Ravishing Ruby (18 page)

She closed her eyes and felt for that younger man, that wild man who'd run to sea and found she knew not what. “Do you intend to continue to sail, to stay a captain? Surely with your family's money you have other choices?”

He bent his head, resting his forehead against hers. “I do not know. I always thought I would. I do not think I would do well as a settled man, my feet do like to roam, my eyes to see new things—but there are ways to do that besides the sea.”

“That must be wonderful, to see new things. If I say my life has been sheltered many would laugh, but I have left London only twice. Once to one of my father's estates in the country when no one else was about, and once I had a week in Brighton. Oh, how I loved the sea, to walk upon the beach and to feel the wind on my face as it blew in off the ocean, a wind that no one for miles and miles had felt before me. I've always wanted to travel and see the world, but I have accepted that for all the freedom I do have, that is not possible.”

He pulled her closer and she burrowed her face into his chest.

“Why?” he asked.

Why? She'd never really asked herself that question, had always just taken it as obvious fact. “Women don't travel alone.”

“Not strictly alone, but there have certainly been women with chaperones or paid escorts who have traveled. I am assuming you have the funds, not that I mean to ask.”

“No, the money is not the problem. Although, perhaps the business is. I do not see how I could leave Madame Rouge's for the time that it would take to truly travel.” Although if her grandfather had his way…

“You said that the woman before you, Madame Noir, retired…” He let his words hang.

And she found herself saying the things she had never thought to say aloud, the things her grandfather's demands had brought to the surface. What was next for her? She still had not decided if she could give in to her grandfather's demands. “And then what? I cannot travel forever. At least, I do not think I can. If I leave the house then what do I have? What do I do?” She did not add the
Who am I?
but she thought he sensed it from the brief tight hug he gave her.

And as if he had read her thought, he answered, “You are who you have always been, a beautiful, strong, courageous woman.”

Was it childish of her to want more? “I still don't know. I can't even imagine living without Madame Rouge's. It is what I do from the moment I wake in the morning until I retire for the night.”

“I think there may be a few moments that is not true.”

“I cannot deny that, but it is still true as a whole. Madame Rouge is who I am.”

He pushed her back so that he could see her face and she could see his, his calm eyes granting her safety. “I think she is only part of who you are and I think you know that, Ruby, Emma, Afya, Rebecca.”

“It's hardly fair to add Rebecca. I don't think she is more than a dark wig.” She lifted one of the long curls.

“I think the disguises come because you know you are not in truth fully Madame Rouge. If she were all you were I would never have seen the other pieces. Madame Rouge does not need a pirate queen to entertain a man.”

That hit far too close to the truth. “And what of you? Somehow the subject has changed back to me. What will you do after you marry Anne?” It was hard to say the name as she lay against his warmth.

Anne. Anne. Anne.
Derek repeated the name in his mind again and again, hoping to feel a tinge of something, care, guilt, anticipation, or even dread.

Nothing.

How did he picture life once his vows were said? A few weeks, or less, in London. An ocean voyage. Introducing her to his family. Finding a house. And then…?

He'd never really thought about
and then
. He supposed he'd pictured his life continuing in the same vein as it had run for the last few years. He'd spend a month at home and then leave for six or more. His time at home would be spent visiting family and attending to those tasks that had been put off far too long. He'd take new cargo and then be off to far ports. And if sometimes he aimed the
Dawn's Light
where his whimsy took him there'd be none to gainsay him. He'd owned the ship outright for several years now, trading his captain's share for ownership until she was his.

How would a wife change that? Would she change that?

He couldn't see himself hurrying home to Anne. If anything, he was more likely to depart early, avoiding her nagging tongue.

Not even married and already dreading her complaints. He rolled on his back and stared out the slim window at the starry sky. And what of Anne? He did not wish to be a cruel husband or even a negligent one. But how was it not cruel to leave Anne alone with his family, people she'd never met, while he left again and again? Would he owe it to her to stay, to help her settle? And then?

Another
and then
.

He knew his father would try to lure him into staying, to helping with the mills. It had been fine during his youth for him to sail the high seas, but it was not his father's plan for him. They wanted him home. They wanted…

“Are you going to answer?” Ruby's voice was low and husky, sliding about him as smoothly as the silk sheets in her house.

“I was trying to find an answer.”

She pushed up on an elbow, looking down at him. “Surely it should not be that difficult. You must have thought of it before you considered proposing.”

“I never considered proposing.”

“I do not understand.” And he could see by the furrow of her brow that she did not.

“I thought I had explained this all to you.”

Her full lower lip pressed out, almost a pout, but not quite. “You may have. I was not in a disposition to listen at the time, I must admit.”

“No, you were not.” He resisted the urge to smile. This was not the moment. “Do you want to listen now?”

“No. I cannot say that I do, but I will. Whatever happens next, it is important that I know.”

He turned his head back to the window. “I have told you something of my youth, of running off to sea, of getting the tattoo, of living life for no reason but what I wanted.”

“Yes, something of it.” She lay a hand upon his arm as if sensing there was more to the story.

What was there about this woman that tempted him to reveal secrets he told no one? He'd never been verbose, but with Ruby the words simply came. “What I didn't say is that my older brother died while I was gone.”

“And…?” Her soft fingers stroked him again.

“And I should have been there. If I'd been there he might still be alive.”

“Why do you think that?”

Long-ago pain rose and churned. “He died in a warehouse late one night. A shelf broke and barrels came tumbling down and crushed him.” His voice was flat, the pain pushed back down.

“And how could you have saved him? I do not understand.”

“I might have noticed the shelf. I might have helped him finish the inventory earlier so he was not there when it came down. I might have been with him and gotten help sooner. Or it might have been me.”

“Been you? You wish you had died for him?”

“My father certainly wishes it.”

Her fingers gripped him tight. “You cannot mean that.”

“Oh, I can. He has said as much. I would not have thought another could blame me as I blame myself, but I was wrong. He told me very clearly that if I had been home, working for the family as I should have been, it would not have happened.”

“And are you sure he does not speak his own guilt? That he does not wish that he had been there late that night—that he had not sent him? I do not know how old your brother was, but most young men from my experience do not work late into the night unless they must.”

There was sense in her words, and yet it mattered not. “I should have been there.”

There were moments in life when Ruby just wanted to punch someone, to knock sense into him. How could he think he was to blame for what was clearly an accident? She could feel the pain that lay under his calm words, but knew that nothing but life and time would help to relieve the ache.

But more than that, deep in her gut, she understood why he would marry Anne. Even though he had not yet fully explained his reasoning, she understood. It was not so different from her own reasons in wanting to do as her grandfather demanded. Derek would marry Anne from guilt and duty, and she might marry to keep her family. And although she understood the folly of such an action, she would not stop him, could not stop him—as she might not stop herself.

She swallowed, her gut churning with understanding.

But could she enable him to stop himself? Could she save him if not herself? Nothing good could come from marrying for duty. She had seen him with Anne. It may have only been a brief moment, but there had been no hint of affection between them. Marriage did not require love, but surely there should be some degree of caring? “Will marrying Anne make amends for your not being there? Do you somehow think that marrying her will bring him back?”

“Of course not. I know that nothing will accomplish that, but perhaps if I do this my father will feel pride in me again, will realize that I have something to contribute to the family.”

She understood the feeling, knew there had been a point in time when she would have done anything to hear her father speak of her with pride—and was she not still willing to do almost anything to keep her grandfather's affection?

Before her father had condemned her for her youthful folly, she had lived for his smile, for that glow in his eyes that told her she had done well. It had taken his rejection for her to understand that approval could come at too high a price.

And what of her grandfather? Was she even now playing that same game? Had she not learned that sometimes love cannot be earned, it must be given freely?

Evidently she had not.

A few moments ago she had shared her body and pieces of her soul with Derek, now she felt as if a wall were slowly being built between them, a wall of pride and loneliness. She rolled toward him, again pressing her face into his chest, laying soft kisses upon his heart. “So let us return to the beginning. What do you imagine your life will be like after your marriage? Will you live with your wife or continue to travel the seas?”

“I know no life except that of a seaman. I do not reject doing something else, but I do not know what. I need adventure.”

“And will you take Anne with you, at least in the early years? I know some captain's wives sail with them, rather like a soldier's wife who follows the drum.”

“I cannot imagine that Anne would like the sea. She has certainly expressed no interest in it.”

“So you will leave her behind as you left your brother behind? Is that really the answer that you seek?”

He rolled from the bed, the heat of his body lingering for but a second. “I see no need to talk further of this.”

She had pushed him too far. He was as powerless in the bonds of affection that held him as she was in her own.

The relaxation and contentment that had been so clear only moments before lay in shattered pieces all about them. With hurried hands, he redressed in his costume, pulling up knitted hose and yanking on the mail shirt. It took only seconds to stretch the cassock over his head and right it. “I must go find Anne. I have been gone far too long.”

Yes, he had, but that had not been in his thoughts mere moments ago. “I will not argue with you.” She looked at her own clothing scattered about the small chamber. It would take more than a moment for her to redress.

She sat up, proud in her nakedness.

She waited as his eyes raked over her, as renewed desire lit in them and then was dampened.

There was the briefest temptation to seduce him again. It would not be hard. Even now, in the midst of turmoil and unspoken anger, their bodies already sated, she could feel the desire and need that swirled between them.

Would another round of passion lead again to that magical moment of intimacy? And what then? She did not have answers for her own questions. How could she seek to answer his?

She bowed her head, feeling the weight of the world about her. She truly was Rebecca, held back by life from taking the love and honor that should have been hers. Neither of them was ready to reject the ties of family that held them, and if they did, Derek could never see her as a wife. While she might play the lover, she would never be his mistress while he lived by another woman's side.

Was there anything she could do? Any chance she could do things differently?

He stood there staring back at her, not moving, not leaving, but not returning. His eyes asked for something but she had no answers.

She looked away, her eyes falling on the small desk and paper and ink atop it.

Did she dare? It would be the answer to all her problems, but life was never so easy. It might seem that all the pieces of the game were lined up, hers for the taking, but that might be an illusion. Taking the chance was as likely to ruin all choices as to grant her more.

Swinging her feet to the floor, she stood and walked to the desk, her hips swaying in their usual, slow rhythm. It was not deliberate, but neither did she change her gait to something more sedate. She would not deliberately seduce him, but neither would she play the chaste maid. If he did decide to take her it would be as she was, a woman who knew her way in the world and would not pretend otherwise.

Lifting a quill, she scribbled a few lines on the paper, turned and held it out to him.

He glanced at the paper and then his eyes dropped to her breasts and darkened at the sight of her hard, swollen nipples, still sore from being pinched against the glass.

She kept her arm out and waited.

After a moment his eyes returned to her face. There was desire there, and question. He, too, contemplated another interlude and remained undecided, his body and his mind on opposing sides.

The paper shook as she continued to hold it out.

“What is it?” he asked after a moment.

“Do you think I am trying to trap you with a piece of paper?” She added humor she did not feel to her voice. “It is merely the direction to someplace I would like to show you. What you do with it is up to you. I will be there tomorrow at ten, and perhaps the day after.”

“What? Where?” He took the paper from her.

“You can be there or not. It is your choice.” She turned away and began to pick up the pieces of her costume.

He glanced down at the paper. “This cannot be correct. There are only warehouses in this area.”

She did not answer but continued to pick up articles of her clothing. The bells on her ankles jingled as she moved.

Derek shoved the paper beneath the belt of his cassock as he hurried down the narrow stairs. What was Ruby about? A warehouse? Why should she wish to show him a warehouse? And why was the direction familiar?

He concentrated on that last question, forcing all others from his mind. His life had grown far too complicated these past weeks, and he did not know how to restore it to its former simplicity—except to get rid of Ruby. And somehow that did not seem like a choice at all.

And he wasn't even sure that it would work. These past few days without her had not been simple, if anything they'd been harder than any he'd been through since his troublesome youth. Perhaps if he could rip all thoughts of her from his mind he might be free, but nothing short of that would return his life to what it was.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and eased through the narrow door, listening for anyone walking by. A short walk across the hall and he was back at the edge of the ballroom.

Scanning it quickly, he looked for Anne.

She did not appear to be anywhere. He didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed. She was probably in the retiring room gossiping with her friends and he did not look forward to having to find her. She'd probably complain, quite rightly, about how inattentive he had been all evening and then give him another list of errands that he should complete the next morning. Every time she spoke with her friends it seemed to result in more tasks for him. He sometimes thought they did nothing but compare notes on what you could ask a man to do.

He was about to turn to the card room to await Anne's reappearance when his cousin, Lord Willis, came up to him.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” Willis began.

“I wasn't expecting to be here, but I was advised that it was the occasion of the season and I could not possibly miss it.”

“That sounds like a woman's words—and I would guess that your costume came from the same lady.”

“Does nobody think I see myself as the brave knight?”

“If you'd come dressed the pirate or the desert sheik I might almost have believed you'd chosen for yourself, but a Templar promised to poverty and chastity…?”

“I never minded being poor.” A pirate or a sheik? Where had Willis come up with those? Against his will his mind filled with the image of Ruby in that open white shirt, all her charms revealed, the scent of her, the taste of her upon his tongue. Even spent as he was, he felt his blood rush low, leaving his brain fogged.

“I notice you do not mention chastity.”