Ruby

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Authors: Ruth Langan

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Fiction

BOOK: Ruby
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Pearl
“... a master storyteller’s stunning triumph.”
—
Affaire de Coeur
 
Diamond
“...Langan has written another winner.”
—
Romantic times
 
Jade
“Touching, tender, and heart-warming...a wonderful story...”
—
Romantic Times
The Jewels of Texas
From Ruth Langan
 
Diamond, Pearl, Jade
and now Ruby
 
Ruby Jewel had never met the man
she could resist...
 
Quent Regan had never met the
woman he couldn’t...
 
. It looked as though the town of
Hanging Tree, Texas,
would never be the same
Dear Reader,
 
USA Today
bestselling winning author Ruth Langan is back this month with
Ruby,
the next book in her ongoing series THE JEWELS OF TEXAS. This delightful tale of a flirtatious young woman and the formidable town marshal who falls under her spell is sure to please, whether you’ve been following the series all along or are discovering it for the first time. And keep an eye out for the story of the Jewel sisters’ long-lost brother,
Malachite,
coming in early 1998.
 
The Forever Man
is a new title from Carolyn Davidson, the author of
Gerrity’s Bride.
It’s the story of a spinster who has given up on love, yet discovers happiness when a widower and his two sons invade her quiet life. And Sharon Schulze, one of the authors in this year’s March Madness Promotion, also returns this month with
To Tame a Warrior’s Heart,
a stirring medieval tale about a former mercenary and a betrayed noblewoman who overcome their shadowed pasts with an unexpected love.
 
In
The Lieutenant’s Lady,
her fourth book for Harlequin Historicals, author Rae Muir begins an exciting new Western series called THE WEDDING TRAIL. This month’s story is about a hard-luck soldier who returns home determined to marry the town “princess,” a woman who sees him as little more than a way out of an unwanted marriage.
 
Whatever your tastes in reading, we hope you enjoy all of our books, available wherever Harlequin Historicals are sold.
 
Sincerely,
 
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325. Buffalo. NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie. Ont. L2A 5X3
Ruth Langan
Ruby
 
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN
MADRID • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
Books by Ruth Langan
Harlequin Histoficals
 
Mistress of the Seas
#10
†
Texas Heart
#31
*
Highland Barbarian
#41
*Highland Heather
#65
*
Highland Fire
#91
*
Highland Heart
#111
†
Texas Healer #
131
Christmas Miracle
#147
†
Texas Hero
#180
Deception
#196
*
The Highlander
#228
Angel
#245
*
Highland Heaven
#269
‡
Diamond
#305
Dulcie’s Gift
#324
‡
Pearl
#329
‡
Jade
#352
‡
Ruby
#384
 
†Texas Series
*The Highland Series
‡The Jewels of Texas
 
Harlequin Boots
 
Harlequin Historicals Christmas Stories
1990 “Chtistmas at Bitter Creek”
RUTH LANGAN
traces her ancestry to Scotland and Ireland. It is no surprise, then, that she feels a kinship with the characters in her historical novels.
 
Married to her childhood sweetheart, she has raised five children and lives in Michigan, the state where she was born and raised.
To Patrick Jacob Langan,
the newest jewel in our family crown.
And to his proud parents,
Pat and Randi.
And, of course, to Tom.
patriarch of the dynasty,
and the love of my life.
Prorogue
 
 
Bayou Rouge, Louisiana
1865
 
“I
’ve missed you. Missed this.” Onyx Jewel lay in the bed watching as Madeline St. Jacque began to brush the tangles from her hair. She had pulled on a silk wrapper and tied it carelessly at the waist, leaving more of her lush body exposed than covered.
He glanced around the room, which was like the woman who occupied it. A curious mixture of elegance and simplicity. The bed was large, the mattress down filled. Satin streamers in vibrant shades of crimson and violet hung at the four corners, and sheer netting draped the sides. The bed was mounded with dozens of pillows in rainbow hues. On the floor was the rug he’d had made just for her. Imported from Constantinople, it was woven with intricate flowers and butterflies in exotic colors. She had wept when she’d seen it, and had run barefoot over it, laughing like a child.
 
In many ways she was a child, he thought. Afraid to leave this hot, steamy little place she’d always called home. Afraid to take a chance on the life he offered her. And yet, he could never forget she was a woman. And what a woman. With one haughty look, one impish smile, she had captured his heart.
“When are we going to talk about Texas?”
Instead of turning, she studied his reflection in the looking glass. “I do not wish to speak of your little wilderness,” she said with a pout.
“My...little wilderness is bigger than the whole territory of Louisiana,” he said tiredly. They’d had this conversation before. And it always ended the same way.
“Why can you not come here to live in Bayou Rouge?” she demanded.
“Because I make my living in Texas, Madeline. And it’s a very good living.”
“I am a genteel woman,” she said, setting down the brush with a clatter. “I would never survive that—” she wrinkled her pretty little nose “—primitive place you call home.”
“It isn’t primitive. I’ll grant you, my ranch is miles from the nearest neighbor.”
“You see?” she interrupted.
“But we have all the comforts a civilized person would crave.”
“Oui.
With savages and pestilence and wild beasts.”
He grinned. He couldn’t help it. He loved it when she got angry, and those brown eyes flashed, and her accent deepened. “Come here,” he said in a growl.
 
She did turn then. Her little pout dissolved into a smile. “I have just fixed my hair. And you said you wanted to go to Ruby’s school and visit her.”
The school had. been another battle he’d lost He would have preferred tutors, instead of the rigid demands of the convent school. But Madeline, as always, had fought like a wildcat to have her daughter attend the same school that the St. Jacque women had attended for generations.
“We’ll go. Soon.” He held out his hand.
She crossed the room, disrobing as she walked.
His reaction was always the same. Just looking at the sway of her hips, the jut of her firm, lush breasts, he was lost. Madeline St. Jacque was the most sensual, desirable woman Onyx Jewel had ever known. And from their first meeting, he’d found himself bound to her. Despite the difficulty of spanning the miles between them, and the futility of ever hoping to coax her to make her home with him, he found himself unable to resist her charms.
 
“Sister Dominique.” The Mother Superior of the Convent of Notre Dame du Bayou summoned the old nun to her office.
“Oui,
Reverend Mother?” Considered unfit to teach, the elderly sister helped with domestic chores around the convent and, despite fingers swollen with arthritis, saw to all the sewing and mending.
“Go to Sister Clothilde and fetch young Ruby Jewel. Tell her that her mother and father are here.”
Sister Dominique cast a sideways glance at the stranger seated beside Madeline St. Jacque.
Mon Dieu.
He was the most dashing creature she had ever seen. No wonder the proud, headstrong Madeline, long considered the most beautiful woman in the bayou, had been persuaded to forsake her virtue. Her indiscretion had fueled the town gossips for years.
“At once, Reverend Mother.”
The old nun made her way. along the cool, darkened passageway that connected the convent with the classrooms. She, paused a moment outside the door of Sister Clothilde’s room, struggling to catch her breath. From inside she could hear the children chanting their answers in singsong fashion. Suddenly the chanting stopped, and their teacher’s strident voice could be heard scolding one of her pupils.
Sister Dominique flinched, remembering her own moments of humiliation at the hands of such teachers. Sister Clothilde’s methods of discipline were notorious. A first-time infraction meant a crack of the hands with a ruler. If a pupil was foolish enough to pull the hand away, the punishment would be doubled. For a second-time offense, it would be a willow switch, administered across the backside, often so firmly the receiver would be unable to sit for days. For any offense after that, it meant time in the box. That was what the students called the hot, airless closet in the back of the room in which Sister Clothilde stored her supplies. In this fierce bayou heat, a child could endure only a few minutes in the box before begging to be released. That would be followed by a public apology and a stern lecture to sin no more. The rest of the day would be spent scrubbing floors as an act of contrition. And woe to those who erred late in the day. It meant going without supper, to finish the penance.
Sister Dominique knocked, then opened the door to the classroom in time to see the recalcitrant pupil holding out her hand for her discipline. As the ruler cracked over her knuckles, the old sister had to look away. When she looked back, she had a glimpse of Sister Clothilde’s face. It bore a chilling, satisfied smile.
“What is it, Sister Dominique?” the nun asked sharply. “Why do you interrupt my schedule?”
“Reverend Mother has sent me to fetch Ruby Jewel”
“Ruby?” She arched a suspicious brow. “Why?”
“Her mother and father are here.”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed. “Her father is here?”
“Oui.”
Though the old nun lowered her eyes, there was no mistaking the excitement in her voice. She had finally seen for herself the mysterious Onyx Jewel.
“Ruby cannot come right now,” Sister Clothilde said sternly.
“But Reverend Mother—”
“Ruby is being punished.”
The older nun cast a furtive glance at the back of the room. The closet door was closed. There was no sound from within. She waited the space. of several heartbeats before asking, “Has she not been punished long enough?”
“For that one, it is never long enough. But this time she will learn. She has been there over an hour.”
“An hour.” The old woman stifled a gasp. Thinking quickly, she gathered her courage. She was not the only one unfit to teach the children. This time, Sister Clothilde’s act of cruelty had gone too. far. “The time she has already spent will have to serve as punishment. Reverend Mother has sent for her. I dare not go back without her. However, if you wish to explain to Reverend Mother yourself...”
Seeing the wisdom of avoiding such a discussion with Mother Superior, Sister Clothilde strode to the back of the classroom and opened the door.
There was no movement within.
“Ruby Jewel, you may come out now and confess your guilt,” Sister Clothilde commanded in a shrill tone.
Around the classroom the children fidgeted. Though they were accustomed to their teacher’s cruel taunts of this particular classmate, and often enjoyed them, it was plain that this time had been worse. They were highly agitated.
“I said, come out of there.” The nun stepped inside, then took a quick step back.
It took her a moment to catch her breath. The enclosure was a steam bath. Leaning down, she dragged the still form of the child from the closet.
Twelve-year-old Ruby’s auburn curls were plastered in wet tendrils to her neck and cheeks. Her skin was the color of chalk.
“She is dead!” Sister Dominique’s tone was filled with accusation.
 
“She is nothing of the kind.” Sister Clothilde touched a finger to her throat. Finding a pulse, she turned to the old nun. “Fetch some water.”
When Sister Dominique returned with a brimming glass, Ruby Jewel was sitting on the floor, leaning weakly against the wall. As soon as the tumbler of water was held to her lips, she drank gratefully.
Sister Clothilde stood over her, showing no emotion. When the glass was empty she said, “Ruby Jewel, you will admit your guilt and repent.”
Ruby lifted her head and met her angry look. But though her lips trembled, she refused to speak.
The nun’s eyes narrowed with suppressed anger. “You are a foolish, headstrong child. But for now, you have earned a reprieve. You have been summoned by Mother Superior. I cannot keep her waiting. Go. But be warned. I have not finished with you.”
Numbly the child stood and, on rubbery legs, followed Sister Dominique from the room.
As they made their way along the passageway, the old nun said, “You must have done something very sinful to have earned so much time in the box.”
The child held her silence.
“What did you do?” Sister Dominique persisted gently.
“I called Sister Clothilde a liar.” The voice was low, breathless. And defiant.
Sister Dominique stopped short, covering her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” Ruby’s voice was a fierce whisper.
“But why, child?”
 
“Because she called my mother a harlot.”
Tears welled up in the old nun’s eyes and she struggled for composure. “No one has the right to say such things about your mama, child. I will pray for Sister Clothilde, that God will soften her heart.”
Alarmed at this unusual display of emotion, Ruby patted the old nun’s thin shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, Sister Dominique. I’ll be just fine. Here.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a large brown rosary, pressing it into the gnarled hands. “When you pray tonight, think of me.”
“But child. Wherever did you get this?”
A sly smile touched Ruby’s lips. “I took it from Sister Clothilde’s pocket when she wasn’t looking.”
“You stole?” The old nun was horrified.
“Non.
Mama says that is not stealing. If someone is horrible, or cruel, or harms another, it is our petit vengeance.”
“But Ruby,” the old nun said, “no matter what you call it, you must not do it.”
“And why musn’t I?” the child demanded.
“Because it is one of God’s commandments. Thou shalt not steal.”
“And another of God’s commandments is to honor thy father and mother,” Ruby said logically. “That makes Sister Clothilde as guilty as I. She said I was just like my mother. She called me a spawn of the devil.”
For once, Sister Dominique had no words. But she knew she had never met a more cruel, heartless person than Sister Clothilde, nor a more headstrong, defiant and courageous person than this child.
 
Courageous. That was what she needed to be now. Perhaps, she thought, this was why she had been spared death for so long. There was a task God was asking of her.
Sister Dominique stiffened her spine. She knew why Sister Clothilde had entered the convent. To escape an abusive father. But she hadn’t escaped. She’d brought him with her. His cruelty lived inside her. And now she must be stopped, before she was allowed to do further damage to this child.
Sister Dominique still had some influence with Mother Superior. For Ruby’s protection, she would beg to be given exclusive control over this child’s tutoring. It could prove to be Ruby’s only salvation.
“Come,” she said. “Pinch some color into your cheeks and put on your best smile. You must put aside your troubles, for your papa is waiting.”
“Perhaps he has come to take my mama and me back to Texas with him,” Ruby whispered excitedly. “Oh, if only Mama and I could escape this place.”
Beside her, the old nun echoed the same request in a prayer.
 
The reunion with her father had been, like all the others, far too brief. But Ruby had put on a brave face, and had absorbed all the pleasure she could from his visit.
But when he rode off—alone, as always—she could no longer hide her tears.
“What is this? Is my baby crying?” Madeline St. Jacque caught her daughter’s chin as the girl tried to hide her tears. “Did you fall? Are you ill, child?”
 
Ruby pulled away, embarrassed at having been caught in a rare display of weakness. “It is nothing, Mama.”

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