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"Leave me be in my misery," she sobbed.
"You're going to make yourself sick," he said and with a playful twinkle to his eyes, added, "And then I'll have to play nursemaid to you."
Her eyes popped open at the ludicrous thought. "You — hiccup — will do — hiccup — no such — hiccup —thing—hiccup."
Zac's grin spread and he could see his amused expression didn't please her. "Then let me help you get out of these clothes."
"No," she snapped sharply. "I'm quite capable of undressing myself."
"You're positive about that?"
His grin had grown and it irritated Prudence. She would certainly save him this duty. "I'm more than positive."
"Suit yourself," he said, and moved off her.
Prudence felt a sudden empty chill when he moved away. She sat up slowly and was relieved to discover that her head didn't spin as badly as before. She would actually be able to tend to herself. She wouldn't need his assistance. Of that she was glad. Or was she?
Of course she was, she scolded silently, and moved cautiously to the end of the bed. She sat there a moment, taking several deep breaths, and then slowly pushed herself up to stand.
A mistake. A big mistake. The room spun about like an out-of-control merry-go-round. She reached out, searching for something to grab on to, and felt the floor suddenly rush up to meet her. She screamed.
"Zac!"
He grabbed her before she could hit the floor.
This time her tears were soft and few: "I'm so sorry for being such a fool."
Zac laid her gently on the bed. "You're no fool, Pru, and don't ever say you are again," his voice scolded lightly, yet with a sternness to it that warned her he meant it. "Now let me help you out of these clothes."
"It really isn't proper," she said between deep, heavy sighs, "though I do find myself incapacitated."
"And I am your husband," he offered easily, slipping the gloves off her hands without any protest from her.
"But I couldn't very well run away in my condition," she argued, while he opened the buttons of her basque and lifted her to remove it.
"You'll be much more comfortable in your condition in a nightgown," he suggested, silently cursing the tiny pearl buttons on her white blouse. One by one, he opened them as Prudence drifted closer to slumber.
"Lift up," he instructed gently, attempting to remove her blouse. She did as told, sticking her chest out in the process. The blouse came off, and Zac's eyes met with two full, firm breasts. They hid beneath the thin cotton chemise, but the buds of her dark nipples were visible through the fine white material.
"Damn," he mumbled.
"Mr. Stewart," she reprimanded sleepily.
Zac looked at her closed eyes and smiled. She was chiding him for his language, not for his nasty thoughts. And nasty they were. He ran the pad of his thumb lightly over the material that covered her nipples and watched them change instantly from soft to hard. He brushed over them again, and this time Prudence moved uneasily in the deep sleep her intoxication had forced upon her.
He was playing with fire and he didn't care. He had an awful urge to get scorched. He knelt over her and removed her petticoat and stockings. Her limbs were neither slender nor heavy; they were just right, oh, so right.
His fingers went to the top of her bloomers, and he was about to pull them down when she moaned. The throaty sound interrupted him. "Damn," he muttered.
He didn't want her asleep when he stripped her. He wanted her awake, responding, writhing, and aching for him.
"Take a peek," his devilish side whispered. Just a glimpse of what awaited his pleasure and hers. "No!" The voice sounded entirely too respectable to his ears. And what was worse, it sounded like his own.
"You're my wife," he murmured, trying to justify his actions. He splayed his hand over her stomach, drifting down until his fingers whispered over her mound.
"We have a date, Mrs. Stewart. One I intend to make certain you never forget and one that will seal our future forever."
He moved off the bed and, taking the folded quilt from the bottom, covered Prudence up to her chin.
"That will protect you for now" he said, then kissed her lightly on the forehead.
Prudence woke the next morning with surprisingly nothing more than a slight headache. She stretched her arms above her head while stretching her toes at the same time. It took a few seconds for her to realize she wore only her chemise and bloomers. She yanked the quilt up to her chin, mortified by her state of near undress. She turned quickly to find the other side of the bed empty, though her relief was short-lived when a strong voice answered her silent questions.
"I figured what I left on you was sufficient to serve as a nightgown."
