Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train (6 page)

Her perturbed expression softened. Her mouth looked much prettier when she didn’t have her lips drawn in tight like she’d pulled a drawstring. He would like to taste that pouty lower lip, but surprising her with a kiss would earn him a fist in the face. He had to woo her, carefully, to avoid injury.

“That’s very kind of you to prepare breakfast. I’m sorry I won’t be able to join you.”

His stomach sank. “You don’t like flapjacks?”

“Oh no, I love flapjacks. But I can’t come to the table wrapped in a quilt.”

She could come to the table in her shift as far as he was concerned. Wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen the parts of her she was so determined to hide. Nice parts, too. Formed to fit into a man’s hands… He dragged his attention from her chest to her face.

He hadn’t anticipated her refusal. Especially with flapjacks involved. She’d prove harder to win over than Rebel. Good thing he’d come prepared to negotiate.

Pulling a chambray shirt off his shoulder, he tossed it on the bed. “Wear one of my shirts for now. I’ll return your things after you eat breakfast with me.”

Chapter 4

Delicious smells filled the cabin. Prudence drew back the blanket separating the room and peeked out. Arch squatted by the stone fireplace with his back to her. He appeared to be tending to a coffeepot on an iron spider perched over the coals.

Two places were set at the table. A spray of wild flowers filled a mason jar.

He’d been acting very odd, whispering in her ear and tickling her cheek to wake her, coaxing her with a delicious meal, insisting she wear his shirt… What was he up to?

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she stepped out into the room, curling her toes in the deerskin rug covering the hard-packed dirt. Her stomach urged her onward. She wouldn’t give in except for his promise to return her clothes and shoes.

“You said something about flapjacks…”

He twisted around and stood, his eyes widening with surprise, as if he’d forgotten he told her to come to the table wearing only his shirt.

She clutched the front placket. Though the shirttails reached well past her knees, she felt exposed. Indecent. “Can we please sit down?”

“Of course…” He pulled out a chair, flashing the boyish smile that took her breath away. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’d be hungrier if I was properly dressed.”

His gaze dropped lower, past her hips. Oh dear. She shouldn’t have said anything to bring his attention to her state of undress.

Tugging the shirttail, she sat down and pulled the chair in as far as she could go, wishing for a tablecloth she could hide under. The sight of a woman’s limbs could drive a man into a sexual frenzy. Or so she’d heard. Her mother had been so concerned that she’d made little skirts to cover the lower limbs of the piano.

Arch sat in the chair opposite. He didn’t appear to be on the verge of losing control. Evidently, her limbs weren’t exciting enough to inspire him. She refused to be disappointed.

The square of unbleached cloth folded up next to the plate looked large enough to cover her chest, all the better. Too bad he hadn’t given her the flour sack to wear, instead of cutting it up.

“Let’s eat before the food gets cold.” Arch poured milk into a mug and set it in front of her before lifting the platter of flapjacks. “Here you go. Take all you want.”

Prudence stared at the tall stack. He’d prepared enough to feed the army stationed outside of town. He must be very hungry. She forked two golden brown cakes over to her plate. “They look delicious. Are flapjacks a favorite of yours?”

“Feed me flapjacks an’ I’ll be happier than a pig wallowing in fresh mud.” His disarming grin caught her off guard and she fumbled with her fork.

Arch didn’t bat an eye at her flustered response, he kept holding out the platter piled to the ceiling with flapjacks. An image of pigs sitting in mud, working their way through the enormous stack popped into her head.

She swallowed a laugh. “Thank you, two is enough.”

“Have three.”

He must think she was one of those pigs. “Gluttony is a sin.”

“I’m pretty sure God won’t send you to perdition for having three flapjacks.” He pulled three onto his plate to prove a point. “See? No lightning bolt.”

“Blasphemer,” she remarked dryly. “I wouldn’t stand under a tree, if I were you.”

“Well I’m hungry, so I’m not putting them back. You can say a prayer for me.”

She halted with her fork in midair. Why, she’d forgotten to say grace. What was she thinking about? A charming heathen, that’s what preoccupied her mind. “Thank you for the reminder.”

Prudence bowed her head and prayed aloud, asking God to bless the food, forgive her lapse and to rescue her from heathens. She added a prayer for Arch’s soul. After all, he had asked for one.

He added a hearty
Amen
, and dragged two more flapjacks onto his plate, then drenched them in syrup. “Praying makes me hungry.”

“And eating makes you happy…like that pig you were talking about.”

Laughter burst out of him.

Thank goodness he hadn’t taken offense. Sometimes even her family didn’t realize when she was joking. Her grandfather had always known. Most folks called him acerbic. He could
carve meat with his tongue
, was what her mother used to say. Prudence had picked up rather early that her grandfather wasn’t being serious…most of the time.

“Sis, marry a man with a sense of humor. Not one like your father.”

Her grandfather would’ve liked Arch. She was beginning to like him, too. Not enough to marry him.

She spread butter over her flapjacks and drizzled syrup. “These look good. You do all your own cooking?”

His laughter faded to a wry chuckle. “If I want to eat.”

A smile tugged at her lips. She tamed it before it got away from her. Being too friendly would encourage him.

The fork had two tines, an old style like the kind her grandparents had used. Using a tin knife, she cut a small bite and guided it into her mouth, seeing no reason to starve herself while she remained in custody.

He fisted his fork as if he intended to stab the stack of flapjacks and shove the whole thing into his mouth. She paused, holding her fork properly. When he shifted his grip on the utensil, she knew he’d picked up on her silent clue.

“Forget sometimes,” he muttered. “Most days, nobody’s around to care.”

Prudence lowered her gaze. What he’d certainly meant as an offhand remark weighed heavy on her heart. She knew how it felt to be lonely and to wonder whether anyone cared. Why the charming rascal wasn’t married by now had to be on account of a shortage of women. He didn’t strike her as a man who would be lonely, otherwise.

Arch continued eating. Painstakingly, he cut each bite and lifted it to his mouth. One bite didn’t quite make it without syrup dripping down his chin. He caught the sticky drop and licked his finger. The napkin remained folded, by his plate.

She didn’t say anything. No need to embarrass him.

He realized his mistake almost immediately. With a sigh, he wiped off his finger and tucked the flour sack napkin under his chin. The uneven edges looked as if he’d used a knife to cut up the pieces, and he’d sliced right through the black lettering. Odd, when washed, the ink usually faded. This must be the first time he’d used them.

Prudence touched the napkin at her chin. The new napkins, the nice meal, flowers picked for the table, even the sweet way he’d tried to wake her, were the actions of man showing his affection for a woman. She caught a sharp breath.
No.
That couldn’t be true. Even when she’d tried, she hadn’t been one to inspire men to fawn over her, and she had treated Arch with distrust and disinterest.

All this special attention had to be an act to change her mind about marrying him, although his motives remained unclear. A comment his brother had made niggled at the back of her mind. He’d said Arch needed a wife to secure his land.

The issues were complicated and she didn’t understand the technicalities, but she had picked up enough to know that the settlers had arrived first, but the railroad owned the land. The resulting disagreements had erupted into riots, which led to the presence of troops. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that the railroad’s decision to import women was a kind of bribe to gain the settlers’ cooperation. Presumably, Arch needed a wife because the railroad had a policy of giving preferential treatment to married men.

If they wed, he would be able to secure his land and at the same time, protect his brothers.

“Here, have more. I made plenty.” He held out the platter, which hardly looked touched.

“Thank you, no. I’ve had all I want.”

Having breakfast with him had been a mistake. She didn’t want to be flattered by this younger man’s attention, or become closer to him, or feel sympathy or tenderness. She wanted to get her clothes and leave and put this behind her.

“Don’t you like it?” he asked.

“Yes, the flapjacks are delicious, but I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Does your head hurt?” The concern in his expression and voice put a knot in her throat. She refused to accept his tender ministrations. He’d prevented her from leaving.

“No, I’m feeling much better.”

“Don’t sound like you’re much better.”

“I will be much better after you give me my clothes.” She laid her fork and knife across the plate. “Please return my things. I’ve held up my end of the bargain.”

He mopped up syrup and popped a large bite into his mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing before he spoke. “Can I trust you not to run?”

“That wasn’t part of our deal.”

“I won’t let you leave on your own, so get that idea outta your head.”

“You can give me a ride into town.”

He set down his fork, wearing a thoughtful expression. “What’ll happen, do you think? After folks find out where you’ve been and who you’ve been with. What will people say? How will they look at you?”

Her spotless reputation was the most valuable thing she had to offer. Without it, she couldn’t hope to attract the sort of man she wished to marry. Arch knew this and the swine thought to frighten her into cooperating. She lifted her chin and held his eyes with all the defiance she could muster. “I’ll tell them the truth.”

“You know as well as I do, the truth won’t matter.”

The truth had to matter. She hadn’t stepped over the bounds of propriety. She’d followed the rules, obeyed the teachings her father and mother had drummed into her head from the time she was an infant. She didn’t deserve to be punished.

Curse him, he was right, though. Her innocence wouldn’t matter. She could scream the truth from the rooftops and people would believe she’d been molested, or worse, had given up her virtue without a fight. Men might dally with ruined women, but they didn’t marry them.

His frank gaze turned sympathetic. “You don’t have to go back and face all that. I’m offering you marriage.”

Wounded and angry, Prudence averted her eyes. He wanted her to think of him as a dashing hero, a prince wielding a gleaming sword, slicing away the barbed briars imprisoning her. The fiend. He watered the bushes and encouraged them to grow by keeping her here. He hadn’t wanted to return her from the start.

“My reputation isn’t your primary concern. You’re worried if I go back I’ll cause trouble.”

He leaned against the chair back and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. “That doesn’t mean I’m not sincere about wanting to marry you.”

Hurt and disappointment carved a hollow place inside her chest. The emptiness was worse than the pain. “You want to marry me for
your
benefit, not mine. At least be honest.”

Arch heaved a sigh. He rubbed his hands over his eyes like he was trying to scrub away fatigue. He’d combed his hair and put on a fresh shirt, but that didn’t hide the dark circles from lack of sleep. She felt no satisfaction from knowing she was the cause.

He regarded her with a weary expression. “Then let’s both be honest. I need a wife. You came out here to get married. If you want a husband, the best way to get one and preserve your reputation is to marry me. It’s simple as that.”

“Simple? Nothing about this is
simple
.” Her future had been demolished. She couldn’t return and pick up where she’d left off, as a respectable woman; and to top it off, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a man she couldn’t trust.

She threw her napkin on her plate. “I can’t accept a proposal from someone who would abduct me and keep me prisoner.”

Surprise flashed across Arch’s face. Then his expression turned thunderous. “Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t know about my brothers’ plans and wouldn’t have approved if I had. And, you are
not
my prisoner. I’ve been taking care of you, feeding you, making sure you don’t get sick, or run off and get hurt again.”

His kindness confused her because it didn’t make sense, except as a tool to manipulate her. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t think you were in cahoots with your good-for-nothing brothers if you weren’t so determined to prevent me from leaving.”

“For Pete’s sake, Pru…” Arch threw his hands up, making a sound of frustration. “I’m
protecting
you.”