Free Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train by E.E. Burke

to him. He was getting warmer, for sure. “I didn’t even have a gun.”
    He trailed his fingertip along the edge of her ear, encouraged when she shivered but didn’t pull away. “If I’d left you a gun, you might’ve shot the chief, or one of his sons. Then we’d have real trouble on our hands.”
    “You won’t give me the means to protect myself?” She looked up at him, her dark eyes anxious. He longed to see them shine with trust, and grow warm with desire.
    “’Course I will. So long as you know who it is you ought to be shooting.”
    “I’ll start with you.”
    Her biting humor had returned. She must be feeling better.
    “How do you know those Indians?” she asked.
    “I lived near them when I was growing up. There’s lots of Indians out here, most of them friendly, the ones that live in the Territory, that is. Like us, they want a place to call their own and to raise their families in peace. Trouble starts when men get greedy.”
    “Those Indians didn’t seem friendly.”
    “Oh, that was them being real friendly. I’m surprised they didn’t stay to eat.”
    She averted her eyes, as if something he said embarrassed her. “The chief doesn’t think I’d be a good wife…”
    Arch tipped her chin so she would look at him again. “It isn’t the chief who wants to marry you.”
    Her lips parted, a look of surprise, or it could be alarm. Rather than hear her voice another rejection, he bent his head and covered her mouth. Talking never got them anywhere. Kissing might. He’d enjoy it, regardless.
    The moment his mouth touched hers, she sewed her lips shut. He would’ve taken it to mean she didn’t want the kiss, but the way she kept squeezing his arms said she did. Maybe she didn’t know how because she was inexperienced. That would explain why she got so jumpy whenever he got close. She came to him innocent. He’d never gotten such a precious gift. In return, he would show her, and teach her, what he knew about giving. Granted, his sexual experience wasn’t vast, but he’d learned enough to know how to bring a woman pleasure.
    First, he had to teach Pru how to kiss.
    He brushed light kisses over her tight lips, teased the seam with his tongue. When she didn’t release the pucker, he whispered against her mouth. “Relax your lips, let me show you…”
    Her lips opened like the petals of a shy flower. He slanted his mouth across hers and demonstrated how men and women went about kissing.
    Initiating his bride-to-be gave him a heady rush. Her eagerness took his breath away. She wasn’t the only one learning how good a kiss could be.
    Her hands crept upward. She stroked his shoulders, explored the dip above his collarbone, and then wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned closer, pressing her soft breasts against his chest.
    Desire roared through him with the force of a spring twister.
    He tightened his hold around her waist. Patience. No matter how hot she made him burn, he couldn’t rush this, or he’d spoil the moment and not get another chance. Despite her fervent response, she was skittish as a yearling and distrustful. He had to show her, not tell her, that she could trust him.
    With every kiss, she seemed to gain confidence. Her ardor tested his self-control. He longed to devour her; to strip her bare and put his mouth on her skin, bring her to readiness, as she’d done to him. As their tongues met and danced, he ran his hands down her back, cupped her buttocks and drew her full against him.
    He couldn’t restrain a moan.
    At the sound, she stiffened. Then she broke away, pushing at his chest, and backed out of his arms with a gasp. Or was that a sob? He couldn’t tell because she’d spun around.
    She grabbed a wooden spoon from the table and turned, raising it like a club. Some women liked to get a little rough. Generally they didn’t use a wooden spoon, or look bug-eyed with fear.
    Pru wasn’t playing. She’d retreated and put up a defense—a wooden spoon. She could