He anticipated some reaction from her, Elizabeth thought dimly, but couldn’t think what—couldn’t think, period. Staring as though transfixed, she tried to decipher his stony features but found her brain as useless as her limbs. But it occurred to her in that muddled moment that maybe he had appraised her with more than a mild interest, and her pulse quickened at that prospect. No one had ever looked at her in quite that way.
Not anyone.
Those dark eyes still piercing her, he raised two fingers to his brim, tipping his hat in greeting as the remnants of a smile turned the corners of his mouth. “Howdy, Liz,” he said huskily. “It’s been a mighty long time, gal.”
Long time?
Elizabeth shook her head, denying it, for if she’d ever set eyes on the man before now, she would have remembered. He wasn’t the type to be forgotten. Unconsciously she lifted a finger to her cheek, to the spot where he’d kissed her. Her throat constricted, seeming suddenly parched, and she licked her lips desperately as they parted to speak.
To her mortification, no words came.
For the first time in her life, Elizabeth Bowcock found herself dumbstruck. In spite of the man’s amused expression, he wore an air of menace about him like a second skin, and a tremor shook her as she averted her gaze to his boots. Dangerous, she thought abruptly.
The man was dangerous.
She hadn’t missed the fact that he had the most vicious-looking revolver she’d ever spied jammed into his gun belt, but she’d only just spotted the ink black knife hilt peeking over his faded leather boots.
And those boots of his told a tale in themselves, for they were unmistakably U.S. Cavalry, and ominously inconsistent with his buckskin dress. There was little comfort in that he didn’t wear his weapons as Dick Brady did, like cheap jewelry. The fact that he kept his blade concealed and wore his gun casually, as though it were not there at all, told her all she needed to know. He was no gun-strutting cowpuncher. He was the real thing. As for the boots, she could think of a dozen reasons he should be outfitted so, not one of them reassuring.
A quick, wide-eyed glance to Jo told her that she was in no immediate danger, however. Jo’s lips lifted at the corners, and she, too, was on the verge of a smile, her kindly cinnamon eyes warm with humor.
Not really understanding why she felt compelled to, Elizabeth decided to play along. “Uh… um… ”
Mercy’s sake, she didn’t even know his name! How was she going to pretend to know him if she didn’t know his blessed name? In panic, her gaze skidded to Jo.
“Cutter!” Jo supplied with a laugh, seeming to read Elizabeth’s thoughts. Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I believe you have her tongue-tied, brother dear. Reckon she thought she’d never see you again.” Seeing Elizabeth’s confused expression, she laughed softly. “Isn’t that right, Liz?”
“Right?” Elizabeth nodded woodenly. Jo’s brother? “Oh—yes! I did think I’d never see you again!” She nodded dutifully for the benefit of their audience.
All eyes reverted suspiciously to Cutter, leaving her somewhat doubtful of her performance. Her brow furrowed.
Warmth invaded his eyes as he gently chucked her under the chin, much as a brother would a cherished younger sister.
Elizabeth felt suddenly too warm, almost as though she were being roasted over a slow fire. And the heat of his fingers… lingered upon her chin long after he’d withdrawn his hand. Mortified that he could affect her so, she averted her gaze to Brady. He was watching her with unflinching eyes.
His eyes narrowing to shadowy slits, Cutter turned to Brady and his men, sending them each an unspoken challenge. Brady fidgeted, flinging Elizabeth a doubtful look before turning away. The rest of his outfit followed immediately, slapping one another consolingly on the shoulder.
Elizabeth’s brows rose as she watched the exchange, astounded at the ease with which Cutter had handled Brady and his men. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat like a spoonful of dry sugar. The man was just too smug for his own good. He’d had no right to be so familiar with her, but she did owe him her gratitude, no matter how reluctant it came. “I suppose I should thank you,” she said.
Cutter grinned. “Anytime, Doc.”
Elizabeth smiled through clenched teeth, nodding. His assurance sounded so self-satisfied. And the way he spoke the word Doc—as though he doubted her claim to the title—struck a chord of dissent. As did everything else about him.
Jo jerked Elizabeth by the hand suddenly, leading her into the back room. Without being asked, Cutter followed, his footsteps amazingly lithe behind them.
Like a thief on the prowl, Elizabeth thought grudgingly. She supposed it was his Indian heritage that gave him such stealth. She peered anxiously over her shoulder. He really didn’t look much like an Indian, except for his dark coloring. But neither did Jo, for that matter, yet she knew they were. Jo had told her so.
“Now,” Jo asked, once she’d closed the door to her office, “what in thunder do you need a man for, Liz?”
Elizabeth’s gaze never left the other occupant of the sparsely furnished room. He sauntered over and sprawled backward into a large leather chair, dwarfing it beneath him. Hooking the curved toe of his boot about the leg of a nearby stool, he drew it closer, propping his scuffed leather boots upon it. The longer she watched him, the more his arrogant presence provoked her.
With a slow gesture, Cutter adjusted his hat so that it shaded his eyes—more out of habit than necessity, because the light in the room was too dim to be glaring. “Don’t mind me,” he said presently. Lifting a dark brow and one corner of his mouth, he returned Elizabeth’s regard, his infuriating smile locked insolently in place.
Caught in the act of staring, Elizabeth felt her breath snag. What was it about him that she found so discomfiting? Musing over that, she fanned herself, not realizing what that gesture revealed. Her eyes narrowed as she faced Jo. “He’s not really your brother?” she asked skeptically.
Jo nodded. Pursing her lips to keep from grinning, she said, “My baby brother, actually.”
“Why haven’t I met him before now?” Elizabeth persisted.
Jo’s eyes twinkled with mirth, and Elizabeth could suddenly see a clear and maddening resemblance between the two.
“Why do you think you should have? I didn’t happen into Sioux Falls until about two years ago. Cutter was only here long enough to help me open the Oasis. Since then… well… there’s been a war goin’ on, you know.’’ Jo tilted a sly look toward her brother, conceding with a sigh, “Though he has managed to steal in a time or two… to check up on me. Isn’t that so, brother dear?”
Cutter lifted his hat brim just enough so that Elizabeth glimpsed the lack of compunction in his jet black gaze. He obviously didn’t give a fig that anyone knew of his solicitousness, and didn’t bother even to deny as much to his sister—who seemed to take offense over it, if Elizabeth read her tone right.
“Now, mind you, he won’t admit it,” Jo continued, frowning benevolently. “Claims he’s only checking on the Oasis. You see, it’s his place, really, not mine, but he swears he hasn’t the patience to run it and kindly leaves that burden to me.” She gave her brother a conspiratorial wink. “Fact is, he’s just too generous, even if he is overprotective.” She sighed with resignation. “I keep tellin’ him I can take care of myself just fine without him, but he doesn’t seem to want to believe it’s so.”
Cutter said nothing to his sister’s allegations, but his smile turned crooked. Wry amusement played upon his sensuous lips, and somehow that arrogant grin made Elizabeth feel as awkward as a kettle-bellied mule, especially since it was still directed at her. More than anything, she wanted to strike it from his face. Though she was supposed to be grateful, she reminded herself. And yet despite his cocksure expression, she found she couldn’t quite tear her gaze away.
“Enough about that,” Jo said. “What I’d like to know, Liz girl, is what you think you need a man for?”
El
izabeth nodded in Cutter’s direction. It was just too difficult to remain coherent with the man staring at her so intently. “He doesn’t need to hear this, does he?”
Jo regarded Elizabeth impishly. “Well, sugar, I’ll put it to you this way. He could go… if you could persuade him to leave his own office. But even if he did, there aren’t any secrets between us. He’d more’n likely find out anyhow. So you might as well tell us both before I die of curiosity—why on earth do you need a man?”
The last two words were emphasized, as though it were a ridiculous notion. Elizabeth tried not to take exception.
“And what could be so bloomin’ important,” Jo continued, “that you would risk life and limb coming into the Oasis at this time o’ the night? You know better’n that!” she chided.
Warmth crept higher into Elizabeth’s cheeks as she glanced again at Cutter. He was still watching her, his expression unreadable but for the mocking smile upon his lips. She felt suddenly so conspicuous that she longed for the floor to open up and suck her down into it—anything to escape his bold scrutiny.
To Elizabeth’s dismay, that scoundrel’s smile spread clear to his fathomless eyes. Swallowing, she took a deep breath and averted her face, feeling his gaze rake her like a hot southern gust over a thirsting man in the middle of the desert; it was nearly her undoing. God grant her strength, she just knew that any moment she would burst into tears, and she refused to weep in front of the cad.
She decided it was best to ignore him.
If he wouldn’t go… then she would just make believe he wasn’t in the room with her—sitting little more than six feet away… give or take a few inches.
She forced her attention to remain on Jo.
“Well, I received a letter today,” Elizabeth began, her voice catching. She swallowed convulsively. “From my sister’s father-in-law. Katherine… K-Katherine,” she tried again, but her voice failed her. The words were just too difficult to speak. “She and her husband were… well, they were killed. He didn’t say how.” She tried to keep the emotion from her tone and merely recite the facts, but her lips trembled traitorously. “It seems they left their four-year-old daughter to my care.”
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth tried to steady herself, feeling suddenly as though she would swoon. But she’d never fainted before, and now wasn’t the time to begin.
Not in front of him.
But then, he wasn’t really there, she reminded herself sternly.
Ignore him.
Jo placed a reassuring arm about Elizabeth’s waist. “You poor thing! I’m so sorry!” she declared. “Here now, sit yourself down in my chair.”
Elizabeth sank numbly into the buttery-soft leather chair behind the tiny desk, grateful for the barrier it provided between herself and Jo’s brother. Except that now she was forced to face him. Her limbs felt weak at the realization.
“You gonna be all right?” Jo asked.
Elizabeth nodded, and her gaze was again drawn to Cutter’s. Like a hapless moth to a killing flame, she thought petulantly.
His smile was gone now, replaced with what seemed a disapproving scowl. He probably thought her a blubbering idiot, she thought grimly—and what was worse, she felt like one, too.
“So skip to the man part,” Jo prompted, waving her hand impatiently.
CHAPTER TWO
“I can’t claim Katherine’s child unless I’m married,” she said bluntly. “Her grandfather loves her, you see, and he won’t give her up unless he’s certain she’ll go to a decent home.”
“I don’t understand,” Jo interjected. “Why doesn’t the kid just stay with him, if he loves her so damned much?”
“Because he claims he’s too old to raise her,” Elizabeth disclosed. “And he also wrote that if I can’t take her, he’d be forced to give her to a God-fearing couple he knows who was never blessed with children.”
She bit into her lower lip to keep from crying out, and her eyes closed for the briefest instant as she fought to retain her composure. When she opened them again, they were misty. “Jo! I have to get that child! Katie’s all the family I’ve got left—I need to raise her, can’t you see? I can’t bear to think of her growing up all alone… not knowing her.” Her eyes were melancholy. “She’s only four.” Her voice was soft with pain. “Don’t you understand?”
Jo nodded. “I think I do, sugar. So what are you gonna do?”
Elizabeth cleared her throat, because the words she was about to speak seemed outrageous even to her own ears. “Well… ” Knitting her brows, she began, “I thought… I thought, maybe, I’d hire myself a husband.”
A sudden choking sound diverted Elizabeth’s attention, and her eyes widened, her gaze flying to Cutter’s as though she suddenly recalled his presence. To her annoyance, that unwelcome heat stole back into her cheeks.
Watching Elizabeth’s back straighten stoically, Cutter experienced a longing to console. It amazed him that she’d not so much as shed a single tear, and he admired her for that strength of character. Most gals he knew would be spouting liquid salt like a wrung sponge—justifiably—yet here she sat, eyes glassy with grief, and not a drop to behold. Still, her grief was a tangible thing, and something stirred deep down. She seemed to deal with anger well enough, and so he thought to give her another focus. “Quit pampering her, Jo. She’s no idiot child!”
Her head snapping up, Jo gave her brother an incredulous look. Silence overwhelmed the small room for an uncomfortable instant as she glared at him, and said finally, “How would you know what she needs, you insensitive cuss!”
Cutter lifted a brow in amused surprise. “I was ‘too generous’ only a scant moment ago,” he reminded her.
Without giving his sister time to reply, he rose from the chair and went to the private bar. Tipping a few long-necked bottles to better read the labels, he found one to his liking, lifting it along with two glasses, setting them down upon the desk before Elizabeth.
Jo glanced back at Elizabeth, but Elizabeth was still watching Cutter. “Look, Elizabeth, even if you can work this plan out somehow… I’m not sure this is the best time to be traveling.”
Elizabeth’s gaze returned to Jo. “Oh, but you see… it’s really a very good time! Word is sure to have spread about the war by now. And Elias says that with so many troops in the area, there shouldn’t be any concern over…” She glanced away anxiously, and then back, and was chewing her lip in search of a word.
“Indians,” Jo provided for her. She shared an amused look with her brother.
“Um, yes.” Elizabeth said.
Cutter lifted up the small stool that had propped his feet earlier and set it down with a clatter on the opposite side of the small desk. Without preamble, he took his seat upon the stool, and as short as it was, he still sat taller than Elizabeth did in her plush leather chair.
“This,” he informed them both, though he kept his gaze fastened to Elizabeth’s, winking audaciously at her, “is just what the woman needs right now.” He lifted up his drink.
Elizabeth’s brows drew together in disapproval. Her hair was pulled back too tightly, making her face appear taut and gaunt, but Cutter’s eyes overlooked that, focusing only on the thick black fringe of lashes magnified by her lenses, and those dark brows so at odds with her honey-colored hair and complexion.
“Sure it is!” exclaimed Jo in disgust. “Ain’t it always a man’s answer to everything?” She shook her head reprovingly.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, remained quiet.
When he tore his gaze away from her, he glanced up at his sister and said pointedly, “Don’t you have a hookshop to run, or something?”
Jo glowered at him. “Well, yes, but… ”
She couldn’t argue with truth—and she didn’t dare leave that mangy bunch o’ men alone in her bar for too long, Cutter knew. Like as not, they were sneaking sips from her bottles, and pinches from her girls. Her hands went to her hips in warning. “Behave yourself, Cutter. If you dare say anything to hurt Eliz
abeth’s feelings…”
A shadow of annoyance crossed Cutter’s sharp features, but faded just as quickly as it appeared. “You know me better’n that, Jo. Fact is, I figure I can help. Now, get the hell out of here and back to work before you have nothing left to get back to.” His eyes flashed a gentle but firm warning.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to object, but before she could utter a word, Jo snorted inelegantly and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Rising abruptly, Elizabeth gasped in frustration, staring wide-eyed at the closed door. How dare Jo leave her alone, with her heller of a brother! She turned slowly to glare at Cutter, her expression wrathful. “I needed to talk to her, Mr. McKenzie!” Her eyes narrowed upon him accusingly. “I assume it is McKenzie?” she asked.
Cutter lifted the bottle before him, turned it appraisingly, then poured a small portion of amber fire into her glass. “That’s right,” he drawled. His dark, hawk-like eyes bored into hers as he slid the glass toward her. “Drink up. Might help.” The curve of his lips seemed to challenge her.
Settling back down on the edge of the chair, Elizabeth slid the glass back toward him, straightening her shoulders. “No, thank you, Mr. McKenzie. I do not partake of spirits.” Her eyes narrowed. “Not ever!”
Shrugging indifferently, Cutter proceeded to pour himself two fingers. As he placed the bottle back upon the desk it “accidentally” clinked against Elizabeth’s glass, nudging it back into her immediate reach. “Suit yourself,” he said, adjusting his stool. He leaned upon the desk, stretching his long legs lazily before him.
Beneath the desk, the toe of one boot managed to find its way just under the hem of Elizabeth’s skirt, brushing her ankle. She jerked away with a gasp. Though not quickly enough, because she experienced a flutter deep down at the unexpected caress. It sent her pulses racing and her senses reeling. Surely he’d not done so on purpose? Or had he? She had to wonder.
Sagebrush Bride Page 2
