she had sliced deep into her finger.
Emilie sucked in a breath, dropping the knife to the table as she stepped back. Blood began to pour, and Laura jumped into action.
Grabbing one of the dry rags from the counter, she rushed to Emilie’s aid. Immediately, Laura began to wrap the rag around Emilie’s finger, squeezing tightly in an effort to stop the bleeding.
“Well,” Laura said, looking down at Emilie’s hand. “Ye dinnae need to go cuttin’ yerself to avoid the question. I can figure out just by lookin’ at how red yer cheeks got that ye rather enjoyed those wifely duties.”
Emilie snorted a laugh, shaking her head at Laura.
“Ye’re crass,” she said, causing Laura to cock a brow.
“And ye’re still nae answerin’ me questions.”
The two of them shared a pointed look. After a few moments, they lifted the rag and checked the wound.
The bleeding had slowed significantly, enough that Emilie knew they would have no problem getting it bandaged. She glanced at the counter, grateful when she noticed that the blood didn’t get on any of the vegetables.
She followed after Laura, the pair of them making the all-too-familiar journey to where the healing items were kept. It was a small closet not far from the kitchen, and it was no time at all before Laura was pulling back the door, stepping back so that Emilie could come stand next to her.
The pair was quiet as they slowly unwrapped Emilie’s finger, the bleeding now almost completely stopped. Laura took out a bit of muslin, using it to wrap and bind where the wound was.
She looked up at Emilie as she worked.
“I just have one more question, if ye’ll humor me,” she said, her brown eyes dancing mischievously.
Emilie rolled her eyes at her friend, but talking about everything had made her feel better. So, she just nodded, indicating for Laura to continue.
“Why are ye here?” she asked. “If everythin’ there was so great, why are ye back at the abbey?”
Emilie’s heart lurched.