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Curly had outdone himself as had the women, who brought platters and bowls laden with mouth-watering food to add to the already-abundant selections.
Prudence had dressed in the gray skirt and white blouse she had purchased at the mercantile. She was scrubbed and shining from her recent bath. She allowed her coppery hair to remain free, except for the two ivory combs that swept the sides up and back. She told herself it was a more practical style for the evening's event.
Zac had teased her, insisting she had recalled his preference for her to wear her hair loose and sought to please him. She had remained staunchly silent, not wanting to argue against the truth.
Prudence tapped her foot in time to the music. It was a lively tune, and the dance floor was crowded with couples swirling around. Several pairs of female eyes were busy assessing her husband. She learned quickly that the women had no qualms about asking the men to dance. And Zac looked mighty tempting in his black trousers and white shirt. His hair was a bit rumpled, but on him it didn't look unkempt.
It looked "damn" sexy.
Spying a young, attractive female making her way through the crowd toward Zac, Prudence grabbed his hand. "Let's dance."
Zac smiled as he took her in his arms on the dance floor and swirled her about. He liked her possessiveness. It felt good. He didn't want to ruin it by telling her that the woman, Sally Fry, was a friend of his. A very married friend.
The pleasurable evening wore on and turned into a night filled with unforgettable memories for Prudence. She was swamped with invitations to dance. Never in all the years having attended socials had so many men asked her to dance. She felt like the most popular young girl at her first social. It was all simply wonderful.
Zac didn't agree. At first when he couldn't get another dance with his wife, he shrugged it off. He wanted her to have a good time, hoped sincerely that she would. But he had never expected the men to monopolize her. He had to admit she looked damn pretty. Her face was flushed a soft pink color from the exertion of the dances and probably from her laughter. Her full breasts and generous hips were quite nicely displayed beneath her skirt and blouse. And her hair shone coppery bright, highlighting the scattering of freckles across her nose. Yes sir, she looked mighty appealing. Actually too damn appealing.
Zac marched onto the dance floor, where Prudence was occupied in a dance with a young man. He knocked the man on the shoulder, causing half his body to sag as he turned.
"Mind?" Zac asked, so malevolently that the man rapidly shook his head and scurried off.
"You scared him," Prudence scolded softly, but she was happy to be held in her husband's arms once again.
"I don't care," he snapped wolfishly. "You're my wife and should behave properly."
Prudence was struck by the vehemence of his statement. He meant it. And she couldn't help but smile at the irony of it. "You're calling me to task on acting properly?"
"Yes," he said, his firm hold increasing around her waist so his fingers bit into her flesh.
"My decorum is impeccable. There is no justification in your accusation."
His eyes narrowed and his lips were set firmly in determination. "A married woman doesn't dance with every man around."
Prudence was affronted. "I have not danced with every man here. And besides, you have no right to dictate what I can and cannot do."
Zac yanked her closer to him. Her body hit his, and with much difficulty, she managed to pull away to the proper distance.
"I have every right," Zac said, loudly enough for her ears alone. "You're my wife."
"In name only," she retaliated.
Zac yanked her back again and this time kept her smack up against him, to the surprise of those around them. "That can be rectified quite easily."
Prudence babbled, distracted by the fact that her body found his hard one much to her liking. "You— you — you — "
"Your husband," he finished. "And you had best behave like my wife."
The warning was sharply issued and left no room for retort. Prudence remained tight-lipped and finished the dance.
A high-stepping tune started almost immediately, and Old Bill swept her into his arms as Zac was escorting her firmly by the arm off the dance floor.
"Come on, gal. Ain't danced with a young pretty one like you in a long time."
Prudence didn't hesitate. She went with him. If she stayed with Zac, she would probably scratch his eyes out, she was so angry. The impudent thought pleased her, since it was far from proper. And that was the distance she sought from anything ‘proper’ — very far.
Old Bill was a terrific dancer. His steps were spry and quick for his seventy plus years, and Prudence found herself having difficulty keeping up with him. She was certain, had no doubt, that the West raised a different breed of people. Strong and resilient.
