That brought a genuine smile to Emmeline's face. She wanted to tell him what she knew he wanted to hear, that his feelings were returned. It might even have been true. But she was telling the whole truth by saying that she didn't know. Emmeline had not cried a single tear since she'd woken up from near-death, had not allowed herself to feel properly. It was easier that way, so much easier. But she had disregarded his feelings by accident, by keeping hers at bay.
She wasn't ready to just tear off the bandages, metaphorically speaking, even if she'd had enough liquor to do something that impulsive. That still might have to wait until the war was over, until she had gotten a real sense of closure that her near-death had not been in vain. But she did want to do something.
Lifting the hand that was on top of their entwined ones, she reached across the table and curled her fingers into his shirt, pulling him in to kiss him. That was far, far easier than talking about her emotions, and oh- that was nice, it made her feel warmer than the effect of the alcohol. She hadn't had nearly enough scotch to impair her judgment on the subject, either, so she thought she could now say with a certainty that there was definitely something here.