Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train (9 page)

Arch dropped his arms. Her accusation wasn’t exactly true, but close enough to make him feel guilty about marrying her to suit his own interests. She seemed to think it was impossible for him to have any genuine feelings for her. Either she considered him incapable of tender emotions or she feared she couldn’t inspire them.

Facing off made her more defensive, so he took a seat at the table and picked up a bread loaf. The thing felt heavy as a sod brick. He tried to break it in half. Finally, he took his penknife to pry off a piece. Maybe she’d gotten distracted and left the pan in the coals too long. “Why do you doubt that I could desire you, or have a care for you?” he asked in a non-threatening tone.

She pushed the second loaf out of his reach, for some odd reason, and stepped back, as if she feared he might make a grab for her. “What a foolish question. You’re a healthy young man. Look at me. I’m plain and thirty and have never been married. I’m a dried-up old maid.”

Arch gave her curvy form a good look-over like she’d asked. “You don’t look dried up to me.”

Her cheeks flushed the color of a ripe peach.

“And you’re pretty when you blush.”

This bread, on the other hand, was dry as winter wood. Maybe butter would soften it. He dipped his knife into a small crock filled with whitish yellow butter that had flakes in it. He couldn’t remember butter ever looking flaky.

She eyed the buttered bread with frowning concern. Apparently, she was aware that the butter wasn’t quite right. He didn’t want to complain and make her feel even worse about herself.

“You don’t have to say things you know aren’t true.”

Her accusation annoyed him. His motives might be suspect, but not his honor.

“You think I’m lying?” If kissing hadn’t convinced her that he found her desirable, saying it wouldn’t make her believe him, but he had to try to get through to her so she would stop finding excuses to refuse him. “Surely somebody besides me has told you that you’re pretty.”

A sad, wistful look came into her eyes. “A long time ago…”

“Did he ask for your hand?”

Instead of answering, she reached for the bowls she’d put on the table. He took one before she could whisk them away. “I’ve received several proposals. None were from the kind of man I’d marry.”

“Ah, so you’re picky…”

“No, I have standards.”

“Having standards isn’t a bad thing. As long as you aren’t impossible to please.” He bit into the buttered bread—and about broke off his front teeth. He’d offend her if he threw it into the fire. Maybe he could soften it. From the Dutch oven, he dipped out a serving of soupy beans.

“What are your standards for a husband?” He wondered if he met any of them.

“Hard-working. Honest.”

He met those two. Mostly.

She put the other bowls into the cupboard, and then came after the beans. Before she took away the pot, he dipped out another spoonful. She ought to know he’d be starved after working all morning. Maybe she was worried about rations.

“And temperate,” she added, setting the Dutch oven on the hearth. “That’s a must. I stay away from men who indulge in strong drink.”

The rock that hit the bottom of Arch’s stomach wasn’t made from bread. It was a fair bet she would stay
far
away from a man who made his living from selling moonshine.

How long could he hide the truth from her?

Not long enough.

He dipped a piece of bread into his bowl to sop up the liquid, as he mulled over how to present his family’s business in a good light. “Whiskey isn’t bad…”

“It is when a man loves it so much he ignores his responsibilities and abandons his…the people who depend on him.”

Arch stopped with the bread halfway to his mouth. Her halting correction made it clear she wasn’t talking in general terms. “Who did that to you?”

“Someone who doesn’t matter anymore.” She stepped back from the table. The way she kept wringing her hands and glancing at the door made him wonder if she planned to sprint away.

“Why are you so nervous? I’ll won’t bite, I promise. Now tell me about the fellow that don’t matter anymore.”

She stopped twisting her fingers and held still. He tried to read her expression: pain, confusion, maybe regret. “We were to be married. At our wedding, after I’d waited for over an hour for him to show up, I found him drunk and passed out in the barn. He tried to apologize and explain, but… Looking back, I should’ve seen it coming. He carried a flask with him at all times. I consider myself lucky to have escaped.”

“You’re right. You were lucky.” Arch longed to pound whoever had hurt her into the dirt.

“He sounds like a weak man, not someone worthy of you.”

“If I’d listened to my father, I might’ve avoided humiliation. He warned against ills of liquor and how it can lead to disgrace and dishonor.”

Sounded like her strait-laced pa had put the fear of God into her when it came to sex and drinking, two things most men enjoyed.

“That fellow was a bad apple, I’ll give you that. But not everyone who drinks turns into a debased drunkard,” Arch retorted.

Her pointed look said otherwise. Trying to convince her he wasn’t the devil incarnate would take some doing.

He put the soggy bread into his mouth.

Ugh.
Tasted awful. Without letting on, he set it on the edge of the plate and tried a spoonful of beans. His throat closed up. Oh God. Worse. He forced down what was in his mouth, rather than spitting it onto the plate.

Pru set a cup in front of him. “Here, have some water.”

He downed the cool liquid in three gulps. That helped, though it didn’t completely wash away the horrid taste.

She rubbed her hands together anxiously. “You don’t like it?”

“It…” He had to be honest because she knew something was wrong and if he fibbed about this, she would assume he’d lie about more important things. “Tastes bitter.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I did wash the beans with soap before I cooked them. Maybe I didn’t rinse them well enough.”

Astonished, he set down the spoon. “You used soap?”

She nodded.

“No wonder it tastes so vile.” He rubbed his forehead, as his fond dreams about delicious meals flew out the window. His future wife couldn’t make bread and she didn’t know the most basic thing about cooking beans. God bless her for trying. “You don’t use soap to clean beans. Rinse them in water.”

“Oh.” She cast a sad look at his plate, went from rubbing her hands to wringing them and looking so distressed that he felt bad for being honest. “I-I’m sure you must think I’m worthless.”

Chapter 5

“Worthless?” Arch exclaimed “Because of beans?”

Prudence reached for his bowl and pulled the foul slop away. This time he didn’t try to stop her. He’d worked hard all morning and had to be starving and she had denied him sustenance. He’d been kind, protective. She’d deliberately set out to give him a stomachache.

She couldn’t deny the passion and attraction that sparked between them, even if she didn’t know what to make of it. On the other hand, he ought to be more than ready to get rid of her, so she shouldn’t be eaten up with regret.

He stood and came around the table, frowning so fiercely she wondered if he might strike her. She resisted cringing and looked him in the eye.

“I’m sorry, Arch. You deserve better.”

He grasped her arm and dragged her to him, astonishingly, embraced her. “Aw, Pru, how do you reckon a spoilt meal makes you worthless? There’s nothing further from the truth. The worthless cur is that man who made you doubt yourself.”

Stunned, then lightheaded with relief, she clung to him. The only men who’d ever stood up for her were those in her immediate family. Even then, her father and brother had let her believe she was lacking in some way.

She turned her face into Arch’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, primitive and purely male. Her hold on him tightened and excitement ignited the now-familiar warmth. “You aren’t angry with me?”

“Heck no…” He caressed the back of her head, fondling the length of her plaited hair, his touch possessive, yet at the same time, gentle.

Something inside her chest shifted. Her heart felt lighter. Softer.

He cupped her cheek in a calloused palm. Warm, slightly rough, his touch sent her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, beneath her wrists and behind her knees. As he bent his head, her legs grew as weak as her willpower.

“I’m not hungry for beans, anyhow,” he murmured, an instant before his mouth covered hers. He proved his point by feasting on her lips.

How amazing. She’d rebuffed him at every turn, even laced his food with lye soap, and still he wanted her.

An emotional thunderstorm gathered force. The power of desire ripped away propriety as a strong wind might tear the roof from a house. Heart pounding, she grasped at the hard muscles on his broad back.

With his hands, he shaped her ribcage and waist and then moved downward over her hips. He deepened the kiss, putting his tongue in her mouth as he had before. She welcomed the intimate invasion and even slanted her head to provide a better angle. Desire fueled boldness. She brought her hands around to his chest to explore the hard muscles beneath the soft shirt.

He responded with a rumbling sound, somewhere between a purr and a growl, and drew her up against him, so close she could feel the changes in his body wrought by passion.

The warm flickers of desire flared into a blaze, its flames heating her from the inside out. She longed to throw off her clothes and drag him into bed. An audacious thought, but not the first time she’d entertained the illicit impulse.

Flee from temptation.

Passion’s roaring winds nearly drowned out the small voice. Her soul would be in peril should she ignore the warning. Somehow, she found the strength to end the kiss.

Arch gazed down at her with stark hunger darkening his eyes. His features looked sharper and his skin, flushed. His face and body revealed the effects of strong passions. Passions she had inspired. If she had a smidgen of decency, she would be offended. Instead, she exulted in her newly discovered feminine power.

Nevertheless, she hadn’t completely lost her mind or her fragile hold on self-respect.

“R-release me,” she stammered.

The moment he relaxed his grip, she took a step backwards, needing to get away so she wouldn’t give in to the urge to reach for him again. Women who were seduced and led astray became enslaved to sinful cravings.
Fallen angels
, her father had called them. They usually ended up in brothels.

“You promised you wouldn’t touch me.” She had to hold him to his word because she didn’t have the strength to resist.

Regret flickered across his face. “I promised I wouldn’t if you don’t want me to…”

His reminder of her moral failure brought on a hot blush.

“Don’t be scared of what you’re feeling, Pru. It’s natural.”

“All the sins of the flesh are
natural
, but that doesn’t make them right.” Kissing him had awakened something wanton inside her. She hadn’t resisted, hadn’t even wanted to resist. “I’m not blaming you. I’m the one who transgressed.”

“Transgressed?” He blinked as if the meaning was lost on him. He must not have been raised in a devout household, or he would know what that word meant.

“Women are called to be examples of purity and restraint,” she explained. “Men are supposed to flee from ungodliness, too. But being men, they can be forgiven for their animal passions.”

“Animal passions?” Arch shook his head with a dry laugh. “You don’t know much about animals if you think that was… Ah, never mind. Enjoying a kiss doesn’t mean you’re impure and unrestrained.”

She had kissed him with abandon and had her hands all over him… Why, it made her tremble to think about how truly unrestrained she could be.

“A virtuous woman doesn’t
enjoy
kissing.” She turned away, blinking back tears of frustration. “It must be my rebellious nature. I’ve always been too spontaneous and given to…to strong passions.”

Nine years ago, her father had caught her in the barn with her sweetheart the night before he marched off to join his company. They hadn’t done more than share a few innocent hugs and a quick kiss. But since she had wondered if Will’s death was punishment for wanting more. She had vowed never to have immoral thoughts again. Yet, she couldn’t seem to control the urges.

“There must be something wrong with me,” she bemoaned.

“Hush, now, there’s not a thing wrong with you…and I don’t reckon God will get mad about a few kisses.” Arch’s hands came to rest on her shoulders. She trembled. Heaven forbid he put his arms around her. “If we was to get married, you wouldn’t have to worry so much about your virtue.”

* * *

“You’re incorrigible.” Prudence tore away from his grasp and fled out the open door.

Arch wasn’t certain what
incorrigible
meant, but he knew it wasn’t a compliment. He’d kissed her to show her that he valued her and wanted her, so she would feel better about herself. All he’d accomplished was to make her feel worse.