But, oh, she could hear them well enough—scuffling noisily against her door!
It would serve them both right, she thought crossly, if she just snatched the door open and exposed the two of them in the midst of their... of their—whatever it was they were doing!
But of course, she wasn’t jealous! How ridiculous!
She and Cutter were supposed to be traveling as man and wife. Weren’t they? If Cutter thought for one moment that she intended to sit back and allow him to bring home women like... like... likeBess, he’d best think again! How dare he humiliate her like this!
“Come on, now, Bess... do you have to do that here?” came Cutter’s muffled, flimsy rejection. “Bess...”
Bess giggled suddenly, the sound as clear and musical as the tinkling of little bells. “Course not,” she replied triumphantly. Listening to Cutter’s answering groans, Elizabeth became more agitated with every second that passed.
“Key in this pocket, darlin’?”
There was a moment of silence, and Elizabeth imagined that Cutter nodded at the shameless Jezebel. Screams of frustration welled at the back of her throat.
“Mmmmm... nice... real nice... This here your room?”
Elizabeth never waited to hear Cutter’s response. She’d heard more than enough! She jerked open the door.
In fell Cutter, along with the leech in a red dress. His hat fell off, landing at Elizabeth’s feet.
The leech shrieked in surprise, then rolled off Cutter with a curse that should never have found its way to feminine lips. Huffing angrily, she rose, smacking at her dress in indignation. “What in blue blazes?”
Cutter, having hit his head on the floor, simply lay there, cradling it with both hands for an awkward moment. Closing one eye, he groaned pitifully.
“Cutter!” the woman in red screeched.
Elizabeth refused to be cowed. It wasn’t she who had rolled in clinging so shamelessly to her pretend husband! With hands on hips, she confronted them both, her tone caustic. “Yes, Cutter, dear, do tell!”
Cutter released his head, angling it to look up at Elizabeth, his eyes gleaming. The harsh lines of his face were eased now, giving him an almost boyish appearance. Relief filled her, for she’d been wholly terrified that he’d never forgive her for her outburst earlier. Unbelievably, he grinned at her, an irresistibly devastating grin with no trace of his former animosity.
He’d changed his clothing, and his legs were now denim-clad in place of the buckskin. His chambray shirt was a faded forest green, making his skin seem darker somehow, and his hair was a tousled mess. One wavy lock fell carelessly across his forehead. He brushed it back out of his eyes to reveal a narrowed, predatorial gaze. Elizabeth’s breath caught at the intensity revealed there.
“Hiya, Doc,” he slurred.
Elizabeth smiled back at him, but there was no humor in her smile. Cutter was sotted. She could tell by his muddled expression that he was. Aside from that, as angry as he’d been at her this morning, there was simply no way that he’d be looking at her as he was now—unless he was three sheets to the wind!
“Cutter dear,” she said in a honeyed tone, “I’m so glad I waited up for you.” It was all she could do to keep her voice congenial. Her anger getting the best of her, she turned to pierce the gaping woman with a scathing glare. “Thank you so much,” she said as pleasantly as she was able through clenched teeth, “for bringing my husband to me. But I believe I can take care of him from here.”
Bess’ ample breasts puffed indignantly, and her wrathful gaze snapped downward to Cutter.
Cutter’s brow rose at Elizabeth’s declaration, and then a slow grin spread across those lips, touching his dark eyes. Tearing his gaze away from Elizabeth, he gave Bess a lopsided smile. “’Fraid so,” he said in confirmation, but there was little contrition in his tone. “That’s my wife, all right.” He nodded apologetically.
The woman’s gaze jerked upward, examining Elizabeth once more, appraising her shrewdly, then back to Cutter with open ire. “Well, I never!” she exclaimed. And with a flourish of her satin skirts, she spun away and stomped down the hall, airing her lungs as she went.
Elizabeth watched until the woman diminished to a red blur in the dim hall, then her attention returned to the man sprawled at her feet. Half of him lay within her room, the other half in the hall.
Lifting himself up, Cutter gaped after Bess, whistling softly. “That was close!” Again, he looked up at Elizabeth, his eyes slitted with exhaustion... and something more. “I owe you one, bright eyes. Crazy woman wouldn’t take no for an answer.” With a grunt and a sigh, he laid his head back onto the floor. “My head hurts,” he complained.
Elizabeth gave him a dubious look. “It certainly didn’t appear to me as though you were struggling very hard to get away!”
Cutter sighed and closed his eyes, and Elizabeth jabbed him with her bare toe, irritated by his obvious dismissal. “You are despicable! Get up!”
With some effort, Cutter opened his eyes, refocusing his gaze. And then he turned slowly to gawk at Elizabeth’s bare foot with new awareness, his mouth creasing with displeasure as his gaze then traveled up her half-clad legs to her chemise.
The color drained from Elizabeth’s face as she remembered finally what she was wearing—or rather what she was not wearing—and she gave a startled little gasp, her arms crossing automatically to conceal her thinly clad bosom. Her feet, on the other hand, wouldn’t move.
“What in damnation are you doing out here dressed like that!” he shouted suddenly, startling her into retreating. He was up and on his feet before Elizabeth could make it into the refuge of the shadows. “What did you think you were doing opening that door? It could have been anyone out here!” He followed her in, and with his boot kicked the door shut behind him, scowling fiercely. Catching her arm, he swung her about to face him.
