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"Damn," he muttered, and without a moment's hesitation headed toward the open doors.
The moon wasn't completely full, but it was still bright enough to cast a glow on the brick path that circled the garden.
Zac saw Prudence standing amongst the shadows of the trees, off the brick path and away from the flowering plants. He approached her. His steps were quiet, his stride confident.
"Out west you'd be dead right now."
Prudence jumped and turned in a flash. "There are no gentlemen out west?"
Zac laughed and shook his head. "Very few."
"Then I thank you for the lesson, Mr. Stewart."
"Zac, my name is Zac." He hated when she called him Mr. Stewart.
"Short for Zachariah?" she asked.
"Heaven forbid. No, it's just Zac."
Prudence liked his smile. Truth be told, it wasn't the smile as much as his face. He was so handsome it was hard not to stare at him. His features were sharp and striking. A narrow nose, firm chin, sensual eyes, and tempting lips far removed him from the common man. He was a man women could die over.
"That's a dangerous way to look at a man," he said. His voice was low, his tone testy.
"I —I —I don't know what you mean," she stammered, embarrassed by her blatant perusal of him.
"You look hungry."
"I've eaten."
"I'm not talking about food," he said, and stepped closer.
Prudence took a step back. "If you looked at a man like that out west, you'd be flat on your back in minutes."
"My back?"
"Yes, your back."
She flushed as his meaning sank in. "Oh!"
"And your protests would make no difference."
"The man would force himself on me?" Prudence asked, assuming he meant to frighten her.
"Unless you knew how to protect yourself."
"And how does a woman out west protect herself?"
"With a gun. Do you own a gun, Prudence?"
"No," she whispered, her eyes focused wide on the way he stepped toward her. Slow, sure, and easy. "Then what would you do if he reached out for you?" he asked, and his hand shot out like a speeding bullet, circling her neck so fast Prudence hardly saw it move.
"I'd tell him to take his hand off me," she said firmly, though she doubted his compliance.
He drew her toward him, his grip tight, and his intentions obvious. "And if he didn't?"
"I'd scream," she said more calmly than she felt. He moved in closer, his hand still strong on her neck. "He'd silence you first."
"How?"
"Easy," he whispered, and brought his mouth down on hers.
Prudence wasn't prepared for his kiss. Her experience with a man's lips extended as far as a peck on the cheek. And this was far from a peck. His lips covered hers, enveloped them, and nearly swallowed them. His tongue lazily outlined her mouth, while his hand sneaked around her waist and urged her toward him inch by inch until their bodies were almost touching.
His tongue ran across the seal of her closed lips, but they remained firmly locked. He played and teased, wetting them until they were moist with pleasure. But still they remained pinched together. Her resistance not only angered him but also heightened his desire. Playtime was over. He yanked her hard against him. His hand, firm around her neck, slipped to her hair and pulled her head back.
"Open!" he demanded. "Now!"
Prudence looked into his determined eyes, then at his mouth, hungry and waiting. She could scream. She could push him away. She opened her mouth.
He took it. He tasted her, all her sweetness and innocence. And she tasted good, too good. His tongue left no place untouched. He wanted to brand her, every sweet inch of her. He eased his hunger when he realized she wasn't accustomed to such rough play.
Her hands gripped his arms lightly. And her tongue seemed to dart and hide from his.
His tongue found hers and gently teased it into acquiescence. It was obvious she was inexperienced, and his body was more than ready for her innocence. A warning signal went off in his head, and he abruptly pushed her away and took a step back.
Prudence felt her legs grow weak, as though ready to give way, and her heart hammered wildly. She took a deep breath before she spoke. "So that is what a woman can expect out west?"
"No, by now you'd be stripped naked and beneath the man."
The thought sent a flood of excitement racing through her and she shuddered. She wasn't thinking of lying naked beneath a stranger. She was thinking of lying naked beneath Zac Stewart. That thought and the strange sensations that accompanied it aroused in her a combination of fright and pleasure.
"Protests would do no good unless you had a gun. Then you could shoot him."
She spoke, although she wondered where her calm control came from. "Then I would get a gun if I traveled west, since it is obvious there are no gentlemen in that part of the country."
