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

construct a stone fortress and it wouldn’t keep him out.
    “Don’t touch me.” Her sultry tone didn’t match her command. Neither did the high color in her face or her heaving chest. She’d been as affected as him by that kiss. He could advance. Win the battle. If he did, he would lose the war. He had to let her walk away, as many times as she needed. Only with patience could he bring her to him.
    He opened his palms in the universal gesture for surrender. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to…give you my word.”
    She backed away another step, casting her eyes from side to side, as if looking for a way out. Rebel came off the ratty blanket near the fireplace and stretched. He sniffed at her skirts. She reached down and drew the dog closer. His hound would provide no protection from the things she feared. Even Rebel seemed to know this, and rubbed his head against her skirts.
    “He’s telling you not to be afraid.”
    Pru glared. “What does the dog know? You didn’t accost him.”
    Another defense, that prim, prickly exterior. Pru hid her passionate nature well—until she’d kissed him. Arch resisted the urge to smile. “I didn’t accost you, either. I kissed you, and you kissed me back.” He wet his lips. “Very nicely, I might add.”
    Her cheeks flushed, which would’ve been pretty had she not narrowed her eyes. “I won’t let you lure me into sin.”
    She’d been attending too many tent meetings.
    “That didn’t feel like sin to me, was too good to be bad.”
    “Sacrilegious heathen.”
    This time he did smile. She ruffled up her feathers like a prairie hen trying to scare away a predator. “How come you’re so scared when you know I won’t hurt you? I’d love you real good…if you’d let me.”
    Shock flashed across of her face, followed by stark fear. “Love! You aren’t offering me love. Don’t insult me by trying to disguise your intentions. You want to…to…” She jabbed the spoon at him, finishing her thought with what she might not have realized was a crude gesture. “Because you think I’m a foolish old maid you can trick into falling for your advances, so I won’t report you or your conniving brothers.”
    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?”