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Zac remained where he was, watching her assess him. This wasn't going to be easy. He wanted her. Hell, he ached for her. Her coppery hair fell wild and loose over her shoulders, and he'd bet anything her bottom was bare beneath her nightgown. But it wouldn't do to rush things. She needed to trust him, to believe in him once again.
"Have any coffee?" he asked. "It's chilly out there."
She nodded her head and placed a tin mug in front of the chair opposite where she had been sitting. She took a thick pot rag and picked up the coffeepot from near the hearth, where she had kept it hot, and poured Zac a cup.
"Thanks." He sat and cupped his hands around the hot mug.
"Hungry?" she asked, unwrapping a cloth napkin to offer him a honey biscuit.
He took it though he wasn't hungry. He wanted to keep her talking, relax her so that when he reached out to touch her she wouldn't jump like a frightened kitten.
"Josh told you I was here," she said, taking her seat. "He was concerned about your safety."
"He never intended to let me stay here alone, did he?"
Zac shook his head. "Wouldn't be the wise thing to do, Pru."
"But I need some time alone," she insisted.
"Do you? Or do you need a place to hide?"
The implication of his words stung. "I wasn't running away."
"Weren't you?" he argued. "You were running from your father, mother . . . and me."
"I'm not ready to talk to anyone yet."
"You mean you're not ready to confront anyone yet?" he corrected.
"I can face my problems; its people I prefer not to deal with at the moment."
"People or issues?"
Prudence stood and slammed her fist on the table. "Stop talking in circles and spit out what you have to say to me, then be on your way. I don't want you here."
Zac stood, too, and planted his hands flat on the table, leaning toward her. "You won't confront your mother about why she left you. You wouldn't confront your father about why he didn't tell you the truth. You won't confront the fact that you're part Indian. And you won't confront me with the reason I married you."
"I know why you married me." She held her pride and head high.
"Really? And why did I marry you?" he asked, standing straight and tall.
"You were staring down the barrel of several rifles. You had no choice in the matter. Besides, my father paid you handsomely to see to my safety."
Zac shook his head sadly, running his hand through his dark hair in frustration. "You don't know me at all, Pru, if you think a bunch of men with rifles could force me to marry someone I didn't want to."
"What choice did you have?" she asked incredulously.
"Pru, I've cleaned up towns filled with tougher men than the ones that were toting those rifles. Nobody forces me to do anything."
"You actually expect me to believe you married me because you wanted to?"
"Is that so difficult to believe?"
"No, just preposterous."
"Damn, woman, you don't make things easy."
"What is it you want easy?"
"Your acceptance of my love."
Prudence opened her mouth, ready to argue, and then shut it immediately. "You can't love me," she said softly after gathering her wits.
"Why?" He walked around the table slowly toward her.
"You were paid to take care of me, which included marrying me if necessary, making love to me, and telling me I'm pretty."
"What was I paid, Pru?" He stood near her but back, not wanting to frighten her away.
"Money… and plenty of it. My father is filthy rich and so am I. You did it for his money and probably mine."
"I did, did I?" His voice was so gentle and patient, it caused Prudence to tremble.
"Yes," she snapped defiantly, and stuck her chin out and up. "How much? How much did he pay you to tell me all those lies?"
"The price was steep," he said, advancing on her and forcing her to back up.
"And naturally my father agreed. Why wouldn't he? He loves me!" The back of her legs brushed the bed and brought her to a dead halt.
"It isn't your father who owes me," Zac said, stopping in front of her. He looked down into her challenging green eyes, bright and shining in defense of herself. "You owe me, honey."
"I most certainly do not. What could I ever owe you?"
"You owe me the very thing that I offer you freely and that you've been hiding, tucked away, and too frightened to give it to me." He seized her arms and brought her up against him. "Your payment is due now. I want it. I demand it. I deserve it."
"You don't deserve anything," she protested, twisting in his arms to free herself.
He tightened his grip and stilled her movements. "Not even your love, Pru?"
