As though finally hearing him, Elizabeth shook her head in quick, jerky motions, her lips going dry. “N-No—I—I can’t! I’m fine.”
Cutter’s face contorted. “Chrissakes! I won’t touch you,” he said almost nastily. “Don’t be stupid! You’ll catch your death. Hell, you’re the doctor—use your good sense!”
Her expression changed suddenly as though his words had injured somehow, instead of reassuring as he’d intended.
“You’re—” She swallowed, mortified that he would have guessed her thoughts so easily, hurt that he would so quickly shatter her... her what? Hopes? Hopes for what? But he was right, of course. Besides, he’d already seen her in her drawers and camisole... and there was little enough light for him to ogle her by... even if he were inclined to. But she wasn’t about to feel sorry over that, she determined—not at this point in her life. It was, after all, what she’d set out to accomplish with her baggy skirts and somber appearance. She’d wanted folks to see her as their doctor, not the town belle—not that she could have been, even had she wished it. Had she really expected Cutter to see her differently? She nodded glumly. “You’re right... How silly of me,” she said dully.
Cutter’s hand moved to her blouse at once, as though that were all the encouragement he needed, jerking it out of her skirt. Instinctively she recoiled from his ministrations, but the sensation of cool, wet cotton sliding over her warm skin caused a shiver to race down her spine and gooseflesh to erupt.
“Let me help you,” he asserted, his dark eyes unrelenting yet tender in some odd way. Still, they’d never seemed so dark, so fathomless, so improbable, as in that instant. A shiver raced down Elizabeth’s spine as his hand slid slowly up her arm to her shoulder, but his squeeze was reassuring. She nodded faintly, unaware that she had.
“Do you need my help unbuttoning you?” he said, his voice turning husky again.
Or was it her imagination?
Realizing that there was no way she could possibly remove her own clothes in the limited space available to them, she turned slightly, willing her wanton thoughts miles away. Inexplicably, she wanted Cutter’s arms about her, his touch on her skin.
His movements became slower. The sensation of his warm fingers tugging at her blouse made a slight tremor rush down her spine. Elizabeth closed her eyes, savoring the moment, not realizing all that gesture conveyed to Cutter’s knowing gaze.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she anticipated the warmth of his fingers. And then she felt it, and her heart again leapt into her throat, higher than before. Her lids fluttered closed once more and her head tilted backward slightly as his fingers moved down her back, quickly and adeptly releasing the wooden buttons, one by one.
In removing the wet blouse from her back, he exposed her to the cool air, but in spite of it, Elizabeth felt suddenly too warm. Incomprehensibly, her shivers intensified, running deep within her. Her back to him still, she helped him remove the sleeves from her arms with quaking hands and then peeled the blouse from her body, leaving only her wet camisole to shield her from his probing eyes.
Despite the storm raging outside, the silence was impenetrable beneath the shelter in that moment, the air intoxicating, as though all time were suspended.
No sooner did Elizabeth release the blouse from her grasp than she felt Cutter’s rough fingers on her back, stroking the area between her shoulder blades ever so softly, and her breath caught in her throat. Before she could protest his familiarity with her body, his hands circled her waist, spanning her briefly, as though taking her measure, then slid seductively to the laces in front of her skirt.
Something deep within her thrilled to his touch.
Finding it difficult to breathe in that moment, Elizabeth marveled that even from behind, his fingers were knowing. That’s because he’s an experienced rogue, a little voice screeched, but she refused to acknowledge it.
In the next instant, Cutter was tugging her sopping skirts down, sliding them over her quaking legs. He lingered just a moment too long on the curve of her hips, and her heartbeat quickened.
She meant to tell him to stop, to take his hands off her—she really did—but the words wouldn’t come. It was all Elizabeth could do to take her next breath. She felt paralyzed, though not with fear, and her eyes pressed tightly closed, while her breasts suddenly tingled with the need to be touched. Good night—never would she have suspected such sensations were possible... such carnal bliss... such wanting.
Again, she remembered the way he’d touched her, the yearning it had enkindled, and the pleasure he had given her, and she imagined that he would turn her now... put his arms about her, his fingers pressing into her back, and cover her mouth with warm male lips. She actually quivered with the desire for it.
Cutter had to will himself to leave her be.
He’d asked her to trust him, and he didn’t aim to betray that trust. Still and all, there wasn’t much left between them... just her camisole and drawers... nothing more... and it would be so simple, he thought. So simple.
But Elizabeth wasn’t the kind of woman you could pick clean and then leave to the buzzards. She didn’t deserve that. And he couldn’t see himself settling down with a homestead and a pack of brats dogging his heels.
He took a deep, fortifying breath, thinking that somewhere up there, someone oughta be nominating him for sainthood just about now.
A riot began in Cutter’s head as Elizabeth turned suddenly to help him remove her massive skirt. He hated the thing. If he got the chance, he thought he might burn it. Watching intently as she turned to lay the obscene thing aside, Cutter cleared his throat.
The spell broken, he turned to fumble with one of the bedrolls at their feet. Unrolling it, he removed another blanket from it, and then struggled to return as he was, drawing the blanket up over Elizabeth as he scooted upward, shielding her from his view—or more likely, himself from the temptation she presented.
“That better?” His voice sounded strange to his ears.
Elizabeth nodded once, her expression still dazed.
“Good.” Again, he cleared his throat, trying to refocus his thoughts, and he smiled. “You had to go ‘n’ find a gopher hole for us to shelter in,” he told her mildly. Actually it was beginning to feel more like his own private hell, but he didn’t say so.
Elizabeth shrugged, averting her gaze in... disappointment? Turning on her side, she faced away from him.
Cutter’s sigh was ragged, as though it took great effort to release the tension from his body. Immediately he took in another deep breath, needing the cleansing air.
