“See that you are,” he said, and then he turned on his heels and disappeared into the lobby, his muscular body moving with the easy grace of a powerful cat.
Refusing to allow herself the indulgence of misgivings, Elizabeth immediately thrust them all to the back of her mind, telling herself resolutely that this was what she’d intended all along—that it was by far the best course of action. There was no other way.
As it turned out, they didn’t leave Indian Creek until well past noon, after having made one last stop at the general store for supplies.
Elizabeth didn’t attempt to mount up until then, but opted to lead the mare, instead. Why she felt so reluctant, she didn’t know, but at the moment she wished more than anything that she’d not waited to do so in front of Cutter. Or perhaps that was why she’d waited? His presence, for some odd reason, was reassuring, despite the current hostilities between them.
To her dismay, her instinct proved correct. Every time she tried to mount the mare, the animal shied away. Granted, she didn’t know all that much about horses—just enough to get her by—but she just couldn’t understand what it was that she was doing wrong.
Exasperated, her cheeks flushed with exertion—not to mention the humiliation of chasing her mare all over the dusty street—Elizabeth finally met Cutter’s gaze. His eyes, though far from warm, were filled with amusement. As she glared at him, wondering what to do next, how to ask for his help, his smile turned up a notch. She snorted, turning away, determining that if it was the last thing she ever did, she was going to mount the blamed horse all by herself!
She nibbled her bottom lip a moment, assessing her chances of mounting from the ground. Certainly she wasn’t tall enough to mount just any horse in that manner, but the mare was just short enough to make it possible. More determined than ever, she approached again from the left side, but this time without the slow, predatory movements she’d exercised previously. If she could catch the animal off guard perhaps... ?
With a running leap, she caught the animal by its withers, only instead of remaining still as it was supposed to do, the mare sidestepped with a snort, and Elizabeth lost her nerve. She stumbled over her feet, barely keeping herself from falling flat on her face, and merely stood there, looking thwarted and annoyed.
Cutter chuckled.
Turning to him indignantly, her hands on her hips, she asked, “I suppose you have a better way?” There was defiance in her tone as well as a note of challenge.
Cutter’s mouth twitched. He crossed his arms, leaning with such an infuriating indifference against the awning post behind him that Elizabeth bristled.
“Suppose I might,” he said with barely suppressed laughter.
Was she supposed to drag it out of him?
“Well?”
The expression on his face was so smug that she felt like kicking him in the blasted shin! In the short time since she’d met him, he’d made a complete mockery of her rational nature. She’d exhibited more violence in the last two days than she had in her entire lifetime!
“Lizbeth,” Cutter said softly, eyeing the crowd that was beginning to form around them. “Do you happen to know what Indian-broke means?”
“Well, of course!” Elizabeth replied, but she really wasn’t so certain. Her hands full of dust and horsehair, she pressed her forearm across her damp forehead, not caring that the gesture was unladylike. Lord, it was hot! “I assume it means that she was broken in by Indians.”
“That’s right,” Cutter agreed. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he crooked a finger at her. “Come here.” His voice was so soft that it could have been a whisper. Either that, or Elizabeth was going deaf from overexertion and heat exposure. She wasn’t even aware that she’d obeyed until she was standing before him, and his lips parted again to speak.
He gripped her arm gently, bringing her closer. The shock of it sent her pulses skittering. He leaned to whisper in her ear, and Elizabeth thought he might be about to kiss her. She ought to slap him before he even tried. That would show him, wouldn’t it?
“Try mounting up from the right side,” he advised with a deep chuckle and a playful wink. “That’s what Indian-broke means.”
Hours later, Elizabeth was still chafing over the patronizing way Cutter had informed her of that particular detail. And to think she’d thought he was about to kiss her! And he’d laughed at her! Good night, had he read her mind?
Despite the fact that the weather couldn’t have been better for travel, two more stormy countenances couldn’t have been found east of the Missouri. Following Cutter’s example, Elizabeth rode in sullen silence, keeping her attention on the landscape itself.
For the most part they seemed to be riding the bluffs, though at intervals the river disappeared from view completely. He kept the pace brisk, and Elizabeth surmised that Cutter was trying to show her just how worthless her mount actually was. Only, like its rider, the mustang trotted on without protest. She would have spoken up had the horse seemed winded, but until now, it had not.
Every so often, Cutter changed the pace, walking the horses an interval, but they’d ridden for hours without truly stopping, and her stalwart mare was beginning to show signs of fatigue. Soon, she decided. Soon she would speak up. She thought it might be better if it was Cutter who called the halt, and perhaps he would if she gave him the opportunity. Surely he wouldn’t kill her horse just to spite her?
Sighing, Elizabeth managed to steal a glance at him. In profile his high cheekbones were striking, his jaw strong and taut. His eyes were hidden from view by his hat, which he wore tilted forward to shade his face from the burning sun. That, she thought wistfully, was something she was going to regret forgetting. Already the ruthless sun was toasting her head. She averted her gaze, but like a moth to a flame, her gaze was drawn to him, prompting her to wonder what it was about the man that drew her to him. And yes, she could deny it to the world, but there was no lying to herself. She was intrigued by Cutter McKenzie. There seemed to be a certain magnetism about him that called to her.
Seduced her.
Mesmerized, she stared at the dark hair at his nape that curled into the collar of his shirt, and she swallowed with difficulty. Her glance was drawn helplessly down, to the damp streak between his shoulder blades.
The heat.
Mercy, was it warm! Almost desperately, she looked forward to evening, when the sun wouldn’t be around to blister her skin—even the snappy night breezes seemed preferable. Feeling the heat of the sun on her shoulders, the crown of her head, along with the strange feverish flush that came from within, Elizabeth fidgeted in the saddle, searching out a more tolerable position, but she couldn’t find one. Something about the horse’s gait made her feel restless.
Unbidden, the memory of the kiss they’d shared popped into her mind, and heat spread into the very core of her being. Her brows flickered faintly. Shared? Where had that come from? Stolen! Stolen was more like it! She fidgeted again. As far as she was concerned, she had done nothing to encourage him.
