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The muscles in his arms flexed as he exerted more pressure on the headboard. It was a good thing she slept in her clothes. If she had a nightgown on right now, his hand would most certainly be finding its way beneath it. And he'd play. Oh, how he'd play with her.
"Stop it!" he whispered harshly to himself.
Prudence moaned and turned in her sleep, snuggling into the cradle of his arm. Her face found his bare chest and rested comfortably against it, while her hand slipped low upon his belly, dangerously low.
She was getting too deep beneath his skin. Much too deep. He had no business entertaining such ideas. Hell, he had no business marrying her. But he had, and now there were consequences to face.
He lowered his arm, running his hand down along hers until his fingers locked around her wrist. Would she try to escape him again? No, she was his wife. She wouldn't do anything so foolish now. Or would she?
Zac closed his eyes and tightened the grip he held on her wrist. He wouldn't let her escape. No, he damned well wouldn't. Not again.
Zac bolted up from the bed at the sound of the screeching train whistle. He didn't get far before he felt a tug at his wrist. He stared up at his arm. His wrist was neatly tied to one of the wooden spindles of the headboard.
"That's it!" he yelled, and tore at the knots.
His anger escalated to a dangerous degree when he realized just what she had used to secure him to the bed. She had taken his leather holster thongs and tied them together. His temper ignited further when he found the knots too intricate to open.
He heard the train whistle, announcing its departure. He soundly cursed her and urgently worked on the knots.
CHAPTER 9
Prudence stood on the train station platform, close to the building, out of view of the crowd waiting for the train to Plattsmouth.
She had arrived in Hastings an hour ago. The train's slow progress across the flat land had worried her. She assumed that Zac was an excellent horseman.
If he could find the right horse, there was the possibility he would arrive in Hastings just before or right after her, depending on when he woke and how fast he could untie himself.
Her decision to escape him hadn't been hasty. She had risen early and watched him sleep in the faint light of morning. He was so handsome, his body so powerfully built. Then there was his caring side. The side of himself he hid quite skillfully but that Prudence glimpsed on occasion.
She recalled his touch, his kiss. Then she had sobered up. A man like him could never love her. Unfortunately, she fancied herself in love with him. She reasoned it was his pursuit of her that had brought on this ridiculous notion. She fantasized that his quest for her was pursued out of love, not due to her father's generous fee. It was a foolish young girl's dream, one that had become much too strong a craving. A craving she fully understood would never be quenched by the likes of Zac Stewart. She couldn't—wouldn't —leave herself open to another hurt and disappointment.
With a tear in her eye and regrets for what could never be, she had tied him to the post and had taken her leave quietly. Now she waited, most anxiously, to see if he would catch up with her. She had no doubts he would follow. He had wired her father, promising her safety, and he would certainly keep his word.
She glanced once again around the platform. Zac was nowhere in sight. No one paid any particular attention to her, except for the large man standing in the middle of the platform. He had turned his head, glancing in her direction quite often. He didn't look familiar. He was burly built and dressed in a dark suit that seemed a bit too tight. His moustache was fat and wide, his eyes set close. His open crown hat was too small for his wide head and looked as though it would topple off at any moment. He seemed out of place and his presence suddenly worried her.
The train whistle screeched the signal for all to board. In minutes she'd be on her way. She sighed in relief.
"Excuse me, ma'am."
The voice, so near, startled her and she jumped, turning to see the large man standing beside her.
"You are Prudence Agatha Winthrop, aren't you?" he asked.
"Who are you?" she demanded, anxious as to who would be familiar with her identity out here.
"Sorry, ma am," he apologized, respectfully removing his hat. "I'm Barney Osgood. Mr. Granger Madison hired me to locate you and escort you back to Boston."
"Granger hired you?" she asked, bewildered.
"Why?"
"He told me how much in love you two are, and about the little spat you had with him, and how you got it into your mind to go west."
