Ravishing Ruby

by Lavinia Kent

  But only if it was Derek. In truth she didn’t know what she would do if he was not interested. She wasn’t sure she could reconcile herself to another man, but neither was she sure that she could give up the dream of a family.

  Children. They were something she had never really considered before, but now slowly they were filling the corners of her mind that Derek did not already fill. The thought of strong, stout boys, looking out at her with their father’s eyes, and petite girls being swung up by a laughing man consumed her.

  But could she risk it all again? Was anything worth the sharp burn of rejection?

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Surety filled her. Yes. If she lost she would only be back where she was now, facing choices she did not want, but if Derek was agreeable…

  She would not think ahead, would not let either fear or hope rule her. Only this moment mattered. She walked to the small writing desk in the corner and lifted the quill, ready to dip it in ink.

  There was a knock on the door. She whirled about, pen still in hand.

  Why now? Why when she finally found her courage and purpose?

  Striding across the room, she swung the door open. “Yes?”

  Simms stood there, holding out a sliver of paper. “There’s a note, madam.”

  A note? She reached forward and took it without saying a word. A dozen possibilities ran through her mind as she refused to focus on the one she wished—only, only, it was, Derek had written. I’d like to talk. Tonight. Tell me where and when. I’d rather not meet at Madame Rouge’s.

  Her breath stopped. Indeed, her heart felt as if it would never beat again. Dare she hope?

  She placed the note upon the desk, grabbed the pen, and scribbled an answer below.

  Ten o’clock tonight. The warehouse.

  She did not sign it, but held it to her lips for the briefest of moments, sealing it with an unseen kiss.

  Another quick note to her grandfather.

  Handing both notes to Simms, she tried to find her breath again. That was done, now all she could do was wait.

  —

  Ruby stood inside the nearly dark building, the only illumination that of a single lamp placed upon the center table. It was strange to be here alone, at night—and still dressed as Madame Rouge. Always before, the room had been filled with filtered daylight leaking in through the high shutters. It was hard to decide if the chamber was eerie or beautiful. There was something in its stark silence and height that reminded her of the cathedrals she’d visited as a child, the tall shelves rising in long columns, the particles of dust floating in the dim light and the echoing silence.

  Would he come? She couldn’t believe she was back to this moment, to this waiting and wondering.

  And this hoping. She’d sworn she was done with hope, would live only in the moment, but how could she resist when he had sent the note? Granted, he might only want the chance to berate her, but…

  Don’t think about it. Wait. Just wait.

  She would find out soon enough what he wanted. At least, this time if he did reject her there would be no one to see. One of the footmen, Billy, had accompanied her, but she’d stationed him outside. He was to let Derek in, but no one else.

  The floor creaked and she turned, nothing. It must have been one of the army of cats kept to prevent mice from chewing at the precious bolts of fabric. She wondered if there were any kittens. As a girl there had been few things as delightful as skittering about after the tiny, furry creatures. She might need one if she needed to move to Cornwall after this night.

  Don’t think about that.

  Think about the kittens, her own Galahad and all the ones here. It had been worth her grandmother’s scolds over dusty skirts and dirty noses to hold the tiny, wiggling bodies, to feel as they relaxed against her, tiny hearts slowing as they fell into sleep.

  Those had been such wonderful days. Smiling softly, she let herself twirl in a circle, remembering how happy she’d been, how filled with wonder. This warehouse had been the best place in her world, a place of imagination and freedom. Her grandfather had never told her to be quiet or work more on her stitchery.

  How things had changed. How could he not see that he was the one who had made her want more, let her see beyond the edges of the woman’s world.

  “What changed your expression?”

  She jumped, the words coming out of nowhere, and turned to face Derek as he stood just at the edge of the lamp’s circle of light. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You looked so lost in your own world that I am not surprised,” he answered, taking another step forward so that she could see him fully.

  Swinging her arm up, she gestured about. “Did you know this was my castle and my kingdom when I was younger?”

  His head followed her motion. “No, but I can imagine.”

  “You can?” She had not expected that response, not that she’d expected this beginning to their conversation at all.

  “Yes. My family had a warehouse near the docks, as well. There was no place more wonderful; when I was small it was both mysterious and safe.”

  “You do understand. When I was here I could always find a space to dream, where a box could become a table, or a rock, or dragon.”

  “Perhaps that is where you get your desire for games of the imagination. I was partial to forts myself.”

  They were quiet then for a moment, the silence building about them.

  “I didn’t know about my grandfather’s plan—I still don’t. I can guess, but not be sure.”

  Derek stared at her for a moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I believe you.”

  “You do?” Did the leap of her heart sound in her words? Could it be that easy?

  “Yes.” And then a pause. “I admit my anger got the best of me at first, for reasons that were separate from what happened—a man does not like to feel manipulated—but afterward I remembered your face and it didn’t seem right. You have always been honest with me.”

  “Yes, I’ve told you things I don’t think I’ve ever shared with another.”

  “And if you had wanted to seduce me to marriage, it would have been far easier to do it as the innocent Miss Emma Scanton.”

  Did that mean he did not find Ruby suitable for marriage? It was hard not to look for meaning in every word that he said. “Yes, I am sure it would have. Although, I am not sure my grandfather could ever have convinced me of that.”

  His eyes grew even darker. “And now?”

  Chapter 25

  How to answer that? What did he want her to say? The whole idea was so unlikely that it was hard to make it real by putting it into words.

  Her gaze dropped down to the clean, swept floor. “I don’t know. I truly don’t.” She looked up at him again. “Sometimes I feel that I don’t know anything these days. I don’t understand what I want or even who I am. And I certainly don’t understand what my grandfather was doing. I’ve never even been sure if he knew about Madame Rouge’s or not. And now I have my answer. He definitely knows although he may never admit it.”

  “I don’t suppose he will.”

  “And I am not sure he had even thought about what would happen when he sent you to me. I do not deny that he was trying to influence what would happen, to influence you, but I am not quite sure that he had thought it through.”

  “You are probably right. It does seem a strange course to take—or an incredibly brilliant one. What man could resist Madame Rouge?”

  Smiling, she turned away and walked to one of the tables, opening a wooden box of buttons. She trailed her fingers through them, cool metal and smooth bone. “So what now? What did you wish to talk about?”

  He laughed, but without humor. “Can I take your words of a few moments ago? I don’t know. The world has not made sense to me these last weeks—and at the same time it has made perfect sense.”

  “That I do understand.” She lifted a handful of buttons and let them drop one by one.

  She felt h
im walk up behind her and held still as he placed a hand upon her shoulder, the fingers spread wide. “I do know that I want something.”

  “What of Anne?” Her voice quavered as she spoke.

  “I am done with Anne. Or to be more honest, she is done with me.”

  Her heart leapt again. “Truly?”

  “At least according to the announcement of her engagement this morning, her engagement to another man—although she forced me to be the one to break it off. She refuses to leave London and I am not willing to stay for her. That was what had me so angry when I came to the warehouse yesterday. I thought she was trying to force me to stay in London. She had never indicated that she was not willing to move to America. I thought she was trying to manipulate me—and of course she was. Just not in the way I imagined. I might have thanked her if I had known. So, yes, I am done with Anne, completely done.” It was impossible to mistake the weight and finality of those words.

  She leaned back into his hand. “Then I will do you the favor of talking of her no more.”

  His other hand came up and his fingers kneaded the tight muscles that ran from neck to shoulder. “So where are we now?”

  She turned then and faced him, staring up in the dim light of the flickering flame, looking for answers. “Where do you want us to be?”

  “Answering a question with a question. I want you.” His voice was gruff, his eyes filled with desire and need.

  Heat filled her belly. It would be so easy to press against him, to move that fraction of an inch that would bring her breasts in full contact with the hard contours of his chest.

  She slipped to the side, putting a couple of feet between them. “But which me do you want?” Her eyes met his and she smiled, slowly and carefully. “Madame Rouge, Ruby?” She reached up and unfastening the clips with practiced care, lifted the heavy wig and set it on the table, unmindful of the mashed mess her hair must now appear. “Or Emma?”

  “Or Afya or Rebecca or…?” he answered. “What if I want all of them? I simply want you.”

  “I don’t know if you can have all of them. I don’t know if the world will let that happen.”

  “I think I can have all the pieces that matter.” He stepped toward her.

  She stepped back, out of the circle of light. “I want that to be true.”

  “Then let it be. All you have to do is let it happen.”

  “You know it is not as simple as that.” She stepped back again.

  “Yes, I do know, but I firmly believe that if we accept what is between us then it will happen.”

  Another step into blackness. “But what is it that will happen? You still have not told me what you want. Marriage?” She forced the word out between frozen lips. “You seemed so upset by the idea yesterday.”

  He stopped at the edge of the circle of light, letting it halo around him. “Yesterday I was not myself. I was too upset by Anne to be thinking straight. But, is that what you want? Should Captain Derek Price marry sweet Miss Scanton and unite our two families? Will you come to Rhode Island and find your way in a whole new world, or do I stay here in London and help your grandfather with the business? I was not willing to stay for Anne, but I might for you. What do you want, Ruby?”

  “Why can I not run away with you, sail away with you? See all those parts of the world I’ve only read about?”

  “Or maybe I can bring you home and then head west. I begin to think I have more of a desire for adventure than for the sea. Would you like to help found a city or start a homestead? Do you want to see prairies and mountains and deserts and…”

  “Or perhaps we find my cottage in Cornwall and you can be my captain come home from the sea after all these years and we can sit on the porch and watch life go on.”

  “And name a dozen kittens for Arthurian knights?”

  “You know me too well,” she said. “There just are so many choices for what we can do.”

  “Yes, it is strange. Yesterday, I felt there were no choices and today they seem endless. And you have not even asked if I would help you with Madame Rouge’s, asked if I would simply be your man while you ran your business.”

  “I would not ask that of you,” she said after a moment. “You said you were done with Anne. I think I am done with Madame Rouge’s, not today or tomorrow, or even next month, but sometime soon. I have done what I wanted and it is time to move on.”

  “I am glad,” he answered. “I probably should not say that, and I have certainly loved Madame Rouge—and I do hope she will reappear from time to time, but I will be happy not to share you with a crowd of smiling men.”

  “You have never shared me with them.” She took another step back, still unsure. This all seemed too good to be true—and yet so dangerous.

  “Are you going to make me chase you? A game of hide-and-seek? Is that your next game?”

  A tingle spread through her body. There would be something to be said for it. She could easily imagine running between the dark aisles of shelves, hiding, still and quiet—and then being found. Hands running over her in the dark. Mouths meeting and pressing. Being lost in a world of sensation where only touch mattered.

  She shook her head and walked forward into the light. “No, not tonight. Tonight I want honesty and clarity between us.” She strode over to the table on which she’d placed her wig. “You say that you want all of me, then I must let you see what you are getting.” Reaching up, she began to pull pins from her hair until the fine blond strands danced just above her shoulders.

  He stood for a moment still staring out into the dark, then slowly he turned. His eyes followed her hands, followed each bit of hair as it fell and settled into place. She could feel the heat of his gaze, know how much he wanted her. Her thighs clenched with desire she felt in return. Beneath his gaze she was beautiful. Her heart swelled.

  “And do you want to see all of me? To know what you will receive?” he asked, shrugging out of his coat and throwing it on the table beside her wig.

  She swallowed. She wasn’t quite sure when the mood had changed, when passion had flamed and taken over from reason and words, but as she watched his muscles move beneath the fine linen of his shirt she could not bring herself to care. She dropped the last pin on the table and used her fingers to fluff her hair all about. His eyes still followed her every movement, their gaze as tangible as any touch. “Yes, I want to see you, all of you.”

  His hands rose to his collar, untying his neckcloth with a single pull. He started to toss it away and then hesitated. “I am tempted to tie you up so you will never escape.”

  She swallowed, feeling herself grow soft and moist. “I’ve never cared for bondage, never understood the allure of giving up power, but if you wish you can bind me however you like.”

  “I have no power with you,” he answered and tossed the neckcloth beside his jacket. “I have no need to pretend.”

  She swallowed. “I do know the feeling. Always I have been in control with men, understood the power of a licked lip, of a smile, of the bend that shows the extra inch of cleavage, but with you I find myself without pretense.” She reached behind and yanked at the simple laces that held her dress, glad that she had chosen a gown she could remove herself without a hook. The fabric pulled tight and then loose as the laces gave, and she caught the bodice before it could open and fall.

  “Perhaps that is why you like the games; they give you some place to hide.” His fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, revealing inch after inch of tanned, smooth flesh. Only a smattering of hair marred the satin of his skin.

  She was unable to look away. She had seen him before, seen every inch of him, but something was different this time, an honesty and nakedness she could not remember. Moving one arm, she let the dress fall a little. She shifted and let it fall a little more. Then, spreading her arms, she let it fall completely, leaving her only in her chemise and corset. Stepping slightly to the side, she moved until the lamp was fully behind her, knowing well the effect the light would have on the
already nearly transparent linen.

  His eyes swept up and then down her body, settling for a moment at the crux of her thighs.

  His chest expanded and held, his hands stilled for a moment before he began to move with speed, his fingers nearly ripping the buttons from their stitches. He shrugged out of the shirt, tossed it to the table. His fingers dropped to his breeches.

  She held up a hand, stopping him. “Let me look for a moment. Although I am not sure why, I feel as if I am seeing you for the first time.”

  “I feel the same—and yet also as if I have known you forever, as if I knew you as well as I know myself.”

  “Perhaps that is my problem. I am not sure that I know myself anymore. It feels as if everything is new.” She brushed one of the straps of her chemise aside, letting it fall so that her left breast was nearly bare, only the tip still covered by the sheer fabric.

  “You are so beautiful.” His voice choked out the words.

  She shuddered. Was there anything more powerful than seeing desire on Derek’s face? She knew she was an attractive woman, but only Derek made her feel like the most delicious creature ever born. She let the other strap drop; only her corset prevented the chemise from sliding to the floor. “Your turn.”

  His shirt landed on the table in a matter of seconds, the hard planes of his belly tempted her, the barest hint of the green dragon visible above the waist of his breeches. Her fingers curled with the desire to touch, to feel, to explore. How did he do this to her? Even after all the times they’d been together, it was hard to resist him, to find the willpower to wait even a single moment.

  She swallowed, her mouth dry. He had called her beautiful, but he was the one who was a work of art, the defined stomach, the curve of chest and arms, the satin skin over rock-hard muscle. Her body quivered with need, but she held strong, relishing the anticipation.

  He met her gaze, his eyes reading her desire. A slow flush marked her skin, the heat rising up her chest. There was no disguising how she felt and—her eyes dropped below the waist of his breeches—it was clear he felt the same.