His Beautiful Wench by Nathalie Dae

to be alone, understood it. He’ll be blaming himself for putting me through this. I must tell him it doesn’t matter. His pain is my pain . She switched off her thoughts and asked, “Did you discuss it with your lover?”
    Madam nodded. “I did, and we saw one another for a while in secret. We had to meet in the forest, away from prying eyes. As far as the townsfolk knew, my husband had walked out on me. His body never surfaced. But sadly, we need money in order to survive and, like you, I had no skills so I…I set up my business, although I have never participated, you understand. I told my lover we must stop meeting. At the time I didn’t want what I had done tainting him, and with my cottage turned into a whorehouse… He deserved better than me.”
    “Does he still live in town?”
    “No. He left not long after you started working for him.”
    Amelia gasped. “Harry?”
    Madam’s smile widened and tears spilled down her face. “Yes, my darling Harry.”
    Trying to imagine how Madam felt, how painful it must have been to set her lover free, Amelia asked, “Where did he go?”
    “I don’t know. And I don’t want to know. It’s better that way.” She pointed ahead then dropped her arm by her side. “Look at your man there, lost in a world of his own. I understand what he’s feeling. And he’ll curse himself later for thinking only of himself instead of holding your arm in his as we walk back. But don’t blame him for his selfishness, will you? Try to understand.”
    Amelia nodded. “I do. I will. I have to—I can’t live without him.”
    They finished their journey in silence and entered the kitchen. Emmett sat at the table, his head in his bloodied hands, shirtsleeves stiff and dark red. Amelia went to him and pulled him against her stomach, caressing his hair.
    “I shouldn’t have left you back there. I should have—”
    “Shh, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except us.” Amelia glanced at Madam, who nodded her approval and clapped her hands.
    “Now then,” she said, her eyes overly bright, streaks of red hair sticking to her cheeks. “Our job isn’t done yet.” She placed large pans of water atop the stove.
    Once the water had boiled, Emmett took a bucketful and went to scrub the attic floor. Madam helped Amelia clean the rug. Lighting several lanterns so as not to miss any blood, they laid the rug out on the patio and washed it. They worked without speaking, and when the rug was as clean as they could get it they each took two corners and hung it over the washing line.
    Back in the kitchen, Madam locked the door and turned to Amelia.
    “Go to him. Bring him down here and bathe him. Cleanse him of that blood.” She cupped Amelia’s cheek. “That’s the worst part you know, having blood on your hands. Good night, dear Amelia, and thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “For listening. Not judging me.”
    Amelia quickly left the room, dashing up the two sets of stairs, the need to be with Emmett so fierce it brought a lump to her throat. At the top of the attic steps, she looked down at him sitting next to a wet patch of floor, the bucket and a scrubbing brush before him. He stared ahead, seeing things she could only imagine, and her heart wrenched. She rushed to him, kneeled beside him and held his face in her hands.
    “Emmett, please… Stop tormenting yourself. What’s done is done.”
    “I…I have killed two men today. I know I had no alternative, but it still doesn’t make it right. When I… When I pushed Crowe off that cliff… I thought about what could have happened. What if he had killed you?” His eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t live without you, wench.”
    “Nor I you. Come.” She rose and took his hands in hers, ignoring the dried blood. “Let me bathe you downstairs.”
    She picked up the bucket and brush then led him to the kitchen and urged him to sit at the table. He appeared lost, bewildered, and her love for him bloomed further. Yes, he had killed two