Sagebrush Bride

chapter EIGHTEEN





“What do you mean, I’m not hiring on anybody else?”

Cutter released her suddenly. Elizabeth nearly fell backside-first into the river. She stumbled and then steadied herself, her hands going to her hips.

There was no yield in his expression, only a hard, cold-eyed determination. “Just what I said.”

“You know I can’t let you be my husband, Cutter!” Her voice was resolved, but he countered with a slow smile that left her grating her teeth.

“I wasn’t asking, Elizabeth. I’m telling you how it’s gonna be.”

Her full name on his lips gave her a start, and his implacable expression was unnerving, but left her no more disconcerted than did the fact that she was arguing with a naked man. “It’s just not possible!” Nor was it possible to make a reasonable case with his nudity staring her so insolently in the face!

She shook her head, trying desperately not to look at any one part of him for too long—most especially not that part! A moment ago she hadn’t felt so awkward, but a moment ago she’d been wrapped in his warmth, and hadn’t recalled his state of undress.

“Why?” he asked much too softly, daring Elizabeth to voice her objections.

“Don’t make me say it, Mr. McKenzie,” she pleaded, not wishing to offend him.

“Why, damn you?”

She flinched at his harsh tone, but eyed him wrathfully, infuriated that he would put her in such a position. “You know precisely why!” she shouted back.

A shudder went through him as he said quietly, “Take a good look at me, Liz—a real good look!”

Lord have mercy, but she was trying not to! Elizabeth shook her head adamantly.

“Look at me!”

“No! I don’t need to!” He grabbed her chin, but Elizabeth jerked it away, swiping at his hand. “I remember only too well!” Cutter gripped her shoulders and tried to force her gaze upon him. “No!” she shrieked. “Let go of me, Mr. McKenzie!” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t seem to budge.

Near hysterics now, Elizabeth shook herself free. Lifting up her skirts, she made a mad rush for the bank, but moving against the current was difficult, and she stumbled. Seizing the back of her skirt, Cutter swept her toward him, ripping it from her waist.

“Damned thing is too big for you, anyhow!” he groused. With another vicious jerk, he rent the material completely free of her.

Shrieking in protest, Elizabeth made a desperate grasp for her skirt, but Cutter was too quick. He hurled it downriver. Horrified, Elizabeth simply stood there in her wet drawers, gawking helplessly as the current carried her skirt away. She turned to him suddenly. “You—had no right to do that!”

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you ask me if I give a damn!”

Before Elizabeth could recover from the shock of Cutter’s actions and words, he’d lifted her by her waist and was marching toward the bank. She struggled, flailing her arms and kicking wildly, but to no avail—his hold was too strong.



“Rules were made to be broken,” he taunted. “Didn’t ya know?” And then he cursed a storm as his bad foot ground onto something spiny. Jerking his leg up in pain, he lurched forward, dumping Elizabeth unceremoniously onto the bank.

She winced as her head slammed into the ground. She tried to rise, but Cutter held her down with one firm hand to her breast. Angrily she shoved it away, glaring at him.

“Don’t touch me!” she spat. “Just don’t you touch me! You don’t understand—and you won’t even try! I’ve already lost my mother and my sister because of your people. If it weren’t for your murdering kinsmen raiding and slaughtering, they would never have abandoned us in the first place! And maybe—just maybe—they’d still be alive! I will not lose my niece because of you too!”

Your people.

The way it was flung from her lips, with so much resentment, gave Cutter a momentary jolt.

Your murdering kinsmen.

It didn’t matter that, for all practical purposes, he wasn’t raised Cheyenne. His mother had died of his father’s abuse long before he had been able to even ask of his culture. Hell no! And it didn’t matter that all he knew was his father’s way of life—that his father had tamped down in him all that was Indian. Elizabeth saw only the Cheyenne in him.



“I won’t!” she sobbed, mistaking his expression.

Suddenly Cutter’s eyes narrowed, transfixing her, and he bent forward very slowly, like a predatory animal stalking his prey. He trapped her beneath him, between his arms. “So you’d rather take your chances, would ya?” he said with lethal softness.

Elizabeth’s mind screamed that he leave her be, but the words never emerged on her tongue. The calculating look in his eyes completely paralyzed her.

Cutter slid his right hand boldly into her bodice. Feeling the warmth of it, Elizabeth instinctively tilted her head back, closing her eyes, fighting her traitorous body. Before she could gather her thoughts to protest, he popped her buttons with a clean slice of his open fist, sending them whizzing into the air. Several of them plunked ominously into the water. And in that moment, she lost all trace of uncertainty. At once she tried to roll free of him, but his hand came down swiftly to halt her escape.

“Beast!” she cried out, resisting the urge to pummel his chest.

“Savage?” Cutter returned with a frosty smile, his tone no less frightening for its husky softness.

“I didn’t say that!” Elizabeth protested, suddenly understanding his vehemence.

“Not this time,” he agreed, “but you damn well thought it—didn’t you? You want savage, Lizbeth? This,” he said through clenched teeth, a muscle ticking at his jaw, “is savage!” At once his knee dropped between her legs, prying them open. He seized her by the hair, tugging until she cried out.

She didn’t want him this way, didn’t know him! Didn’t want to know him! Though his eyes were cold, they burned clear into her soul. “Please, Cutter,” she whimpered. “You’re frightening me!”

His mouth lowered to her nipple, nibbling it softly through her camisole, but his hand in her hair tightened and she cried out again, more startled than anything else. His fury was barely leashed. She could feel it in his grip, see it in every rigid plane of his body and face. It was as tangible as the anguish in her heart.

“Please-”

Again he wrenched her hair, his knee burrowing itself more firmly between her legs.

“Cutter, please, please—don’t!” Her eyes misted as his mouth moved to her other breast, feasting on it almost brutally. He tugged on her hair again, silencing her once and for all, but she didn’t dare speak again. Hot tears began to pool in her eyes, trickle down her cheeks.



Despising himself for the brutality he’d just displayed, Cutter cursed under his breath. But his point was made, and in this case he was convinced that the end more than justified the means. He couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—let her set herself up for the same thing from someone else.

Someone else wouldn’t care for her as he did.

Someone else wouldn’t...

Love her?

Her face was ashen, and her lips trembled. He wanted so badly to lower his mouth and cover them, heal her pain—make her see him differently. He couldn’t help himself. With a tortured groan, he covered her mouth, but his kiss was painfully tender, belying his anger.

Elizabeth moaned in protest, but yielded to him, sobbing as his tongue stabbed into the warmth of her mouth, tasting and relishing.

His arousal had never diminished. Even in his anger, he was hard as a brick, and growing more so by the second. He was losing his reason.

Elizabeth shoved him away abruptly, her eyes spearing him, and he released her, though his arms still caged her beneath him. “Understand now?” he asked hoarsely, his voice harsh but unsteady.

Elizabeth shook her head. “N-N-No,” she sobbed.

Cutter pinned her hands at her sides, and with a muttered curse over his failure, he shook his head at her, fury spilling from his black eyes. “Think about it, Liz. That’s exactly what you’d be inviting if you hired on some stranger—chances are slim to none that you’ll find someone to play the part who won’t expect all that goes along with it! And if you turn him down, he’ll just take it! Is it sinking in yet?” A bleakness settled into her eyes, mirroring her emotions, and he said with no small measure of relief, “I see that it is.”

Her tears kept flowing, and guilt twisted Cutter’s gut like a dull blade. “To make it look genuine,” he tried to explain, his voice losing some of its harshness, “you’re gonna have to share a room—ain’t a man on this earth who wouldn’t be tempted to take what’s so easily accessible. And what would you do then? Scream? And lose your niece? Reckon that would be rather pointless—even more asinine than taking a chance on a useless half-breed! Y’ think?”



With a whimper, Elizabeth turned away, hating that he would use her conscience against her, hating the truth of his words, and feeling a loss as though she’d already been stripped of everything that was dear to her.

Cutter gripped her by the chin, forcing her to acknowledge him. “Chrissakes, Lizbeth! You’d think I’d taken every chance I could to rape and batter you!” His voice was soft and entreating when he spoke again, and his eyes compelled her to understand. “Think about it—haven’t I gone out of my way to prove to you that you can trust me? Damn you... have a little faith!” He paused, waiting for her to answer. “I can do it,” he hissed, his voice strained and his breathing difficult.

Swallowing abruptly, Elizabeth turned from him again, unable to meet his gaze. The fact that his words rang true didn’t ease her heartache any. She squeezed her eyelids tightly closed, cutting off the flow of her tears, nodding hopelessly.

For certain now, she would lose Katie. It was too much to hope for that Elias Bass would overlook the fact that her husband was a half-breed. Why, oh, why, had she ever, ever, dared to hope? Why? She nearly cried out the question, but couldn’t speak for the trembling of her Ups.

Why did Cutter have to be right?

She turned to meet his eyes, her voice weak with defeat. “All right,” she said with a despairing softness, “we’ll do it your way, Mr. McKenzie.”

Cutter shuddered with the release of tension.

Seeing the gesture, Elizabeth despised him for it. A sob escaped her tightening throat, and anger surged through her, but she didn’t move at all. She was too numb to attempt it. “Only know this,” she added brokenly, a single tear escaping and rolling down her ashen cheek. “If I lose my niece because of you, Cutter McKenzie, I swear to heaven above that I will despise you until my dying day! I swear it!” she cried out with more emotion, swallowing the salt of her tears.

“And what if you’re wrong, Elizabeth? What if Elias does accept me? Why! Why are you so sure he won’t?”

His question jolted her momentarily. Why did she think Elias would persecute Cutter? Because she did? Could it be true? Did she? She shook her head in denial... yet somewhere deep down, she knew that it was so.

And then hope surged within her.

Maybe Elias wouldn’t hold it against him.

Maybe Elias wouldn’t even know.

Wouldn’t care.

And maybe he would. And it was that possibility that made her heart wrench.

Cutter must have read her thoughts, because something in his expression darkened abruptly. His jaw grew taut, and his countenance twisted with a look of pain that turned quickly to fury. “Reckon you’re the one with the problem, Elizabeth, and not Elias?”

His jaw teeth clenched. “God—damn you, you’re no better’n—” He turned his face away.

“No!” Elizabeth shouted. It couldn’t be true. His gaze snapped back to hers, and her voice broke. “K-Katie is all I have left in this world... If... if you take her away...” Tears began to course down her cheeks unchecked. She sensed Cutter stiffen above her, but she couldn’t hold back the impassioned words. “If I lose the chance to raise her because of you... I’ll never, ever, forgive you for it!”



With a furious oath, Cutter jerked away from her, as though stung by her words. He hauled himself onto the bank. Still cursing, he tugged his denims up over his wet legs, not bothering with his drawers, and snatching up his boots, he limped back to camp, not able to face the anger, or the hurt, in her eyes.

Nor that within his soul.

At the moment, he detested himself for the way he’d left her. And her, for the lack of faith she had in him. Above all, he was afraid she was right—that he would cost her the child. And that she’d follow through with her promise.

That she’d hate him until her dying day.

Still, it was a risk he felt compelled to take. The mere thought of someone else in her bed burned like acid in his gut.