Sagebrush Bride

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  “Like my mommy,” Katie responded at once, sending a quiver down Elizabeth’s spine. “And I wasn’t even scared,” Katie said, “but my granpapa said it was a dream ghost, anyhow, and I shouldn’ta been ascared, anyway. Do ya wanna know what the dream ghost tol’ me?” she asked, with just the right hint of intrigue.

  Elizabeth stroked the back of her fingers against Katie’s cheek, smiling fondly at her. Without even trying, Katie had somehow become so much a part of her. And it had happened so easily, and so swiftly. “What did the dream ghost tell you?”

  Katie’s eyes were wide and haunting in the darkness. The lamplight falling across her face made her skin pale, her features ethereal. “She tol’ me you was gonna be my mommy now.”

  At the unexpected declaration, Elizabeth’s heart twisted violently.

  “I asked my granpapa, and he said you was. Are ya?” she wanted to know, her dark eyes round and hopeful.

  Again, Elizabeth’s chest constricted. “Do you want me to be your mommy?” she asked with a catch in her voice. The sweetest smile touched Katie’s lips, and she nodded slowly. Smiling faintly, her heart as full as it had ever been, Elizabeth bent to kiss the child on the forehead, tucking the blanket higher about her little chin. “Then I would like that, too—very, very much!” she assured her. She rose, but her fingers continued to caress Katie’s cheek. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  Like a satisfied kitten, Katie stretched, and Elizabeth could almost feel the tension leave her. “Night, Aunt Lizabeth,” she replied.

  Elizabeth dimmed the lamp slowly, waiting for a protest. When it didn’t come, she snuffed it completely, and then bent again to kiss Katie’s soft little cheek, thinking, with a sigh, that this day had easily been one of the most emotional she’d ever endured. Katie’s sparkling eyes followed her as she went to the door, opening it.

  “Sweet dreams,” Elizabeth whispered, feeling suddenly as drained as she’d ever felt. Stepping out, she drew the door closed behind her, touching it briefly, her eyes closing as she turned away.

  On the way back to her own room, Elizabeth decided with a weary sigh that it would be silly to pace the floor all night waiting for Cutter, fully dressed. Cutter and Elias might very well “butt heads” until late in the night, and it just didn’t make sense for her not to go on to bed.

  Besides, it wasn’t as though there were a reason to wait up.

  With that decision made, once she was in her room, she quickly stripped down to her drawers and camisole, and then she divested the bed of its top cover, placing it upon the chair for Cutter. Savoring the luxury of clean, cool sheets against her flesh, she crawled into bed. As an afterthought, she put out the lamp, snuggling deep into the sheets.

  Little more than fifteen minutes had passed when Cutter sauntered in. Closing the door, he immediately began unbuttoning his shirt in the darkness. Elizabeth said nothing, only watched, the tiniest part of her feeling guilty because she was straining through the shadows to catch even the smallest glimpse of him. To her disappointment, she couldn’t see a thing, because the curtains were closed and the darkness was impenetrable.

  As though he’d read her thoughts, Cutter suddenly stepped toward the window, shrugging off his shirt on the way and dropping it onto the end of the bed. Drawing open the drapes, he let in the silvery moonlight, and Elizabeth squeezed both lids dosed, not wanting him to know that she was still awake. A moment later, when the stillness of the room piqued her curiosity, she peered through her lashes.

  He was standing, gazing out the window, his face in profile to her. The light that fell across his features made him appear harsh. Made his broad shoulders glisten. As she watched him, he turned abruptly, and she snapped her lids closed, only this time, not all the way.

  Through her lashes, she watched him as he released the top button of his trousers, and the sound of it popping loose sent a shiver of remembrance down her spine. In another moment, he’d tugged his denims down just so far, and then sat on the chair facing her to remove them the rest of the way. He tugged off one boot, and then moved to the other, grunting as he loosened it. Finally he jerked it off, but not without issuing what sounded suspiciously like a groan of… Was it pain?

  With a muttered curse, he threw the offending boot to the floor and then shrugged the rest of the way out of his denims. When those were discarded, he rolled off his socks, sighing long and hard as he dropped them to the floor as well. And then, for the life of her, Elizabeth couldn’t tell what he was doing, but it appeared that he was inspecting the sole of his foot in the darkness. For what reason, she didn’t know, but she felt like lighting the lamp. Honestly, how did he expect to see anything at all in the dark?

  He swiveled toward the window suddenly, lifting his left foot up to probe it by the light of the moon. “Damn,” he swore softly.

  Forgetting in her concern that she was supposed to be asleep, Elizabeth lifted herself a fraction. She squinted her eyes, trying to get a glimpse of his foot, but saw nothing. She cursed her eyesight.

  Hearing the sheets rustle, Cutter dropped his foot abruptly, glancing at the bed.

  Elizabeth froze.

  “You awake?”

  Cutter sighed irritably when there was no response. He’d come in hoping to find her up, but had opened the door to find the lights out, instead, and Elizabeth snuggled in so cozily that he didn’t have the heart to wake her. Hell, his foot was aching enough that he’d wanted her to look at it, but he wasn’t about to wake her just for that. He’d suffered a helluva lot worse. Besides, he’d downed enough deadshot that it should have been anesthetized by now, and it probably would be soon.

  “Cussin’ foot,” he muttered. The moist heat of his boot hadn’t done it much good. But now that the fresh air was soothing it, it felt better. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms upon his lap, letting his hands dangle tiredly between his legs, his fingers linking, while he stared somberly at the bed.

  How had she done it? he wondered. Snagged his heart without ever trying? He shook his head in self-disgust. He must be getting soft in his old age, because that chocolate-eyed niece of hers had somehow managed to do the same. He could look into the kid’s eyes and almost believe she was his and Elizabeth’s.

  With that thought, he closed his eyes, and with primeval pleasure, tried to imagine what a child of their own would look like, only to realize the mistake he’d made in following that train of thought. His body responded at the barest hint of their mating, rousing in the space of seconds.

  Hell, he’d been walking around in a state of half arousal all day because his pride wouldn’t let him make love to her again without her asking him to do so. He’d come too close this afternoon to baring his soul, and it hadn’t moved her a’tall. It still galled him that she’d preferred to sleep in the chair than with him.

  Lifting the blanket she’d left for him, Cutter shook it out with a scowl, then settled back into the chair.

  Propping his feet upon the bed, he covered himself to his chest, and then, as an afterthought, shoved his injured foot out of the blanket. He grunted with self-disgust as the blanket settled over him, forming a tent at his groin. He glared at it as though it were a dirty double-crosser.

  If she didn’t want to share his bed, he reminded himself, then he didn’t want her. Trouble was in convincing his Judas body of that fact, because it didn’t seem to have accepted his decision. At this rate, he sure as hell wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep.

  Laying his head back, he stared at the roving shadows on the ceiling, willing himself to sleep, willing the tent to fold itself up. When that didn’t work, and the pain in his crotch intensified, he tried to shift his concentration to the pain in his foot, hoping the one would overpower the other.

  It didn’t work.

  Hell, he could actually hear his breath quickening and his heart hammering… pounding? No, more like pattering. His body tensed with awareness, but it was another befuddled second before Cutter realized that the little thumps he heard were not
his own… that they came from the hall. It was another instant before he determined that it was the sound of Katie’s little feet… and that Miss Mimi was calling after her… and that she was coming closer…

  “Katie!”

  His reflexes kicked in immediately. By the time the handle on the door turned, Cutter had already vaulted into the bed, and was under the bed sheets with Elizabeth, his own telltale blanket left strewn like a trail across the bed.

  Her head popping up in surprise, Elizabeth stifled a cry as Cutter’s body came flush against her.

  Finding Elizabeth awake surprised Cutter all of two seconds, and then he regained his senses in time to shove her head down and laid down his own a mere instant before the door flew open and Katie scurried in. She’d gotten no more than two steps into the room when Miss Mimi caught her by the back of her nightgown. “Katie!” she reprimanded. “What in heavens do you think you are doing, child?”

  “I tol’ ya, Miss Mimi,” Katie wailed. “I forgot to say night to my uncle Cutter! Uncle Cutter, are ya wake?” she asked in the same secretive whisper she’d used earlier.

  Drowsily Cutter lifted his head, opening one eye. When Elizabeth tried to lift hers, as well, he held her down with a firm hand.

  “Goodness!” Miss Mimi declared, seeing the sleepy expression on Cutter’s face. “I’m so sorry to wake you, Mr. McKenzie.” She shook her head in exasperation. “I went in to say good night to Katie and made the mistake of asking whether she’d kissed both of you good night already.”

  Katie shrieked in protest when she couldn’t get near enough to the bed.

  “It’s all right,” Cutter replied gruffly, spreading his hand across Elizabeth’s face. The pad of his little finger settled in the groove of her mouth, while two of his other fingers splayed across her eyes, blocking her vision.

  It was all Elizabeth could do not to bite down on his finger. But she understood what Cutter was trying to do, and knew that she was supposed to be appreciative. It was just that he was pressed against her so intimately. Feeling that particular part of him nestling into her bottom so shamelessly, she couldn’t stifle a mortified groan. Fortunately for her, Miss Mimi didn’t seem to hear it. She was obviously too busy fretting over Katie’s unforgivable intrusion to hear Elizabeth’s distress.

  “She was halfway down the hall before I’d realized where she was off to!” Miss Mimi exclaimed by way of apology.

  Again, Elizabeth tried to lift her head, but Cutter kept her restrained, patting her cheek firmly, instead. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured, sounding hoarse with sleep. “It’s just Katie… and Miss Mimi.” Having said that, he removed his hand from her face at last, allowing her to lift her head, but she cringed as it slid to her shoulder, instead, caressing softly. She resisted the urge to elbow his gut and screech in outrage.

  “Are you certain it’s all right?” Miss Mimi asked.

  Cutter feigned a yawn, his hand leaving her shoulder for the briefest second, and then returning to squeeze it gently. Elizabeth shivered over the tenderness of that gesture.

  “Sure,” he said with good humor and a wink for Katie. Katie beamed. The moment Miss Mimi released her, she flung herself into the bed, scrambled across it, and stretched her neck over Elizabeth to peck at Cutter’s cheek.

  “Couldn’t sleep myself thinking that I’d missed my good night kiss,” Cutter assured her.

  With a smile as wide as the Missouri, Katie slid back off the bed, landing nimbly on her feet.

  “I take it your aunt Lizbeth’s already gotten hers?” he asked, all the while stroking Elizabeth’s shoulder and upper arm as though it were the most natural thing for him to do.

  And it might have been… had they been man and wife. But they weren’t. And it wasn’t. Elizabeth’s heart cried out with that reminder, and her eyes stung.

  “Yes, sir,” Katie replied as she scrambled out the door. “Night!” she called from the hall.

  “Night,” both Elizabeth and Cutter replied simultaneously.

  Miss Mimi’s expression was abashed. “Thank you,” she said fervently, “a-and good night to you, too.” Tossing her gaze heavenward, she shook her head and closed the door.

  “That was close,” Elizabeth sighed with relief, when they were alone.

  For a long moment there was no answer. And then Cutter agreed, “Yes, it was.” He continued to stroke her arm, sending shiver after shiver down her spine. Her head lolled slowly backward, seduced by the gentleness of his touch. She felt his lips move against the back of her head, heard his controlled intake of breath.

  “Reckon I oughta get back to the chair,” he said regretfully. Elizabeth didn’t answer. He dared to hope. “Y’ think?”

  There seemed to be so much riding on that question that Elizabeth didn’t dare respond for fear that the moment would end… that everything would end. She didn’t want it to be over, not ever. Jolted by that revelation, she felt her heart begin to somersault against her ribs.

  As though Cutter had read her thoughts, his caresses lengthened in that instant, drifting seductively over her hip, her thigh—everywhere but where she coveted his touch. Feeling wanton, she shivered at the brazen turn of her thoughts.

  And then, when she least expected it, his hand was suddenly splayed over the sheets, over that most feminine part of her, drawing her firmly against his arousal, wanting her to feel him… to know what he wanted.

  Elizabeth shivered with anticipation.

  She wanted it, too.

  How could something that felt so right be so wrong? It just couldn’t.

  Cutter didn’t remove his hand, but instead lingered, pressing more provocatively, arousing her by increasing and withdrawing the pressure. Despite the intensity of his passion, he stroked her with controlled slowness, his body shuddering behind her. It sent another shiver through her. Elizabeth was unable to restrain the moan that escaped her constricting throat. With all her heart, she willed him to turn her around, to kiss her now in that same slow, rhythmic way he’d kissed her earlier, but he didn’t. His body only tensed behind her, until she could feel every tightly coiled inch of him.

  Every tightly coiled inch.

  “Lizbeth,” he whispered thickly, still stroking her. “Do you want me to go back to the chair?”

  A strange panic beset her at the merest thought of his leaving the bed. Her voice failing her, Elizabeth shook her head, wanting him to stay, yet not able to speak the words.

  Cutter kissed the back of Elizabeth’s head, brushing aside the silky length of her hair with his chin. “Then ask me to stay,” he whispered huskily, his lips so close to her neck that they burned, “‘cause I won’t stay unless you do.”

  “Stay!” she cried.

  Cutter seized her shoulder, shifting as he forced her abruptly onto her back to stare down into her face. Sweat beaded upon his brow as he wove the golden strands of her hair through his fingers.

  “Say it again,” he demanded softly, his eyes slitting, penetrating her defenses. A fine sheen of moisture glistened over his shoulders and chest; one drop trickled slowly down his temple, glistening in the moonlight. “I wanna be sure I heard you right.”

  Her own eyes slitted as Cutter once again began to stroke her arms so softly, so slowly, so seductively, that it drew the words from her lips, even when she was certain she hadn’t the courage for them. She sighed, her voice trembling with the whispery pleasure he was bringing her. “Stay with me, Cutter. Stay…”

  For answer, Cutter groaned, lowering his mouth to hers, brushing the smooth heat of his lips against her own, gently at first—more tenderly than he ever had before—and then, when she moaned against his lips, he leisurely deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue, like liquid fire, between her teeth. Her breath broke at the renewed shock of it, her hands going around his neck of their own accord. He tasted and smelled of warm whiskey. Intoxicating.

  With an oblivious groan, Cutter swept his tongue into the sweet depths of Elizabeth’s mouth, savoring the incre
dible taste of her. While he kissed her, his hand circled her trembling jaw, taming the trembling. The answering beat of her pulse against his fingertips nearly sent him over the edge. Hissing through his teeth, losing his reason, he slid his hand lower, shoving the blanket way from her precious breasts with an eagerness that surprised him. In that moment, he craved only the fullness of her flesh against his lips.

  Slowly his hands raised her camisole, his lips seeking out their reward. But having bared her, he paused to drink in the delicious sight of her beneath him. Unable to deny himself, he reveled in the nipples that budded under the heat of his gaze. And then, most reverently, he positioned the warmth of one palm over one firm mound, inhaling deeply as it was unexpectedly thrust into his hands—an offering more magnificent than any he’d ever been given. With a thick groan of passion, he kneaded it softly, losing control over the satiny feel of it against his rugged skin. Felt so good—so right in his hand.

  “So hot,” Elizabeth moaned. His touch was so hot—so deliciously hot. Like a cat, she arched against him, giving him everything, everything, and then, suddenly, he was peeling the blankets completely away with an urgency that startled her. In the next instant, he was atop her, but Elizabeth welcomed his weight, rejoiced in it. She moaned with the profound pleasure it gave her. His hands swept like wildfire over her body, scalding where he touched. With a titillating rhythm of his own making, he rocked against her, into her most intimate places, teasing until she thought she would surely lose her sanity.

  Unable to keep herself from it any longer, Elizabeth lifted her trembling fingers to Cutter’s chest, wanting to touch him in every way that he’d touched her. Following his lead, her hands slid down the length of him, delighting in the male textures of his body.

  In response, Cutter deepened the kiss, his tongue stabbing swiftly, and for the first time, Elizabeth understood what it was that gesture meant… because she wanted it, too… somewhere else… with the same fervor and depth that he was giving her mouth…