Ruby (20 page)
Chapter Eighteen
T
hey couldn’t remember how they slipped out of the Golden Rule. How they walked past their family, friends, neighbors. Surely they smiled. They even spoke. But it was all a blur.
hey couldn’t remember how they slipped out of the Golden Rule. How they walked past their family, friends, neighbors. Surely they smiled. They even spoke. But it was all a blur.
Once they were outside, Quent took Ruby’s hand. It was no longer cold. In fact, it radiated heat like a bonfire.
They stepped over the prone figure they knew to be Beau Baskin. And without a word they headed toward Ruby’s shop.
Along the way they saw men tending campfires, and women tucking their children into bed beneath wagons. The music from the dance drifted on the night air, and joined in the muted sounds of voices talking, laughter trilling clear as a bell.
When they reached the shop, Ruby opened the door and Quent followed.
She lifted a lantern down from a shelf. Before she could light it, Quent’s arms closed around her, and his mouth found hers. The lantern fell from her nerveless fingers and clattered on the floor.
Neither of them noticed.
The taste of her lips had his blood pumping furiously. “I’ve been so hungry for you, Ruby. Starving,” he muttered against her lips, then inside her mouth, as he feasted.
“Oh, Quent. It’s been so long.” She kissed him back with a fierceness that surprised them both. “So long.”
His hands were at her shoulders, pressing, kneading, then moving along her back, igniting fires everywhere they touched. And they touched her everywhere. He couldn’t seem to stop. He had this frantic need to fill himself with her. His hands, his mouth, his body and soul.
He breathed her in, feeding his starving lungs.
And he tasted. The softness of her lips. The delicate skin of her throat. He heard her little sigh of pleasure as she arched her neck for more of his openmouthed kisses.
Oh, the press of his lips was the most exquisite feeling. How had she lived so long without it? With each movement, as his lips burned a trail of fire along her shoulder, she couldn’t hold back the little sighs and moans that escaped.
He couldn’t get enough of her. He tasted, nibbled, devoured. His mouth moved lower, to the soft swell of her breast. When his lips closed around her already erect nipple, the sound that issued from her throat was unlike any he’d heard before. A low, guttural groan of pleasure and pain and need.
Impatient with the satin fabric that acted as a barrier, he tore it aside, shredding it into tatters.
They were beyond caring.
His hands and mouth moved over her, suckling, feasting. Arousing. Igniting fires that smoldered and burned.
But still it wasn’t enough.
She wrapped herself around him and kissed him until her lungs were aching. Instead of coming up for air, she took the kiss deeper.
He felt the madness taking over, sweeping him along. He lifted her and drove her back against the wall. And still their mouths mated.
Impatient, he pushed aside her skirt. His hand found her, hot and wet and ready as he drove her to the first peak.
She was rocked by tremors. Her whole body seemed to erupt. Dazed, she could only cling to him as he took her on a dizzying ride. But before she could clear her mind his mouth had found her breast again, and she was climbing, climbing.
In her eagerness to touch him, all of him, Ruby fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. In her frustration she ripped several loose, then slid it from his shoulders.
When she pressed her mouth to his chest he groaned with pleasure. The feel of her lips and fingertips on his flesh was driving him mad.
“I need to feel you, Ruby. All of you.”
He tore away the last of her gown and petticoats, then unbuckled his gun belt and shed his clothes. They dropped to their knees, with only their discarded clothing as a cushion on the hard floor. And then they were lying together, and he was kissing her, touching her in ways she’d only dreamed of.
His mouth left hers to burn a trail of fire down her body.
“Quent.” Her voice betrayed her shock and surprise. “What are...what are we doing?” she managed.
“Pleasuring ourselves. Oh, sweet heaven, I hope I’m giving you as much pleasure as you’re giving me.” He felt as if he’d entered the eye of a storm, and was being buffeted by wind and rain. The need was building, building, and he was helpless to hold it back any longer.
“I can’t be gentle.” His voice was thick with need. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“I don’t want you to be gentle,” she whispered. She’d lost all attempt at control a long time ago. Now she felt wild and free. “I just want you.”
“Oh, Ruby.” His mouth fused with hers. His wonderful, clever hands moved over her, taking her beyond any place she’d ever been before.
“I’ve tried so hard not to want you,” he muttered. “But I’ve been lying to myself. Look at me, Ruby. Look at me,” he whispered hoarsely, gripping her face between both his hard, callused hands. “I want you to hear this and remember.”
Her eyes, blurred by a red mist of passion, cleared, then focused.
“I’m sorry for anything I’ve ever done to hurt you. I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you. Do you understand?”
But she was beyond understanding. He could see it in her eyes. And so he had to tell her. Precisely. Carefully.
“Nothing matters anymore. All I know is that I love you, Ruby. That’s what matters. You’re what matters to me. I love you. Only you.”
Love. His declaration pierced her heart, leaving her shattered.
She clutched at his head and, to keep from weeping, covered his mouth with hers. “Then love me, Quent. Love me now.”
He entered her then, and she rose up to meet him. In a frenzy they came together, clutching frantically, rocking. He plunged into her, deeper and deeper.
This was what he’d been craving, needing. Ruby. Only Ruby. Loving him. Letting him love her.
He cried out her name as the shudders racked her. Then he followed her, exploding until his body was limp and drained.
They lay in a tangled heap, their breathing still ragged, their heartbeats still unsettled.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“Not as much as I’ve missed you.”
They were lying together on the chaise, where Quent had carried her after the storm inside him had subsided. He felt calm now. Pleasantly sated. And filled with so much love for this woman in his arms.
“So much has happened. To you. To us. To this.” He swept a big hand to indicate the room. “I like your shop, Ruby. I like what you’ve done in here. You’ve turned this simple room into your home.”
“
Oui
. It feels more like my home than Papa’s big ranch ever did. It is the first, the only thing that is completely mine.”
Oui
. It feels more like my home than Papa’s big ranch ever did. It is the first, the only thing that is completely mine.”
“The room smells like you. Sweet, dusky, wonderful. What is it?”
“In the bayou we call it potpourri. I keep it in a dish in each room.”
“Um. Sounds mysterious. What does it mean?”
She laughed, and he thought how much he’d missed the sexy, throaty sound of her laughter. “It sounds much better in the French than in the translation. It means rotten pot.”
He grinned. “You’re right. I like the sound of potpourri better. What is it?”
“It is a mélange,
chéri.
A mixture of many things. Flowers, herbs, spices. But mostly roses. I love the fragrance of roses.”
chéri.
A mixture of many things. Flowers, herbs, spices. But mostly roses. I love the fragrance of roses.”
“I never gave much thought to it. But now I love it, too.” He breathed it in, then pressed a kiss to her hair. “It reminds me of you. It will always remind me of you.”
She moved, shifted, until her lips found his. Against his mouth she whispered, “We feel right together here in my room.”
“We are right together, Ruby. Not just here. Everywhere. I’ve had a long time to think things through. There’s so much—”
His head came up at the sound of a gunshot. He swore softly as he sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “Probably nothing more than some damn fool rancher who can’t hold his liquor. But I have to see to it.”
“Don’t go, Quent. Let Arlo take care of it.”
He pulled on his pants and slipped into the shirt, idly noting the missing buttons. “Arlo couldn’t shoot fish in a barrel.” He sat down on the edge of the chaise and pulled on his boots, then strapped on his holsters and checked his pistols. “Want to walk back with me? The social should be winding down soon. Then all I’ll have to do is pick Beau Baskin out of the dust and lock him up for the night.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You go. I think I’d like to wash up and repair the damage to my gown.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at the heap of clothes that littered the floor.
“I’m not.” She stepped naked from the chaise and walked to him, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes go dark with the quick flare of passion.
Quent felt his throat go dry, and wished he’d never heard that gunshot, especially when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a thoroughness that had him straining against her.
“Are you sure you have to leave?” she whispered.
“Oh, God.” He’d known there was an imp in her. He’d seen it in her eyes. Tasted it on her lips.
“I’ll be right back. As soon as I...” He kissed her once, twice, three times before he managed to turn away and stagger to the door. “As soon as I can take care of a couple of obligations.”
He pulled the door open and cautioned himself not to look back, or he’d be lost. Outside, he took several deep breaths, then started up the street.
With a satisfied smile, Boyd Barlow stood in the shadows and watched until the marshal disappeared.
It had been even easier than he’d expected. He’d seen Quent Regan leave the hall with the woman, had followed them here to this little shop. He’d seen their silhouettes in the darkened window, knew exactly what they were doing. That’s when the idea had come to him. He had the perfect way to avenge his brother’s murder. And it had been Quent Regan himself who’d given him the answer.
The damned fool marshal had gone soft on a woman. What better way to get to him than through her?
He’d waited until the lantern was shining inside the shop. Then he’d run to the end of the street, behind the livery, where he’d fired off a shot. He knew his quarry well. Knew that Quent Regan wouldn’t neglect an obligation to the town, even if it meant sacrificing his own pleasure.
And Marshal Regan had done exactly as he’d expected, hurrying away within minutes of the gunshot.
The outlaw took the badge out of his pocket and pinned it to his shirt. Then, with a confident grin, he sauntered up to the shop and knocked on the door.
Ruby tied up her hair and washed in a basin. Then, humming a little tune, she slipped into a clean gown and brushed her hair long and loose before picking up the remnants of her clothing scattered around the floor.
“Oh, my,” she said with shaky little laugh. She was still dazed at what had happened between her and Quent. It had been...magic. There was no other explanation for it. One minute they were ignoring each other, or trying desperately to. The next they were caught up in a wild dance of desire that had left her breathless.
“I’d better get these things mended before Patience sees them and asks for an explanation,” she muttered aloud.
She padded barefoot into the shop and located her needle and thread. But before she could return to her sitting room, there was a knock on the door.
Her lips parted in a smile as she hurried to answer it. “That didn’t take you as long—”
She arched a brow. The man standing there was a stranger.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” she said. “My shop is closed until morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Boyd gave her his best smile. “I hate to bother you. But I’m just in for the town social. I have to leave first thing in the morning. And since I’m an old friend of Quent Regan’s, I thought maybe you’d make an exception.”
“A friend of Quent’s?” She stared at the badge pinned to his shirt. “I see you’re a lawman, too.”
“Yes, ma’am. Homer Johnson. And you are...?”
“Ruby Jewel.”
“Yep. That’s what Quent said.” He glanced beyond her, his gaze sweeping the room. “Quent said you could probably help me with a—” he caught sight of the gowns hanging along one wall “—a dress for my wife.”
“Oui.
A dress.” She stepped aside, permitting him entrance. “I suppose, since you are a friend and fellow lawman, it wouldn’t be polite to turn you away.” She started toward the row of gowns. “Do you have an idea of size and color?”
A dress.” She stepped aside, permitting him entrance. “I suppose, since you are a friend and fellow lawman, it wouldn’t be polite to turn you away.” She started toward the row of gowns. “Do you have an idea of size and color?”
When he didn’t answer she turned. He was leaning against the closed door. In his hand was a very deadly looking gun.
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