Page 43 of More than Words Can Say

Her pulse tripped. “Abducting me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The beast left it at that, picking up his second sticky bun and tearing off a large bite instead of explaining himself.

“Should I notify the marshal?” Abigail quipped while he chewed.

Zach quirked a half grin and shook his head.

What is he planning? Whatever it was, he seemed in no hurry to relate the details. Unless, of course, he simply enjoyed prolonging her torture.

He leaned forward and took another bite of his bun. Yes. Definitely enjoying the torture.

Time to shift the balance of power.

Abigail manufactured a bored little sigh and got up from the table. “I suppose I’ll find out on Thursday.” She waved a hand as if completely uninterested in what would transpire that evening. “I better get my pastries into the shop.”

She turned her back on him. A mistake. Before she managed two steps, he’d abandoned his chair and wrapped an arm around her midsection, hauling her backward against his chest. She gasped at the sudden contact.

All right. Not a mistake. Abigail smiled, keeping her face aimed away from him. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

His face bent close to her cheek. So close that she felt the rasp of his whiskers against her skin. Then his voice rumbled low in her ear. “I’m stealing you away, wife. Getting you alone. Taking you up on my horse and carrying you off into the countryside, where we’ll feast on a dinner packed by the Commercial Hotel, walk along a pretty little stream, and watch the sun set behind the trees.”

Her heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings, as much from his nearness and the low, seductive murmur of his voice as the actual description of her abduction.

Unable to speak and barely functional enough to breathe, she made no comment, just leaned her head back against the hollow of his shoulder.

“Still want to invite the marshal?”

Her eyes slid closed, and she gave a small shake of her head, which earned her a growly chuckle from her very-pleased-with-himself husband.

The click of the door leading to the shop brought Abigail’s eyelids to attention. She stiffened in Zach’s arms as Rosalind strolled into the kitchen.

“It’s nearly opening time, Abby. Where are the—oh.” Her sister drew up short, her eyes widening, then crinkling as a smile blossomed across her face. “Never mind. I’ll, ah, just wait to open until you’re ready.” With a sharp pivot, she made a hasty exit and left Abigail alone with her husband.

Her sister’s dancing eyes and obvious delight in finding the two of them together soothed some of Abigail’s embarrassment, yet it also brought the unanswered questions from last night back to the front of her mind.

“Zach?” She twisted in his arms and leaned away from his hold.

“Hmm?” He seemed reluctant to let her go. His fingers lingered at her waist.

“Is Rosalind in some kind of trouble?”

Zach’s hand fell away from her hip, and she felt the loss so keenly that she almost wished she hadn’t asked. Yet this was her sister. If something was wrong, Abigail needed to know.

Her husband straightened and blew out a breath as he scratched at a spot beneath his chin. “It’s not my story to tell,” he said, “but I promise that I will do everything I can to ensure no harm comes to her.”

“No harm?” How serious was this? Abigail’s chest tightened. “Does this have something to do with the man who accosted her yesterday?”

“It’s more complicated than that, but I really can’t say more. You need to put the questions to her.”

She would. At first opportunity. Abigail rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled.

“Oh, and in case some interfering busybodies decide to come tattle on me again,” he said as he casually reached behind him to grab the last bite of sticky bun from his plate, “I should let you know that your sister is meeting me behind the church today at noon for some lessons on personal defense.” He popped the bun into his mouth.

“Personal defense? Zach, you’re scaring me.” Abigail fisted the fabric of her apron. “Is she in danger?”

He shook his head as he swallowed. “Nah.” But his eyes hinted that might not always be the case. “She’s spooked after yesterday. Learning how to protect herself will restore her confidence.” He grabbed his coffee and swigged down the last of it. “Besides, it’s foolish for a woman not to know how to protect herself.” He plunked down the cup. “I made sure Evie knew where all a man’s vulnerable spots were and how to get to them. I’ll teach Rosalind the same.” He eyed her speculatively. “I could teach you too, if you want. It never hurts to be prepared.”