Ravishing Ruby (26 page)

He took another step forward, placed a hand on each of her hips, and lifted her onto the table in one swift movement. She gasped, but did not protest.

He pushed the chemise up just as he had promised, baring her completely. His gaze fastened on her slick folds, on the sign of how much she wanted him. He wanted to bury his face, to taste and eat her.

He held back, forced himself to focus on how erotic she looked as a whole, the flushed cheeks and creamy skin, the tightly peaked breasts lifted and held out for him, the corset wrapping her, displaying her, the legs spread wide in offering. She smiled then, that slow, easy smile that promised so much. Leaning back on one arm, she lifted the other and ran it over the top of her breast, barely brushing the velvet skin. She circled lower, moving closer and closer to the darker tip.

He swallowed as she took the nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed lightly. Her lips parted and then she bit down on her lower lip. She pulled lightly on the nipple, extending it, squeezing it harder. A sigh passed her lips.

Her fingers moved to the other breast, leaving the first nipple hard and wanting, swollen with need.

It was too much.

With great speed he opened his breeches, leaned forward, grabbed her hips, pulled her right to the edge of the table, and in a single thrust slid home.

Before she had a chance to adjust he was in her, filling her. She'd seen the change in his eyes, felt that moment when he gave in, but still it took her by surprise.

She pulled in a deep breath, both her hands behind her now, supporting her.

He thrust in again, hard and deep. Heaven. There was no better feeling in the world than being joined with him.

He pulled out and she almost moaned in protest.

In again. Paradise. Every inch of her core cried out in sensation.

Out. She moaned.

And then his fingers were on her, pressing at her clit, sending her higher and higher.

He slammed into her.

Good. So good.

Again. Again. Again.

His fingers worked magic as her body stretched and flexed with need.

He pulled out. “I can't hold back. Come with me, Ruby. Come.”

He hammered in. A finger and thumb pinched her tight.

She felt the spasm take him, felt him pulse—and she let go, let it happen, felt the joy fill her as never before. Because it was joy. There was pleasure. There was heat and desire. But mostly there was happiness, the sense of finally finding something she had been searching for without knowing it.

She let it come, let it fill her. She called his name, heard him call hers.

Her arms were around his shoulders, holding him tight—never letting him go. Together they collapsed down upon the wood of the table, breathless and sweaty, the night still about them.

His heart beat against her ear, his chest surrounding her. How they had ended up both lying on the table she wasn't sure. Pulling over the pile of their clothing, she used it as a pillow, rising up slightly to look down upon him. “Is this real?” she asked.

“I certainly hope so,” Derek answered, raising a hand to brush her cheek. “If it's not, I don't ever want to wake up.”

“Nor do I. But I do need to know. Did you mean it? Are we really together, come what may?”

He used his hand to pull her head down, to place the gentlest of kisses upon her lips. “Yes.” He said it with a firmness that filled her heart. “I love you, Ruby. All of you. I don't know what comes next, but I do know that.”

She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, a moment she'd never thought she'd have. Leaning forward, she pressed her own kiss upon his lips, opened her eyes. “And I love you, Derek. I never thought I'd say the words, never thought I would feel this way, but I love you with every piece of me.”

They lay back upon the makeshift pillows, surrounded by the darkness of the warehouse, of the place that had always been magic to her, the place where dreams began.

“So what does come next?” Derek asked after a few minutes, his words abuzz against her cheek.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow is what comes next. I find a way to sell Madame Rouge's, to find a buyer that I trust. You take care of what you need to with the
Dawn's Light
and your family. And then we see. I don't have the answers, but I trust we can find them together.

A low, rumbling laugh filled Derek's chest. “I think you just can't decide if you really want to play the pirate queen or the Indian princess—or perhaps you'd like to travel to Egypt and be a Pharaoh's bride?”

“Bride? I want to be the Pharaoh. I rather fancy myself as Cleopatra.”

“I do like you in a dark wig. And what of Rebecca? Should we finally let her have her happy ending? Will she finally win Ivanhoe?”

Ruby turned into his chest, nuzzling her nose against the soft hair. “But that is for tomorrow; at the moment I can think of another game I'd like to play.”

“What?” Derek's head came up.

She smiled and rolled to her side, then up, swinging a leg over to straddle him. “I think I'd like to be a knight, riding hard to slay a dragon.”

“Just be careful or you might end up a princess and be dragon bait.”

“Why does that not sound so awful?” She laughed and rubbed herself against him, feeling the dragon's tail twitch between her legs.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said, raising his hips to meet her.

“Yes, until tomorrow.”

Mastering the Marquess

Revealing Ruby
(novella)

Bound by Bliss

Sarah's Surrender
(novella)

Ravishing Ruby

L
AVINIA
K
ENT
is a former two-term president of the Washington Romance Writers and a four-time Romance Writers of America Golden Heart nominee. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her family and an ever-changing menagerie of pets.

laviniakent.com

Facebook.com/​LaviniaKent

@laviniakent

Bring in the New Year with a new romance from Loveswept—all are specially written with you in mind, so I know you'll find a story that's a perfect fit.

Elisabeth Barrett returns to Briarwood, an unforgettable place where legacy and longing make dreams come true, in
The Best of Me.
USA Today
bestselling author Jamie K. Schmidt follows with the first book in her new Hawaii Heat series,
Life's a Beach,
an irresistible tale of second chances. The bad boys of baseball only get better with Katie Rose's fourth book in the Boys of Summer series,
The Heat Is On,
where a homegrown baseball star returns to snag the one that got away.
USA Today
bestselling author Mira Lyn Kelly finishes her Dare to Love series with
Now and Then,
a steamy short novel of lost love, second chances, and hidden dangers.

New York Times
bestselling author Kathy Clark releases
After Love,
book one in the suspenseful Austin Heroes series. Cecy Robson's
Of Flame and Promise
kicks off a sizzling new series in the Weird Girls saga as Celia's sister Taran fights to have it all. Jessica Lemmon introduces the ultimate bad boy in
Forgotten Promises,
and Gina Gordon starts her powerful, deeply sensual series Body & Soul where one woman discovers the courage to face life's greatest challenges in
Naked
.

Let's get sweet with
USA Today
bestselling author Laura Drewry and her latest,
Off the Hook,
part of her Fishing for Trouble series, and Zoe Dawson and her first Laurel Falls novel,
Leaving Yesterday,
for fans of small-town romance. Sidney Halston's fans will be happy to know another mixed-martial-arts story is en route with
Fighting Dirty,
and then Claire Kent has you
Taking It Off
with a male stripper—yum! Adding to this
USA Today
bestseller list is a fast MC story from Maisey Yates,
Strip You Bare.
And Sawyer Bennett is bundling her books from her
New York Times
bestselling Cold Fury Hockey series.

Looking for a few historical romances? Lavinia Kent releases a Regency favorite in
Ravishing Ruby,
Sharon Cullen brings you back to Culloden in
Sutherland's Secret,
and Pamela Labud's Hunt Club series begins with
To Catch a Lady—
all with heroes to die for.

That's it for this month—but February is bigger and better than ever before. Hope to see you soon.

~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

Available from Loveswept

“I need you to help me trap a man.” Angela stared across the parlor at her hostess, speaking the words with care, trying to calm the nerves that had taken her from the moment she'd decided on this course of action. She still couldn't believe that she was here—in a brothel, talking to the infamous Madame Rouge.

The redheaded woman stared back, her crimson lips forming a slight moue, only the slight rise of her delicate brows indicating she found Angela's request at all surprising. “Not what I was expecting.”

And what had Madame been expecting? Angela couldn't even begin to guess. She'd only dared to approach Madame Rouge because of a few hints her dear friend Bliss had let drop. Bliss had not been at all explicit, but she had indicated that Madame Rouge was willing to help ladies with delicate situations and that she'd helped with Bliss and Duldon's courtship. Angela couldn't imagine how, but she'd heard enough whispers about Madame Rouge to know that Madame had experience in what Angela needed to learn—seduction. “I am convinced you are the only one who can help me.”

“I am sure that's not true.” Madame Rouge turned and walked across the room with the slightest sway of her hips, a motion that drew the eye right to them.

How did she manage that? Angela was sure that if she tried she'd only look a fool. It hadn't been a large gesture, nothing overt, and yet that slight swing had been all woman, had made a promise that Angela could only begin to guess at.

“I think it is. Who else could begin to teach me how to trap a man as well as you?”

Madame Rouge laughed, the low rumble filling the chamber. “But I've never trapped a man nor taught anyone else to do so.”

“But…”

Madame Rouge settled her lush curves on the settee across the room, her long legs draped elegantly down its length. “It may seem surprising to you, but my dealings with men, and those of my girls, are all very honest. We never attempt to trap or deceive—or at least not more than a little rouge and a padded corset will allow. I think many society matrons have far more knowledge on how to lure a man into a compromising situation, on how to be caught alone with him or to allow him just that slight bit of extra liberty from which he cannot withdraw.” Madame Rouge smiled at this last bit as if finding a humor in it that Angela did not understand.

“That's not what I mean. He's too smart to be caught that way and even if I could manage it, that's not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want him to feel like he can't resist me. I want him to burn for me, to crave me. I want him to beg me to marry him, to feel like he'll die if I say no.”

“You love him so much?” Madame smiled again, knowingly.

“No. Not at all. I might have thought I did, briefly, but now I realize I don't care for him at all.” Angela pressed her lips tight, speaking with more honesty than she had intended.

“I think it would be best if you sat.” Madame Rouge gestured to a chair set across from the settee, near the gentle glow of the fire. “I have an inkling that this may be more complicated than I had imagined.” She sighed. “And I had intended to just tell you no. I find myself trying to finish things up, not trying to start new projects, but you do intrigue me.”

Angela could not afford a no. She hurried on, “I don't know that it's complicated. Surely you teach women how to make men love them all the time.”

Madame laughed, low, husky, and filled with something that Angela could not identify. “I am not sure that I've ever taught anything close to that. Desire them, perhaps. Love them, never.”

“But, Bliss…”

“I don't talk about one patron to another—particularly if they know each other. It's bad for business. But I will say that while I may on occasion have helped arrange circumstances that led to love and marriage, I have never done more than that. Love comes when it comes, not because you will it to be there. Now, don't look so disappointed, child. I can assure you that desire is more than enough to make a man beg as you wish. And
that
I can teach you something about, but first you must convince me that I should help you. I am not at all sure I like the idea of trapping a man. I've always preferred to just let nature take its course.”

“He deserves to be trapped, to want what he cannot have, to—”

“Then you don't want to actually marry him, you just want to make him beg?” Madame Rouge rose from her settee and strolled to the sideboard, her sapphire skirts swirling about her, causing Angela to gaze about the room.

It was a most elegant room. Several fine pieces of furniture, upholstered in a deep green brocade, filled the center of the space. A rich Arabian rug lay across the dark floorboards. A trio of small porcelain shepherdesses sat on an end table. Angela smiled, she rather thought her grandmother had the same pieces.

She did not answer the question.

“Would you like a glass of wine? I've a rather fine burgundy.” Madame lifted a decanter and filled a crystal goblet. She paused before filling the next, her gaze fixed on Angela.

Wine? Would it be rude to say no? Angela rarely drank more than a sip at supper. “Thank you, that would be wonderful.”

Madame Rouge filled the goblet and brought it to Angela, before seating herself again and sipping at her own drink.

Angela held the goblet and stared down into the rich red beverage. It was a very large goblet. It must hold three times as much wine as Angela was ever given with dinner. She took a sip. The rich flavor filled her mouth, the warmth of wine working its way down her throat. She took another sip. Wine was good for courage, wasn't it?

Madame Rouge shifted and then drew her feet up under her, leaving a dainty pair of slippers with purple heels on the floor. Angela stared.

“You must forgive my poor manners,” Madame Rouge said. “I do know better, but when it is just us girls, I do like my comfort. You may do the same, if you wish.”

If she wished? She'd never even thought of such a thing. Her shoes did pinch her toes, but she couldn't imagine taking them off in public. “I am quite comfortable already, but thank you, Madame.”

Madame gave a long sigh. “If we are going to even talk about doing this, you must call me Ruby.
Madame
makes me feel quite ancient when used casually.”

“If you wish, Mada—I mean Ruby.”

Ruby leaned forward. “Now, I am afraid I must insist that you answer my previous question. Do you mean to actually marry the man?”

Oh dear, she was afraid it would come back to this. “I don't know. Sometimes I think that I will quash his hopes and desires and be quite satisfied, and sometimes I think I'll marry him and then make his life a misery. But, I am not so insensible as to not realize that is likely to leave me miserable, as well.”

“Perhaps even more so. I do find that marriage tends to be even less kind to women than to men. Men have more options open to them when things are not going well. Women end up trapped at home, alone. And that is far from the worst that can happen.”

“I do know that. Still, there is the temptation.”

Ruby nodded. “That I can understand, but you must remember to be sensible. You can decide later what your end goal is, but it is wise to decide what you want if you hope to achieve it.”

That did make sense. “And making him mad with passion is not enough?”

That wonderful deep laugh filled the room again. “Filling a man with passion is the easy part, getting him to do what you want because of it, that is slightly harder.”

Angela was not at all convinced that filling a man with passion was easy, if it had been she doubted she'd be in her current predicament of wanting revenge. If he'd felt any degree of passion for her he would never have acted the way that he did. “I will think on it.”

“Good. And now for the important part. Who is this man? And what did he do that warrants such vehement feeling?”

“I have to tell you who he is? Surely, you don't need to know that.”

“Each man is different. If I don't know who he is, how can I tell you what he would like? And you must explain why you are so angry. I do not want to be involved if the gentleman is not deserving.”

“He is no gentleman—well, he is, but he certainly doesn't act like one.”

Ruby leaned forward, her eyes intent and demanding. “I've known many men who fit into that category. Tell me which one you are concerned with.”

“Lord Colton.”

“Ahh, Matthew.” A slow smile spread across Ruby's face. “I do see why he might drive a woman to madness, but you must tell me exactly what he has done to you.”

How had she not seen the question coming? It all seemed so small when put into words, but words had never been able to fully capture feelings. In her heart, what had happened between her and Matthew was beyond all words. Although he'd certainly had a few to say when he told her he did not intend to pursue their relationship any further. “He led me on. He made me think he cared and then he told me that it had all been in my fantasies, that he'd never had any serious intentions toward me.”

“And he made you care about him?”

“A great deal. I thought we would be wed. I could imagine our lives together. I believed my dreams were finally coming true, that I had found my purpose for being.”

Ruby shook her head sadly. “A woman should never let a man be her purpose for being. It never ends well. Men can bring joy, and quality to life, but one must never let them be its purpose.” She spoke as if lecturing a small child. “I find it almost intolerable that society encourages such belief. Ah, well, you cannot help what you have been taught—and I daresay shown again and again by example.”

Angela had no reply to that. Wasn't marriage and motherhood the desired purpose of any young lady's life? Still, she did not wish to argue. She needed Ruby's help.

Leaning forward again, Ruby questioned further. “And it was not his wealth and title that you desired, that you mourn?”

“I do not think so. I admit that he seemed to be exactly the man I had been brought up to dream of, a wealthy young earl. It was more than that, though. I have been pursued by other men. I had three suitors last year and all of them were titled and wealthy, but none drew me the way Lord Colton did.”

Ruby's gaze stayed focused upon her face, her eyes direct and questioning. Angela could not be sure what Ruby looked for, but after a moment she seemed to find it.

Leaning back and making herself comfortable, Ruby settled in her chair. “Now, why don't you begin at the beginning and tell me the whole dastardly tale and then we will see if I can help you. Although, I should warn you that after we talk you may decide that Lord Colton is not who you want, not what you want.”

“I never said I wanted him.” But even as she said the words, Angela knew she lied. She might not want to want Lord Colton, but still if she closed her eyes she knew she would see his face bending toward her, feel the imagined softness of his kiss. She shifted in her seat as longing filled her.

Matthew, Lord Colton, drew in a deep breath, the cold of the approaching autumn filling his lungs. God, that felt good after the stifling heat of the ballroom. He pulled a cheroot from his inner pocket—the one Anders, his valet, detested because it marred the line of his coat—walked to one of the oil lamps adorning either side of the terrace door, and opened the glass and lit it.

Turning, he walked a little way, into the first dark of the shadows, and settled, leaning against the cold stones of the low wall. He lifted the cheroot to his lips and pulled in the bitter smoke.

He should have brought out a glass of brandy as well, but his only thought had been to escape the clamor and heat of the ballroom. He leaned his head back, staring up at the stars.

Why had he even come to the blasted affair? He hated these things, hated being watched—and watching. They were always the same, the same food, the same music, the same people—the same girls.

Always the same girls. Even when they were different, they were all the same, pale and sweet, agreeing with his every suggestion, not a bit of fire or personality among them. Every now and then he'd think he'd see a flash of something, some bit of flame and fire, but each time he pursued it, it vanished as if it had never been.

He couldn't even say it was like looking for a needle in a haystack, because he had no faith the needle was even there. It was like looking for a piece of hay in a haystack.

He dropped his chin and stared back at the bright light shining out through the doors. They were sheep—sweet, tender, young sucklings—and he the wolf, only a wolf who had as little taste for lamb as for the toughest of mutton.

He crooked his lips at his poor attempt at humor.

How was he ever supposed to find a wife among them? It seemed an impossible task, despite his mother's promptings.

And he had tried, on several occasions, when he'd seen that hint of a spark, he'd pursued it wholeheartedly—only to again find himself gazing into the wide eyes of an innocent lamb, a lamb who'd probably faint dead away if he gave any hint of what he really wanted.

Maybe he should show his wolf's teeth sometime, that would have them all running away bleating instead of rubbing about his ankles like kittens.

And now he was mixing his metaphors.

He was tired of it all, tired of the whole game.

He should probably just leave. He'd surveyed the new crop of lambs and there was nothing new about them. He'd not even seen the tiniest spark of fire.

He dropped his gaze and stared down at his evening slippers. Anders had outdone himself. He could see the reflection of the lighted doors as clearly as if he gazed up at them.

Perhaps he should head off to some gambling den and risk a small fortune. That might get his blood moving again. Or perhaps he'd just go to Ruby's. There was always a willing partner there, ready to supply just what he needed, just what was so lacking in the ballroom full of lambs.