Sagebrush Bride (13 page)

So close.

So damned close.

And
yet it was by far the longest four feet he’d ever considered crossing. Closing
his eyes, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to wrench his mouth away from
her warm skin. His breathing labored, Cutter again laid his head back upon the
door. His hands slipped obediently to her shoulders.

In
a state of torment, he watched as Elizabeth’s lucidity slowly returned. All the
while, he held her away from himself.

For
the longest moment, she stood as though in a stupor, her head titled
seductively, her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breath. Her
luscious lips were parted faintly, pursed in anticipation-swollen from his
kisses, he noted with deep satisfaction. God, her expression was paradise
itself, he thought in that moment, and it took all of his resolve to keep from
letting her fall against him and bending slowly forward to reclaim her lips.

He’d
fully expected her to turn down his offer. It had surprised him near out of his
britches when she’d boldly claimed him as her husband in the hall. But he could
still taste the sweet surge of triumph he’d experienced at her declaration...
and was hungry for more of it. Even as furious as he had been with her, he
wanted her... and he wanted her willing. Recoiling from the notion of her
running from him, he cleared his throat.

The
spell broken, she opened her eyes.

“You
won’ be disappointed… for taking me up on my offer, Elizabeth.”

Blinking twice, Elizabeth struggled to brush the
cobwebs from her brain.

“Offer? Oh, oh, yes... that offer!” she declared.
Straightening abruptly, she shrugged out of Cutter’s embrace, her face flaming.
Once again, she wondered what was wrong with her that she would turn to mush
with just a single touch from him. Good night, she was as shameless as Bess!
Shivering at the strange look in his eyes, she stepped away from him,
retreating into the protective shadows. “That is, I—I intended to,” she
said peevishly in order to cover her mortification. Her traitorous heart
continued to pound frantically. “Until you brought that... that...
woman—”

Cutter allowed her withdrawal, never stirring.
Leaning more fully upon the door, he casually shoved a fist into his front
pocket. “Just for the record, Doc. I didn’t bring any woman anywhere.” His tone
was smooth and calm, nothing like the storm simmering in his eyes. “The old
girl followed me home from the Rushing Bull.”

Annoyance creased Elizabeth’s brow. “She didn’t
seem all that old to me!” she returned petulantly. “In any case, I’ve thought
on it—all day, in fact—and you’re right. I can’t trust anyone else
to take me to St. Louis.” Her tone was resigned. “You win, Mr. McKenzie.”

One brow rose. “I win?” he asked softly. He
straightened, drawing his hand out of his pocket, and Elizabeth took another
cautious step backward.

“Stay there!” she said anxiously. “And... and turn
around, while you’re at it.” She made a little circular motion with her hand
when he only looked at her. “Please.”

Sighing, Cutter threw his hands up into the air
and turned toward the door, shaking his head. The moment he turned away, he
heard her bare feet pattering softly across the wood floor. She lifted the
bedcovers. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Elizabeth froze. “Do what?”

“Hide in the bed,” he said, his tone curt. “It
wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“That—is—not—what I was about to
do, Mr. McKenzie!” Wrapping the coverlet about herself like a protective cape,
Elizabeth moved away from the bed, indignant that Cutter would assume she would
give such a blatant invitation—and wounded somehow that he had taken such
exception to the notion. “I’m not Bess,” she exclaimed. “You can turn around
now.”

“Izzatso?”

“Yes, it is. Now... if I’m going to allow you to
escort me to St. Louis, McKenzie, there are a few conditions by which you’ll
need to abide.”

After tonight, she wasn’t so certain that it was
Cutter she should mistrust, but herself.

The hairs on the back of Cutter’s neck bristled.

“Such as?”

Her chin lifted a notch. “Such as,” she proposed,
“you will never, ever, try to—to kiss me again! And you will not touch me.
And you will not spend your leisure time with—with women like Bess!
You’re supposed to be traveling as my husband, after all.”

“If you say so.”

“
And
,”
she continued, “I’ll need my own mount. And my own bedding,” she added hastily.
“Furthermore, we will never sleep in the same bed—or even the same room!
Not if it can be helped!”

Cutter was prepared to accept every one of her
shrewdly given demands, and hated himself for it; his voice fell to little more
than a seething whisper. “Anythin’ else, Doc?”

“Yes!” Elizabeth said, disregarding his scorn. “I
mean to hire someone else once we’ve arrived safely in St. Louis. For obvious
reasons, I cannot present you as my lawful husband.”

As horrible as it sounded, she had no choice but
to tell Cutter the truth.

He flinched noticeably, as though she’d actually
slapped him, then his expression shuttered. Elizabeth took another step
backward, thinking that he looked ready to pounce suddenly, and tear her limb
from limb.

“Cutter,” she appealed, as he turned abruptly and
reached for the knob. “Try to understand!” An awful sinking sensation stirred
in the pit of her stomach as he jerked open the door so ferociously that a rush
of air whisked by her face.

“It’s just that I can’t—” Cutter didn’t wait
long enough to hear her explanation. The door slammed shut so violently that it
jarred the frame, “—chance losing my niece,” she finished lamely.

Stunned by Cutter’s brusque departure, Elizabeth
simply stood, gaping at the door, unsure of what to do next. Bewildered, she
came forward and leaned upon it, needing the support. Her legs felt oddly
insubstantial beneath her.

Surely he didn’t mean to refuse her now? Not after
all that she’d had to endure? Good lord! Was she supposed to hunt him down now
and beg his assistance?

It was an agonizingly long moment later when she
realized that she’d not heard Cutter’s door close—nor open, for that
matter—and her heart skipped a beat. Surely he didn’t mean to just leave
her where she stood... without a way back to Sioux Falls?

Without any money either. She doubted she had
enough to pay for both the room and a horse! Maybe he’d already paid for the
room. Had he? Muddled as her mind was, she couldn’t remember. Numbly she locked
the door and leaned back against it, her mind reeling.

After a long moment, she walked to the bed,
stumbling over the bedcovers on the way. There she sat, pressing a hand to her
temple. The tiniest headache had persisted all day, and now threatened to
explode.

Merciful heaven, what was she going to do?

Think, she told herself firmly.

Come on now, Elizabeth, don’t panic. “It won’t
help a thing,” she whispered to herself. Slipping her thumbnail between her
teeth, she chewed it contemplatively.

She grimaced suddenly as a thought occurred to
her. She wouldn’t put it past McKenzie to have paid for his own room, leaving
her bill unsettled.

Well, she determined with a heartfelt sigh, she
couldn’t worry about that just now. There was too much else to fret over. Her
thundering head, for instance. Wearily she lay back upon the small bed, and
covered her forehead with her damp palm.

First thing in the morning she would go to the
livery and purchase a sturdy mount for herself. Either way—whether it was
on to St. Louis or back to Sioux Falls—she’d need a reliable horse for
the journey. Calming somewhat with that decision, she took a deep breath.

Things would work out; surely they would.

They had to.

But what if she didn’t have any money left over
after buying the horse?

Somehow she would sneak out of the hotel... and if
she was able to raise the funds, she’d come back to pay right away. If not,
then she could always send restitution later... when she was safely away. She
simply couldn’t take the chance that they might... well... detain her. Her head
began to pound without mercy. Gracious day, she’d never been in trouble with
the law before. But... they didn’t know her identity and wouldn’t know where to
look for her, she consoled herself. Cutter had not—whether by design or
by accident, she didn’t know—given her name at the desk.

They did have his signature, though, and it would
serve him right if they came looking for him, dragged him off to jail, and
threw away the key.

Shaking her head resolutely, she thrust away that
awful thought with a frown. Just now, she refused to think on that possibility.
Tomorrow was soon enough to worry herself sick over it all. Tonight she needed
rest. Already she was feeling the aftermath of too much liquor and too little
sleep—Cutter’s fault!

And with that sober reflection and a wide,
unladylike yawn, she curled herself deeper within the coarse wool blanket she’d
wrapped around herself, drawing her arms within to shield them against the
chill night air. Trying to keep the morose thoughts from her mind, she turned
on her side and gazed blankly at the hazy moonlight that filtered in through
the window. She watched listlessly as a few dust particles swirled within the
stream of soft light, and after a while, she managed to close her eyes and
sleep.

Getting out of the room proved easier than
Elizabeth expected.

She’d awakened just as the sun was beginning to
peep into her room. After dressing, she’d contemplated the window for a good
half hour, considering it as a possible exit. The ground was not but a ten-foot
drop, more or less, and there was a short awning that dipped downward, besides,
making it a perfectly feasible solution. The thing that kept her from crawling
out was the notion of someone catching her in the act.

It seemed more dignified, if just as immoral, for
her to simply steal out the front door. And after mustering her courage, she
did just that. The fact that nobody had been attending the clerk’s desk made it
absurdly simple.

Still, her conscience was having a field day with
her as she headed for the Hotel d’Horse. Silly name for a stable, she thought.
It was even a tad deceitful, for the hotel in question was little more than a
raggy barn, with boards all askew. Point in fact, it looked near to collapsing.
Yet the clerk at the trade store, Mr. Monroe, had assured her that the
gentlemen who owned it ran a fair business and would look after her interest. Now
all she needed to do was to be sure she had enough cash left over to purchase
supplies... as well as hire someone new once they reached St. Louis.

That was, assuming Cutter agreed to take her.

Her eyes skimmed the street ahead. Noting the lack
of people milling about, she began searching for movement within each building
she passed. She wasn’t searching for Cutter, she told herself as she craned her
neck to see beyond the Rushing Bull’s swinging half door. She hadn’t seen him
all morning, and finding there was no sign of him within, she had to concede
that he had, in fact, left Indian Creek.

“Just wait until I see Jo,” she grumbled to
herself.

Surely Jo had no idea what a rounder her brother
was! Without a doubt, Elizabeth was going to enlighten her good friend as soon
as she saw her again. And maybe she’d even give Jo a piece of her mind. Despite
the fact that Jo had meant well, she’d certainly played an enormous part in
this ill-fated scheme that had brought Elizabeth absolutely nothing but grief.

It seemed that annoyance was fast becoming a
natural state for her, and it had all begun with Cutter.