Page 40 of Emma & Edmund

"This your traveling companion?" Rose asked, tucking the money into her skirt before resting a palm on the bar, completely unfazed by the huge man baring down on her.

"What does it matter to you?" Edmund enclosed around her even further, like a blanketing shield.

"It matters to the fact that I know more people here than you. Ifyou say you are leaving with one of my customers, then I say you aren't."

"Yes, he is," Emma managed to squeak out, forgetting to lower her tenor. Internally cursing herself, she darted a look over her shoulder, as if the men halfway across the loud room could pick up her very scent.

With a grunt of acquiescence, Rose pushed away to tend to those who hadn't stopped calling for her.

In one fell swoop, Edmund palmed both jugs in one hand, scooping around Emma's shoulder with his free arm. Just as before, the crowd parted easily for the large cloaked figure, and before she knew it, Edmund had navigated them to the small table tucked into a corner. His protective arm stayed around her until, with a push on the shoulder, Emma was plopped down in the rickety chair.

There was only a brief moment when Edmund left her side, but in that time, like the rabbit cautious of wolves as she was, Emma's eyes found the group of men once more.

Laughing and drinking, if it weren't for their clothes and mannerisms, they would look no different than any other patron. Yet, for Emma, they were infinitely more dangerous.

The other old wooden chair creaked under Edmund's weight, positioning himself at the opposite end of the table, cutting off any line of sight other patrons may have to her, casting her in his broad shadow. Only then, with their frothing mugs set between them in their dark, quiet corner, did Emma breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," Emma said as she wrapped her hand around the cool ceramic, mimicking what she saw the other men do, before snapping her head up. "Oh! Edmund, you shouldn't have done that. We need to keep low, and you are too noticeable."

"Probably just as noticeable as you would be if you had fainted, as you looked to be on the verge of. What happened? You were so sure when we arrived."

"Those men," Emma jutted her chin, "are your guests. I know them. Don't look!"

Her admonishment came too late. Edmund had already thrown an overly conspicuous glance over his shoulder, giving a small hum once he spotted the gentlemen. Fleetingly, Emma wondered if he wished he could be with them, reveling in male merriment.

"Hardly looks like anyone to be afraid over. Skinny, little men should not hold such power over you."

Emma didn't bother to hold back her full-bellied laugh. "I imagine just about everyone would look skinny and little compared to you. Despite their frames, their tongues can do more damage than most fists could ever hope to accomplish."

"Have those dangerous tongues turned on you?" Edmund's sympathetic tone was washed with a glug of ale. Emma watched him carefully lift his mask, only enough for his lips to show, before pressing the mug to his mouth. Facing the dark as he was, the move was relatively safe, and Emma mimicked him.

The drink coated the inside of her mouth, full of a sweetness that dulled the taste of alcohol. Unlike wine, which left her mouth dry and puckered, this left her craving more almost the moment it slipped down her throat. It was easy to see how many could waste their life in such a place, especially when a calm came over her as it hit her gut.

It even dulled the sickness in her stomach as she wondered if she should tell Edmund of William's transgression in his own home. Anthony had said he wouldn't tolerate such a thing and she briefly entertained the thought of the Tates being thrown out of the biggest party of the year.

Considering Edmund asked if they had attacked her with words, not selves, she decided against it.

"Nothing significant," Emma answered after taking another sip, not missing the grumble that came from the mask. "But the danger remains real, nonetheless. Especially since that bar girl called me for a woman almost immediately; who's to say someone else won't?

"Hold on a moment! You were nearly frozen with nerves when we arrived, how did you manage-"

"You needed me. That mattered more than any fear."

Emma hid her blush with another sip. With it, a gurgle she couldn't stop welled up her throat and burst out of her mouth. There was no hiding her blush now, not when she slammed her cup down and threw a hand over her mouth.

Before she could even begin to utter, "Please forgive me," Edmund had released his own laugh, fueled from deep within his gut.

"Although," Edmund said once his laugh sobered, leaning upon the precarious table, "you will have to be my eyes should the woman arrive. I looked before, but you would know far better than I."

"I haven't seen a matching soul yet, but the woman only said to meet her here. She did not say when. Perhaps we missed her?"

"Or we're early."

While there wasn't a clock to be seen, the minutes and seconds ticked away in Emma's mind. They had only a brief time to meet and talk to the woman before Anthony would fetch them, not to mention the inevitable questions she would receive if anyone noticed her absence. Anthony said to trust him to handle that, but without knowing his plan, Emma doubted very much that no one would be upset at her missing from her supposed sickbed.

"Come though," Edmund tapped his fingers on the table between them, drawing her attention, "we have very little time to live as our new selves. Let's at least enjoy it while we can."

"It almost seems as if you want to spend a night at a pub rather than investigate your curse."

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