“Prepare a bath…” he echoed mockingly, and Emma understood her talk sounded ridiculously fancy to his commoner ears.
He strode to her with a sigh, effortlessly taking hold of the bucket and beginning to pour it into the cauldron.
“There,” he tossed drily, now busying himself to place the cauldron of water to heat. “Milady is served.”
“Thank you,” Emma said graciously, because he was indeed proving gracious.
Yet when he turned to face her, his eyes looked darkly angry.
“Is it going to be like this from now on? You yet again pretending to be a noble lady who’s forgotten to do the menial,dirty chores which us commoners have no trouble achieving?” he said in a bitter voice.
“Nay. I…You see, the bucket was quite heavy,” Emma said in earnest.
“Heavy? It is a chore you often did by yourself with no trouble or any need of help from a man, just as many other good wives here do. And you expect me to fall for this? This mad, wicked game of pretence which has ruined you?”
Emma bit her lip, recalling she’d often perceived commoner women had sturdier, stronger bodies than noble-born women. Serving girls lifted heavy buckets of water with no trouble, and Master Archer must indeed think she was mocking him by pretending to be more feeble than she’d been in the past.
“No. Not at all, but...”
Master Archer’s brown eyes shone black in the hearth light.
“I’ll spank you for this. And you’ll be spanked for it until you get this out of your head and act like a sane woman,” he proclaimed in a hard, steady voice.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“But I…”
“I will no longer be the mild, foolish husband who let you get away with everything. I vowed to your mother to keep you safe from your own recklessness. But I see you do not even care to ask about your mother and where she is now.”
Emma searched her brain for a way in which to make him understand what she and Rowena had in truth done. By his words, she was now beginning to see that Rowena had ardently wished to become a noble woman even before she'd met Emma. And she could see why Master Archer was so furious when she acted like a lady. To him, her manner and speech were just part of Rowena’s mad dream of becoming other than who she was. Master Archer knew as well as Emma did that it was dangerousfor a commoner to pretend to be noble. Emma began to wonder what he would say if he were to learn of the truth. Rowena was still in Normandy now, most likely married to Lord FitzUrse and masquerading as a noble lady. And, Emma understood, it was too late to call off this game of deceit without great peril for Rowena.
She lowered her gaze, feeling utterly ashamed of the treachery she was part of, and thinking of the beautiful little boy sleeping in his cot who may not ever get to see his mother again. Emma herself felt guilty for encouraging Rowena’s madness. She then glanced at the man in front of her, assessing the way he’d treated her since they’d met. He’d spanked her harshly, aye, but with good reason, attempting to shield her from far worse. He seemed fair and concerned for his wife’s safety, rather than for his own wounded pride.
“Master Archer, you see…” she started, attempting to keep her voice steady and realizing she did not even know his Christian name.
“Not one more word from you, woman!” he cut her off, plainly furious at the way she’d addressed him.
She’d never seen him this angry, not even when she’d first glanced upon him. Emma took a step back, recalling how dangerous a man’s anger could be. Still, she already understood that this man was not like her late husband. He did not seem a man ready to use his fists upon a woman when his temper flared.
A heavy silence fell, as Master Archer returned his eyes on the now bubbling cauldron, then busied himself about the kitchen to fetch a tub which lay upon the far corner of it. Not knowing what to say at this time to make him less angry, Emma tried to find something to do for herself, looking around her, in the hope of finding soap and linen towels, and spotting a trunk by the spice chest where she assumed such things may be held.Striding there and opening the trunk, she was relieved indeed to find what she was seeking.
After a while, Master Archer poured the water into the tub. There was not much of it for a proper bath, since several more buckets of water would have to be hauled to fill the tub. Yet Master Archer stepped outside the kitchen only to return soon after with two more full buckets that, Emma assumed, he must have filled from the rain barrel outside. Wordlessly, he busied himself to heat the new water, and Emma remained standing where she was, with soap and towel in her hand, feeling utterly lost as to what would occur next. He’d threatened to spank her, hadn’t he? Yet he seemed to have forgotten his threat. Emma thought upon this with sheer relief, dismissing her earlier fears.
When the water had been heated and the tub was at last half full, Master Archer turned to face her, cocking an eyebrow.
“Your bath awaits, milady,” he said in a mocking voice, gesturing at the tub. “It was a bath you wanted, didn’t you?”.
“Aye, but…”
He looked at her expectantly.
“Do fancy ladies bathe in their garments?” he asked in the same mocking voice, striding to where she was and swiftly turning her. He then began to undo the laces of her dress.
Emma was too stunned by the gesture to protest.
“A fancy dress you’re wearing. A lady’s dress, all laced up,” he said with a harsh laugh as his fingers were doing their work upon her laces.