"Go," Bill said quietly, "Make your own way in the world and don't speak of this to anyone."
Tears formed in Emily's eyes but Jenny stood stalwart and brave. Emily didn't know how she could take it. Her family dead, a baby ripped from her womb, and now being turned out of the place she had called home for several years.
"You mean it?" Jenny asked quietly.
"I can't stomach girls that have been cut up," Bill said, disgust in his eyes, "It's more than I can bear. I can't hardly look at you no more."
Emily sniffled. It was her fault this had happened to her dear friend. She had begged Bill to take the starving twelve-year-old girl in. She had pretended to be ignorant of the affair that began a year ago. It all might've been okay if she had done something different.
As if sensing her thoughts, Jenny reached out to her. But Bill slapped her hand away.
"You'll not touch her," he growled, "She's no common Irish whore like you. She's not your friend. She's miles above where you will ever be. Now go on before I throw you out myself."
Jenny didn't say another word. She turned on her heels and marched out, leaving Emily sobbing with her face in her hands.
Bill held her, stroking her dark hair. "She was never meant to stay forever, Emily."
Emily looked up at him. "What is wrong with me?" she whimpered.
Bill frowned. "Explain yourself."
"Ten years I've been your wife," Emily said, "Kept your home clean, catered to your every whim, and yet you've never so much as undressed me. But you would go after Jenny and every prostitute in town…"
She'd barely gotten the words out of her mouth before a slap from Bill sent her reeling.
"You speak too fucking boldly of what you know nothing about," Bill pointed threateningly at her.
Emily sat down on a bench, stared at the butcher and forced herself not to cry again.
Bill knelt before her and took her hand in both of his.
"A man has needs, Mrs. Cutting," he began softly, "I regret to tell you that what I do with those women, even what I did with Jenny, appeals to those animal instincts. You are different."
Emily frowned and waited for him to continue.
"Your father was the last honorable man I knew," the butcher, "He left you behind and you are my prize. Hard-won and precious. Would you ask me to so defile what I treasure most?"
The sting of her cheek forgotten, Emily kissed him and ran her fingers through his hair as he knelt on the floor, grasping her waist.
She ran a finger along his collarbone and unbuttoned his shirt. He stood and hoisted her up, carrying her to the bed she had not yet shared with him.
He undressed her quickly with an ease that could only come with practice. He gazed at her and ran his hands softly over her bare chest and abdomen.
"You're beautiful," he said softly, grinning at her shaky attempts to remove his belt.
He removed the rest of his clothes and kissed Emily all over. Her entire body quivered in anticipation before he buried himself inside her with a sigh.
Throughout the night they explored one another until finally when the sky was just beginning to lighten again, they collapsed in exhaustion.