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.„Where’s your comb?“ Carson asked, rubbing Lara’s scalpslowly, feeling its warmth seep up through the towel to his fingertips.His hands paused.„Unless you mind?“Lara opened her eyes slowly, mesmerized by the gentle massage.„Mind?“ She blinked against the bright sunlight and closed her eyesagain.The twin black arcs of her eyelashes cast delicate shadows overher cheeks.„Mind what?“ she murmured, sighing with pleasure.Carson smiled as he bent and kissed Lara’s hair so lightly that she felt nothing.He glanced around the quilt until he spotted a bright redcomb peeking out from beneath Lara’s discarded jeans.Carefully hecombed out her long hair until it lay over her back like a polishedebony fan.Then he picked up the brush that had also been underneathLara’s clothes.With slow, firm movements he brushed her hair until itwas dry and silky and clung to his fingers like a lover with each stroke of his hand.After the first few minutes Lara stopped trying to stifle herappreciative murmurs.Having her hair brushed was a luxury asunexpected as relaxing beneath the sun’s heat had been.Carsonabsorbed her small sounds of pleasure hungrily, for each one was aseparate caress, a separate sign of hope.The brush dropped unnoticedto the quilt as he substituted his palm smoothing over the glisteningblack strands, stroking her slowly, taking an intense pleasure in thesoftness of her hair against his skin.Long, strong fingers eased into Lara’s hair, searching be- neath thesilk, finding the warmth of her.Carson massaged her scalp with slow,sure motions until she came unraveled in his hands and leaned againsthim, letting him support her relaxed body.„You’re very good at this,“ Lara said.Her words were as languidas the motions of her head rubbing against Carson’s hands in return,increasing the pressure of his fingers.She was too relaxed to guard her thoughts and questions.She sighed and asked, „Who taught you?“And then she bit her lip at the question.It was none of her businesswho Carson had been with, who he had caressed, who he had seduced.„Never mind, I – “„You taught me,“ Carson interrupted, leaning down to inhale thesweet fragrance of Lara’s hair.„I’ve never forgotten how good it feltat the end of a long day to have your hands rubbing through my hair,unraveling all the knots of tension and disappointment, leaving me atpeace.“Carson’s words were another kind of caress touching Lara, slidingpast her defenses, making her eyes brim with unexpected tears.„Was it really like that for you?“ she whispered, turning to look athim over her shoulder.„Such beautiful eyes,“ Carson said.„They’ve haunted me.“ Hebent and brushed his lips over Lara’s.„Yes,“ he whispered.„It wasreally like that.And that, too, has haunted me.“For a long moment Carson looked at the memories and shadowsdarkening Lara’s eyes.He knew she was remembering how it had ended between them – pain rather than peace.Silently he cursedhimself for bringing up the past when the present had been sounexpectedly sweet.„If you must remember the pain,“ Carson asked in a low voice,„why can’t you at least remember the pleasure, too? I remember, and Iwake up hot and shaking.Pleasure, Lara, not pain.I want a chance tomake more of those memories so that when we look back years fromnow, the past won’t be a cold chain wrapped tight around our lives,strangling our future.“Lara closed her eyes and shivered, and even she didn’t knowwhether it was from fear or the sudden memory of Carson’s face tautwith need and pleasure as his tongue laved the sensitive pink peak ofher breast.As though he were caressing her like that again, her nippletightened, sending currents of pleasure radiating down through the pitof her stomach, making her want to moan.She wanted to see hismouth on her again, to feel his heat and need – and she was afraid togive herself to him again, to share his heat and need.„What is it that frightens you so?“ asked Carson.His voice achedwith the effort of being gentle when he wanted to tear the answersfrom Lara, ending her pain and his own, putting the past behind themonce and for all.„Did I ever hurt you physically?“Silently Lara shook her bowed head, sending a soft black cloud ofhair sliding over her shoulders, concealing her breasts.„Are you afraid that I will?“Again she shook her head.Despite Carson’s physical strength, shedidn’t fear him in that way.Even when he had wanted to use her onlyfor revenge, he had been unfailingly gentle with her.„Did you like being touched by me?“ he asked, his voice both softand persistent.This time Lara nodded her head, but she still didn’t look up at him.She didn’t want to meet his eyes, for she knew that too much of herhopes and fears could be read on her face.„Then what is it, little fox?“ Carson asked, tilting Lara’s head upwith his hand beneath her chin.Lara didn’t fight his touch, but she refused to open her eyes.Shetried to speak, swallowed and forced out the words.„I’m just afraid togive myself to you again.“There was a long, taut pause while Carson looked at Lara’sbeautiful, troubled face.He smiled suddenly, crookedly, and histhumb touched her lips like a kiss.„Then I’ll just have to give myself to you instead.“Lara’s eyes flew open.„What?“„Yeah, I know.It’s a terrible sacrifice,“ Carson said gravely, hiseyes brilliant with laughter and other emotions that were far stronger,far more complex.He held out his hands to her.„Take me, honey.I’mall yours.You can comb my hair and rub my scalp until I turn to butterand melt in your hands.You can talk to me, ride with me, stand quietlyand watch the sun go down with me, dress or undress me, touch me,explore me, do as much or as little as you like.Anything.Everything.“The laughter faded from Carson’s eyes but not the emotions thatturned his eyes to molten gold.„Except run from me,“ he said.„Nomore of that, Lara.That belongs to the past, and the past is dead.“Carson’s eyes were intent, golden, and the hands he held out toLara didn’t waver.Slowly she put her hands in his.She expected herfingers to be enveloped in his warmth and strength, but he made nomove to hold her more tightly.She realized that he was silentlyreinforcing his words.He had given himself to her.What she did with that gift was for her to decide.I he faded daguerreotype showed a ragged pile of rocks on awindswept ridge.Below the ridge was a wide, fertile valley with ariver winding through it.There were no fences, no man-madelandmarks, nothing but grass, the river and thickets of willow andalder.Tiny dots scattered across the grass in the picture could havebeen deer or perhaps even elk.Lara knew that the dots weren’t cattle, for the first of theBlackridge herd was being driven up from Texas when the photo hadbeen taken more than a century ago.She had found the daguerreotypetucked in among her grandfather’s mementos
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