prodding her, until she
could no longer ignore it.
Her
head felt as though it had been trampled by a herd of buffalo, she thought
sourly. Peeping through her lashes, she grimaced at the bright light that
stabbed at her pupils, making her head throb all the more.
Just
where in creation was she?
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
could no longer ignore it.
Her
head felt as though it had been trampled by a herd of buffalo, she thought
sourly. Peeping through her lashes, she grimaced at the bright light that
stabbed at her pupils, making her head throb all the more.
Just
where in creation was she?
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
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