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)
She was close to tears. He was being so kind to her and she couldn't understand why. Nothing, absolutely nothing, made any sense anymore. "I’ll speak to my parents."
"Good," he said, and then kissed her soundly. He pushed himself off her and held out his hand to help her up. "I'll go fetch them right away before you change your mind."
She nodded her agreement.
He slipped two fingers beneath the coppery curl that fell on her forehead and fondled its silky texture. "Will you be all right while I'm gone?"
"Yes, Zac. Don't worry. I'll be fine."
"I won't be long." He hurried to the door, anxious to be on his way and anxious to return. He stopped suddenly, his hand on the handle, and turned around. "After this matter is settled with your parents, there is much we must discuss."
"Yes, there is," she agreed, dreading the moment they would face each other to say good-bye.
"Be back soon." He waved and walked out the door.
Prudence washed her face and repaired her messy hair. She changed into a plain blue skirt and white cotton blouse, and then went downstairs to await her parents return.
Her spirits bounded from high to low, and her only consistent feeling was one of confusion. There was so much to think about. Yet her one major worry, the one that invaded her thoughts night and day, involved the overpowering love she had for Zac Stewart and the reality of their marriage coming to an end.
She walked into the family parlor and stopped as though she had run up against a brick wall. Granger was standing by the fireplace.
"So you have finally decided to join us, have you?" he said arrogantly. "I must say, Prudence, your manners have been abominable. But under the circumstances, I can now understand why."
Prudence's brow rose. "And why is that, Granger?"
He tugged at his brown vest, making certain it properly covered his trouser band, and adjusted the starched white collar that cut into his throat.
Prudence was familiar with his delay tactics. They were meant to intimidate her. "Do you know why, Granger?" she asked impatiently.
"Yes, of course," he snapped. "I had thought to spare your feelings, but since you appear so adamant—it is because you are part savage. Everyone knows savages cannot be completely taught to live as decent white people."
Prudence took a step back, as though he had struck her in the face. This was one time she found it difficult, if not impossible, to hide her stunned reaction.
"Of course," Granger continued without caring how his ignorant remark affected her, "it isn't your fault you carry heathen blood in you. And I am willing—although it will take much understanding on my part,—to overlook your character flaw and marry you anyway. Our friends in Boston, naturally, must not hear of this, or our social standing would be ruined. At first, of course, you'd be a rarity, but the novelty of your situation would wane and eventually we would be cast out completely."
"Marry you?" Prudence repeated, wondering how he could think she would even entertain such a ridiculous notion.
"Yes. Your father had annulment papers drawn up before we left. Once they are signed and validated, we'll be free to marry almost immediately."
"Why?" she asked, completely confused by his nonsensical idea.
"What do you mean why? We planned on marrying before you took it into that empty head of yours to go frolicking off to the West. And now, who else would marry you? Ex-wife of an infamous gunslinger. Part heathen. Why, I bet those crooked, ugly fingers were caused by the impure blood inside you."
Prudence shut her eyes against the vicious remark. She took a deep breath and opened them slowly. They were burning bright green with anger. "I have no intention of marrying you. I never had any intention of marrying you. I wouldn't marry you if my life depended on it. Do I make myself clear, Granger? I want nothing to do with you." She turned and stormed out of the room, her head held high.
Granger rushed after her, grabbing her arm and swinging her around. "You think the handsome gunslinger wants you? You think he took you to his bed because he wanted to? Think again. Your father paid him to protect you. He doesn't enjoy touching you. You're too plain. Too big. Money buys anything, my dear Prudence. And your father's money not only bought you a husband, but it bought you his kisses and all the pretty lies he tells you when he's forced to perform his conjugal rights."
Prudence's response was instantaneous. She swung with all her might and punched Granger square in the jaw, sending him stumbling back. He landed with a solid thump to his backside on the floor.
"Heathen!" he spat, cupping his sore jaw.
Prudence stopped halfway up the staircase and placed her hand on the banister, holding her body erect with grace and pride. "I may be a heathen, Granger, but I'm a rich heathen. And as you said, money can buy anything."