"Two mornings in a week I wake to find you here," Emily said softly, looking into the mirror at the reflection of Bill in the bed behind her, "If you're not careful, I might insist you never leave me again."
She smiled playfully. The butcher only blinked at her. He stood up and got dressed and then came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and breathing in the scent of her hair.
"I'm a busy man, Mrs. Cutting," he reminded her, "If I spend too much time away from home, it is only because I'm doing what I have to do to take care of you."
"I wasn't criticizing you, Bill," Emily clarified.
"I certainly hope not," Bill replied, an edge to his voice.
Emily turned and looked meekly up at him through her eyelashes. "I know of the hard work you do. You are one of the most selfless and patient people I know. Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself?"
Bill kissed her softly. And then he squinted at her almost suspiciously. "You never took such an interest in my work before. It's nice to have you out more often."
"Well, I've never been one to miss a good hanging," Emily replied sarcastically, "Besides, I've been huddled up in here too long. I'd like to see the work you do and help if I can."
"It wouldn't have anything to do with the company I keep?" Bill asked, his voice suddenly rough.
"What do you mean?" Emily asked.
"You don't have your eye on one of my associates? A newer one perhaps?" Bill asked, folding his arms and staring at her as if trying to read her mind.
Emily folded her arms and stared back.had he caught her looking at Amsterdam a little too long? Did he suspect him of being the son of Priest Vallon?
"Why don't you say exactly what you mean, Bill?"
"I've seen the way Amsterdam looks at you," Bill said, "Like a dog waiting to be fed scraps from the table. Have you given him reason for hope?"
Emily threw her head back and laughed, mostly out of relief. "Oh Bill, for a moment I thought you were serious. Since when have you known me to have a taste for dewy-eyed sprats?"
The butcher's shoulders became noticeably less tense and he smirked.
"I don't think he means anything by it, Bill," Emily said, placing her hand on his chest, "He's just an Irishman. He has different manners than a gentleman like you."
Bill nodded. "You speak true, my dear."
"The only one for me is you," Emily assured him.
Bill gazed at her and then chuckled. He kissed her forehead lightly and said, "We've got a hanging to see."