Sagebrush Bride (15 page)

So he meant
to help her after all?

She felt an incredible burst of euphoria and
fought the urge to cry out in joy and hug him. Despite her thankfulness, she
didn’t dare touch him again. There was no telling what might happen if she did.
As it was, her imagination was going haywire. She kept recalling the way he’d
looked at her last night. The hunger in his eyes.

Lord, she felt warm, and her cheeks were burning
just thinking about it. But she hated the fact that she needed him. “I didn’t pay
much for it,” she conceded grudgingly. “The owner gave me a good price
because... well, he said there were a few inconveniences I’d have to overcome.”

“Such as... ? Don’t tell me—the blamed
animal’s barefoot?” His glance shot down to the animal’s hooves.

Elizabeth gave him an exasperated shake of her
head.

“Uneducated?”

“Nothing like that,” Elizabeth assured him, her
tone carefully subdued, her temper suppressed. “It’s just that she’s... well,
she’s Indian-broke.”

Cutter cocked a brow at her. “Is that all?”

His tone was patronizing. “Well, not quite,”
Elizabeth confessed, though reluctantly. “She’s a few years old. But aside from
that, she’s perfectly sound.”

“Just a few?” Cutter asked, inspecting the animal
more closely. And then he suddenly lost his nonchalance. “Damn it, Lizbeth, the
fool horse is buzzard bait! You’ve been buffaloed! Who sold it to you?” He
seized her by the elbow. “Come on, we’re gonna get your money back!”

Twisting her arm, Elizabeth freed herself from his
grasp, stepping away defensively. “No, we’re not! I wasn’t cheated—and
his name is none of your concern! For your information, Mr. McKenzie,” she
rushed on without thinking, “this horse was the last one Mr. Monroe had in
stock! He hasn’t had any new blood in for a while, and the only reason he sold
this one to me was because Mr. Rutherford kept running his mounts into the
ground!”

Cutter’s expression remained disbelieving, and
Elizabeth bristled.

“He did not cheat me!” she insisted, realizing
belatedly how her tale must sound. “In fact, he wouldn’t even have sold her if
his cousin from the trade store hadn’t recommended me to him.” That, she
feared, sounded even worse. Still, she couldn’t simply let it lie. He was
looking at her as though she were three kinds of fool. “Anyway, he commanded a
very decent price, and I am perfectly satisfied with my purchase! It is my
money, after all—and if I am pleased, then it shouldn’t concern—”

“How much?”

“None of your—”

“Fine,” Cutter snapped, cutting off her
explanation.

Her heart leapt as he turned from her and headed
back up the stairs, back into the hotel lobby. She knew an instant of
incredible panic. She couldn’t let him go this time. She just couldn’t! “That’s
it, Mr. McKenzie—walk away! Again!” she shouted a little frantically at
his back. “Seems to me it’s what you’re best at—dynamic exits!”

He halted on the top step, his back to her, and
stiffened. The powerful set of his shoulders unnerved her. Again, it struck her
how tall he was. As she looked up at him from this angle, he towered over her.
After a long moment, he whirled to face her, thrusting a hand into his pocket
with a sigh of resignation.

“Fact is, Doc, if I had even half a brain, I’d do
exactly that.” He seemed to consider that statement earnestly, and then he
spoke again, putting her mind at ease. “But it seems I mislaid my good sense
all of a sudden.” He shook his head regretfully. “No, I’m not gonna walk
away—just going in to collect my belongings—unless you care to do
it for me?” Removing his hand from his pocket, he adjusted his hat, giving her
a harsh look. “I expect you’ll be ready to ride by the time I return.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a command if
Elizabeth had ever heard one, but she chose to respond anyway. “I’ll be ready,”
she told him sourly.

“See that you are,” he said, and then he turned on
his heels and disappeared into the lobby, his muscular body moving with the
easy grace of a powerful cat.

Refusing to allow herself the indulgence of
misgivings, Elizabeth immediately thrust them all to the back of her mind, telling
herself resolutely that this was what she’d intended all along—that it
was by far the best course of action. There was no other way.

As it turned out, they didn’t leave Indian Creek
until well past noon, after having made one last stop at the general store for
supplies.

Elizabeth didn’t attempt to mount up until then,
but opted to lead the mare, instead. Why she felt so reluctant, she didn’t
know, but at the moment she wished more than anything that she’d not waited to
do so in front of Cutter. Or perhaps that was why she’d waited? His presence,
for some odd reason, was reassuring, despite the current hostilities between
them.

To her dismay, her instinct proved correct. Every
time she tried to mount the mare, the animal shied away. Granted, she didn’t know
all that much about horses—just enough to get her by—but she just
couldn’t understand what it was that she was doing wrong.

Exasperated, her cheeks flushed with
exertion—not to mention the humiliation of chasing her mare all over the
dusty street—Elizabeth finally met Cutter’s gaze. His eyes, though far
from warm, were filled with amusement. As she glared at him, wondering what to
do next, how to ask for his help, his smile turned up a notch. She snorted,
turning away, determining that if it was the last thing she ever did, she was
going to mount the blamed horse all by herself!

She nibbled her bottom lip a moment, assessing her
chances of mounting from the ground. Certainly she wasn’t tall enough to mount
just any horse in that manner, but the mare was just short enough to make it
possible. More determined than ever, she approached again from the left side,
but this time without the slow, predatory movements she’d exercised previously.
If she could catch the animal off guard perhaps... ?

With a running leap, she caught the animal by its
withers, only instead of remaining still as it was supposed to do, the mare
sidestepped with a snort, and Elizabeth lost her nerve. She stumbled over her
feet, barely keeping herself from falling flat on her face, and merely stood
there, looking thwarted and annoyed.

Cutter chuckled.

Turning to him indignantly, her hands on her hips,
she asked, “I suppose you have a better way?” There was defiance in her tone as
well as a note of challenge.

Cutter’s mouth twitched. He crossed his arms,
leaning with such an infuriating indifference against the awning post behind
him that Elizabeth bristled.

“Suppose I might,” he said with barely suppressed
laughter.

Was she supposed to drag it out of him?

“Well?”

The expression on his face was so smug that she
felt like kicking him in the blasted shin! In the short time since she’d met
him, he’d made a complete mockery of her rational nature. She’d exhibited more
violence in the last two days than she had in her entire lifetime!

“Lizbeth,” Cutter said softly, eyeing the crowd
that was beginning to form around them. “Do you happen to know what
Indian-broke means?”

“Well, of course!” Elizabeth replied, but she
really wasn’t so certain. Her hands full of dust and horsehair, she pressed her
forearm across her damp forehead, not caring that the gesture was unladylike.
Lord, it was hot! “I assume it means that she was broken in by Indians.”

“That’s right,” Cutter agreed. There was a sparkle
in his eyes as he crooked a finger at her. “Come here.” His voice was so soft
that it could have been a whisper. Either that, or Elizabeth was going deaf
from overexertion and heat exposure. She wasn’t even aware that she’d obeyed
until she was standing before him, and his lips parted again to speak.

He gripped her arm gently, bringing her closer.
The shock of it sent her pulses skittering. He leaned to whisper in her ear,
and Elizabeth thought he might be about to kiss her. She ought to slap him
before he even tried. That would show him, wouldn’t it?

“Try mounting up from the right side,” he advised
with a deep chuckle and a playful wink. “That’s what Indian-broke means.”

Hours later, Elizabeth was still chafing over the
patronizing way Cutter had informed her of that particular detail. And to think
she’d thought he was about to kiss her! And he’d laughed at her! Good night,
had he read her mind?

Despite the fact that the weather couldn’t have
been better for travel, two more stormy countenances couldn’t have been found
east of the Missouri. Following Cutter’s example, Elizabeth rode in sullen
silence, keeping her attention on the landscape itself.

For the most part they seemed to be riding the
bluffs, though at intervals the river disappeared from view completely. He kept
the pace brisk, and Elizabeth surmised that Cutter was trying to show her just
how worthless her mount actually was. Only, like its rider, the mustang trotted
on without protest. She would have spoken up had the horse seemed winded, but
until now, it had not.

Every so often, Cutter changed the pace, walking
the horses an interval, but they’d ridden for hours without truly stopping, and
her stalwart mare was beginning to show signs of fatigue. Soon, she decided.
Soon she would speak up. She thought it might be better if it was Cutter who
called the halt, and perhaps he would if she gave him the opportunity. Surely
he wouldn’t kill her horse just to spite her?

Sighing, Elizabeth managed to steal a glance at
him. In profile his high cheekbones were striking, his jaw strong and taut. His
eyes were hidden from view by his hat, which he wore tilted forward to shade
his face from the burning sun. That, she thought wistfully, was something she
was going to regret forgetting. Already the ruthless sun was toasting her head.
She averted her gaze, but like a moth to a flame, her gaze was drawn to him,
prompting her to wonder what it was about the man that drew her to him. And
yes, she could deny it to the world, but there was no lying to herself. She was
intrigued by Cutter McKenzie. There seemed to be a certain magnetism about him
that called to her.

Seduced her.

Mesmerized, she stared at the dark hair at his
nape that curled into the collar of his shirt, and she swallowed with
difficulty. Her glance was drawn helplessly down, to the damp streak between
his shoulder blades.

The heat.

Mercy, was it warm! Almost desperately, she looked
forward to evening, when the sun wouldn’t be around to blister her
skin—even the snappy night breezes seemed preferable. Feeling the heat of
the sun on her shoulders, the crown of her head, along with the strange
feverish flush that came from within, Elizabeth fidgeted in the saddle,
searching out a more tolerable position, but she couldn’t find one. Something
about the horse’s gait made her feel restless.

Unbidden, the memory of the kiss they’d shared
popped into her mind, and heat spread into the very core of her being. Her
brows flickered faintly. Shared? Where had that come from? Stolen! Stolen was
more like it! She fidgeted again. As far as she was concerned, she had done
nothing to encourage him.

Or had she? The kiss, as well as the moments
before it, were mostly a blur in her mind, with the only tangible recollection
being that of her body’s treasonous response to him. Good night, she’d clung to
him like... like his sweat-soaked shirt was doing just now...

Gracious, he had the most distinct muscles.

What’s wrong
with you?
Don’t look, she scolded herself.

But she couldn’t help herself. She watched the
movement in his shoulders and back, the easy posture of his body as he rode,
and then, realizing that she was staring again, she forced her gaze away.

Good night, she was as shameless as Bess, she
scolded herself. Had he not walked out on her last night… well, she hated to
think of what might have happened.

Had he found
her wanting?

Who cared if he had?

She cared.

Had he?

Her heart skipped a beat at that likelihood.
Somehow it seemed terribly important that he not find her lacking. No one had
ever looked at her quite like Cutter did at times.
No one.
And while she tried to be appropriately appalled by the
frankness of his gaze, she couldn’t quite muster it. To her dismay, she found
herself feeling almost... well, grateful for the way that he had lusted after
her. Gracious day, was that it? Did he lust after her? Is that what she saw in
his scrutiny? Was that why he’d agreed to help her? In answer, she shook her
head, disbelieving it. Surely not?

Then again, she
had
awakened yesterday to his exploring hands. Though he’d not
touched her besides that, unless, of course, you counted
the kiss
. And even if you did, he’d left immediately afterward,
when he could very well have taken advantage of the situation. Instead, he’d
walked away.

The man was a tangle of contradictions—a
tangle she intended to unravel.

When Cutter slowed his horse to a trot, Elizabeth
took advantage of the opportunity, nudging her mount closer. Cutter spared her
only a cursory glance, and a slightly longer one for her mare.

“She’s holding up quite well, don’t you think?”

Cutter gave her a frown. As far as he was
concerned, she was either goading him... or looking for reassurance. He didn’t
feel like taking up the gauntlet in either case. Wasn’t in the mood. Somehow he
felt thwarted. She’d accepted him, sure enough, but he’d lost something in the
bargain. What it was, he didn’t know, but he felt the odd void all the same.

Just how long did he plan to be put out with her?
Elizabeth wondered. He’d had his fun at her expense earlier. Shouldn’t she be
the angry one? The least he could do was stay in character. She wasn’t certain
how to respond to his brooding.