No sooner had she asked herself that question when she became aware of the fact that her arms were being squeezed, her calves prodded and poked, her ribs probed.
Was she dead and gone to blazes?
Certainly she felt tortured.
And she wasn’t at home snug in her bed, that much was clear. The realization sent a flash of alarm bolting through her.
The last thing she recalled, she’d been sitting in Jo’s office... with her impossibly arrogant brother.
Her eyes flew open to find herself sitting astride a horse in the dewy predawn light, her bulky skirts bunched up around her legs, a firm hand exploring her ribs. Her heartbeat quickened and her breathing arrested, her aches and pains overshadowed for the moment.
Whoever it was, he was tall. That much, she knew because his chin was resting on the crown of her head, and she could tell that he was leaning, to boot.
He stiffened, as though sensing that she’d awakened, and a wave of panic rushed through her.
Elizabeth didn’t quite think things through. All she could think was that she was on a strange horse—with a strange man sitting astride behind her.
Drawing in a shaky breath for courage, she elbowed the monster. He grunted, releasing her, and she tried to fling herself from the trotting horse.
But her leg was too slow in coming around, and by the time it did, an arm had caught her firmly about the waist.
Struggling against his hold, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she twisted wildly in his arms.
Chapter Four
Ignoring the blow to his ribs, Cutter managed to keep his hold on Elizabeth until she reached back, boxing his right ear with a small, bony fist. With a hoarse cry, he let go of her just enough for her to slip into a precarious position.
The woman was buggy!
What the hell did she think she doing throwing herself off a moving horse?
“Son of a—” She was falling, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it! The least he could do was try to keep her from landing under the hooves though he’d probably break his damned neck in the process. Hurling himself down with her, he propelled them both away from the spooked horse, and he hit the ground with a groan.
Damn her, anyway—loony female!
Like a spitting, clawing wildcat, she was still struggling to get free of him. Didn’t the little fool realize that he was trying to help her? That they were in danger of becoming hoof bait? Apparently not, he concluded when she promptly boxed him again.
He rolled to the right, trying to skirt the Palouse’s hooves, his arms locked protectively about her. Above them, the horse reared up on its hind legs and came crashing down mere inches from the back of Cutter’s head. He rolled again, his maneuver more instinct than design, as the Palouse steadied itself and moved off to the right of them. The force of his thrust sent Elizabeth headlong into the hard-packed earth. The side of her face smacked the ground, and she gave a little yelp of pain.
“Awww sh—” He never finished the expletive. The breath was knocked from his lungs as he rolled, landing atop her.
“You?” she snarled. “Get off me, you dog!”
Torn between wanting to laugh with relief at the grass blades that were clinging to and moving with her lips, and the anger he felt over her crazy stunt, Cutter settled for lust. For all her friggin’ layers of clothing, he’d never been more aware of a woman’s body beneath his own, every curve, every soft, tantalizing swell.
Damn, how had he ever thought her skinny?
And her eyes, they weren’t gold a’tall. It had been a trick of the candlelight, no doubt, because they were brown now. But not just any brown—a soft brown with flecks of amber gold radiating from dark pupils. Against his will, his breathing became labored as he stared at those gorgeous eyes... those lips, remembering the way they had tasted.
Elizabeth found it difficult to breathe, but it had little to do with Cutter’s weight bearing down upon her, because he’d lifted himself up just enough so that it was no longer an issue. Though she could still feel every inch of his body—his broad chest, his solid limbs; one leg resting outside her right thigh, the other just inside her left... and something in between.
Her face colored brightly; because she knew exactly what that something was. She was a doctor, after all, and had seenthose thingson rare occasions. Yet it was the intense look on his face that stole her breath.
His jaw was taut, his pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring.
“I—said—get—off!”
He did, and Elizabeth scooted backward, giving herself a safe distance from the infuriating man. She sat upright, glaring at him, and spat the offensive grass out of her mouth. She used her hands to swipe off the pieces that wouldn’t quite come loose. Her lip throbbed, and what was worse, she thought she tasted blood!
