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He spoke cautiously, not trusting that his own words wouldn't add fuel to an already volatile situation. "I’m far from a proper husband, Pru. A proper husband would respect his wife's privacy, allowing her ample time to change into her nightgown before he entered her bedroom. He would extinguish the light, allowing her the courtesy of the dark when they made love. He would arrange her nightclothes so as not to subject her to all of his naked body. He would be the perfect gentleman, and sex with him would be totally proper and totally boring."
Prudence was about to take him to task for his brash remarks and for causing her embarrassment. But Zac wouldn't allow it. He bent down over her, forcing her flat upon the bed. He pinned her down by her shoulders and spoke directly into her face. "I'm not finished. I wouldn't allow my wife the privacy to change before I entered our bedroom. I'd help her remove every piece of clothing she had on and I'd take my time about it, or if I was in a hurry, I'd rip them off her. I wouldn't extinguish any light. I'd want to see her naked and I’d want her to see me naked. I'd want her to watch our bodies join together, feel me move against her, inside her. There would be no room for well-bred manners in our bedroom. Though there would be breeding, hot and heavy, and it wouldn't be long before she was swollen with my child. And you know what, Pru?" he asked, his voice anxious.
She shook her head, her breathing too labored to speak.
"Even with her swollen belly, I'd still make love to her, and do you know why?"
Prudence didn't respond this time. She just stared into his passion-filled eyes.
"Because I'd want to. I'd want to feel the life we made together move inside her, watch her belly stretch, and love her as she should be loved."
Prudence fought to trap the tears, to keep them locked behind her closed lids. Each word had cut deeply. Each word had made her see that Zac Stewart was exactly the kind of man she could love, would want to love, perhaps did love, but who would never love her. The familiar pain was there, stabbing at her chest, reminding her he was out of her reach now and always.
She had to protect herself against the pain, push it deep down inside as she had when she thought her mother dead and as she'd done again when she found out otherwise. She had to forget these foolish dreams and thoughts. He had been sent to do a job and that was precisely what he was doing. Once he delivered her safely to her father, it would be over. He would be rid of her and she would be rid of him. He would be free to find the woman whom he could love and with whom he could share his life.
She felt the pain in her heart again, but instead concentrated on the pain in her head. She focused on its relentless throbbing, willing all other thoughts away.
"Take off your clothes."
His words were but a whisper, his breath tickling her face so near was he. Did he want his way with her just because she was there? Convenient?
"Come on, honey, you're tired. Let's get you out of these clothes." He sounded sincere, concerned about her tipsy state. This was an example of the tenderness he would show his wife. He would look after her, care for her. The tears threatened once again and her defenses automatically rose to shield her.
Her tongue was quick and sharp. "You would ravish an inebriated woman?"
His laugh sounded tinged with annoyance. "Ravish? Not likely. I just want to make certain you stay put tonight. Your nightgown would prevent any hasty flights."
Prudence felt the quiver begin in the tip of her chin.
It was slight at first, and she fought against it turning into a tremble but wasn't successful. Her whole chin shook and the sob trapped in her throat escaped, as did the deep flood of tears. She cried like a newborn babe, wailing most unmannerly. She raised her hands to her face, trying to hide her embarrassing display of emotions. He didn't want her body. He just wanted to make certain she wouldn't escape.
She cried on in humiliation. Her tears soon soaked her gloves. Her head continued to throb unmercifully, and she felt positively awful. She was making a complete and utter fool of herself.
Zac reasoned her outburst was due more to the special cider than to anything else. She wasn't exactly accustomed to hard liquor, and the stuff they brewed around here wasn't very gentle.
"Pru. Pru," he said softly, too softly, since he couldn't be heard above her crying. He pried her hands away from her face. "Pru."
