Sagebrush Bride (6 page)

The more he thought about it, the more certain he
grew: Come hell or high water, he wasn’t about to let her put herself into any
more danger than she was already courting. But he could see just how much it
meant to her to claim her sister’s child. And it didn’t take a shaman to see
that Jo felt something special for Elizabeth. As far as Cutter was concerned,
that was reason enough for him to step in. Elizabeth had to be a helluva woman
to befriend a half-breed barkeep. Most respectable ladies wouldn’t even have
gotten past the barkeep bit.

“Lizbeth,” he whispered before he could stop
himself. “Let me help you. Let me be that husband you’re aimin’ to
hire—don’t want the money,” he told her. “Just let me do it for... Jo. I
know she’d want me to.”

With some effort, she opened one eye to find
Cutter’s face mere inches from her own. She might have jerked her head away, but
obviously felt much too languid to even blink. “Why would you do such a thing?”
she mumbled sleepily.

“Don’t rightly know,” he confessed, lifting his
hat and raking his hand back across his dark waves. His eyes glinted,
reflecting the lamplight. “Reckon I’d just like t’ help, is all.”

“I—I don’t think so,” Elizabeth told him,
shaking her head ungracefully. She wanted to let him, she really did. But she’d
had a reason to discount him in the first place.

Now, what was it?

Her eyes closed as she tried to recall—oh
yes, because he was an arrogant half-breed. Not that she had anything against
half-breeds, mind you, especially this particular one. She suspected she might
even like him a bit too much. And Jo was her best friend.

It was just that if she showed up with Cutter
McKenzie as her lawful husband, then it might be worse than showing up alone.
Most folks didn’t cotton to Indians much. She couldn’t take the chance that
Katherine’s father-in-law was one of ’em. He had mentioned Indians—not
too favorably, either—in his letter. If he was prejudiced... then there
would be no use in going at all, because Elias Bass would simply turn her away
empty-handed. She couldn’t let that happen.

She yawned suddenly, instinctively sliding her
hand down to cover her mouth, feeling remarkably tranquil. Vaguely she felt her
spectacles being lifted from her face, but didn’t bother to open her eyes.
Really, she didn’t know why she still wore the warped old things—should
have ordered new ones long before now.

She’d started wearing them at the age of twelve.
As proud of her father as she’d always been, she’d wanted nothing more than to
be like him... and so she’d fished them out of the ash when he’d thrown them
away. Course, she’d had to have new lenses cut, because the old ones were
cracked, but in spite of the bent frames, they’d looked very authoritative to
her, and so she’d worn them anyway. And later she’d found them useful in
keeping the men away. It seemed most men just weren’t attracted to women in
spectacles—it didn’t help matters much that the frames were ill
formed—but that was just fine with her, because all she’d ever wanted was
to be a physician and to be left alone to follow her dream.

Had Cutter really said he would have noticed her?
Surely he hadn’t.

“Lizbeth, gal, wake up. Look at me,” he demanded
softly. “I wanna see those brassy eyes of yours.”

Now, why would he want to do that? she pondered
sleepily. She tried to appease him because he sounded so concerned, lifting her
head to gaze at him blankly. She teetered slowly forward. Unable to hold
herself up, she slumped against Cutter’s solid chest.

So hard. But he was warm, too, like the worn
flannel blanket she’d cherished as a child, and so naturally she cuddled
against him, rubbing her face cozily against his soft worn buckskin vest.

With a groan and a sigh, Cutter lifted Elizabeth’s
limp body up into his arms. Sinking back into the chair she’d warmed, he
cradled her in his lap with a gentleness that belied his size and strength.

“Chrissakes,” he muttered. The woman had only had
a few puny swallows. It wouldn’t even have affected him, and here she was
pie-eyed. Who would’ve figured? But he reckoned her small size accounted for
some of the difference in side effects—that, and she had guzzled them
down quick, aside from having been through quite an emotional strain besides.

He stared at her for the longest moment, studying
her pale features in the dim light, thinking that he’d liked to be the one to
put roses in those cheeks, to take the pins and ribbon out of her shiny gold
hair... to run his hands through it. He wanted to show her what she was behind
those misleading specs. There wasn’t a damned thing wrong with her looks, other
than the fact that she seemed hell-bent on detracting from them.

She wiggled, making herself more comfortable in
his lap, and his physical reaction was instantaneous. Groaning, he closed his
eyes to command restraint. Damned if he wasn’t hotter’n a three-dollar pistol,
while she, on the other hand, was feeling no pain a’tall.

He wished she would open her eyes so that he could
see their color again. He’d never seen peepers quite like hers—at least
not on a human being. They were like wolf eyes, yellow as fool’s gold. His brow
furrowing, he shook her softly, to no avail. She didn’t even crack a lid. Hell,
he thought irritably, she couldn’t go to sleep... not yet.

“Lizbeth?”

His hand closed about her soft shoulder, kneading
it gently. Unable to help himself, he bent to kiss her sweet, pouty mouth and
ended up suckling at her lower lip, enthralled with the taste of her. She
sighed groggily but opened for him, and it sent a surge of white-hot desire
running through him so fierce that he wanted to shake her awake and take her
right there on Jo’s desk.

His tongue traced the velvety fullness of her
mouth, then dipped between her lips to search out her tongue. He was pleasantly
surprised when she met him halfway with the soft little tip.

His heart hammered like a chisel on stone, and his
veins pulsed with a primeval heat as his mouth moved over hers, devouring its
moist sweetness with an intensity that surprised him.

Soft,
so soft... too soft... too easy to lose himself.

It
took Cutter a full moment to register the fact that Elizabeth was no longer
responding. Groaning, he checked himself, raising his head to look into her
face, his mind irrevocably made up.

She
seemed too sweet and fragile, too porcelain, her skin too smooth and pure and
pale, when most women had tawny complexions from sun exposure. Her brows, so
perfectly formed, seemed stark against her face. She needed someone to protect
her.

But
she’d already refused his help.

He
didn’t give a mule’s squat. She wasn’t in any shape to be making decisions. If
she was so determined to hire herself a husband... then he aimed to be that
man. He’d just sit her fanny in the saddle before him and ride. By the time she
awoke, they’d be well on their way, and there would be nothing she could do
about it.

He
didn’t bother to ask himself whether she’d be safe in his hands. He doubted it.
But better him than someone else. At least then, he’d be certain she’d arrive
in one piece. Lifting her long, silken braid, he laid it reverently across her
bosom. For that matter, he swore he’d send any man who dared so much as look at
her wrong to the bone orchard.

The
door creaked opened and Jo stepped in, completely unprepared for the sight that
greeted her. “Lands!” she exclaimed, squelching a giggle to see her brother
holding Elizabeth with such possessive pride—like a man would his first
saddle. Truth to tell, she never thought she’d see the day.

However…
Elizabeth didn’t look all that aware of what was going on.

“She
fell asleep.” His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

Jo
moved forward quietly, frowning. “She just fell asleep? Just like that? I don’t
believe it, Cutter—what did you do to her?”

Cutter
lifted a brow.

“Never
mind! Let me help you wake her so that I can get her home,” Jo suggested. “You
can tend the bar while I’m gone.” Her hand arrested in midair as Cutter’s eyes
flashed her a firm but gentle warning.

“Lay
a hand on her, Josie girl, and you’ll find yourself swinging facedown over my
knee. You’re not too old to spank.”

“That
works two ways.”

“Really?”
Cutter drawled, his lips hinting at a belligerent grin. “Think you can manage
to haul me over that scrawny knee of yours?” He shook his head. “Fact is, the
hotheaded little fool’s determined to hire herself a husband, and I’ve a mind
to take her up on it. You wouldn’t still be hanging on to that wedding band of
yours, would you?”

Momentarily
dumbstruck, Jo simply nodded. It wasn’t like her cynical brother to take such
an interest in anyone. His lighthearted appearance didn’t fool her in the
least. She knew the animosity he hid behind that easy facade. Still, he seemed
more carefree this time than ever before, and she had a keen suspicion as to
why. It was only a hunch, because Cutter wasn’t easy to read.

On
the other hand, he seemed to know her only too well.

Something
in Jo’s eyes flickered and dimmed with her quiet affirmation, and Cutter’s
hackles rose.

“Thought
you might,” he said. “You’re too sentimental, Jo—should have sold the
confounded thing years ago.”

He
knew Jo wanted a family of her own, but there weren’t many choices afforded to
a half-breed woman. Jo was a looker, but that didn’t seem to hold much water
when faced with the issue of their parentage. She’d married, sure enough, but
the moment her lily white husband had discovered her heritage, he’d left her
high and dry, without so much as a fare-thee-well. Unfortunately, Cutter
suspected not even that kept her from loving the fool man.

Jo
shrugged, unwilling to discuss the painful topic.

“Mind
if we borrow it?”

Jo
choked back a surprised laugh. “We?”

“We.”

She
gave him a measuring glance. “Sure,” she said after a moment, determining that
he was serious. “Just don’t you go losin’ it.”

Cutter
lifted his right hand. “Word of honor,” he assured. “Now, why don’t you fetch
it for me.”

“You
want me to get it now?”

“Isn’t
that what I just asked?” Taking great pains not to wake Elizabeth, Cutter rose
to his feet, shifting her over his shoulder.

“Cutter…”
Jo eyed Elizabeth. “You ain’t thinking of leaving tonight, are you?” When
Cutter didn’t reply, her gaze flew to his. “She’s sleeping, for mercy’s sake!”

“Try
stinking drunk,” he countered, disgusted with himself for allowing her to get
that way. “Just go fetch the band for me, and hobble your lip while you’re at
it.”

“Oh,
God! She doesn’t know, does she? Don’t tell me—you offered and she
refused?” Cutter gave her a warning look. She shook her head. “You never were
one to take no for an answer, but you really ought to consider this. You’re not
just carrying her ’round the bend, you know.”

“Where
am I taking her anyway?” he asked, clutching Elizabeth possessively.

She
spun toward him, an astonished expression on her face, hands on hips. “Lord,
Cutter! You don’t even know that much? I—I don’t know… I don’t think I
should just let you take her—let me talk to her first.”

Cutter
shrugged and raised Elizabeth’s head. “Be my guest.”

Jo’s
expression remained incredulous as she stepped around Cutter and shook Elizabeth’s
shoulder gently. “Elizabeth…”

Elizabeth
let out a dainty sigh, then settled more snugly against Cutter’s back, and Jo
jiggled her shoulder a little harder. “Liz,” she coaxed, “wake up, dear.” She
slapped Cutter’s shoulder in frustration. “All right, what did you give the
poor girl?”

“Not
a damned thing,” Cutter assured her. “The woman just can’t hold her liquor, is
all. Now, let her be, and go fetch me that ring, please.”