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All had agreed it was indescribable.
Prudence sighed, releasing some of her frustration as her hands gathered her long hair to pin it up. About to fasten it in place, she recalled Zac's request just before he left the cabin. "Leave your hair loose. I like it that way."
She allowed the coppery, thick waves to fall down her back. With a smile she took a pink ribbon, which she had bought at the mercantile, and slipped it under her hair to tie at the top.
She was tugging on her gloves when Zac entered. He was so handsome in his dusky gray suit that she felt her heart race and her legs tremble.
"Breakfast is hot and ready, and the salon — " he stopped, spying her gloves.
"I don't want you wearing them," he said sternly. He walked over to her and took her hand, pulling at the tips of the glove.
Prudence yanked her hand back and away, but his hand closed firmly around her wrist and held her still. "These are no longer necessary."
"To me they are," she snapped. "You have no right."
"I have every right. I'm your husband."
Dictatorship was not to Prudence's liking, and her response was quick and sharp. "In name only."
His head jerked up sharply to look at her as he plucked the glove off her hand, discarding it on the bed. "That can easily be rectified."
Prudence felt her feet go cold, so to speak. After all, last night she had decided she wanted him to make love to her, had even counted on his doing so when he returned to the cabin, but then she had gotten ill and frightened by the storm. Now that he suggested precisely what she had intended, she panicked.
"It's morning," she said without thinking, assuming it would be explanation enough.
His hand touched her breast, squeezing it gently. "All the better to view you."
Panic gripped her like a steel band and she stiffened."I — I — I'm hungry"
His hand didn't move, though his fingers covered her nipple and teased it into hardness. "So am I."
She was intelligent enough to realize his hunger was of a different nature, and the idea of exposing herself to him in full daylight horrified her. She searched quickly for an avenue of escape, one that would not make him think she was completely uninterested.
Prudence forced a smile, hoping he didn't notice her trembling. "My stomach is still a bit queasy from last night. I could really use a cup of tea to help settle it."
He responded instantly and with such sincere concern that her deception troubled her. "I had forgotten. Forgive me. Let's get you to the dining salon immediately." He snatched her cape from the chest but left her bonnet where it lay. He threw the cape around her shoulders and fastened the ties. "Not many passengers are up and about yet, so we shall have the salon almost to ourselves."
She turned to reach back for her bonnet, but he tucked her arm down and around his. "All set," he announced as he firmly directed her to the door.
Prudence thought of demanding her bonnet and gloves, thought of giving him a lecture on the proper deportment of a young lady when she went out, but she left those thoughts unspoken. Today she would enjoy. Today she would pretend her marriage was real and her husband loved her.
The day turned magical for Prudence. Zac treated her just as she thought a husband should. Other passengers even commented on what a considerate husband Prudence had. It warmed her heart and made her proud.
Late in the day Zac reluctantly left her in the company of Mrs. Hampton, having received a request from the captain to speak with him. He had been thoroughly enjoying his wife's company and didn't wish to leave. He had given her a quick kiss and promised he'd return soon.
Prudence enjoyed her conversation with Mrs. Hampton. The older woman was a storehouse of information concerning the West. Prudence listened intently while sharing a late afternoon snack of coffee and honey cakes in the dining salon.
"Have to watch out for them injuns . . . can't trust them," Mrs. Hampton said, licking the honey from her fingers. "Savages they are, never know when they might scalp you. Best to keep your distance."
Prudence wiped the sticky crumbs from her fingers with her linen napkin. "The few I have seen appear harmless. And I heard that many are on reservations."
Mrs. Hampton waved her chubby hand in dismissal. "Not all of them. You just mind what I say and don't trust them. Same goes for gunslingers."
Prudence placed her coffee cup back on the saucer, not taking the drink she intended. "Really? Why is that?" Her tone was curt, though the older woman didn't notice or else chose to ignore it.
Mrs. Hampton reached for her fourth honey bun. "The gunslinger has an air of danger and mystery about him most women find attractive. What these young ladies don't realize is that these men live and die by their guns. That's the only thing that matters to them. Their real love, their passion, if you understand what I mean, is when they face an opponent."
