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"Them kind of manners ain't gonna suit her out here, Zac," Granny said, giving him a wink.
"She'll learn," he assured her.
"You gonna teach her?" Granny asked, her grin growing wide.
Prudence couldn't hear his response. It was as though he spoke from far away. But she did hear Granny laugh, and she didn't need to look at Zac to know he wore that sinful smile.
His hand suddenly covered hers where they were clutched to her face. His touch was gentle, not at all demanding. He carefully pried her fingers away and looked into her bleary eyes.
"Come with me, Pru."
His voice was so deeply intoxicating that she would have followed him anywhere, but her deep-rooted Bostonian upbringing cautioned her to ask, "Where?"
Zac leaned close to her. The rough texture of a near day's growth of whiskers whispered dangerously close to her cheek as he murmured, "To bed."
CHAPTER 11
"Bed?" Prudence said, her eyes resembling two bright red suns about to burst.
"The best place for you. Unless, of course, you would prefer food?" he asked, much too sarcastically.
Her stomach protested even at the mere suggestion, rumbling in a most unladylike way. “I’m not hungry."
Zac played the gentleman, not adding to her misery by smiling, though the devilish side of him couldn't help but tease. "I didn't think you would be. Then my invitation to bed suits you?"
It did not suit her at all, at least not the way he phrased it. His implications were obvious and so was the joy he derived from her discomfort. "Bed sounds appealing, especially since I find myself rather sleepy."
"You two are a hoot," Granny said, her wide smile highlighting her numerous wrinkles. She lifted her half-filled glass of whiskey in a salute. "To a long and happy marriage. And plenty of young'uns." She downed it in one gulp, waved, and was out the swinging doors before either Prudence or Zac could respond.
Prudence was surprised and envious of the old woman's agility. There was no way she, herself, could move that fast, at least not in her present condition.
Zac stood. He looked even taller to Prudence than usual. His chest seemed wider, his smile nastier, his stance more commanding. But then everything seemed out of proportion, even sounds. The glasses clinking together, the liquor being poured, the men talking, the piano keys tinkling, they all blended into a sea of discordant sounds.
Alarm registered on Prudence's face, and the distraught look wasn't lost to Zac. He held out his hand to her.
She thought of refusing but deemed that unwise. She reached for her bonnet first, taking a moment to still her dizziness before attempting to stand.
Zac no longer found the situation amusing. He could tell from her clumsy movements that the special cider had taken its toll. "Let me help you," he offered, moving to stand behind her.
"I assure you, Zac, I am quite capable of standing on my own," she said, and moving slowly to guarantee her steadiness, Prudence stood. One moment she thought all was fine, and then she began to teeter as though on a precarious edge. The foreign sensation that gripped her so strongly brought with it a deep feeling of apprehension.
She closed her eyes and her cry was urgent. "Zac!"
His arms swiftly circled her waist and he brought her gently back to rest against him. "Easy, honey, I've got you."
A flush of relief washed over her. He was holding her, protecting her; she had nothing to fear. She placed her hand over his forearm, and the strong muscle she felt beneath his waistcoat brought her a sense of peace.
"I don't feel well, Zac."
"I know," he commiserated. "It's best we get you to the hotel so you can rest."
"Zac," she said calmly, though she felt far from it, "I don't think I can walk.”
Zac couldn't help but grin, glad she was unable to see it. Even in her inebriated state, her speech was polite.
"I’ll manage to get you there."
"I—" She stopped a moment, giving her words second thought. "I've embarrassed myself enough for one day. I don't wish to add to my disgrace."
"Always proper. Always the lady," he teased.
"Well, as you have pointed out yourself, I'm not exactly a lightweight. I'm sure you would find it difficult, shall we say, supporting me."
Zac's dander jumped. When the hell had he ever implied that she was heavy? Never, he had never even held such a ridiculous notion. "Are you insinuating that I'm incapable of carrying you?"
"I have no desire to be toted like a common piece of baggage," she said indignantly.
"By all means we must consider propriety."
"If you would but support me with your arm about my waist, I think, perhaps, I might make it."
"You're quite certain that is how you wish my help?"
"Of course, just do as I've instructed and all will be fine," she said, her speech slurred. After all, it wouldn't be proper for him to discover she wanted nothing more than for him to lift her in his arms and carry her off. The idea was so romantic but quite improper.
