Sagebrush Bride (21 page)

By
midday, Elizabeth was thoroughly exhausted from having spent such a restless
night. Her only consolation was that Cutter didn’t seem to have fared any
better, though his manner was never more obnoxious. The gleam in his eye when
he happened to look her way made her screaming mad. And his winking—...
his winking infuriated her, because she felt as though he were poking fun at
her somehow.

Having
slept for the second night in her dirty, rumpled clothing, Elizabeth had no
delusions over her appearance. For certain, she’d never been much of a beauty,
but now she was sure she was just plain unsightly. Her skirt, with its torn
hem, looked as though it had seen more years than she had, with all the filth
it had accumulated. And the white blouse? Well, she preferred not to think of
it at all.

At
the first opportunity, she planned to change into her new clothes and scrub the
ones she was wearing in the river. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have any
soap to launder with. At least then she would feel cleaner, even if she
wouldn’t look it. And it’d be nice to bathe at the same time, but she wasn’t
sure she’d dare the risk—at least not a full bath, she amended with a
distrustful glance at Cutter. Sometimes... sometimes... when he looked at
her... well, she just wasn’t certain.

And
then there was that—whatever it was that he’d done to her last
night—that she was trying so desperately to forget. But who could forget?
There were moments when she found herself wishing that she were farsighted, and
not nearsighted, as she was. She didn’t want to be able to see him... that
strange look he gave her every so often. Yet she couldn’t seem to take her eyes
off him either.

She
gave him another furtive glance, and caught him rubbing his brows tiredly.

In
profile, his face was positively striking, his cheekbones high, his jaw thick,
darkened considerably by at least a week’s worth of stubble. But it was those
lips of his that made her feel so vulnerable... the way they’d felt on her
skin, so warm... so mesmerizing. She shivered, and unconsciously ran her hand
down the length of her braid, taking note of every loose tendril of hair.

What
a sight she must present to him!

She
was sure Cutter was used to women’s attentions. He could probably choose almost
any woman he wished and she would thrill to the opportunity.

How
many women had tried to gain his favor?

Now,
why did that question seem to bother her?

Why
should her appearance matter so much, when it never had before?

And
why had he kissed her?

She
couldn’t even begin to understand what had happened between them last night...
why she had let it happen. He’d yet to mention the fact that he’d awakened to
find her in his bed. Had she disgusted him? Her heart seemed to grow heavy with
that thought.

Gliding
his hands through his sweat-dampened black bangs, Cutter glanced her way,
catching her staring, and a smile curved those arrogant lips of his. Flustered
by the devilment in his black eyes, Elizabeth quickly averted her gaze, all the
while cursing him to perdition.

Oh,
what she wouldn’t give for a hot bath, clean clothes... those lips...
No—lands, her mind was running amok! She didn’t need... or want... not
that! Her face heated, and feeling Cutter’s scrutiny upon her still, she turned
her head away more fully, hiding the incriminating color on her cheeks.

Cutter
chuckled.

Elizabeth
chose to ignore him. He couldn’t possibly have known what she was thinking!

No...
just the bath, she reaffirmed with a sigh, trying desperately to refocus her
thoughts. That was all she wanted—or needed. Course, if the sky grew any
darker than it was just now, she considered with a heavenward glance, she might
not have to worry over her washing, at that. The rain would likely take care of
it for her.

But
it didn’t rain that day. Nor during the night. Though by late afternoon of the
next day, the sky had grown black as pitch, and storm clouds swirled like
sinister shadows overhead. Every so oft, a streak of white would flicker
against the darkening horizon, and Elizabeth grimaced at the sight of it. To
either side of them, the river bluffs butted high against the gloomy sky. As
time went on, it grew so dark that it was difficult to distinguish where the
bluffs ended and the sky began. As the wind picked up, she squashed Cutter’s
hat to the top of her head so it wouldn’t be swept away.

It
came as no surprise when the first drizzles misted the air about them. But they
were in the middle of nowhere, Cutter having conscientiously steered clear of
the townships, and though the trees were slowly growing in number, Elizabeth
doubted they would use them for shelter. She’d heard tales of men being struck
by lightning while out during storms. In fact, there’d been a woman last April
who’d come in to see her father, claiming that her son had been struck down
when a bolt of lightning had split a tree more than twenty feet from where he’d
stood. The poor child had never fully recovered the use of his legs.

But
there seemed to be no place else to take refuge against the rising tempest, and
at this point the bluffs were too steep to climb, so they trekked on,
despairing ever to ride out of the storm. Assessing the sky once more,
Elizabeth glanced anxiously at Cutter. He seemed deep in thought, surveying the
swirling heavens. His long hair snapped behind him in the breeze.

“Looks
like we’re in for one helluva squall!” Cutter bellowed suddenly, glancing at
her.

As
though in response, the wind picked up, plastering Elizabeth’s wet blouse to
her bosom. Her skirt billowed out around her. It fluttered wildly, snapping
near as loud as the thunder overhead. Instinctively she lowered the brim of
Cutter’s hat to shield her face from the buffeting wind. Cocking her head into
the bluster, she looked pleadingly at Cutter. “Shouldn’t we find shelter or
something?” she asked him.

The
wind plastered his wet, dark hair to his head. Rainwater dripped from his bangs
into his mouth as he spoke. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” he retorted.
“You happen to see someplace I don’t?” One brow rose in challenge, channeling
rainwater onto his aquiline nose. As he watched her, his hand darted up to
swipe at his face, and then tore into his wet hair, removing the offending
strands from his forehead. It lingered in his glistening black mane as he
stared at her.

His
eyes took in the shape of her wet blouse, the way it molded about her breasts.
He lifted his gaze to her face. Slitting suddenly, his eyes glittered like the
blackest onyx.

As
she watched him, a shiver darted down Elizabeth’s spine that had little to do
with the cold swiftly settling into her bones. Answering his challenge, her own
eyes quickly scanned the horizon as she turned the mustang mare in a full
circle. And then she whirled Cocoa suddenly, glimpsing something over her
shoulder. It was barely visible with her sorry vision and the swirling rain,
yet there—a darker shading of rock against the bluff—and she
whirled the mare about to examine it more closely, reining in. No matter how
hard she squinted, she couldn’t see it clearly enough.

“What
about that?” she appealed, her tone rising with the wind. Cocoa pranced
restlessly beneath her as she indicated the black shadow in the light stone.
She couldn’t really see much at this distance, but she wasn’t about to admit as
much to Cutter. She had to trust that his vision was at least slightly better
than her own.

Cutter
wheeled his mount about, his eyes squinting against the gusts, but to her
surprise, he showed no reaction at all.

He
shook his head, and then seeing another possibility near it, conceded, “Maybe.”
His shadowed eyes met hers, then glanced upward as a bolt of electric white lit
up the sky. “Might be as good as it gets,” he warned her. With a brisk nod, he
urged Elizabeth on ahead.

Thunder
exploded around them, the sound too loud and too violent for peace of mind.

Elizabeth
cringed, her eyes widening fearfully.

Seeing
her bloodless expression, Cutter booted the tail end of her mount. “Ride!” he
shouted, and then spurred his own mount.

Elizabeth
cried out and gripped the saddle horn for dear life.

Reaching the craggy bluff first, Cutter motioned
for Elizabeth to stay put.

“Why’d you hafta kick my horse?” she demanded at
once, seeking courage in her wrath, but he ignored her, leaving her to wait in
the downpour while he inspected the grotto.

“You could have killed me!” she shouted as he
returned to seize her reins. Raindrops sparkled in her lashes, making it
difficult to see his face through the haze. Furiously Elizabeth swiped at her
wet face, running her fingers upward into her sopping hair, lifting it out of
her face.

Without a word, Cutter led her around to where a
small opening was discernible. Dismounting, he fell to his knees and crawled
into the narrow crevice, backing out almost immediately. Still without
speaking, he stood, whisking Elizabeth off her mount and setting her on her
unsteady feet. He urged her down onto her knees. The rain pattered Elizabeth’s
back without mercy as she obeyed.

But as she began to crawl within, a thought
occurred to her, chilling her to the bone, and she hesitated. “What about the
river? Won’t it rise with the rain?” Drowning was the very last thing she
wished to do!

“The river’s low!” Cutter shouted over the
downpour. “It’ll rise, but not nearly enough—now, get in, and get cozy!”
He coaxed her under the narrow overhang and into the wider cavity beyond.
Thunder erupted, and though Cutter’s lips were moving, she couldn’t hear his
next words

“... Stay... hold the fort,” he finished, backing
out almost at once.

As she realized that he was leaving her,
Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and she started to follow him out, terrified of
being left alone.

Cutter shoved her back with a fierce glare.
“Chrissakes, woman! I said t’ stay, and I mean stay!” As though an
afterthought, he seized his hat from her head and began to back out once again.

Again thunder cracked, reverberating clear into
the solid rock. Even the ground seemed to tremble beneath them. Panicking,
Elizabeth grasped Cutter’s fingers, the last reachable part of him, her eyes
pleading. “Cutter! P-Please wait!”

He shook off her trembling hands, his black eyes
spearing her. “Trust me,” was all he said, his tone unyielding, and then he was
sliding out again.

Frantic, Elizabeth followed as far as the entrance
to watch him go, her heart in her throat. Rain and wind buffeted her face, but
fear held her immobile as, before her eyes, his form blurred and was swallowed
by the gray mist and rain.

Trust.

There was that word again.

But she did trust him... s-she did!

She did trust him.

It seemed to Elizabeth that she lay an eternity on
the hard ground, peering out anxiously, waiting for some sign of Cutter’s
return, all the while repeating those words until they became a litany.