“Look at me!”
“No! I don’t need to!” He grabbed her chin, but Elizabeth jerked it away, swiping at his hand. “I remember only too well!” Cutter gripped her shoulders and tried to force her gaze upon him. “No!” she shrieked. “Let go of me, Mr. McKenzie!” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t seem to budge.
Near hysterics now, Elizabeth shook herself free. Lifting up her skirts, she made a mad rush for the bank, but moving against the current was difficult, and she stumbled. Seizing the back of her skirt, Cutter swept her toward him, ripping it from her waist.
“Damned thing is too big for you, anyhow!” he groused. With another vicious jerk, he rent the material completely free of her.
Shrieking in protest, Elizabeth made a desperate grasp for her skirt, but Cutter was too quick. He hurled it downriver. Horrified, Elizabeth simply stood there in her wet drawers, gawking helplessly as the current carried her skirt away. She turned to him suddenly. “You—had no right to do that!”
“Yeah? Well, why don’t you ask me if I give a damn!”
Before Elizabeth could recover from the shock of Cutter’s actions and words, he’d lifted her by her waist and was marching toward the bank. She struggled, flailing her arms and kicking wildly, but to no avail—his hold was too strong.
“Rules were made to be broken,” he taunted. “Didn’t ya know?” And then he cursed a storm as his bad foot ground onto something spiny. Jerking his leg up in pain, he lurched forward, dumping Elizabeth unceremoniously onto the bank.
She winced as her head slammed into the ground. She tried to rise, but Cutter held her down with one firm hand to her breast. Angrily she shoved it away, glaring at him.
“Don’t touch me!” she spat. “Just don’t you touch me! You don’t understand—and you won’t even try! I’ve already lost my mother and my sister because of your people. If it weren’t for your murdering kinsmen raiding and slaughtering, they would never have abandoned us in the first place! And maybe—just maybe—they’d still be alive! I will not lose my niece because of you too!”
Your people.
The way it was flung from her lips, with so much resentment, gave Cutter a momentary jolt.
Your murdering kinsmen.
It didn’t matter that, for all practical purposes, he wasn’t raised Cheyenne. His mother had died of his father’s abuse long before he had been able to even ask of his culture. Hell no! And it didn’t matter that all he knew was his father’s way of life—that his father had tamped down in him all that was Indian. Elizabeth saw only the Cheyenne in him.
“I won’t!” she sobbed, mistaking his expression.
Suddenly Cutter’s eyes narrowed, transfixing her, and he bent forward very slowly, like a predatory animal stalking his prey. He trapped her beneath him, between his arms. “So you’d rather take your chances, would ya?” he said with lethal softness.
Elizabeth’s mind screamed that he leave her be, but the words never emerged on her tongue. The calculating look in his eyes completely paralyzed her.
Cutter slid his right hand boldly into her bodice. Feeling the warmth of it, Elizabeth instinctively tilted her head back, closing her eyes, fighting her traitorous body. Before she could gather her thoughts to protest, he popped her buttons with a clean slice of his open fist, sending them whizzing into the air. Several of them plunked ominously into the water. And in that moment, she lost all trace of uncertainty. At once she tried to roll free of him, but his hand came down swiftly to halt her escape.
“Beast!” she cried out, resisting the urge to pummel his chest.
“Savage?” Cutter returned with a frosty smile, his tone no less frightening for its husky softness.
“I didn’t say that!” Elizabeth protested, suddenly understanding his vehemence.
“Not this time,” he agreed, “but you damn well thought it—didn’t you? You want savage, Lizbeth? This,” he said through clenched teeth, a muscle ticking at his jaw, “is savage!” At once his knee dropped between her legs, prying them open. He seized her by the hair, tugging until she cried out.
She didn’t want him this way, didn’t know him! Didn’twantto know him! Though his eyes were cold, they burned clear into her soul. “Please, Cutter,” she whimpered. “You’re frightening me!”
His mouth lowered to her nipple, nibbling it softly through her camisole, but his hand in her hair tightened and she cried out again, more startled than anything else. His fury was barely leashed. She could feel it in his grip, see it in every rigid plane of his body and face. It was as tangible as the anguish in her heart.
“Please-”
Again he wrenched her hair, his knee burrowing itself more firmly between her legs.
“Cutter, please, please—don’t!” Her eyes misted as his mouth moved to her other breast, feasting on it almost brutally. He tugged on her hair again, silencing her once and for all, but she didn’t dare speak again. Hot tears began to pool in her eyes, trickle down her cheeks.
Despising himself for the brutality he’d just displayed, Cutter cursed under his breath. But his point was made, and in this case he was convinced that the end more than justified the means. He couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—let her set herself up for the same thing from someone else.
Someone else wouldn’t care for her as he did.
Someone else wouldn’t...
