Sagebrush Bride (12 page)

Bess
giggled suddenly, the sound as clear and musical as the tinkling of little
bells. “Course not,” she replied triumphantly. Listening to Cutter’s answering
groans, Elizabeth became more agitated with every second that passed.

“Key
in this pocket, darlin’?”

There
was a moment of silence, and Elizabeth imagined that Cutter nodded at the
shameless Jezebel. Screams of frustration welled at the back of her throat.

“Mmmmm...
nice... real nice... This here your room?”

Elizabeth
never waited to hear Cutter’s response. She’d heard more than enough! She
jerked open the door.

In
fell Cutter, along with the leech in a red dress. His hat fell off, landing at
Elizabeth’s feet.

The
leech shrieked in surprise, then rolled off Cutter with a curse that should
never have found its way to feminine lips. Huffing angrily, she rose, smacking
at her dress in indignation. “What in blue blazes?”

Cutter,
having hit his head on the floor, simply lay there, cradling it with both hands
for an awkward moment. Closing one eye, he groaned pitifully.

“Cutter!”
the woman in red screeched.

Elizabeth
refused to be cowed. It wasn’t she who had rolled in clinging so shamelessly to
her pretend husband! With hands on hips, she confronted them both, her tone
caustic. “Yes, Cutter, dear, do tell!”

Cutter
released his head, angling it to look up at Elizabeth, his eyes gleaming. The
harsh lines of his face were eased now, giving him an almost boyish appearance.
Relief filled her, for she’d been wholly terrified that he’d never forgive her
for her outburst earlier. Unbelievably, he grinned at her, an irresistibly
devastating grin with no trace of his former animosity.

He’d
changed his clothing, and his legs were now denim-clad in place of the
buckskin. His chambray shirt was a faded forest green, making his skin seem
darker somehow, and his hair was a tousled mess. One wavy lock fell carelessly
across his forehead. He brushed it back out of his eyes to reveal a narrowed,
predatorial gaze. Elizabeth’s breath caught at the intensity revealed there.

“Hiya,
Doc,” he slurred.

Elizabeth
smiled back at him, but there was no humor in her smile. Cutter was sotted. She
could tell by his muddled expression that he was. Aside from that, as angry as
he’d been at her this morning, there was simply no way that he’d be looking at
her as he was now—unless he was three sheets to the wind!

“Cutter
dear,” she said in a honeyed tone, “I’m so glad I waited up for you.” It was
all she could do to keep her voice congenial. Her anger getting the best of
her, she turned to pierce the gaping woman with a scathing glare. “Thank you so
much,” she said as pleasantly as she was able through clenched teeth, “for
bringing my husband to me. But I believe I can take care of him from here.”

Bess’
ample breasts puffed indignantly, and her wrathful gaze snapped downward to
Cutter.

Cutter’s
brow rose at Elizabeth’s declaration, and then a slow grin spread across those
lips, touching his dark eyes. Tearing his gaze away from Elizabeth, he gave
Bess a lopsided smile. “’Fraid so,” he said in confirmation, but there was
little contrition in his tone. “That’s my wife, all right.” He nodded
apologetically.

The
woman’s gaze jerked upward, examining Elizabeth once more, appraising her
shrewdly, then back to Cutter with open ire. “Well, I never!” she exclaimed.
And with a flourish of her satin skirts, she spun away and stomped down the
hall, airing her lungs as she went.

Elizabeth
watched until the woman diminished to a red blur in the dim hall, then her
attention returned to the man sprawled at her feet. Half of him lay within her
room, the other half in the hall.

Lifting
himself up, Cutter gaped after Bess, whistling softly. “That was close!” Again,
he looked up at Elizabeth, his eyes slitted with exhaustion... and something
more. “I owe you one, bright eyes. Crazy woman wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
With a grunt and a sigh, he laid his head back onto the floor. “My head hurts,”
he complained.

Elizabeth
gave him a dubious look. “It certainly didn’t appear to me as though you were
struggling very hard to get away!”

Cutter
sighed and closed his eyes, and Elizabeth jabbed him with her bare toe,
irritated by his obvious dismissal. “You are despicable! Get up!”

With
some effort, Cutter opened his eyes, refocusing his gaze. And then he turned
slowly to gawk at Elizabeth’s bare foot with new awareness, his mouth creasing
with displeasure as his gaze then traveled up her half-clad legs to her chemise.

The
color drained from Elizabeth’s face as she remembered finally what she was
wearing—or rather what she was not wearing—and she gave a startled
little gasp, her arms crossing automatically to conceal her thinly clad bosom.
Her feet, on the other hand, wouldn’t move.

“What
in damnation are you doing out here dressed like that!” he shouted suddenly,
startling her into retreating. He was up and on his feet before Elizabeth could
make it into the refuge of the shadows. “What did you think you were doing
opening that door? It could have been anyone out here!” He followed her in, and
with his boot kicked the door shut behind him, scowling fiercely. Catching her
arm, he swung her about to face him.

“Are
you out of your mind, woman?” Cutter’s vision faded momentarily with the loss
of light, then returned more sharply as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Elizabeth
merely stared, wide-eyed and tongue-tied.

Holy
hell, Cutter thought, sobering abruptly. How had he ever thought her scrawny?
Not even his discovery earlier in the day—when he’d fallen atop
her—had prepared him for the reality of the woman before him.

Even
in the dim light, he could see that her thin, wash-worn chemise clung
enticingly to her bosom, hugging her flesh where it touched her. And her
drawers, though a far larger size than she required, were too sheer to conceal
much. His gaze fixed upon the shadowy triangle at the apex of her thighs, and
he found himself bewitched by it. The hunger that had eluded his body with the
whore now returned, slamming into him full force, and he was just tight enough
not to fight it.

With
a groan, he closed his eyes, knowing instinctively where it would lead them if
he didn’t avert his gaze. Leaning against the door, he pulled Elizabeth back
with him.

His
head fell back, hitting the door with a thump.

“M-maybe,”
she stammered, “y-you should go now?”

There
was a moment of strained silence before Cutter’s head came up again, his gaze
piercing her through the shadows. Noticing that her specs were missing, he
wondered again why she wore them if she didn’t need them. “Maybe,” he answered
softly, enigmatically, his hand stirring at her back. “But I don’t reckon I
will.”

“B-But-”

“Shhh,”
he said, his jaw turning taut. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he fought for
control... and lost. He brushed a wisp of hair from her face, his eyes slitting
languorously. “Do you know how much I’ve thought about you... like this?”

Elizabeth
shook her head in tiny jerks.

As
his hand moved up her spine, she began to tremble—not in fear, but
because her body was suddenly too tense, achingly aware of the man she was
pressed to so intimately.

“No?”
he whispered gruffly, answering for her. “Then why don’t you let me show you,
bright eyes.” His hand moved up behind her neck, holding her steady as he
tilted her head and slowly moved in for the kill.

Their
lips brushed lightly at first, sending glorious waves of shock through
Elizabeth’s entire being. The scents of tobacco and whiskey assailed her and
she inhaled deeply, breathing in those scents along with another more
elusive... and titillating. In response, her insides convulsed faintly. It was
as though she were famished, somehow, for what he would give her, all of her
senses rejoicing in chorus... awakening finally, after an endless slumber.

Then
their lips met and she was lost irretrievably to the moment. Merciful Lord, she
had never known it could be so divine to kiss a man’s mouth. She had at times
spied lovers in just such an embrace, but only now, this moment, understood the
urgency, the yearning, that drove them.

Her
body had a will of its own, Elizabeth thought wildly, and then she couldn’t
think at all as Cutter suckled her lips. The shock of it was physical, sending
convulsions throughout her entire body.

Cutter
lost himself in the sweetness of the kiss. In his half-sotted state he couldn’t
bring himself to give a fig what the consequences might be later.

He could only feel.

Though
he’d known Elizabeth only twenty-four hours, it seemed he’d waited a lifetime
for precisely this moment.

Too long.

And
she wasn’t resisting him.

Sucking
a rush of cool, sweet air through his clenched teeth, he slid a hand down to
the hollow of her back, crushing her closer, wanting her to feel his arousal,
embedding himself deeply into the nest of soft curls he struggled so fiercely
not to visualize in his mind’s eyes.

She
stiffened slightly and with a belated gasp, she jerked her head backward, but
Cutter’s hand held the back of her neck, bracing her for more of his tender
assault. She whimpered in protest, but the soft sound only made his foray into
her mouth all the more frenzied.

His
tongue swept deeper, seeking out hers, brushing at it softly, coaxing a
response from her... again... tasting, entwining with hers erotically.

Her
knees buckled and she sagged against him as her will to fight fled and she
responded by meeting his tongue with her own, sparring with it timidly, almost
clumsily.

Cutter
nearly exploded on the spot.

He
swept his arms around her waist, crushing her against him as he savored the
sweetness of her lips. She might not like the fact that he had Indian blood in
his veins, but her body sure didn’t know the difference.

God,
it would be so easy to take her the distance... lift her against him... carry
her to bed.

So easy.

Her
reactions were awkward, but he’d been with enough women to know the signs of
her body’s awakening.

She wanted this as much as he did.

Clinging
to Cutter breathlessly, she arched for him as he sank his fingers into her
hair, tilting her head backward to give him better access.

“Cutter,”
she sighed.

He
heard her confusion in the single word, and an unwelcome thought emerged from
the dark recesses of Cutter’s mind, creeping obstinately into his
consciousness. Stubbornly ignoring it, he deepened the kiss, only to find that
it wouldn’t go away.

He
had the nagging suspicion that if he bedded her now, it would be over. That it
would end here and now. Innocent as Elizabeth evidently was, she wasn’t aware
of where this was leading, he was damned sure. Otherwise, the little prudish
miss would be clawing his eyes out just now, rather than urging him on with her
delightful little body. As angry as she’d been with him, she’d never have submitted
so easily. Her prickly pride wouldn’t allow it.

Truth
was, he could go on... and he doubted she’d put up any resistance a’tall... but
tomorrow, or maybe even seconds afterward, she’d be conscience-stricken over
what they’d shared and she’d hightail it home quicker’n a hunted jackrabbit.
That wasn’t what he was after.

But
damn, would it feel good!

And—it—still—wouldn’t
get him what he wanted.

Damn it.

Casting
a glance over her shoulder, he eyed the small bed pensively, picturing
Elizabeth there, lying beneath him in all her glory, her long, silky hair
wrapped around his bare thighs. Jesus, he wanted that. Scrutinizing the piece
of furniture intently, he forced himself away from her lips, kissing one corner
of her mouth regretfully, before he tilted her head to one side in order to
better view his coveted destination.

Instinctively,
even against his will, his sensual lips were drawn to her exposed neck, like a
predator to its prey. Forgetting himself, he nuzzled her hungrily as his
fingers twisted in her hair. His teeth grazed her flesh ever so lightly,
nibbling, his tongue flicking out to taste her. Finding the fragile pulse that
ticked just beneath the pale surface, he groaned at the feel of it. As he
feasted, his gaze again returned to the waiting bed, calculating.