Sagebrush Bride

chapter TWENTY THREE





Elizabeth did what she could to help Miss Mimi with the dishes and then she climbed the stairs to her room, thoroughly exhausted. Though once there, she told herself that she didn’t want to be caught undressed, so she didn’t remove her clothing right away.

And it was a good thing, because after a while, Katie tiptoed in to say good night, again without bothering to knock. Smiling, Elizabeth hugged her, and then escorted her back to her own room, tucking her in and pulling the blankets up to her chin. Without thinking, she began to sing:

“Alas, my love, you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously,

And I have loved you so long, delighting in your company.

Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my—”

She halted abruptly, as though suddenly realizing what it was she was doing, her brow furrowing, the beat of her heart erratic.

“That’s a real pretty song, Aunt Lizabeth.” Elizabeth nodded absently. “Yes. Yes, it is.” She glanced down at Katie. “Your grandmother used to sing it to your mommy and me when we were children,” she found herself explaining. “And her mommy used to sing it to her.”

She smiled in remembrance, gazing up at the window wistfully, into the night, seeing the soft spun gold of a distant lamplight, and two little girls with shimmering hair, their faces together under the blankets. Katherine had clung to her so many nights, running tiny fingers through her hair. “Sing it again, Beth,” she could hear a little voice say again in her mind. And then a sigh. “One more time, Katie. Just one more time.” Her eyes hazing over the memory, Elizabeth again looked down at the child her sister had brought into this world. Another Katie to love. “Sometimes even,” she disclosed in an aching, misty-eyed whisper, “I would sing it to your mommy. She loved it even more than I did.”

Katie’s eyes were wide. “Did you get to sleep together always?” she asked with awe. “I never did have nobody to sleep with me—’cept maybe sometimes my mommy.”

Elizabeth smiled, holding back the tears. “Yes, Katie, we did.” Gently she swept the curls from Katie’s forehead. “We only had one room, you see—” Her voice broke, her emotions too near the surface. “And... and we had to share it. But then your mommy moved away and I had to sleep alone. Just like you. It’s very, very hard to do,” she admitted. “Isn’t it?” Silently she acknowledged the fact that she never really had gotten used to it. And it dawned on her suddenly that even though she’d not spent the last few nights with Cutter, neither had she sung herself to sleep—not since the night Cutter had asked about “Greensleeves.” For the first time in years, she’d forgotten her nightly fear: that she would wake up to an empty house, an empty heart. But the truth was that her house had long been empty, yet her heart had never been so full.

Katie nodded. “Yeah—but did ya never see a ghost when you was alone? I did !” she swore emphatically, shifting Elizabeth’s thoughts.

Elizabeth chuckled at her tone. “No,” she replied as soberly as possible, shaking her head thoughtfully. “I don’t believe I ever did. I wonder what your ghost looked like,” she pondered aloud, gently tousling Katie’s soft hair.

“Like my mommy,” Katie responded at once, sending a quiver down Elizabeth’s spine. “And I wasn’t even scared,” Katie said, “but my granpapa said it was a dream ghost, anyhow, and I shouldn’ta been ascared, anyway. Do ya wanna know what the dream ghost tol’ me?” she asked, with just the right hint of intrigue.

Elizabeth stroked the back of her fingers against Katie’s cheek, smiling fondly at her. Without even trying, Katie had somehow become so much a part of her. And it had happened so easily, and so swiftly. “What did the dream ghost tell you?”

Katie’s eyes were wide and haunting in the darkness. The lamplight falling across her face made her skin pale, her features ethereal. “She tol’ me you was gonna be my mommy now.”

At the unexpected declaration, Elizabeth’s heart twisted violently.

“I asked my granpapa, and he said you was. Are ya?” she wanted to know, her dark eyes round and hopeful.

Again, Elizabeth’s chest constricted. “Do you want me to be your mommy?” she asked with a catch in her voice. The sweetest smile touched Katie’s lips, and she nodded slowly. Smiling faintly, her heart as full as it had ever been, Elizabeth bent to kiss the child on the forehead, tucking the blanket higher about her little chin. “Then I would like that, too—very, very much!” she assured her. She rose, but her fingers continued to caress Katie’s cheek. “Good night, sweetheart.”

Like a satisfied kitten, Katie stretched, and Elizabeth could almost feel the tension leave her. “Night, Aunt Lizabeth,” she replied.

Elizabeth dimmed the lamp slowly, waiting for a protest. When it didn’t come, she snuffed it completely, and then bent again to kiss Katie’s soft little cheek, thinking, with a sigh, that this day had easily been one of the most emotional she’d ever endured. Katie’s sparkling eyes followed her as she went to the door, opening it.

“Sweet dreams,” Elizabeth whispered, feeling suddenly as drained as she’d ever felt. Stepping out, she drew the door closed behind her, touching it briefly, her eyes closing as she turned away.

On the way back to her own room, Elizabeth decided with a weary sigh that it would be silly to pace the floor all night waiting for Cutter, fully dressed. Cutter and Elias might very well “butt heads” until late in the night, and it just didn’t make sense for her not to go on to bed.

Besides, it wasn’t as though there were a reason to wait up.

With that decision made, once she was in her room, she quickly stripped down to her drawers and camisole, and then she divested the bed of its top cover, placing it upon the chair for Cutter. Savoring the luxury of clean, cool sheets against her flesh, she crawled into bed. As an afterthought, she put out the lamp, snuggling deep into the sheets.

Little more than fifteen minutes had passed when Cutter sauntered in. Closing the door, he immediately began unbuttoning his shirt in the darkness. Elizabeth said nothing, only watched, the tiniest part of her feeling guilty because she was straining through the shadows to catch even the smallest glimpse of him. To her disappointment, she couldn’t see a thing, because the curtains were closed and the darkness was impenetrable.

As though he’d read her thoughts, Cutter suddenly stepped toward the window, shrugging off his shirt on the way and dropping it onto the end of the bed. Drawing open the drapes, he let in the silvery moonlight, and Elizabeth squeezed both lids dosed, not wanting him to know that she was still awake. A moment later, when the stillness of the room piqued her curiosity, she peered through her lashes.

He was standing, gazing out the window, his face in profile to her. The light that fell across his features made him appear harsh. Made his broad shoulders glisten. As she watched him, he turned abruptly, and she snapped her lids closed, only this time, not all the way.

Through her lashes, she watched him as he released the top button of his trousers, and the sound of it popping loose sent a shiver of remembrance down her spine. In another moment, he’d tugged his denims down just so far, and then sat on the chair facing her to remove them the rest of the way. He tugged off one boot, and then moved to the other, grunting as he loosened it. Finally he jerked it off, but not without issuing what sounded suspiciously like a groan of... Was it pain?

With a muttered curse, he threw the offending boot to the floor and then shrugged the rest of the way out of his denims. When those were discarded, he rolled off his socks, sighing long and hard as he dropped them to the floor as well. And then, for the life of her, Elizabeth couldn’t tell what he was doing, but it appeared that he was inspecting the sole of his foot in the darkness. For what reason, she didn’t know, but she felt like lighting the lamp. Honestly, how did he expect to see anything at all in the dark?

He swiveled toward the window suddenly, lifting his left foot up to probe it by the light of the moon. “Damn,” he swore softly.

Forgetting in her concern that she was supposed to be asleep, Elizabeth lifted herself a fraction. She squinted her eyes, trying to get a glimpse of his foot, but saw nothing. She cursed her eyesight.

Hearing the sheets rustle, Cutter dropped his foot abruptly, glancing at the bed.

Elizabeth froze.

“You awake?”





Cutter sighed irritably when there was no response. He’d come in hoping to find her up, but had opened the door to find the lights out, instead, and Elizabeth snuggled in so cozily that he didn’t have the heart to wake her. Hell, his foot was aching enough that he’d wanted her to look at it, but he wasn’t about to wake her just for that. He’d suffered a helluva lot worse. Besides, he’d downed enough deadshot that it should have been anesthetized by now, and it probably would be soon.

“Cussin’ foot,” he muttered. The moist heat of his boot hadn’t done it much good. But now that the fresh air was soothing it, it felt better. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms upon his lap, letting his hands dangle tiredly between his legs, his fingers linking, while he stared somberly at the bed.

How had she done it? he wondered. Snagged his heart without ever trying? He shook his head in self-disgust. He must be getting soft in his old age, because that chocolate-eyed niece of hers had somehow managed to do the same. He could look into the kid’s eyes and almost believe she was his and Elizabeth’s.

With that thought, he closed his eyes, and with primeval pleasure, tried to imagine what a child of their own would look like, only to realize the mistake he’d made in following that train of thought. His body responded at the barest hint of their mating, rousing in the space of seconds.

Hell, he’d been walking around in a state of half arousal all day because his pride wouldn’t let him make love to her again without her asking him to do so. He’d come too close this afternoon to baring his soul, and it hadn’t moved her a’tall. It still galled him that she’d preferred to sleep in the chair than with him.

Lifting the blanket she’d left for him, Cutter shook it out with a scowl, then settled back into the chair.

Propping his feet upon the bed, he covered himself to his chest, and then, as an afterthought, shoved his injured foot out of the blanket. He grunted with self-disgust as the blanket settled over him, forming a tent at his groin. He glared at it as though it were a dirty double-crosser.

If she didn’t want to share his bed, he reminded himself, then he didn’t want her. Trouble was in convincing his Judas body of that fact, because it didn’t seem to have accepted his decision. At this rate, he sure as hell wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep.

Laying his head back, he stared at the roving shadows on the ceiling, willing himself to sleep, willing the tent to fold itself up. When that didn’t work, and the pain in his crotch intensified, he tried to shift his concentration to the pain in his foot, hoping the one would overpower the other.

It didn’t work.

Hell, he could actually hear his breath quickening and his heart hammering... pounding? No, more like pattering. His body tensed with awareness, but it was another befuddled second before Cutter realized that the little thumps he heard were not his own... that they came from the hall. It was another instant before he determined that it was the sound of Katie’s little feet... and that Miss Mimi was calling after her... and that she was coming closer...

“Katie!”

His reflexes kicked in immediately. By the time the handle on the door turned, Cutter had already vaulted into the bed, and was under the bed sheets with Elizabeth, his own telltale blanket left strewn like a trail across the bed.

Her head popping up in surprise, Elizabeth stifled a cry as Cutter’s body came flush against her.

Finding Elizabeth awake surprised Cutter all of two seconds, and then he regained his senses in time to shove her head down and laid down his own a mere instant before the door flew open and Katie scurried in. She’d gotten no more than two steps into the room when Miss Mimi caught her by the back of her nightgown. “Katie!” she reprimanded. “What in heavens do you think you are doing, child?”

“I tol’ ya, Miss Mimi,” Katie wailed. “I forgot to say night to my uncle Cutter! Uncle Cutter, are ya wake?” she asked in the same secretive whisper she’d used earlier.

Drowsily Cutter lifted his head, opening one eye. When Elizabeth tried to lift hers, as well, he held her down with a firm hand.

“Goodness!” Miss Mimi declared, seeing the sleepy expression on Cutter’s face. “I’m so sorry to wake you, Mr. McKenzie.” She shook her head in exasperation. “I went in to say good night to Katie and made the mistake of asking whether she’d kissed both of you good night already.”

Katie shrieked in protest when she couldn’t get near enough to the bed.

“It’s all right,” Cutter replied gruffly, spreading his hand across Elizabeth’s face. The pad of his little finger settled in the groove of her mouth, while two of his other fingers splayed across her eyes, blocking her vision.



It was all Elizabeth could do not to bite down on his finger. But she understood what Cutter was trying to do, and knew that she was supposed to be appreciative. It was just that he was pressed against her so intimately. Feeling that particular part of him nestling into her bottom so shamelessly, she couldn’t stifle a mortified groan. Fortunately for her, Miss Mimi didn’t seem to hear it. She was obviously too busy fretting over Katie’s unforgivable intrusion to hear Elizabeth’s distress.

“She was halfway down the hall before I’d realized where she was off to!” Miss Mimi exclaimed by way of apology.

Again, Elizabeth tried to lift her head, but Cutter kept her restrained, patting her cheek firmly, instead. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured, sounding hoarse with sleep. “It’s just Katie... and Miss Mimi.” Having said that, he removed his hand from her face at last, allowing her to lift her head, but she cringed as it slid to her shoulder, instead, caressing softly. She resisted the urge to elbow his gut and screech in outrage.

“Are you certain it’s all right?” Miss Mimi asked.

Cutter feigned a yawn, his hand leaving her shoulder for the briefest second, and then returning to squeeze it gently. Elizabeth shivered over the tenderness of that gesture.

“Sure,” he said with good humor and a wink for Katie. Katie beamed. The moment Miss Mimi released her, she flung herself into the bed, scrambled across it, and stretched her neck over Elizabeth to peck at Cutter’s cheek.

“Couldn’t sleep myself thinking that I’d missed my good night kiss,” Cutter assured her.

With a smile as wide as the Missouri, Katie slid back off the bed, landing nimbly on her feet.

“I take it your aunt Lizbeth’s already gotten hers?” he asked, all the while stroking Elizabeth’s shoulder and upper arm as though it were the most natural thing for him to do.

And it might have been... had they been man and wife. But they weren’t. And it wasn’t. Elizabeth’s heart cried out with that reminder, and her eyes stung.

“Yes, sir,” Katie replied as she scrambled out the door. “Night!” she called from the hall.

“Night,” both Elizabeth and Cutter replied simultaneously.

Miss Mimi’s expression was abashed. “Thank you,” she said fervently, “a-and good night to you, too.” Tossing her gaze heavenward, she shook her head and closed the door.

“That was close,” Elizabeth sighed with relief, when they were alone.

For a long moment there was no answer. And then Cutter agreed, “Yes, it was.” He continued to stroke her arm, sending shiver after shiver down her spine. Her head lolled slowly backward, seduced by the gentleness of his touch. She felt his lips move against the back of her head, heard his controlled intake of breath.

“Reckon I oughta get back to the chair,” he said regretfully. Elizabeth didn’t answer. He dared to hope. “Y’ think?”

There seemed to be so much riding on that question that Elizabeth didn’t dare respond for fear that the moment would end... that everything would end. She didn’t want it to be over, not ever. Jolted by that revelation, she felt her heart begin to somersault against her ribs.

As though Cutter had read her thoughts, his caresses lengthened in that instant, drifting seductively over her hip, her thigh—everywhere but where she coveted his touch. Feeling wanton, she shivered at the brazen turn of her thoughts.

And then, when she least expected it, his hand was suddenly splayed over the sheets, over that most feminine part of her, drawing her firmly against his arousal, wanting her to feel him... to know what he wanted.

Elizabeth shivered with anticipation.

She wanted it, too.

How could something that felt so right be so wrong? It just couldn’t.

Cutter didn’t remove his hand, but instead lingered, pressing more provocatively, arousing her by increasing and withdrawing the pressure. Despite the intensity of his passion, he stroked her with controlled slowness, his body shuddering behind her. It sent another shiver through her. Elizabeth was unable to restrain the moan that escaped her constricting throat. With all her heart, she willed him to turn her around, to kiss her now in that same slow, rhythmic way he’d kissed her earlier, but he didn’t. His body only tensed behind her, until she could feel every tightly coiled inch of him.

Every tightly coiled inch.

“Lizbeth,” he whispered thickly, still stroking her. “Do you want me to go back to the chair?”

A strange panic beset her at the merest thought of his leaving the bed. Her voice failing her, Elizabeth shook her head, wanting him to stay, yet not able to speak the words.

Cutter kissed the back of Elizabeth’s head, brushing aside the silky length of her hair with his chin. “Then ask me to stay,” he whispered huskily, his lips so close to her neck that they burned, “‘cause I won’t stay unless you do.”

“Stay!” she cried.

Cutter seized her shoulder, shifting as he forced her abruptly onto her back to stare down into her face. Sweat beaded upon his brow as he wove the golden strands of her hair through his fingers.

“Say it again,” he demanded softly, his eyes slitting, penetrating her defenses. A fine sheen of moisture glistened over his shoulders and chest; one drop trickled slowly down his temple, glistening in the moonlight. “I wanna be sure I heard you right.”

Her own eyes slitted as Cutter once again began to stroke her arms so softly, so slowly, so seductively, that it drew the words from her lips, even when she was certain she hadn’t the courage for them. She sighed, her voice trembling with the whispery pleasure he was bringing her. “Stay with me, Cutter. Stay...”

For answer, Cutter groaned, lowering his mouth to hers, brushing the smooth heat of his lips against her own, gently at first—more tenderly than he ever had before—and then, when she moaned against his lips, he leisurely deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue, like liquid fire, between her teeth. Her breath broke at the renewed shock of it, her hands going around his neck of their own accord. He tasted and smelled of warm whiskey. Intoxicating.



With an oblivious groan, Cutter swept his tongue into the sweet depths of Elizabeth’s mouth, savoring the incredible taste of her. While he kissed her, his hand circled her trembling jaw, taming the trembling. The answering beat of her pulse against his fingertips nearly sent him over the edge. Hissing through his teeth, losing his reason, he slid his hand lower, shoving the blanket way from her precious breasts with an eagerness that surprised him. In that moment, he craved only the fullness of her flesh against his lips.

Slowly his hands raised her camisole, his lips seeking out their reward. But having bared her, he paused to drink in the delicious sight of her beneath him. Unable to deny himself, he reveled in the nipples that budded under the heat of his gaze. And then, most reverently, he positioned the warmth of one palm over one firm mound, inhaling deeply as it was unexpectedly thrust into his hands—an offering more magnificent than any he’d ever been given. With a thick groan of passion, he kneaded it softly, losing control over the satiny feel of it against his rugged skin. Felt so good—so right in his hand.



“So hot,” Elizabeth moaned. His touch was so hot—so deliciously hot. Like a cat, she arched against him, giving him everything, everything, and then, suddenly, he was peeling the blankets completely away with an urgency that startled her. In the next instant, he was atop her, but Elizabeth welcomed his weight, rejoiced in it. She moaned with the profound pleasure it gave her. His hands swept like wildfire over her body, scalding where he touched. With a titillating rhythm of his own making, he rocked against her, into her most intimate places, teasing until she thought she would surely lose her sanity.

Unable to keep herself from it any longer, Elizabeth lifted her trembling fingers to Cutter’s chest, wanting to touch him in every way that he’d touched her. Following his lead, her hands slid down the length of him, delighting in the male textures of his body.

In response, Cutter deepened the kiss, his tongue stabbing swiftly, and for the first time, Elizabeth understood what it was that gesture meant... because she wanted it, too... somewhere else... with the same fervor and depth that he was giving her mouth...

And more.

Emboldened by her own rising passion, she slid her hands down to his buttocks, raking him softly. But he jerked at her touch, hissing through his teeth. Fearful that she’d hurt him, Elizabeth snatched her hand away, but he caught it, drawing it back.



“No,” he murmured, “it was good.” He shuddered at the feel of her small, cool fingers moving like whispery butterfly wings on his thigh. “Damned good.” He released her at once, slipping his hands beneath her back, sliding them down to cup her bottom, and then pressing himself against her, rocking softly against her warmth and shuddering over the intensity of feeling that surged through him.

More than anything, he wanted her naked just now—stripped bare in his arms. Even down to her heart.

He wanted to see right into her soul.

To know if he was there.

As she was in his.

Elizabeth moaned, lifting herself against him, seeking him out, telling him without words what she craved.

Cutter smiled, almost savagely, a feral gleam in his eyes. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered huskily. If he couldn’t have what he wanted of her, then he would at least hear from her own mouth what she wanted of him.



Elizabeth followed him obliviously with her hips, still unable to speak the words. And suddenly he was leaving her, and she cried out at the unanticipated separation. But he didn’t go far. He knelt above her, his smile knowing as his fingers caressed her once more, slipping seductively into the waist of her drawers.

“This?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.

With a slowness that made her breasts ache, and her eyes close with the spellbinding pleasure of it, he drew her drawers off. She nodded unconsciously as heat coiled through her, savoring every sensation as the soft, worn cotton slid down the length of her leg.

With a victorious growl, Cutter lifted her toe into his mouth, nipping it gently, pressing his thumb into her sole, before slipping her drawers off entirely. Discarding them, he bent to kiss her calves, her knees, her thighs, making his way slowly back upward. As she writhed helplessly with the incredible need he was rousing, Elizabeth’s nails raked the sheets, clutching at them for sanity.

And then suddenly he was at her breast, drawing her nipple firmly into his mouth, sucking it gently, as though it were his greatest joy, his most cherished treasure. To her surprise, waves of ecstasy burst through her, trysting and exploding somewhere deep within.

“Cutter,” she cried out. “Oh... Cutter—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t ever stop!”

For answer, Cutter’s breath hissed across the wetness he’d lovingly painted upon her nipple, and then he moved to her other breast, lavishing it with just as much care as he’d given the first, leaving Elizabeth breathless with yearning. As Cutter feasted, her heart pounded, leaping with each stimulating suckle into her throat. Moaning with the ecstasy of it all, she curled her fingers through his hair, urging him closer without even realizing.

Vaguely she became aware that his hands were skipping so lightly over her skin, getting so close to that intimate place. Her breath caught and held over his scandalous stroking. Yet, of their own accord, her legs parted to give him better access, trusting him fully... wanting him to work his magic.

Magic.

There was no other way to describe what he was doing to her. Knowing exactly how to touch her to elicit pleasure, he cupped her, the full, firm pressure and heat of his palm an aphrodisiac in itself. And then his hand slid up, and ever so slowly he inserted the tip of one finger, making small swirling motions just within, with slow, mesmerizing dips, going deeper each time, as though he were stirring from her and tasting the sweetest nectar. The feeling was exquisite beyond words, and she couldn’t bear it.



“Elizabeth,” he murmured, barely able to restrain himself with the image of her heat flowing into his hand. “You feel so good... ” The silky coarseness of his beard caressed her belly as he lowered his head, breathing in the scent of her. “I bet you taste even better.” He chuckled wickedly, and shuddered with anticipation, moving down to discover if it was so.

The top of his head receded, until…. “No!” she cried out, closing her legs before he could reach his intended goal. “I—I can’t... not... not yet.”

Yet?



Tilting his head to look up at her with those black eyes, he scrutinized her a moment, the hunger in his gaze almost volatile. Then, without warning, he moved up to lie beside her, catching her about the waist and lifting her effortlessly above him for the briefest second.

“Then ride me,” he hissed.

In spite of the fact that Elizabeth had no idea what he was asking of her, her heart leapt into her throat, her body thrilling to the demand. Instinctively, still not understanding fully, she parted her legs to sit astride him, and before she could find her tongue to ask, he was impaling her, the tip of him begging entrance.

She whimpered with longing at the feel of him entering so slowly, filling her so completely. Her body accommodated at once, gliding over him with little effort, drawing him into her own with such ease that it seemed they were made to be joined. In spite of her own trembling, she felt him pulse beneath her. Still she didn’t quite understand, but feeling the incredible urge to sheathe him fully, she did, tilting her hips instinctively. Again Cutter shuddered. But Elizabeth only sat, confounded as to what to do next. Her heart pounding, she drank in the intensity of his expression. His face was full of strain, his eyes closed, his jaw taut with restraint. The muscles in his arms tensed, and his fingers at her waist were actually... trembling?

He touched her more firmly, guided her up the length of him. “Ride me, Lizbeth,” he urged, a look of intense pleasure that warred with pain on his face. Again, he shuddered, leading her smoothly down over his erection. And then he opened his dark eyes, piercing her with the heat of his gaze. They were smoldering, slitting—coming as close to pleading as he was able. “Ride,” he whispered huskily, his neck arching, thrusting his head back into the bed.

Finally comprehending, Elizabeth nodded, rocking her hips, slowly. With her first stroke, Cutter bucked beneath her.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Christ, you feel good!” His jaw clenched.

Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to shudder, her eyes widening at the power she wielded over him. She needed no further prodding. With every stroke she made over him, she died a thousand deaths. It was the sweetest torture she had ever endured—ever!

Only, she was the one in control. She reveled in the power it gave her over his body—over her own. The look on his face alone was enough to send her spiraling over the edge—but she wasn’t ready to relinquish so soon. Couldn’t. It was too good. Too hot. Too... too... Dear God, it—it was too much!

Crying out at the exquisite feel of it, Elizabeth braced her hands upon his feverish chest. His skin was damp with sweat, the muscles in his neck and shoulders corded with the strain, but he allowed her to ride on at her own rhythm. Then suddenly a muffled cry forced its way through his clenched teeth and he stilled her hips, entrenching himself deeply, firmly, within her body.

Throwing her neck back, Elizabeth moaned with the incredible sensation of him pulsing within her. Her body strained to the feel of it, throbbing for its own release. But Cutter held her too firmly, grunting as though in pain when she moved at all, and so she was afraid to stir. But she couldn’t bear not to... and then, without warning, her body began to convulse around him. She whimpered, wanting so desperately to twist her hips and thrust herself into the incredible abyss of pleasure that beckoned just beyond her reach... so close—so close...

“Cutter!” she gasped.



Feeling her pulsate around him, he shifted abruptly atop her, never allowing a separation of their bodies, drawing on the last of his will in order to give her the pleasure he knew she sought. With a last groan, he drove himself into the depths of her, shuddering with the exquisite pain, spending the last of himself so deep within that he shuddered at the ferocity of the eruption.

Beneath him, Elizabeth cried out. And then she closed her eyes, surrendering with a shuddering breath, her release so consummate that it left her spent.

And still, Cutter moved within her, drawing every last murmur and sigh he could from her lips. He rocked her tenderly, his heart in every stroke, wanting her never to forget. He wanted to brand her, wanted her to cry out his name... and only his... the rest of her life.

Even when the violence of his release had ebbed at last, and Cutter’s tremors ceased, his emotions remained high. His arms enfolded her, not wanting to let go. He fought the urging of his aching body as his eyelids grew heavy, and caressed her hair away from her damp face as she wearily closed her eyes, not wanting to close his own for fear that he would find the sun rising on them when he opened them again. Morning would only bring them all that much closer to Sioux Falls.

And to the end of their charade.

The thought that she would no longer need him then twisted his gut, made him violently ill. But he fought the unanticipated wave of nausea, never more unwilling to release her than he was in that instant.

All his life something had beckoned him on.

All his life he’d wandered in search of it.

And only now, this moment, did he finally and truly understand what it was that had driven him forever onward, with a wanderlust stronger than any he’d ever known. His search was finally over, he sensed, and felt deeply at ease with that knowledge—the only problem was in convincing Elizabeth.

Filling his lungs with the sweet scent of her, he eased his weight off her, then, lured by the temptation of her lush curves, lowered his head to her breast, kissing it reverently, before nestling in to listen to the steady, cajoling beat of her heart. Without looking, he knew that she slept, but he couldn’t—not with his heart hammering so ruthlessly... not with her arms wrapped so lovingly about his neck, her fingers still entwined in his hair.

It felt too good.