Sagebrush Bride (19 page)

Never
came much sooner than Elizabeth would have liked.

With
nothing else available, she was forced to at least taste the despised rattler.
And if the truth were known, it might not have been so bad, had she not known
what it was.*

But
she did know.

And
it was all she could do to get down just enough to keep her stomach from
grumbling. It didn’t help matters much that Cutter seemed to be enjoying her
uneasiness so much. Forcing down the last flame-singed chunk, she rose and
commenced to unpack her bedroll, knowing they would have no fire to see by once
night fell.

Thinking
that she would catch the remaining heat from the fire as it died, she settled
near it. As she worked, Cutter watched her, his expression preoccupied as he
busied his hands with a strip of rawhide and the rattler’s forfeited tail end.
After a while, he set his labors aside and pulled out his own bedroll, laying
it across the fire from Elizabeth.

No
sooner were they situated when the sun presented its parting colors, a glorious
display of garnet and indigo.

Unfortunately,
unlike the night before, sleep eluded Elizabeth, even hours later. She’d half
expected that her eyes would close in time with the setting sun. But it hadn’t
been so. Miserably, she could feel every lump beneath her, every stone, every
stiff blade of grass. Her body was still sore, though not nearly as much as it
had been the night before.

Eventually
the fire died almost completely, leaving only a few glowing embers, and after a
while, even the gentle night sounds conspired against her: the steady trilling
of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl. She thought to hum softly to herself,
but was too self-conscious to chance that Cutter would hear her; her song
sounded more an ungodly squeak on the night breeze than a soothing lullaby.

And
Cutter... She was only too aware of him—in spite of the fact that his
form was barely visible through the shadows. She could feel his presence just
as surely as though he were lying smack-dab beside her.

He,
on the other hand, seemed not to have any difficulty snoozing at all! He lay
like stone. In fact, she thought it might have been a good hour since she’d
heard a single rustle from his blankets, and the fact that he could sleep so
peacefully when she could not made her feel all the more restless. And offended
somehow, though why she should be, she didn’t know.

Despite
the fact that her eyes felt as heavy as lead, the butterflies in her stomach
were wide-awake. Or maybe it was the rattler that churned there? As she was
reminded of the rattler, the muscles in Elizabeth’s limbs tensed abruptly.

Just
where had he found the thing? Not anywhere in the immediate area, she hoped.
But... he’d not been gone long—he would’ve had to discover it nearby.

Good
night! What if it had little baby rattlers slithering around somewhere? But
no... she didn’t think they traveled that way. They preferred their own
company... didn’t they? Oh, Lord...

Something
stirred in the immediate darkness.

Elizabeth
swallowed back a knob of apprehension. “Cutter?” she croaked.

Cutter
didn’t so much as move a muscle, but there it was, that sound again.

Now
what was she supposed to do?

One
thing was certain. She wasn’t about to wake Cutter and have him needle her
about it in the morning!

But
neither was she willing to lie helpless in the dark!

She
grabbed her woolen blanket and groped her way around to where Cutter slept,
dragging the blanket after her in the dirt.

What
harm could there be in resting just a bit nearer to him? For just a while?

She
groaned as the blanket caught under her knee. She tugged at it frantically, and
belly-flopped to the ground when she jerked it too quickly. Choking and
sputtering on an invisible cloud of dust, she scrambled to her knees.

Later
she would move back to her bedroll... once she felt certain that whatever had
made that sound was gone.

Cutter
need never know.

Right?

Right.

Wavering
somewhere between sleep and consciousness, Cutter heard her voice. But then,
he’d been suffering her all night. Not just that god-awful tune of hers, if it
could be called that, but her condemnation.
Indians?
He kept hearing from her lips.
Indians?
He felt like telling her to go straight to hell, but before he could express
those powerful sentiments, some sixth sense alerted him to a presence beside
him, and his eyes opened, zeroing in on the black form creeping like a thief to
his side.

He
grinned suddenly. Mischievously. Without a doubt he knew what it was. Or rather
who it was.

Elizabeth.
As though by cue, his body responded at once to her proximity.

Drawing
the covers up, he turned abruptly to lie on his side, watching her alarmed
reaction through amused, slitted eyes. Her dark shape froze, then began to
sidle quietly away, and he stifled a wicked chuckle. She wasn’t gonna get very
far—not when he finally had her right where he wanted her.

Abruptly
Cutter’s arm snaked out, catching her about the middle. She stiffened, and he
drowsily pulled her into the circle of his embrace, all the while nuzzling
sleepily against the back of her neck. She resisted noiselessly, but she did
resist, squirming with increasing strength against the firm hold he had upon
her. Instinctively he knew that if he didn’t think of something quick, she was
going to elbow his crotch again—and empty her lungs right into his ear.

And
then a waggish idea popped into his head, and his grin widened.

“Mmmm,”
he groaned suddenly, wrapping his arms sleepily but possessively about her
waist. When her struggles ceased for the briefest instant, he took advantage,
sliding his hand down boldly to press against her feminine parts.

Her
breath caught in shocked protest, but before she could even think to remove his
hand from where it sat, he slammed her taut little backside against his thighs.

His
hand glided slowly down to her thigh as he wiggled sleepily against her bottom.
“Mmmmmmmm,” he murmured, “feels... so... good.” Boy, did it ever! Before she
could respond, he added the wild card. “Bess.”

As
he’d expected, Elizabeth froze in his arms. His lips quivered with suppressed
laughter.

Bess?

Good
night, he thought she was Bess? Wasn’t it bad enough that he would dream of the
hussy? Did he have to confuse the two of them, as well? How dare he? Elizabeth
chafed.

Still,
she didn’t risk moving, because he obviously didn’t know that it was her, and
she wasn’t about to reveal otherwise. If she woke him now, she’d be forced to
explain why she was sleeping so near him to begin with... when she’d
practically forbade him to sleep within arm’s reach of her. How could she
possibly explain herself? The truth was, she doubted anything she could say
would show her in good light. Even to her own mind, her reasoning sounded lame,
at best. She decided it would be best to wait until the scoundrel fell into a
deeper sleep, and then she’d slip away—rotten, misbegotten dog that he
was!

Burying
his nose into the stiff back of her neck, Cutter sighed with the sheer pleasure
of it all. She smelled good—no perfumes, nothing, just the fascinating
scent of clean skin and hair. He felt like laughing out loud—though why
he should feel so pleased with himself suddenly, when he’d been so irritated by
her only moments before, was a question he wasn’t about to mull over too
closely.

What
he wouldn’t give just now to undo that thick braid of hers, run his fingers
through her silky hair. But he didn’t want her to know he was awake, so
instead, he played a waiting game, a game Elizabeth was fated to lose.

Ruthless
as he was, Cutter never loosened his hold upon her. Not even a smidgen. After
she waited a long while for him to ease up on his grip, Elizabeth’s body began
to slacken in his arms.

The
instant it did, he began to nibble her neck drowsily, moving his hand to her
middle, stroking her belly seductively.

So
what was she supposed to do now? Elizabeth knew she should protest, but for the
life of her, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Merciful heaven... what was
he doing to her? With every slow stroke of his hands, her body seemed to stir a
little more.

His
warm lips found their way into her hair, nibbling, burning her flesh. Unable to
bear it, Elizabeth arched, giving him better access.

Cutter
groaned at her response. As his mouth leisurely devoured her flesh, his hands
moved to her shoulder and then to her back, tugging down her dress.

Elizabeth
didn’t realize she was undone until she felt the crisp air flow down her spine.
Cutter’s warm lips followed, along with the sleek gliding of his tongue, making
her shiver. Her breathing quickened and she stiffened. Was he awake then?
Suspicion niggled her. No man could be so seductive in his sleep! Or could he?

She
hoped he was still asleep, and didn’t pause to wonder why. She told herself
that it was because she didn’t want him to know she’d allowed him so much
liberty. But she knew even as she thought it that it wasn’t true. She didn’t
want this to end, didn’t think she could bear it if it did. Still, she
shouldn’t just...

“Mmmm,
Bess,” he whispered again.

Bess.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, shutting out the name, and along with it, her pain
at hearing it spoken again from his lips.

Despite
the fact that Cutter’s denims grew so tight as to be painful, it was worth it,
he thought with grim satisfaction. He was only thankful that his britches were
snug enough to hide his arousal from her. He hadn’t mistaken the look in
Elizabeth’s eyes when she’d discovered that part of his anatomy the day he’d
fallen atop her. She might be an innocent miss, but she knew what it was that
went on between men and women, and likely would have leapt out of her skin if
she felt it burrowing against her sweet little butt just now.

He
smiled faintly against her soft back. What a strange brew she was: naive, yet
obviously not totally ignorant. His lips curved into a smile. As far as he was
concerned, she had just the right degree of innocence and carnal knowledge in
those brassy eyes of hers, making him want to be the first man to bury himself
in that delicious body of hers—in spite of the fact that he wasn’t
comfortable with prudish misses.

But
she wasn’t that at all, he reflected, despite the front she liked to put up.

Elizabeth
moaned low in her throat as Cutter’s hands slipped from her back, beneath her
open blouse. She gasped as his fingers reached around to touch and cup her
breast. With slow, sleepy movements, he caressed her, seducing every thought of
protest from her mind. Heaven help her, but she arched for him, daring to ease
herself into his palm.

So
warm.

So
very warm.

He
squeezed her gently, and her bottom undulated into his pelvis. There it froze,
feeling the hardness there. Her heart burst into her throat. She felt a
bittersweet pleasure at the feel of him, even knowing it wasn’t for her. He
began to move against her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing, willing
her traitorous body to deny itself. But it was in vain. An ache began to build
deep within, coiling inside her so tightly that she thought she would die of
the pleasure.