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"You can." He was playing with fire, but at the moment he didn't care.
"What can I do?" Her voice trembled in a whisper, its softness stirring him all the more.
He leaned closer to her. "Kiss it and make it all better." He expected a harsh protest, followed by a lesson in gentlemanly behavior. Instead, she stared at him a moment, her eyes glassy and her lips moist.
Her hand moved beneath his and carefully cradled it in her own. She brought his hand up slowly to her mouth, so slowly that Zac thought time stood still around them.
Her head bowed slightly as his hand reached her lips, then she kissed the bruised area so delicately, so thoughtfully, so potently, that Zac thought he would burst right there in his seat.
She lifted her head, her eyes misty with a steamy passion. "Have I made it all better, Zac?"
"Worse," he choked.
She kissed his bruises once again and this time he could have sworn he felt her tongue graze his skin. It sent a jolt of pure sexual adrenaline running through him. He pulled his hand away from her and sat back in the seat.
"It's better," he said in a ragged breath.
A tense smile played across Prudence's face as she sat back in her seat and turned her head to look out the window.
The train whistle blew and in minutes they were on their way. Their speed was slow as the steel wheels meandered along the track to Plattsmouth.
The scenery that passed before her wasn't compelling, but her thoughts were. His injury had disturbed her. She had sought to comfort and aid him. When he had asked for the kiss with such candor, she had believed him in pain and meant only to quell it, along with her guilt.
Instead, she had brought suffering upon herself.
His flesh had been warm, near to hot when she pressed her lips against it. And his taste . . . It still stung her tongue where she had dared to sample him. It was a vibrant, manly flavor. One she wouldn't soon forget nor mind savoring again.
Prudence closed her eyes against such shameful thoughts. She had no business thinking this way. But a daring voice interfered, asking her, Why not? He was her husband. She had the perfect right to harbor such notions. There was a good chance that this would be her only marriage and that this would be her only opportunity to experience the intimate side of marriage. Should she take advantage of the situation to satisfy her carnal curiosity? Or was this just an excuse to sample the likes of Zac Stewart, himself?
Hadn't all the women in Boston hinted about, but never spoken openly of, his base needs and how he satisfied them?
Her cheeks reddened with the sinful thoughts. Whatever was the matter with her? She was a lady, born and bred. Such thoughts were unacceptable.
"Pru."
His voice was smooth, thick, and addictive, like rich syrup. She could almost taste the heavy sweetness of it on her tongue. The shameful idea jolted her senses, and when she turned to view him, her chin was once again angled high in her proper manner.
Zac watched her defenses materialize step by step. She used her formidable breeding as a shield to ward off emotional attachments. He could understand her reluctance to open up. She had been hurt in more ways than one. The sad thought prickled his manly defenses, and he suddenly experienced an overwhelming desire to protect her while breaking down that blasted shield at the same time. Not that she'd let him. She was proud and stubborn, and he had to admit he admired her for that. Yet he selfishly needed to protect her. It was as embedded in him as her proper upbringing had been embedded in her.
Damn, but this relationship was at odds. The crazy thought excited him.
She regarded him with impatience, or perhaps it was her own impatience he read in her features. The thought intrigued him.
"You wanted something?" she asked.
He couldn't prevent his smile, wicked that it was, from betraying his thoughts. "Yes."
His short, curt answer stung like an angry bee in her bonnet. He was being the devil himself again and she'd have none of it. "Well?" she said, attempting to ignore his devastating smile and the way her stomach fluttered in response.
"Tell me of this skill you possess with knots," he ordered mildly, and was rewarded with a pleasant and, if he was not mistaken, proud grin.
Her grin spread and Zac was caught by the beauty of it. Her plain features suddenly sparkled, highlighting the softest green eyes he had ever seen. Then there were her cheekbones, high and replete with a warm blush that titillated his already-peaked senses even further. And a mouth so luscious and inviting that he ached to taste it.
