Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
"I meant no disrespect," he said.
To his surprise, Prudence issued the same apology. "I meant none, either."
"Good, good," Caroline said. "Now please enjoy the pastries. They are absolutely delicious. And the ladies worked so hard to please you, Mr. Stewart."
"If Miss Winthrop will join me?" he said, and held out his arm to her.
Proper etiquette would not allow her to refuse his gallant invitation. She took his arm with the slightest of touches as though she were adverse to his nearness. "I'd be delighted, Mr. Stewart."
"I'm happy to hear that, Miss Winthrop," he said, walking with her toward the long table arranged artfully with a white linen tablecloth, sparkling china, polished silverware, and a variety of pastries dripping with sweet icing.
"And why is that, Mr. Stewart?"
Zac placed his hand over her arm and exerted a possessive pressure.
A display of his strength, Prudence thought idly. Men did so love to display their power over women. She smiled pleasantly, especially since she was talented at forced smiles during forced situations, and awaited his answer.
Zac was caught off guard by her expression. Her features were plain and her looks common. Her hair so neatly tucked beneath her hat was a nondescript reddish brown. Her eyes were a soft green. And he concluded from the shape of her dress that she was full in figure, with a large bosom, not that narrow of a waist, and full hips.
The type, Zac reminded himself, that a man could grab hold of comfortably and know he's got a woman full in flesh and spirit . . . a real spitfire.
"Did you forget my question, Mr. Stewart?" Prudence asked after his eyes had wandered a bit too blatantly up and down her. She was certain he was ascertaining that she wasn't his type, but then he wasn't hers, either.
Zac shook the crazy thoughts from his head. "I felt you had a distinct aversion toward gunslingers."
Prudence easily slipped her hand from beneath his. "I have no feelings toward gunslingers one way or the other. They are of no concern to me."
"Then why did you attend my lecture?"
"The West, Mr. Stewart. I am interested in the West."
"Why?"
"Knowledge of the unknown."
"No intentions of traveling there?"
"Why? Do you think me incapable of surviving the so called vigor of the wild?"
Zac gave his head a shake. "You've got that right, ma'am."
Prudence stiffened. "I am quite capable of taking care of myself."
"Here in Boston, where you know what is expected of you, where the weather conditions are not unpredictable, where food is in abundance, and where your father's wealth keeps you properly entertained."
"I'm adaptable, Mr. Stewart, and can survive on far less if needed," she retaliated with a decisive lift of her brow.
"That's easy to say when one has everything and is familiar with her surroundings."
"In other words, take me out of my predictable environment and I'd crumble."
"As fast as a slice of this delicious cake, honey," he finished with a smug smile.
Affronted by his use of the endearing word when he meant otherwise, Prudence managed to retain her composure. "Tell me, Mr. Stewart, where did the women who now live out west come from?"
She was quick-witted, Zac noted. "They came from various parts of the country and some from foreign lands. Most are accustomed to hard work. Their dress is simple and suited to the area. They don't worry about fancy hats and clean white gloves. It's an entirely different way of life, Miss Winthrop. One, I'm certain, you would find repulsive."
Prudence held her head up and stared straight into Zac Stewart's dark eyes. "Your remarks have been most informative. I shall remember them. Good day."
Prudence turned, and with a quick acknowledgment to Caroline for a lovely time, she left.
Zac found a teacup shoved into his hand and dozens of questions being tossed at him once again. What he really wished he had was a strong whiskey and a willing woman. But that would wait. It was only a matter of days and he'd be on his way home, to a life he loved and the land he adored.
Prudence stood on the brick steps of Caroline Davis's house and took a deep breath. She was angry, and anger annoyed her. It was such a wasted emotion. One always lost control of oneself when anger took hold. Several more deep breaths followed, and Prudence once again found herself calm.
"He's a gunslinger," she said softly, as though it were explanation enough for his rude behavior.
She walked down the three remaining steps, turning right at the row of waist-high hedges at the end of the brick walkway. It was a beautiful spring day and she would walk the short distance home. She needed the solitary time to think.
She was determined to follow through with her plan. It was most necessary that she do so. Her steps were sure and quick as was her mind. This journey west was no hasty decision. She had thought long and hard. She had taken books from the library and studied what was available on the area. And then when Caroline had announced that a gentleman from the West would be speaking at their monthly club meeting, she had been thrilled. Her prayers had been answered . . . until she met Zac Stewart.