He picked up the phone, dialed the barn and told Willie that he was in charge of the Rocking B until Lara was well.
The hours until the doctor came passed in slow motion for Carson. He lay next to Lara, holding her, stroking her hair, listening to each breath as though his life depended on it. She seemed to slip in and out of sleep, never waking enough to focus on her surroundings, never sleeping deeply enough that a sound or a movement wouldn’t disturb her. Yet she always seemed to know that he was there. No matter how restless she became, she moved toward rather than away from him. The realization made Carson’s hands tremble as he stroked her hair. He kissed Lara gently, repeatedly, feeling emotions seething inside him, pressing against old scars, old boundaries, until they cracked and gave way, letting him breathe again, letting him grow. Motionless but for his hand stroking Lara, Carson lay beside her. Finally he heard Dr. Scott at the front door.
With a last caress Carson got up and went to let the doctor in.
“How’s she doing?” asked Dr. Scott.
“Sleeping, kind of. Restless. Hot. A few more chills, but not as bad.”
Dr. Scott grunted. “Drink anything?”
Carson shook his head. “Wasn’t interested.”
The doctor grunted again. He followed Carson through the bedroom door, took one look at Lara’s pale cheeks with their scarlet fever banners riding high and bright, and pulled a thermometer out of his bag.
“Wake up, Mrs. Blackridge,” he said, shaking Lara’s shoulder firmly.
Lara mumbled and stirred. When her eyelids finally opened, her eyes were glazed.
“Put this under your tongue and keep it there.”
Lara’s eyes closed again, but she kept the thermometer in place while the doctor took her pulse and blood pressure, and listened very carefully to her breathing. He managed to do it all without uncovering more than a fraction of her body at a time. Even so, her skin roughed up with chills. She didn’t complain. She seemed more asleep than awake, disoriented by the fever. Dr. Scott removed the thermometer, looked at it and then at Carson.
“You folks using contraceptives?” asked the doctor. Carson looked startled. “No.”
“Thought so. Well, that makes things a wee bit trickier.”
“What the hell does that mean?” demanded Carson, fear leaping in his blood.
“Take it easy,” Dr. Scott said, lifting his shaggy gray eyebrows at the intensity of Carson’s response. “All it means is I have to find out if Lara’s pregnant before I treat her. If she is, then we’ll have to be real careful about what we give her in the way of medicine. There’s always a chance – minor, but still a chance – that the pregnancy might be adversely affected, even terminated, by some medications.”
“Listen,” Carson said bluntly, “there’s a major chance that you will be ‘adversely affected’ if you don’t do everything possible for Lara. That’s my bottom line, Doctor. My wife. I want her well again. I want to come into a room and see her smile. I want to walk with her at sunset when loons sing on the pond. I want to show her every wildflower and every – “
Abruptly Carson looked away, unable to speak. The sight of Lara lying so pale and still beneath the doctor’s ministrations had gone into Carson’s heart like a knife. Normally Lara was alert, vibrant, quick to respond to a word or a touch. Yet as he looked at her now, he doubted that she heard or understood much of what was going on around her.
“I hear you, Carson,” the doctor said gently. “How long has it been since her last period?”
Carson tried to think, but the image of Lara’s pale, still face kept interfering. “Five weeks. No. Seven.”
“Probably too soon to tell without tests, but – “ Dr. Scott shrugged and set aside the thermometer.
Disturbing the covers as little as possible, he slid his hand beneath the sheet and began to probe gently at Lara’s abdomen. He hesitated, probed some more and then pulled the covers aside and started unfastening her jeans. Lara stirred and muttered, shivering. Carson pulled the spread up so that it covered as much of her as possible without interfering with the doctor’s examination.
“Carson?” she asked.
Her voice was so thin that it frightened him. “I’m here, little fox,”
he said, taking her hand. “Dr. Scott wants to examine you before he gives you any medicine.”
Carson couldn’t tell from Lara’s dazed, too-dark eyes whether she understood. All he could be sure of was that she pulled his hand down to her cheek and sighed, taking comfort from his presence.
“I’ll be damned,” the doctor said finally, pulling the covers back into place. “Feels like she’s at least three months along. I’ll have to run some tests to be sure, but if I were a betting man, I’d put good money on you being a papa come spring.”
“But she had a period,” Carson objected. “She can’t be – “
Dr. Scott interrupted. “It happens that way with some women. Mrs. Blackridge? Lara? You following this?”
Carson turned and saw tears running down Lara’s face and pooling in the upturned curves of her smile. The doctor smiled in return.
“Guess you’re tracking well enough,” he said. “Was your last period heavy, light, normal?”
“Light.” The word was a raspy sigh. “Very…light.”
“Any more bleeding since then?”
Slowly Lara shook her head.
“Cramps?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Nausea?”
Again she shook her head.
Dr. Scott grunted. “You might be one of the lucky ones.” He smiled up at Carson, who was looking stunned. “Cat got your tongue, Carson?”
Slowly Carson bent and kissed Lara’s eyelids and her cheeks and the fingers that were intertwined with his. The hand that lifted to stroke his cheek was too hot, trembling with weakness, but no touch had ever moved him more.
“I’m going to give you a shot,” Dr. Scott said, pulling a syringe from his traditional black bag. “I’ll be leaving some antibiotics in pill form, too. Take them until they’re gone. Drink eight ounces of fluid an hour, or I swear I’ll give it to you IV. Hear me?”
Lara nodded.
Dr. Scott drew a blood sample, gave Lara a shot and packed up his bag. Carson followed him out into the hall just beyond the bedroom.
“Will she be all right?” Carson asked bluntly.
“She’ll be fine. Flu and the third month of pregnancy is a double whammy, but she’s strong. As for the baby, it’ll be fine, too. Mother Nature has a way of taking care of the fetus first and the woman second.”
“That doesn’t comfort me,” Carson said in a clipped tone. Dr. Scott laughed. “Yeah, well, get used to it because that’s the way it is. As far as Mother Nature is concerned, people are just an egg’s way of making more eggs. Reproduction is first. Everything else is second. But don’t fret about it. Women have been doing it long enough that they’ve got it down pretty well by now.”
“That’s why they go to hospitals to have their babies, right?”
retorted Carson. “Don’t try to con me, Doctor. I’ve seen enough cows give birth to know that things go wrong.”
“Statistically, it’s – “
“Screw statistics!” Carson grated. “Lara isn’t a number!”
The doctor sighed. “Been a rough few weeks for you, hasn’t it?”
he asked mildly. “All the hands sick and then most of them relapsing, work piling up, new marriage to adjust to. Less than that has been known to put an edge on a man’s temper.”
After a visible effort Carson reined in his emotions. He ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath and tried to explain. “I want her well again,” he said simply. “I…need her.”
“Don’t you want the baby, too?”
“Hell, yes, I want it. I want it a tot,” Carson said, his voice vibrating with intensity. “But I want Lara mo
re.”
“No reason you can’t have both. I’m being straight with you about that, Carson. Your woman is going to be fine. Now go back in there and let her know you’re near and solid even if the rest of the world is all distant and fuzzy.”
Carson watched the doctor walk away and told himself that everything was going to be fine. Lara would get well. There was no reason to feel as though the past were poised like an icy winter avalanche, ready to rush forward, burying everything, crushing warmth and life from the present, leaving only memory and loss and a lifetime of regret.
The first three days of fever passed very quickly for Lara and with glacial slowness for Carson. By the fourth day her temperature had returned to normal. By the sixth day she was more than strong enough to be bored lying in bed, but the doctor had wanted her to stay in bed for two more days. She had demanded, wheedled and finally bribed Carson with kisses to bring her research material to work with; even so, he only brought her enough for an hour’s work at a time. Two at the most. The rest of the books he gave her were mysteries. Sighing restlessly, Lara looked out the window. There was a side yard enclosed by tall fences covered with climbing roses, giving total privacy both to the yard and the bedroom itself. The roses were a soft profusion of colors and fragrance, and the grass was a green invitation to come out and lie quietly in the sun. Lara wanted to be out mere where thousands of petals trembled in the warm breeze. She wanted to feel sunlight all over her, drawing out the last residue of sickness, leaving her vibrant and burnished with heat. The only thing that kept her in bed was her promise to Carson.
“You look good enough to eat,” Carson said, standing in the doorway with a batch of new magazines in his hand.
“Carson!” she said, turning toward him, smiling with surprise and delight. “You’re back early.”
He smiled and looked at Lara with open appreciation. The rose lace gown he had given her the day before made her skin glow. “Has anyone ever told you what a beautiful smile you have? It lights up a whole room.”
Lara watched Carson walking toward her with his powerful body and easy, loose stride and wondered how she had been so lucky to win him when every woman in the state of Montana had been setting traps and laying snares for him since he had turned sixteen.
“Here,” Carson said, fanning the magazines across the bedspread.
“One of everything.”
Lara held out her arms to Carson, ignoring the colorful cascade of magazines. She felt the warmth of his arms sliding around her, the tantalizing brush of his mustache across her lips and the intimate flavor of his kiss.
“Mmmm. Raspberries and cream,” he said, slowly releasing her.
“My favorite.”
“You taste like the wind,” she said, smoothing her cheek over his.
“Sweet and wild.”
Carson’s hands tightened on Lara in the instant before he controlled the desire that prowled so hotly within him. He had gone without women before in his life, but it had never affected him with the intensity that going without Lara for the past week had.
“Carson?”
He nuzzled her hair and made a sound that managed to be both a deep purr and a question.
“I want to go to the side yard and lie in the sun. Just those few steps won’t hurt me,” Lara said quickly, anticipating Carson’s objections.
“It’s hardly much farther than the bathroom and I’ve been managing that quite easily for the last three – “
The tumble of words stopped as Lara felt herself being lifted into Carson’s arms. His long fingers snagged the comforter that lay across the foot of the bed. Within moments Lara found herself lying in the sun, feeling the heat of the ground seep up through the comforter Carson had spread over the grass for her.
“Anything else?” he asked, smiling.
“A hug?”
Carson stretched out beside Lara and gathered her into his arms. For long moments they simply held each other, absorbing the sunlight and the warmth and the husky murmur of bees sliding between soft petals to touch the nectar hidden inside. Slowly Lara’s hands crept into the open collar of Carson’s shirt, then her fingers softly undid the snaps on his shirt. With a sigh of pleasure, she worked her fingers through the thick, warm hair covering his chest. When she touched the smooth disk of his nipple, it immediately hardened into an erect nub. Desire poured through Lara in a hot, sweet wave.
“Carson,” she whispered, seeking his mouth, finding it. For a few moments Carson allowed himself to enjoy the deep, sensual kiss. Then finally, reluctantly, he captured Lara’s caressing hands, kissed them and tucked them back around his neck.
“Carson?”
“Not yet, honey,” he said huskily. “You’re still weak as a kitten.”
“Only compared to you,” Lara retorted, kneading the thick muscles of his shoulders. “Dr. Scott said it would be all right.”
She felt the sudden stillness of Carson’s body.
“When did he say that?”
“I called him this morning,” Lara said. “He told me I can ‘resume marital relations’ anytime I want. I want, Carson.”
A tangible shudder of desire went through him. His heartbeat surged, filling him with heat. He fought to control the total response of his body to Lara’s invitation. It was no use. A word, a kiss, and he was hard, ready, aching to be sheathed within her loving warmth.
“Are you sure?” Carson whispered. “You were so sick when I found you in the library. It…frightened me a little,” he said. “Oh, hell, Lara, it terrified me,” he gritted, burying his face in the black silk cloud of her hair. “I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you.”
“Then you’d better make love to me,” she said, threading her fingers deeply into his thick, cool hair, seeking and finding the warmth of his scalp beneath. “I want you so much that it’s a kind of hurting.”
“Lara,” Carson said hoarsely, his arms closing around her with an intensity that he could barely restrain. “My sweet, warm, beautiful woman.” Reluctantly he released her and stood up to pull off his clothes. “I’ll make it good for you, honey.”
“You always make it good for me.”
Anticipation shivered through Lara as she watched Carson’s powerful body emerge from his clothes. Her breath caught as she saw how aroused he was. When he knelt beside her, she ran her fingertips down his torso to the hard, erect flesh where his blood beat visibly, hotly. When she stroked him, his whole body tightened as though he had brushed against an electrical current. For a few moments he allowed himself to enjoy the sweet torment of her caress before his hands swept down, catching her trembling fingers, removing them from his hungry body.
“It’s too soon, baby,” he said, his voice thick with passion and regret as he brought himself under control. “You’re so weak you’re shaking.”
Lara made a sound that was caught between a laugh and a sob. She looked up at Carson with eyes that were nearly black with passion.
“I’m shaking because I know what kind of pleasure is waiting for me,” she said huskily. “Take me there, Carson. Go there with me.”
It was Carson’s fingers that trembled this time. He whispered Lara’s name as he traced the soft curve of her lower lip. Then he bent over her and tasted the warmth behind her lips so gently that the kiss was like a sigh. She had expected a passionate claiming as sudden and hard as his obvious need for her. The delicate, exquisitely erotic tasting of her mouth made her shiver wildly, for it was a violent contrast to the pulsing heat of him against her thigh.
“Carson,” she whispered, feeling the restraint in every ridge of muscle on his back. “You don’t have to hold back. I’m – “
Lara’s words became a cry of passionate surprise and pleasure as his fingertips slid beneath the silky peignoir and stroked the soft skin behind her knee. Her leg flexed in sensual response, opening her body to his touch. His hands stroked lightly, tracing her thighs, b
rushing over the midnight hair that concealed so many honeyed secrets. The silky caress of the peignoir retreating up her body, the whispering touch of Carson’s mouth and the tangible warmth of the sunlight pouring over her bare legs made Lara moan. When she felt the brush of Carson’s fingers behind her other knee, she drew up that leg as well, giving herself to Carson and the sun. Though he knelt between her legs so closely that she could feel the brushing of his rigid flesh against her softness with each hard beating of his heart, still he did not take what she wanted so much to give.
Lara called Carson’s name as flames of need licked over her. The word was a throaty plea, then a gasp as the peignoir slid up over her breasts to reveal the pale, satin skin and the velvety hardness of her nipples.
“Raspberries and cream,” Carson said huskily. “I could eat you, little fox. You give yourself to me so sweetly that I – “ His voice thickened. “There aren’t any words. There’s only this.”
Carson’s tongue touched each nipple and delicately traced the aureole, savored Lara’s visible trembling at each touch. He took off the frothy lace peignoir and let it slide from his fingers, wanting nothing between his body and the woman who came to him so perfectly. Slowly, as gently as sunlight itself, he kissed her lips and the hollow of her neck, the creamy swell of her breasts and their deep pink crowns, the shadow pool of her navel and the smooth curves of her thighs. His hands moved over her legs in tantalizing caresses, shifting her subtly with each touch until her legs were drawn up against her body in a gesture of trust and sensual abandon.
At the first touch of his fingertips tracing her layered softness, waves of pleasure radiated through Lara. She opened her eyes and tried to say Carson’s name, but all that came out was a broken sound of pleasure as he looked into her eyes and caressed her again. He smiled as he felt her melting at his touch, wanting him. The slow, sweet friction of his palm made her moan. Lara tried to tell Carson that she needed him, but all that came out was a husky sound. A languid fire spread up from his caress, ravishing her as sweetly as his touch. She tried to speak again but forgot the words as she felt him slowly begin to take her. The sensation was so exquisite that she closed her eyes and her body arched helplessly, silently pleading for more of him. He answered her with a small rocking motion that sent showers of pleasure through her. His name came from her lips in a ragged sigh when he finally filled her, only to retreat slowly, leaving her empty once more.
Sweet Wind, Wild Wind Page 19
