Sagebrush Bride

chapter FOUR





Ignoring the blow to his ribs, Cutter managed to keep his hold on Elizabeth until she reached back, boxing his right ear with a small, bony fist. With a hoarse cry, he let go of her just enough for her to slip into a precarious position.

The woman was buggy!

What the hell did she think she doing throwing herself off a moving horse?

“Son of a—” She was falling, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it! The least he could do was try to keep her from landing under the hooves though he’d probably break his damned neck in the process. Hurling himself down with her, he propelled them both away from the spooked horse, and he hit the ground with a groan.

Damn her, anyway—loony female!

Like a spitting, clawing wildcat, she was still struggling to get free of him. Didn’t the little fool realize that he was trying to help her? That they were in danger of becoming hoof bait? Apparently not, he concluded when she promptly boxed him again.

He rolled to the right, trying to skirt the Palouse’s hooves, his arms locked protectively about her. Above them, the horse reared up on its hind legs and came crashing down mere inches from the back of Cutter’s head. He rolled again, his maneuver more instinct than design, as the Palouse steadied itself and moved off to the right of them. The force of his thrust sent Elizabeth headlong into the hard-packed earth. The side of her face smacked the ground, and she gave a little yelp of pain.

“Awww sh—” He never finished the expletive. The breath was knocked from his lungs as he rolled, landing atop her.

“You?” she snarled. “Get off me, you dog!”

Torn between wanting to laugh with relief at the grass blades that were clinging to and moving with her lips, and the anger he felt over her crazy stunt, Cutter settled for lust. For all her friggin’ layers of clothing, he’d never been more aware of a woman’s body beneath his own, every curve, every soft, tantalizing swell.

Damn, how had he ever thought her skinny?

And her eyes, they weren’t gold a’tall. It had been a trick of the candlelight, no doubt, because they were brown now. But not just any brown—a soft brown with flecks of amber gold radiating from dark pupils. Against his will, his breathing became labored as he stared at those gorgeous eyes... those lips, remembering the way they had tasted.



Elizabeth found it difficult to breathe, but it had little to do with Cutter’s weight bearing down upon her, because he’d lifted himself up just enough so that it was no longer an issue. Though she could still feel every inch of his body—his broad chest, his solid limbs; one leg resting outside her right thigh, the other just inside her left... and something in between.

Her face colored brightly; because she knew exactly what that something was. She was a doctor, after all, and had seen those things on rare occasions. Yet it was the intense look on his face that stole her breath.

His jaw was taut, his pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring.

“I—said—get—off!”

He did, and Elizabeth scooted backward, giving herself a safe distance from the infuriating man. She sat upright, glaring at him, and spat the offensive grass out of her mouth. She used her hands to swipe off the pieces that wouldn’t quite come loose. Her lip throbbed, and what was worse, she thought she tasted blood!

Examining her hand, she inhaled sharply when she spotted a streak of ruby red across her forefinger. She gave a startled little cry and her gaze flew up to meet Cutter’s, but she said nothing because she could tell by his expression that he’d spotted it, too, and his black look told her that she didn’t want to hear any of what he had to say.

Standing over her, thumb hooked into his waistband, he shook his head at her, as though she were dim witted.

“What the hell were you trying to do? Kill us both?”

“Me?” She snorted inelegantly, squinting her eyes to ward away the pain that shot through her head. Her hand trembled as it moved to her temple in an effort to still the hazy picture her eyes were presenting.

“You!” she accused. “What were you trying to do? And where do you think you are taking me?” She glared up at him again, still slightly disoriented.

In the light of day, he seemed different somehow, more Indian maybe. Ominous, definitely. His clothes were the same ones he’d worn last night, except for the wide blue and white bandanna that was bound about his forehead. It seemed to accentuate the length of his hair, the swarthy tone of his skin. Beads of sweat dotted his brow above it.

That was the difference, she thought dimly. That, and the fact that he was bareheaded besides. It was amazing how that small variation in his apparel changed his entire presence. His hat, his one token of civilization, had obviously tumbled from his head during the fall, because it lay upon the ground not more than three feet from her toes. She eyed it malevolently as she wiggled her foot, then bent her knees cautiously, repeating the ritual for the other foot. Satisfied that nothing was broken below the waist, she tested her arms under his watchful eye, grimacing as a dull pang shot through her shoulder.

Belatedly her gaze slid across the grassland, taking in the wide open space, the fact that there were no buildings, nothing but early morning skies and open land. The landscape looked a little eerie with the dew still hanging heavily in the air. “Where the hell are we?”

“Easy, bright eyes, I’m only trying to help.”

Delving into a pocket, Cutter removed from it a clean bandanna, using it to gently pat the fleck of blood from her lip. She recoiled at his touch, and he gave her a frown for the effort. “We’re on our way to St. Louis,” he informed her, giving her a worried glance. “Don’t you recall anythin’ a’tall?”

“St. Louis!”

Forgetting her aches, Elizabeth sprang from the ground, resisting the urge to rub her bruised fanny, because that infuriating little smile tugged at Cutter’s lips, and she had the notion he’d read her thoughts. Nettled, she dropped her hands at her sides.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together the events that would have brought her to this ungodly predicament, but try as she might, she couldn’t remember anything. She eyed him suspiciously. “St Louis?”

Like a stubborn weed, his annoying amusement returned and his grin swept into his dark eyes, though he said nothing, only nodded, and Elizabeth bristled.

Forcing a calming breath, she peered down at the filth that clung to her skirts, taking in the torn hem and her once white blouse, groaning inwardly at the thought of presenting herself in St. Louis this way. She tried again, her nerves fast reaching a breaking point, and said, “I don’t remember.” Her gaze challenged him. “That is to say... I do recall your offer, Mr. McKenzie... but I also recall telling you no thank you. But all right... let’s say I did request your services... It was quite gracious—” she spoke the word with barely contained fury”—of you to accept, but I find I do not need you escorting me, after all. You can take me home now.” His smile deepened, and her anger escalated. “Don’t you understand plain English? I don’t want you taking me to St. Louis! I want you to carry me home this very instant!”

Cutter shook his head. “We’ve come too far to turn back. Besides, I was countin’ on the dinero,” he said.

Walking over to pick up his hat, he tapped it against his leg to rid it of the dust and grass seed that clung to it along with the dew.

Her eyes widened incredulously. “No?”

“No.”

“I can’t believe this! You have to take me back!”

He placed his hat upon his head, adjusting it until it sat comfortably, then made his way toward his horse, which was waiting patiently, nibbling at the high grass only a few feet away. “Izzatso?” he offered without turning.

Lifting her skirts, Elizabeth marched after him, stopping just before plowing into his back. “Yes, it is!” she declared.

“And why is that?” He still didn’t bother to turn toward her. Instead, he busied himself with straightening the saddle, tightening the cinches.

Flustered, she said, “Just because!” She didn’t quite know how to say it. Because you’re a half-breed, Mr. McKenzie? Because there is no way I’ll get my sister’s child with you posing as my husband? Because I feel uncomfortable in your presence? Because you’re an infuriating mule’s ass! Because you’re much too good-looking for my peace of mind? No, that would never do.

She looked at him crossly, frustrated, not really wishing to hurt his feelings—he was Jo’s brother, after all—but she wasn’t about to let him take her to St. Louis either. How in blue blazes had she managed to get herself so liquored up that she wouldn’t remember hiring him? “Just because,” she snapped again, much more irritated with herself suddenly than she was with him.

He made some strangled sound. “You’re going to have to come up with a better reason.”

“Well! I-I don’t have any money to pay you!” she said quickly. “How’s that for a reason?”

He finally turned to face her. “You don’t plan on reneging on me, do you?” One brow rose in censure.

“No! Yes—I mean... That is to say, I don’t have any money with me.”

“Uh-huh.” He returned his attention to the saddle. “You know what Johnny Law does to double-dealers, don’t you?”

“I-I—”

“Look, you can pay me when we get back, Miz Bowcock. I’ve got a few dimes we can spend until then.”

“But I don’t have anything!” Elizabeth protested. “No clothes! Nothing! I can’t go to St. Louis!” Not with you, she added silently.

“I’ll buy you whatever you need. We’ll just add the cost to what you already owe me,” he offered pleasantly. “How’s that for accommodating?”

She grated her teeth. “I don’t want a new dress!” she said, resisting the infantile urge to stomp her feet like a wayward child. The man enraged her beyond reason! “And I don’t want you to be accommodating! I just want to go home!” she told him firmly.

Apparently finished repairing saddle damages, he turned to her with a determined gleam in his eye. “Trouble is, Doc... Jo’s already wired St. Louis to say we’re on our way. They’ll be expecting us. We have to go.” He nodded toward his mount, his jaw set stubbornly. “Now, get on. Let’s cut some dust.”

He wasn’t going to take her home.

It took Elizabeth a full minute to recover from that shocking revelation. She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again.

“Jo?” she asked finally.

“That’s right. Where do you think you got that ring on your finger?”

At his declaration, Elizabeth glanced down at the simple silver band that now graced her left hand. Her shock was physical. Try as she might, she still couldn’t recall a single thing. Surely she wouldn’t have just up and married the man? She didn’t even know him, for mercy’s sake! She moaned, the sound anguished. “We’re not... we didn’t... good night!”



The look that passed over her face was anything but complimentary. She looked downright spooked by the thought of actually marrying him, and it struck a raw chord in Cutter. “Don’t go getting yourself all full of prunes, medicine woman. We’re not married, just playing at it,” he said curtly.

“Full of prunes? Oh! You! How dare you speak to me that way! You have no right!” She lifted her chin, meeting his hard gaze straight on. “If—if you won’t take me home, I’ll—I’ll simply walk! The good Lord didn’t give me two good feet for nothing!” she informed him acidly.

Cutter merely shrugged.

Her chest puffed, and Cutter fixed his gaze on her face, trying not to notice the luscious swell of her breasts. Her body was actually trembling with anger, her eyes blazing amber fire. “Just tell me which way to go!”

She watched as he settled in the saddle, taking his sweet time before turning to her. And then he smiled. “Don’t you know?” he asked, reaching back casually into his saddlebag. He lifted the unbound flap and slipped his hand within, retrieving a shriveled slice of jerky. Ripping it in half, he slid one dark strip into his mouth, holding it firmly between his teeth as one would a toothpick. The other half, he held in his hand, intending to offer it to Elizabeth.

Her indignant expression was too much for him. He chuckled. “That way,” he relented, and further obliged her by indicating the correct direction with a brisk wave of the jerky. He was confident in the fact that they were too far for her to cover the distance on foot. As he saw it, she’d grow tired enough to listen to reason before too long. Sore feet had a way of doing that to a body.

Her expression smug, Elizabeth made a big to-do of brushing off her skirts and hands, as though to rid herself of his presence once and for all. Slapping discreetly at her backside, she then turned haughtily in the opposite direction from that which he had indicated.

Cutter’s jaw actually dropped a little as he watched her march defiantly in the very direction they were headed. And he almost burst out laughing when he spotted the dusty print of her small hand planted firmly on her left rear, but the laughter died on his lips as he suddenly envisioned himself placing his hand over that print... thought of how her bottom would feel under his palm. Sweeping off his hat with a frustrated gesture, he shook his head, as though to shift his wayward thoughts.

“You think I’m that gullible, don’t you?” he heard her mutter. “Well, you can think again, Mr. McKenzie!”

“Well, I’ll be hanged,” he swore softly. And then he chuckled suddenly, amused that the little she-wolf had actually thought he would lie to her. Briefly he contemplated whether he should correct her choice of direction and the answer brought a devilish grin to his lips, because he sure as the dickens wasn’t about to. They’d ridden good’n’ hard this morning, and his horse was ready for a breather. As it was, he’d intended to follow her only as long as it took to change her mind, and then turn around and carry her on to St. Louis.

This way, there’d be no wasted time.

Farther along, there was a wide place in the road, just a small town, but one big enough that they might find a place to hang his hat and hitch his horse for the night... and maybe, if they were lucky, secure another mount for Elizabeth. Somehow he wasn’t too keen on the notion of riding double anymore.

Again, he shook his head and grinned, just thinking of the look of shock she’d wear when they rambled into town.

Deuced little hellcat!