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Prudence spotted the gunslinger then, his height and confident manner causing him to stand out in the crowd. As Margaret had informed her, he was by Mary's side. Several other women stood nearby, and why not? He looked even more handsome in his dark formal dinner attire. He wasn't stuffed into it like so many men who appeared to be inflated from the neck up by their white starched collars. No, his collar hugged his neck perfectly. And where the other men's vests stretched the limits of their buttons, Zac Stewart's vest lay flat against his firm midriff. His dark brown hair defied style by falling in an unruly fashion along the top of his collar, around his ears, and curling sinfully on his forehead.
But it wasn't only his appearance that drew women to him. It was the air of mystery surrounding Zac. It was assumed he had done wicked and unspeakable things. And each and every woman there wanted to be near him. They wanted to sense and perhaps sample the danger that lurked within him.
"Prudence."
Though her name was spoken softly she jumped, her hand flying to her chest. "Granger, you startled me.”
"I'm so sorry, my dear," he apologized, holding his arm out to her. "Shall we have a glass of champagne?"
Prudence accepted with a gracious nod. Granger was an attractive man, not handsome, although his features were strong. He was just shy of six feet and his body was firm, though Prudence suspected it wouldn't stay that way with his love of food. His hair color was common brown and it was worn in the familiar style of bankers, neat and combed back straight.
"You look lovely," he said, selecting two glasses from a silver serving tray.
"Thank you," she answered automatically. Lovely. Was there no other word to describe her? But of course there was. Plain. Only no one wished to insult her. The cream-colored faille dress she wore was simple and unadorned. It raised high over her chest and hugged her neck. The sleeves caught at her elbow where her long gloves of the same color met them.
Mary Brisbane, on the other hand, showed quite a bit of bosom, with bows and lace accenting her apricot and yellow dress.
"Prudence dear, do pay attention," Granger ordered firmly.
"Sorry" she said, hiding her annoyance at his commanding tone. "My thoughts are elsewhere this evening."
"The West, my dear?"
Prudence gripped the slim handle of the crystal glass tightly. "What do you mean?"
"Your father was at the club early this evening and mentioned you were interested in the West."
"It intrigues me," she said, hoping her father hadn't felt it necessary to enlist Granger's assistance in preventing her from pursuing the idea of traveling west.
"Yes, the tabloids paint a most interesting picture. But you can't believe all you read or even all you hear."
Prudence noticed he had directed his annoyed glance toward Zac Stewart. "Glenda informed me of Mr. Stewart's lecture this afternoon. I daresay the gentleman was intent on entertaining you ladies."
"You don't believe what he had to tell us was the truth?"
"Oh, come now, Prudence. You believe the word of a notorious gunslinger?"
"I truly know nothing of Mr. Stewart's exploits as a gunslinger. I was but interested in his knowledge of the West."
"Most of those gunslingers' exploits are fairy tales, anyway. And besides, there's no reason for you to find any interest in the West. Your life is here in Boston, and I hope," he said, stopping to take her hand, "I'm included in your long-term plans."
Prudence forced a smile. "Time will tell."
Her reply pleased him. "Perhaps you will join me for a carriage ride tomorrow afternoon?"
She wasn't going to be in Boston tomorrow afternoon, and the thought brightened her face. I will let you know."
"Shall we dance?" he asked, directing her toward the dance floor without waiting for a reply.
Prudence danced severed dances with Granger and one with her father. Her dance card was never full. It had disturbed her when she was younger, but now there were more important things to worry about.
The evening moved along uneventfully. Prudence mingled appropriately, keeping her distance from Mr. Stewart. She had no desire to match wits with him again. Besides, the other women, single and married, kept him entertained enough.
She wandered toward the open door and the sweet, rich smell of the spring flowers. Granger was deep in conversation with her father and Charles Dutton. She was certain she wouldn't be missed.
Zac watched Prudence disappear out the open doors. He had actually been watching her all evening. He didn't know why, although he had to admit those full hips of hers were awfully inviting. They swayed with just the right motion, left to right, right to left. And her lips weren't as pinched and puckered as the last time he had seen her. They were narrow and soft. The type a man could run his tongue over and cover in one sweep. The suggestive thought startled him.
