Luke heard his own name called again and again, a passionate litany that echoed the rhythmic tightening of Carla’s body beneath him, around him, demanding all that he had withheld, all that he was, all that he had. Her name was a hoarse cry torn from his throat as passion exploded into a release that was unlike any he had ever known, violent and tender at once, ecstasy convulsing him savagely, softly, endlessly, as he gave himself to the woman he had sworn never to take.

14

Carla stirred and reached out for the muscular warmth she had become accustomed to during the night. When her hands found nothing but cool air and emptiness rather than Luke’s big body, her eyes opened. An instant later she saw him. Wearing only jeans, he was standing at the edge of the overhang, sipping coffee, watching a land swept clean by rain. As though he sensed that she had awakened, he turned around. The hot cascade of sunlight pouring in behind him made it impossible for her to see the expression on his face.

Without a word Luke came and sat on his heels next to Carla’s sleeping bag. Light illuminated half his face, leaving the other half in darkness. For long moments he watched Carla with tawny, enigmatic eyes. Cradled between his hands, the metal camp cup sent fragrant steam into the air.

"Are you all right?" he asked finally.

She nodded and slid her hand from the sleeping bag’s warmth to touch the smoothness of Luke’s freshly shaved cheek.

He closed his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Luke, what’s wrong?"

"When I washed this morning…" His voice faded. "You bled last night."

"It didn’t hurt then. Or now."

Luke said something rough underneath his breath and stood up with an abrupt surge of power. "You were a virgin."

"You knew that before you – before we – " Carla stammered. "Luke, I told you. You knew!"

"Yes," he said savagely. "I knew. But I didn’t really know until I saw your blood on my body this morning. Then it all became real. Too real." He raked his fingers through his hair. "God, what a mess!"

Carla felt as though she had been struck. Stunned, she said nothing.

Without looking at her, Luke stalked back to the overhang and stared broodingly out over the uninhabited land.

"Well, schoolgirl, you got what you wanted," Luke said after a moment, sending the dregs of his coffee arcing into the sunshine with a brutal snap of his wrist. "I hope to hell it was worth the price."

"I don’t – don’t understand."

"No, I don’t suppose you do. That’s what being young is all about. Doing and not understanding. But I understand. I should have walked away from you. I knew it the same way I know fire is hot and rain is wet." Memories tightened Luke’s body, echoes of a passionate night he would never forget "But I didn’t have the strength to walk away from you."

Carla felt cold seeping into her flesh, settling in an icy lump at the pit of her stomach as she remembered what Luke had told her weeks before: Stay away from me, sunshine. I’m afraid I won’t have the strength to say no. Then I would take you and hate you…

"Get up, Carla. I’ve got water warmed for you. After you wash we’ll go into town and make a bigger mistake than we made last night But there’s no help for that either."

There was no inflection in Luke’s voice, nothing to tell Carla what he was thinking.

"What will be doing in town?" she asked warily.

"Can’t you guess, schoolgirl? This is your lucky day. You’re getting married."

There was a long silence while Carla measured the hard features of the man she loved.

"Why?" she asked.

Luke made a savage, impatient gesture. "Last night that’s why, and you damned well know it You came to September Canyon a virgin. No man worth the name would take that from you and give nothing in return."

A slow, complex anger blossomed in Carla. She had dreamed of marriage to Luke, but never under these circumstances – duty and honor, not love.

He didn’t love me years ago. He didn’t love me last night. He doesn’t love me now.

Nothing has changed.

Then Carla realized that something had changed; she wasn’t a child to run from Luke’s anger anymore. Nor was she childish enough to cross her fingers, marry a man who didn’t love her and hope that it would all work out.

"The rest of your life seems an excessive price for a fast toss," Carla said evenly.

Luke gave her a sharp look but saw only a feminine reflection of his own lack of expression. That surprised him. He had become accustomed to watching moods and emotions move across Carla’s face.

"I knew the stakes when I took cards in the game," Luke said curtly, looking away from the elegant feminine curves rising above the sleeping bag’s dark green material. "Hurry up and get dressed. If we don’t get out of here quick, we might not get out for days. It’s already raining in the highlands. Won’t be long before it gets wet here."

"Don’t let me keep you."

"Your baby pickup won’t get one hundred yards the way the road is now. You’ll have to come with me. We’ll get your truck later."

"No."

"What?"

"No," Carla repeated coolly. "N-o. A word signifying refusal. A negative. The opposite of yes." Each syllable was clipped, unflinching. "I’m not going with you in your truck. I’m not going into town with you. I’m not marrying you. I came to September Canyon for a vacation. I’m going to have that vacation. If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave."

Luke’s head snapped around. He had never heard that precise tone from Carla, smooth and remote and utterly controlled, telling him that he had no right to order her around.

But she was as wrong as she was naive. He knew what had to be done. "Listen, schoolgirl – "

"I’ve listened," Carla interrupted, "which is more than you have. One. I’m not a schoolgirl. Two. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want to marry me. Three. There will be no marriage."

"Four," he shot back. "You might be pregnant. Ever think of that, schoolgirl? Or are you on the pill?"

"N.Y.P. cowboy," she said with a calmness she didn’t feel.

"What does that mean?"

"Not Your Problem."

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course it’s my problem! Or didn’t you know that it takes two to make a baby?"

"And only one to carry it. Guess which one of us that is? N.Y.P, cowboy."

Luke glared at Carla. She didn’t back up one inch, giving back a stare as level as his own. He measured her determination and realized that the deep well of passion he had discovered in Carla wasn’t limited to making love. The girl who had fled from his passion three years ago had become a woman with cool blue-green eyes and hot flags of anger flying in her cheeks. The combination was…exciting.

Angrily Luke felt his body respond as it had always responded to Carla. His lack of control over himself made him furious.

"What are you planning on telling Cash when you start losing your waistline and your breakfast?" Luke asked coldly.

"If that happens – and it is by no means a certainty – I’ll tell Cash that he’ll be an uncle along about May of next year."

Luke’s breath came in swiftly. An odd feeling twisted through him at the thought of Carla having his child.

"After you tell him, Cash will do his best to kill me," Luke pointed out. "Is that what you want? Revenge?"

"Don’t worry. I’ll make it very clear that I turned down your generous offer of marriage."

"That won’t be good enough. He’ll want to know why. So try out your so-called reasoning on me. Why won’t you marry me?"

"Unlike you, Cash is bright enough to figure out all by himself that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as your jailer."

Luke’s breath came in sharply. "Funny you should put it that way. I sure as hell don’t want to spend my life as your jailer, either. And that’s how you would come to look at the Rocking M – as a jail."