She heard the the sound of slow, uncertain footfalls, and then the creak of the bed as he sat beside her. He laid his hand upon the side of her face, the warm fingertips kissing the cheek that had been cooled by the evening air. Emilia felt as though the glow of that action flowed through her skin and coursed throughout her body, warming her withal, and with her own hand she pressed his gently against her cheek.
"What distresses me so?" Emilia echoed softly, searching her husband's eyes. She hoped that she was not burdening him by appearing disheartened, not when he appeared so wondrously pitiable. What distresses you so? For some reason, she felt like a pupil asked a question by his schoolmaster, unsure of his answer and liable to be incorrect. But that was preposterous; the man had asked an honest question and surely he expected an honest answer. This could be no trick.
"Why...it distresses me to see you in distress," she answered, and then finding her answer to be distastefully coy and objectionably servile, amended it through clarification. "I fear you are not well, and I wonder that I might be partly to fault," she said, phlegmatically now, as one who gave honest answer to honest question, and regaining some of the old matronly timbres to her voice. She hesitated slightly, wondering if she dared say more. It all depended, of course, on whether he knew or not. If the Moor had spoken with him or not…
Nay, but confound it, Emilia thought pragmatically; if Iago knew, then he knew, and if he didn't yet, he would find out sooner or later. He would surely have right to be angry with her afterward if he found that she had known and kept him in blissful ignorance, allowing him to play fool while she hoarded the dark secret to herself… Ironic it was, she recognized, that she should keep a secret from her husband about how she had told a secret to the Moor. If she had found it her duty to hide nothing from the general, how much more so was that duty to the man her husband? She forced herself to speak before she could give it a second thought.
"Iago, I told him," she confessed, but with more practicality than guiltiness. She wet her lips with her tongue and held his gaze fixedly. "The general sought conference with me this morning and asked me to bear witness to anything that happened last night. And I gave him answer, for I could not lie to him." All the muscles in her face began to contract together slightly in heightening apprehension as she realized what she was saying; she realized too the especial vulnerability that she was in, with his hand already upon her face and his body so close to hers that should he make any sudden move, grab her, pummel her, smother her to death, even-she would not be able to escape. Fie, Emilia, he will not make the same mistake again! she told herself angrily, but as she stared at him in disquiet and waited for him to reply, she did not know if she believed her own impassioned statement of faith…