Sagebrush Bride

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  And more.

  Emboldened by her own rising passion, she slid her hands down to his buttocks, raking him softly. But he jerked at her touch, hissing through his teeth. Fearful that she’d hurt him, Elizabeth snatched her hand away, but he caught it, drawing it back.

  “No,” he murmured, “it was good.” He shuddered at the feel of her small, cool fingers moving like whispery butterfly wings on his thigh. “Damned good.” He released her at once, slipping his hands beneath her back, sliding them down to cup her bottom, and then pressing himself against her, rocking softly against her warmth and shuddering over the intensity of feeling that surged through him.

  More than anything, he wanted her naked just now—stripped bare in his arms. Even down to her heart.

  He wanted to see right into her soul.

  To know if he was there.

  As she was in his.

  Elizabeth moaned, lifting herself against him, seeking him out, telling him without words what she craved.

  Cutter smiled, almost savagely, a feral gleam in his eyes. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered huskily. If he couldn’t have what he wanted of her, then he would at least hear from her own mouth what she wanted of him.

  Elizabeth followed him obliviously with her hips, still unable to speak the words. And suddenly he was leaving her, and she cried out at the unanticipated separation. But he didn’t go far. He knelt above her, his smile knowing as his fingers caressed her once more, slipping seductively into the waist of her drawers.

  “This?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.

  With a slowness that made her breasts ache, and her eyes close with the spellbinding pleasure of it, he drew her drawers off. She nodded unconsciously as heat coiled through her, savoring every sensation as the soft, worn cotton slid down the length of her leg.

  With a victorious growl, Cutter lifted her toe into his mouth, nipping it gently, pressing his thumb into her sole, before slipping her drawers off entirely. Discarding them, he bent to kiss her calves, her knees, her thighs, making his way slowly back upward. As she writhed helplessly with the incredible need he was rousing, Elizabeth’s nails raked the sheets, clutching at them for sanity.

  And then suddenly he was at her breast, drawing her nipple firmly into his mouth, sucking it gently, as though it were his greatest joy, his most cherished treasure. To her surprise, waves of ecstasy burst through her, trysting and exploding somewhere deep within.

  “Cutter,” she cried out. “Oh… Cutter—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t ever stop!”

  For answer, Cutter’s breath hissed across the wetness he’d lovingly painted upon her nipple, and then he moved to her other breast, lavishing it with just as much care as he’d given the first, leaving Elizabeth breathless with yearning. As Cutter feasted, her heart pounded, leaping with each stimulating suckle into her throat. Moaning with the ecstasy of it all, she curled her fingers through his hair, urging him closer without even realizing.

  Vaguely she became aware that his hands were skipping so lightly over her skin, getting so close to that intimate place. Her breath caught and held over his scandalous stroking. Yet, of their own accord, her legs parted to give him better access, trusting him fully… wanting him to work his magic.

  Magic.

  There was no other way to describe what he was doing to her. Knowing exactly how to touch her to elicit pleasure, he cupped her, the full, firm pressure and heat of his palm an aphrodisiac in itself. And then his hand slid up, and ever so slowly he inserted the tip of one finger, making small swirling motions just within, with slow, mesmerizing dips, going deeper each time, as though he were stirring from her and tasting the sweetest nectar. The feeling was exquisite beyond words, and she couldn’t bear it.

  “Elizabeth,” he murmured, barely able to restrain himself with the image of her heat flowing into his hand. “You feel so good… ” The silky coarseness of his beard caressed her belly as he lowered his head, breathing in the scent of her. “I bet you taste even better.” He chuckled wickedly, and shuddered with anticipation, moving down to discover if it was so.

  The top of his head receded, until…. “No!” she cried out, closing her legs before he could reach his intended goal. “I—I can’t… not… not yet.”

  Yet?

  Tilting his head to look up at her with those black eyes, he scrutinized her a moment, the hunger in his gaze almost volatile. Then, without warning, he moved up to lie beside her, catching her about the waist and lifting her effortlessly above him for the briefest second.

  “Then ride me,” he hissed.

  In spite of the fact that Elizabeth had no idea what he was asking of her, her heart leapt into her throat, her body thrilling to the demand. Instinctively, still not understanding fully, she parted her legs to sit astride him, and before she could find her tongue to ask, he was impaling her, the tip of him begging entrance.

  She whimpered with longing at the feel of him entering so slowly, filling her so completely. Her body accommodated at once, gliding over him with little effort, drawing him into her own with such ease that it seemed they were made to be joined. In spite of her own trembling, she felt him pulse beneath her. Still she didn’t quite understand, but feeling the incredible urge to sheathe him fully, she did, tilting her hips instinctively. Again Cutter shuddered. But Elizabeth only sat, confounded as to what to do next. Her heart pounding, she drank in the intensity of his expression. His face was full of strain, his eyes closed, his jaw taut with restraint. The muscles in his arms tensed, and his fingers at her waist were actually… trembling?

  He touched her more firmly, guided her up the length of him. “Ride me, Lizbeth,” he urged, a look of intense pleasure that warred with pain on his face. Again, he shuddered, leading her smoothly down over his erection. And then he opened his dark eyes, piercing her with the heat of his gaze. They were smoldering, slitting—coming as close to pleading as he was able. “Ride,” he whispered huskily, his neck arching, thrusting his head back into the bed.

  Finally comprehending, Elizabeth nodded, rocking her hips, slowly. With her first stroke, Cutter bucked beneath her.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Christ, you feel good!” His jaw clenched.

  Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to shudder, her eyes widening at the power she wielded over him. She needed no further prodding. With every stroke she made over him, she died a thousand deaths. It was the sweetest torture she had ever endured—ever!

  Only, she was the one in control. She reveled in the power it gave her over his body—over her own. The look on his face alone was enough to send her spiraling over the edge—but she wasn’t ready to relinquish so soon. Couldn’t. It was too good. Too hot. Too… too… Dear God, it—it was too much!

  Crying out at the exquisite feel of it, Elizabeth braced her hands upon his feverish chest. His skin was damp with sweat, the muscles in his neck and shoulders corded with the strain, but he allowed her to ride on at her own rhythm. Then suddenly a muffled cry forced its way through his clenched teeth and he stilled her hips, entrenching himself deeply, firmly, within her body.

  Throwing her neck back, Elizabeth moaned with the incredible sensation of him pulsing within her. Her body strained to the feel of it, throbbing for its own release. But Cutter held her too firmly, grunting as though in pain when she moved at all, and so she was afraid to stir. But she couldn’t bear not to… and then, without warning, her body began to convulse around him. She whimpered, wanting so desperately to twist her hips and thrust herself into the incredible abyss of pleasure that beckoned just beyond her reach… so close—so close…

  “Cutter!” she gasped.

  Feeling her pulsate around him, he shifted abruptly atop her, never allowing a separation of their bodies, drawing on the last of his will in order to give her the pleasure he knew she sought. With a last groan, he drove himself into the depths of her, shuddering with the exquisite pain, spending the last of himself so deep within that he shuddered at the ferocity of the eruption.

/>   Beneath him, Elizabeth cried out. And then she closed her eyes, surrendering with a shuddering breath, her release so consummate that it left her spent.

  And still, Cutter moved within her, drawing every last murmur and sigh he could from her lips. He rocked her tenderly, his heart in every stroke, wanting her never to forget. He wanted to brand her, wanted her to cry out his name… and only his… the rest of her life.

  Even when the violence of his release had ebbed at last, and Cutter’s tremors ceased, his emotions remained high. His arms enfolded her, not wanting to let go. He fought the urging of his aching body as his eyelids grew heavy, and caressed her hair away from her damp face as she wearily closed her eyes, not wanting to close his own for fear that he would find the sun rising on them when he opened them again. Morning would only bring them all that much closer to Sioux Falls.

  And to the end of their charade.

  The thought that she would no longer need him then twisted his gut, made him violently ill. But he fought the unanticipated wave of nausea, never more unwilling to release her than he was in that instant.

  All his life something had beckoned him on.

  All his life he’d wandered in search of it.

  And only now, this moment, did he finally and truly understand what it was that had driven him forever onward, with a wanderlust stronger than any he’d ever known. His search was finally over, he sensed, and felt deeply at ease with that knowledge—the only problem was in convincing Elizabeth.

  Filling his lungs with the sweet scent of her, he eased his weight off her, then, lured by the temptation of her lush curves, lowered his head to her breast, kissing it reverently, before nestling in to listen to the steady, cajoling beat of her heart. Without looking, he knew that she slept, but he couldn’t—not with his heart hammering so ruthlessly… not with her arms wrapped so lovingly about his neck, her fingers still entwined in his hair.

  It felt too good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  What had she expected? Elizabeth reproached herself. That he would have demanded they stay and role-play the rest of their lives? Why should he have wished to? Just because she’d never wanted it to end? Besides, the longer they remained, the more difficult it would’ve been to leave. And she’d been right in pressing Cutter to go. She had obligations to see to in Sioux Falls.

  ‘‘Nothing lasts forever,” she reminded herself petulantly.

  Cutter arched his dark brows. “What was that?”

  Katie, who was sitting in Cutter’s lap—wearing his hat—looked up at her new uncle adoringly, and Elizabeth felt more than a twinge of guilt for deceiving the poor child. How was she going to feel to find that the uncle she was beginning to fall in love with, to trust in, was not her uncle after all, but only a man hired to play the part? Why had she ever thought it a good idea? It was a ridiculous idea! And one that was bound to break hearts—Katie’s as well as her own!

  Though Katie was obviously excited about the trip to Sioux Falls, she seemed a little blue, as well. Elizabeth thought it was likely she was already missing her grandfather, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. Elias had made it clear that, though he loved his granddaughter, he was too old to be raising her. And he was probably right. Besides, he and Miss Mimi deserved time for themselves.

  “I think Aunt Lizabeth said that this ride is way too long,” Katie told him, with an exasperated sigh. “And I think she’s right! I think it’s gonna last forever and ever and ever!”

  Cutter chuckled, and Elizabeth smiled at the indignant tone of Katie’s voice.

  “Because I’m sleepy!” Katie added plaintively.

  “I know,” Cutter sympathized. “Think you can hang on awhile longer?” In the week since he’d met the kid, he’d grown as fond of her as Elizabeth had. When he looked at her sometimes, he could almost believe she was his own, with her dark hair and eyes. Falling into the role of father could be so easy.

  “Uh-huh,” Katie replied as she began to squirm.

  But Cutter didn’t notice her desperate gesture, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have understood what it meant. As it was, his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. He patted her head in answer, pulling her back to rest against his chest. She’d ridden for the last three hours in his saddle, speaking little but for an interjection here and there to her whiny little dog.

  She’d insisted on bringing Shiftless along—swore she couldn’t live without the mutt. And Cutter thought he understood. From what he’d gathered, Shiftless had become her living anchor. Shiftless, for his part, seemed a little less loyal. Every so often the dog would stop to whine and wag its tail, then it would dash a few feet to the rear, only to stop again and bark for them to turn around. But because there was nothing Cutter could do about the dog’s distress, he ignored it, and Katie usually managed to solve that problem on her own.

  With only a gently spoken word or two from her, Shiftless would once again follow blindly, wagging his tail as he dogged the Palouse’s hooves. As Cutter saw it, Katie had been raised with the dog, and Shiftless was, more like than not, the one link to her past she couldn’t let go of—didn’t have to, as far as he was concerned.

  But that was the problem. Unconsciously his hand went about her waist, hugging her fondly as he acknowledged the facts: As it stood, Katie wasn’t legally his concern. Nor was Elizabeth. And he was contemplating how to best bring that subject up. And wondering how it would be received when he did.

  Did Elizabeth really hold his ancestry against him? She’d said that she’d lost her mother and sister because of his people. He could only wonder at the meaning of that. Did she really blame him because Cheyenne blood burned through his veins? It burned for her. With a sigh, he rubbed his jaw, his gaze drawn like a magnet to Elizabeth. Despite the fact that she was exhausted from a night gone without sleep, she sat straight in the saddle; the only sign of fatigue was the fact that her eyes were squinted.

  Katie began to rock frantically. “Gotta go!” she whispered urgently, but only an instant later, before Cutter could even blink an eye, a telltale warmth crept under his hindquarters. Katie stiffened. Cutter froze, glancing down warily at the child in his saddle.

  Naw, he thought, shaking his head. She couldn’t have. Could she? His face screwed with disbelief. Damn him, if it didn’t feel like it, though! His nostrils flared and he swore he could smell it, as well. But hell, it couldn’t be! Not in his brand-spanking-new saddle? Damned thing was little over two months old!

  “Ya know what, Uncle Cutter?” Katie said impetuously, lifting her chin high. But she didn’t look up at him as she spoke, and her little shoulders were still tense. Cutter dreaded her next words.

  “I’m soooo proud of myself!”

  Just as sure as eggs were eggs, the wetness seeped up from his good saddle into his denims. Cutter silently cursed a blue streak. Stunned as he was, he couldn’t find his voice to answer the kid. Had he really thought he’d make a good parent? Hell, he hadn’t even considered asking whether she’d needed to relieve herself! Neither had Elizabeth, for that matter. He turned to give her a cutting glance, and was surprised to find that she returned it.

  “Why is that?” Elizabeth asked Katie, when it was apparent Cutter wasn’t going to.

  Katie nodded soberly. “Because, Aunt Lizabeth. I held my pee for sooooooo long!” There was unconcealed pride in her tone.

  Elizabeth’s eyes went wide at Katie’s revelation, and her first instinct was to laugh, but Cutter’s disgusted scowl and Katie’s anxious expression kept her from it. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Son of a-”

  “Cutter!” Elizabeth gasped, stifling her mirth. And then, unable to restrain herself, she burst into shrieks of hysteria, doubling over in the saddle with the force of it.

  Cutter only gave her a narrow-eyed look, warning her without words that she was gonna pay with the skin of her ass if she didn’t quit.

  Damn her anyway—Katie hadn’t uttered a word until she was actually pissing in
his lap! How was he supposed to know to keep asking after her personal needs? In that respect, the kid had everything in common with her blasted aunt; one would rather chew sand than ask for a toothbrush, while the other would just as soon pee where she sat than mention the fact that she had to take a leak. Cussin’ females!

  Elizabeth, who had been trying so desperately to control her hilarity in light of Cutter’s brooding expression, suddenly burst out laughing again.

  Hauling roughly on the reins, and making an immediate turnabout, Cutter gave Elizabeth his most lethal scowl, though it didn’t seem to faze her in the least. “We’re taking the train,” he barked.

  At that declaration, Elizabeth shrieked all the louder.

  “So how long you reckon they’ve been gone?”

  Still stunned by all that had been disclosed to him, Elias, his complexion pasty, only shrugged and shook his head feebly. He stared blankly at the half crumpled dispatch in his hands and read the signature at the bottom of the page for the fourth time: Brigadier General Alfred Sully. And then he ground his teeth as his eyes returned to skim the message above one last time. It read simply:

  C MCKENZIE TO REPORT TO BRIGADIER GENERAL A SULLY, ASAP RE: ABSENTEEISM WITHOUT LEAVE WILL CONSIDER LENIENCY IN RETURN FOR ASSISTANCE

  “Desertion?” Miss Mimi repeated once again, her lips trembling and her hand going to her mouth in alarm. A watery sheen appeared in her eyes as she looked to Elias and then back to the lieutenant seated atop the U.S. Army-earmarked stallion. “I—I don’t know—but it couldn’t have been more than two hours ago. Are you certain he’s dangerous?”

  Lieutenant Magnus Sulzberger shook his head in a gesture of frustration that was far from feigned. Colyer had caught up with him a couple of days earlier with the dispatch while he and O’Neill had been hot on the trail of the renegade Indians. Setting eyes on that sweet little document had made his day, and he’d gladly left off the chase for the greater gain. Only, by the time they’d returned to where that half-breed McKenzie had set up camp, he and the woman had already pulled up stakes. From there, he and his men had come straight to the Bass spread, as was Colyer’s initial directive, only to find that, once again, they’d been thwarted.