Sagebrush Bride

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  Eventually the fire died almost completely, leaving only a few glowing embers, and after a while, even the gentle night sounds conspired against her: the steady trilling of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl. She thought to hum softly to herself, but was too self-conscious to chance that Cutter would hear her; her song sounded more an ungodly squeak on the night breeze than a soothing lullaby.

  And Cutter… She was only too aware of him—in spite of the fact that his form was barely visible through the shadows. She could feel his presence just as surely as though he were lying smack-dab beside her.

  He, on the other hand, seemed not to have any difficulty snoozing at all! He lay like stone. In fact, she thought it might have been a good hour since she’d heard a single rustle from his blankets, and the fact that he could sleep so peacefully when she could not made her feel all the more restless. And offended somehow, though why she should be, she didn’t know.

  Despite the fact that her eyes felt as heavy as lead, the butterflies in her stomach were wide-awake. Or maybe it was the rattler that churned there? As she was reminded of the rattler, the muscles in Elizabeth’s limbs tensed abruptly.

  Just where had he found the thing? Not anywhere in the immediate area, she hoped. But… he’d not been gone long—he would’ve had to discover it nearby.

  Good night! What if it had little baby rattlers slithering around somewhere? But no… she didn’t think they traveled that way. They preferred their own company… didn’t they? Oh, Lord…

  Something stirred in the immediate darkness.

  Elizabeth swallowed back a knob of apprehension. “Cutter?” she croaked.

  Cutter didn’t so much as move a muscle, but there it was, that sound again.

  Now what was she supposed to do?

  One thing was certain. She wasn’t about to wake Cutter and have him needle her about it in the morning!

  But neither was she willing to lie helpless in the dark!

  She grabbed her woolen blanket and groped her way around to where Cutter slept, dragging the blanket after her in the dirt.

  What harm could there be in resting just a bit nearer to him? For just a while?

  She groaned as the blanket caught under her knee. She tugged at it frantically, and belly-flopped to the ground when she jerked it too quickly. Choking and sputtering on an invisible cloud of dust, she scrambled to her knees.

  Later she would move back to her bedroll… once she felt certain that whatever had made that sound was gone.

  Cutter need never know.

  Right?

  Right.

  Wavering somewhere between sleep and consciousness, Cutter heard her voice. But then, he’d been suffering her all night. Not just that god-awful tune of hers, if it could be called that, but her condemnation. Indians? He kept hearing from her lips. Indians? He felt like telling her to go straight to hell, but before he could express those powerful sentiments, some sixth sense alerted him to a presence beside him, and his eyes opened, zeroing in on the black form creeping like a thief to his side.

  He grinned suddenly. Mischievously. Without a doubt he knew what it was. Or rather who it was.

  Elizabeth. As though by cue, his body responded at once to her proximity.

  Drawing the covers up, he turned abruptly to lie on his side, watching her alarmed reaction through amused, slitted eyes. Her dark shape froze, then began to sidle quietly away, and he stifled a wicked chuckle. She wasn’t gonna get very far—not when he finally had her right where he wanted her.

  Abruptly Cutter’s arm snaked out, catching her about the middle. She stiffened, and he drowsily pulled her into the circle of his embrace, all the while nuzzling sleepily against the back of her neck. She resisted noiselessly, but she did resist, squirming with increasing strength against the firm hold he had upon her. Instinctively he knew that if he didn’t think of something quick, she was going to elbow his crotch again—and empty her lungs right into his ear.

  And then a waggish idea popped into his head, and his grin widened.

  “Mmmm,” he groaned suddenly, wrapping his arms sleepily but possessively about her waist. When her struggles ceased for the briefest instant, he took advantage, sliding his hand down boldly to press against her feminine parts.

  Her breath caught in shocked protest, but before she could even think to remove his hand from where it sat, he slammed her taut little backside against his thighs.

  His hand glided slowly down to her thigh as he wiggled sleepily against her bottom. “Mmmmmmmm,” he murmured, “feels… so… good.” Boy, did it ever! Before she could respond, he added the wild card. “Bess.”

  As he’d expected, Elizabeth froze in his arms. His lips quivered with suppressed laughter.

  Bess?

  Good night, he thought she was Bess? Wasn’t it bad enough that he would dream of the hussy? Did he have to confuse the two of them, as well? How dare he? Elizabeth chafed.

  Still, she didn’t risk moving, because he obviously didn’t know that it was her, and she wasn’t about to reveal otherwise. If she woke him now, she’d be forced to explain why she was sleeping so near him to begin with… when she’d practically forbade him to sleep within arm’s reach of her. How could she possibly explain herself? The truth was, she doubted anything she could say would show her in good light. Even to her own mind, her reasoning sounded lame, at best. She decided it would be best to wait until the scoundrel fell into a deeper sleep, and then she’d slip away—rotten, misbegotten dog that he was!

  Burying his nose into the stiff back of her neck, Cutter sighed with the sheer pleasure of it all. She smelled good—no perfumes, nothing, just the fascinating scent of clean skin and hair. He felt like laughing out loud—though why he should feel so pleased with himself suddenly, when he’d been so irritated by her only moments before, was a question he wasn’t about to mull over too closely.

  What he wouldn’t give just now to undo that thick braid of hers, run his fingers through her silky hair. But he didn’t want her to know he was awake, so instead, he played a waiting game, a game Elizabeth was fated to lose.

  Ruthless as he was, Cutter never loosened his hold upon her. Not even a smidgen. After she waited a long while for him to ease up on his grip, Elizabeth’s body began to slacken in his arms.

  The instant it did, he began to nibble her neck drowsily, moving his hand to her middle, stroking her belly seductively.

  So what was she supposed to do now? Elizabeth knew she should protest, but for the life of her, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Merciful heaven… what was he doing to her? With every slow stroke of his hands, her body seemed to stir a little more.

  His warm lips found their way into her hair, nibbling, burning her flesh. Unable to bear it, Elizabeth arched, giving him better access.

  Cutter groaned at her response. As his mouth leisurely devoured her flesh, his hands moved to her shoulder and then to her back, tugging down her dress.

  Elizabeth didn’t realize she was undone until she felt the crisp air flow down her spine. Cutter’s warm lips followed, along with the sleek gliding of his tongue, making her shiver. Her breathing quickened and she stiffened. Was he awake then? Suspicion niggled her. No man could be so seductive in his sleep! Or could he?

  She hoped he was still asleep, and didn’t pause to wonder why. She told herself that it was because she didn’t want him to know she’d allowed him so much liberty. But she knew even as she thought it that it wasn’t true. She didn’t want this to end, didn’t think she could bear it if it did. Still, she shouldn’t just…

  “Mmmm, Bess,” he whispered again.

  Bess. Elizabeth closed her eyes, shutting out the name, and along with it, her pain at hearing it spoken again from his lips.

  Despite the fact that Cutter’s denims grew so tight as to be painful, it was worth it, he thought with grim satisfaction. He was only thankful that his britches were snug enough to hide his arousal from her. He hadn’t mistaken the look in Elizabeth’s eyes when she’d
discovered that part of his anatomy the day he’d fallen atop her. She might be an innocent miss, but she knew what it was that went on between men and women, and likely would have leapt out of her skin if she felt it burrowing against her sweet little butt just now.

  He smiled faintly against her soft back. What a strange brew she was: naive, yet obviously not totally ignorant. His lips curved into a smile. As far as he was concerned, she had just the right degree of innocence and carnal knowledge in those brassy eyes of hers, making him want to be the first man to bury himself in that delicious body of hers—in spite of the fact that he wasn’t comfortable with prudish misses.

  But she wasn’t that at all, he reflected, despite the front she liked to put up.

  Elizabeth moaned low in her throat as Cutter’s hands slipped from her back, beneath her open blouse. She gasped as his fingers reached around to touch and cup her breast. With slow, sleepy movements, he caressed her, seducing every thought of protest from her mind. Heaven help her, but she arched for him, daring to ease herself into his palm.

  So warm.

  So very warm.

  He squeezed her gently, and her bottom undulated into his pelvis. There it froze, feeling the hardness there. Her heart burst into her throat. She felt a bittersweet pleasure at the feel of him, even knowing it wasn’t for her. He began to move against her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing, willing her traitorous body to deny itself. But it was in vain. An ache began to build deep within, coiling inside her so tightly that she thought she would die of the pleasure.

  The woman was as warm-blooded as they came, Cutter thought with satisfaction as Elizabeth moved unconsciously with him. Thing was, she just didn’t know it yet. All she needed was a little shove in that direction. Shuddering with anticipation, he savored the ache in his pants, and thought of all the ways he’d make her pay when the time came. He was just arrogant enough to know that if he pursued it, he could get exactly what he craved tonight… but he didn’t want any regrets in the morning. He wanted her to come to him on her own. He wanted her so ready, she wouldn’t be able to deny him if she wanted to. No, he’d just give her something to think about until next time.

  Something to crave.

  His hand slipped out of her blouse, and drifted across her hips, down to the apex of her thighs. Stroking her over her skirt, he pressed a little deeper each time between her clenched thighs.

  Moaning softly, Elizabeth pressed her thighs together more protectively. She whimpered, trying not to be heard. But it was too late; when Cutter pressed his fingers between her thighs one last time, and lifted up, she shuddered violently.

  He told himself that he was satisfied. That he’d gotten what he was after. That for the moment, he was content just to hold her… breathe her into his soul. But it wasn’t true. Feeling her body’s tiny convulsions, her culmination in pleasure, it was all he could do not to let himself go. It was too damned much to bear. One last roll of his hips against her pert little fanny would give him his own release. He didn’t move. And it was the most difficult thing he ever didn’t do.

  God, he hurt.

  She suddenly stiffened in his arms, but Cutter held her tightly, knowing that she was likely as embarrassed as she was confused over what had just happened to her. She was probably waiting for him to release her so she could scurry away. But he wasn’t willing to let her go. Somehow, though he didn’t understand it, she was beginning to weave herself inextricably into his being. Without trying, she’d managed to wrap her tiny fingers firmly around his rock-solid heart.

  Still, he didn’t move. He knew she had to suspect he was awake. But he also knew that she was hoping he wasn’t, and it was easier to let her keep believing he still slept.

  It was a long while later before Elizabeth finally relaxed. When her breathing finally grew smooth and even, he knew instinctively that she had fallen asleep. And only then did he allow himself to drift.

  Strangely enough, it was the hush of the morning rather than the glaring sunlight falling across Elizabeth’s face that drew her from her dreams first. She stretched lazily, and then froze. Her eyes flew open to find herself facing what had only recently been the campfire. The pit was filled now, and tamped firmly down, the stones disbursed, turned blackened side under so that, to the undiscerning glance, it was impossible to tell that they had once been a part of a blazing fire.

  The next thing Elizabeth became aware of was that everything was already packed, including Cutter’s bedroll.

  Cutter’s bedroll.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, something nagged at her. And then it came to her, unwelcome as the memory was. Her heart did a violent somersault as she anxiously reexamined the scene before her, hoping against hope.

  Merciful heaven… it wasn’t Cutter’s gear that was neatly rolled and packed away, but hers!

  Desperately, nipping at her lower lip until it was in danger of splitting, she tried to recall through her cobwebby thoughts whether she’d crept back to her own bed at some point during the night. But the view was all wrong—obvious even in light of her slightly hazed vision—and she knew without a doubt that she’d not.

  Taking in a shuddering breath, Elizabeth mustered the courage to raise herself up from Cutter’s bed to face him. She spotted him at once, and thankfully, his back was to her as he readied their horses for the day’s travel. At least that was what she imagined he was doing. His movements were somewhat of a blur at this distance. That was the first thing she’d have to do when she got back to Sioux Falls—purchase a new pair of spectacles.

  She was still staring when Cutter turned toward her, trying to focus her vision, and her face went crimson with shame.

  What must he think of her now? After the shameless way she’d…

  God, don’t think of that!

  It didn’t happen.

  Besides, he was sleeping at the time, so why should he remember?

  What explanation could she give for sleeping in his bed? She grasped at several, but not one seemed fit, so she said nothing.

  Cutter sauntered toward her, grinning as he tossed her his hat.

  “Wear it down low over your face,” he told her solemnly, shaking his head with mock concern. He barely hid the belligerent smile that lurked behind those sensual lips of his. “Damn me, if you’re not getting too much sun.” He winked at her.

  Elizabeth gasped, catching the hat as it spun through the air toward her. She gnashed her teeth at his smug expression. Had she expected a courteous “good morning” from him? Oh, no, nothing so considerate as that from Cutter McKenzie! He had to slip right into his provoking demeanor first thing. Come to think of it, like his boots, she thought he might never even have bothered to step out of it. It was too much a part of him.

  She rose, crushing the hat vengefully onto her head, and stomped her way to the river. It was little more than fifty yards from the campsite, sparkling beautifully in the morning sun, and she mentally scolded herself for not considering a bath after supper last night.

  She’d yet to put her shoes on this morning, and was glad of that fact, because she didn’t feel like stooping to pull them off. The inside of her thighs were still sore from so many hours of riding.

  Not to mention the way she’d clenched her thighs together last night.

  Now, why did she have to go and think of that?

  Jerking her skirt up, she tucked it into her waist, glancing toward camp. Surely Cutter would know what she was up to and have the good grace not to intrude?

  But she couldn’t be certain of that fact, and so she abandoned the scandalous notion as quickly as it appeared. The last thing she needed this morning was to be caught in her drawers again.

  As hastily as she was able, she took care of her personal needs and then, with a weary sigh, yanked her skirt back out of her waist. With one hand, she held it out of the water while she waded her feet in the cool river. Stooping, she splashed a handful into her face to refresh herself and then considered her rippling reflection in
the water.

  Mercy, was she a sight! she thought, aghast, as she ran her tongue along her bottom lip… and she had the most god-awful taste in her mouth!

  She’d scrubbed her teeth as best she could without asking Cutter for the means. He’d seemed amused enough with her other personal duties, as it was. But this morning she was desperate to freshen her mouth. She took in a mouthful of water, swishing it vigorously, cursing herself for the oversight of a toothbrush and powder, but to her dismay, it didn’t help all that much. Her mind toiling, she peered around for something of use… something grainy enough to scrub her teeth clean.

  All at once, a thought occurred to her, and she felt absolutely brilliant. Sand, of course! There was plenty of it about… and though it surely wouldn’t be pleasant, it couldn’t be all that bad either. With the river so low, there were sandbars everywhere. Moving closer to one of the smaller ones, she scraped up a smidgen of the cleanest sand she could find, rubbing her fingers together, testing the consistency of it. Even once she was satisfied with its coarseness, she continued to stare at it a long moment, examining it for little crawly things. There were none. Still she was reluctant.

  And she was desperate, she reminded herself. Without giving herself another moment to reconsider, she promptly thrust it into her mouth, grimacing at the grainy taste. Though, truthfully, after a moment, it wasn’t so bad. Scooping a handful of water, she quickly swished out her mouth, to find that it did feel considerably cleaner… though not quite enough.

  Again, she scooped up a finger full, ignoring the little voice inside that told her this was very likely the most foolish thing she’d ever done in her life, and scrubbed her teeth with it, this time more vigorously, reasoning that perhaps she had even discovered some new method of cleansing one’s mouth—besides Sanitary, the Perfect Tooth Soap. Perhaps there was even some health benefit to be had here. Wasn’t mud good for the skin? Conceivably sand might also be good for the teeth. Her mind raced with the possibilities.