Page 39 of Emma & Edmund

But, she reminded herself as she straightened her back and thrust out her chin, she was disguised as a wolf. And should anyone catch a whiff of prey, she was accompanied by the largest and strongest wolf there was.

Despite her misgivings, the anonymity of manhood continued to prove to be a delight. The only looks she received were nothing more than casual glances, the only calls were when she bumped into someone's table.

No eyes were watching her every move, casting judgment on her every breath, and cataloging it all away for later gossip fodder.

There was indeed no glamour, no glittering decadence that lived in the spaces she knew, but she found herself not missing it as she pushed her way to the bar.

The sticky wood clung to her fingers when she came to the edge of the counter, watching as one patron down the way called to the stern barmaid before mimicking him.

"Oi!" Emma yelled out, voice cracking over both her volume and attempt to keep a masculine tenor, raising her hand high in the air to be seen over the larger clientele. "Two, please."

The wide-hipped woman moved behind the counter with ease, chatting away with a group parked at the bar's edge as she filled cups of ale and sloshed thick porridge into bowls from the bubbling pot hung over the large fireplace behind her. Just as Emma's request came, the woman slammed down a wide, tall mug in front of the man beside Emma, nodding to her, acknowledging the request had been received.

But when the woman's eyes met Emma's face, she paused. Sweeping her inspective gaze from the top of Emma's flat cap to the tips of her nails, Emma squirmed under her studious attention.

"Yours will be over there," the woman jutted a thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the end of the bar, where the counter took a sharp turn to meet with the wall. The woman didn't wait a moment longer, didn't even wait for an agreement from Emma before continuing to the next request.

As she pushed away from the counter, Emma's worry grew tenfold. No one else had been told to go elsewhere, and the fact weighed heavily in her gut.

Searching the dark corner for Edmund, spotting his intense attention on her every movement, she could only offer a brief, slumping shrug.

It took some time to push through the much thicker crowd at the end of the bar, but the moment she arrived, two large mugs were plopped down in front of her.

"Been a while since I've seen a traveler quite like you," the woman stood just beyond the barricade, leaning against both elbows as she brought herself close to Emma's face. Her words were so low, they were almost lost under the noise of the tavern. "Most of the time, women will just come as they are."

Emma's face, beneath the laughable muck of her disguise, burst into a blush. "How...how did you..."

"Although, it certainly isn't the first time one has shown up as you."

"I...I'm not...," Emma's fingers fumbled for the mugs, hoping to dart away, but the wall of guttered men only seemed to draw in closer.

"Relax dear, it's none of my business-"

"Oi, Rose! Another!"

"Aye, a moment you lug!" Rose called over her shoulder before turning back to Emma. "And most of these men here will think the same if they even bother to notice. But I do have to warn you, some monied men are staying here. I don't trust their kind, so you steer away from them just in case - Ah! Speak of the devil."

Following Rose's gaze, Emma's heart caught in her throat as, from the darkened stairwell that led to the upper inn rooms, several men Emma knew well descended. Among them, her eyes immediately locked on the very healthy-looking William Tate. A laugh was already on his handsome lips, his arm around Mr. Norwich.

With a gasp that hurt her throat, Emma whipped around, back to the bar and men, her breath coming out in short pants as she clutched at her suddenly too-tight collar.

Of course, there would be partygoers staying at the inn. Why hadn't any of them thought of this? Despite the size of Belmont, it certainly did not have enough beds to lay each of the many, many guests. There was probably gentry hosted in every home they had passed! And why wouldn't those staying at Belmont visit their friend's accommodations?

And now, Emma was trapped at a muggy common pub, stuck between a wall of patrons that had lined up behind her, waiting to be served, and William Tate, whose group was easing into a booth on the opposite side of the room.

"Mis...sir?" Rose's husky question hit her along with a tap on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

But Emma hardly heard her, heart pounding hard enough it was on the verge of ripping out of her chest. Tears of frustration and fear sprung to her eyes, the tentative elation from their plan working was ripped from her like a bandage.

Darkness threatened to overcome her vision, to rip the strength from her bones, and pull the breath right from her lungs.

A shadow fell over her, cooling her burning ears. She thought it must be the merciful nothingness that came with unconsciousness.

Black gloved hands slammed into the bar on either side of her hips, snapping her senses back to her, and her nose was full of the scent of grass and wood.

With what little strength she had left, Emma tilted her chin up to see the blank, expressionless vestige of Edmund's mask.

"How much?" He spoke over Emma's head, voice muffled. Her cheek came to rest on his warm chest as he leaned forward, tossing a coin into Rose's palm before taking the jugs of ale.

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