Revenge Wears Rubies

by Renee Bernard

  “Haley, hold . . . I’m going to—”

  But this time, she wasn’t going to let him stop her. This time, Haley wanted to experience all of him. She wanted to drink his very essence and savor her lover’s crème. Like a starving child, she wasn’t going to be denied this sweetest of sweets, and Haley simply clung to him, moving ever faster, until she knew he couldn’t deny her what she desired.

  He came in luxurious hot jets, and she drank from him, relishing the delightful heat of his body, draining him completely until she was sure she could taste his rapture.

  He knelt in the bathtub, pulling her down with him into the water, so that she was lying atop him, his breathing heavy and hard.

  “That was wonderful,” she sighed.

  “I’m sure I was about to say the same thing,” he noted with a wicked smile of satisfaction. He kissed her, lightly at first, but then it was a soft whirlwind as new tendrils of hunger spawned and strengthened inside them both. Her hand slid down under the surface of the cool water and encircled his cock, and Galen was amazed at how quickly his body responded, the familiar heat invoked without effort, as his already sensitive penis began to stiffen and swell once again.

  The water gave him an advantage, allowing him to shift her underneath him with her head on a cloth on the edge, buoyantly floating her hips up to meet his. Her legs parted, and Galen lifted her calves up onto the sides of the tub for leverage and positioned himself until he could reach down and tease her with the head of his cock. The bath augmented every moment but also slowed them down with gentle resistance, and Galen watched her face as her sex grew slicker and slicker at his ministrations. She tried to buck her hips upward to catch him, but he wouldn’t allow it.

  He pressed forward only as far as her entrance, watching her taut lips grip him, each small thrust making her shudder with need, and she arched her back and Galen buried himself inside of her, ramming his cock home only to grip her hips and hold her there while he allowed his mind to catch up to his body. The coolness of the water made her core seem molten, and Galen closed his eyes at the magic of it.

  “God, you’re so hot inside . . . a man wants to die in this kind of fire, woman.”

  Her muscles clenched him, and he felt her excitement re-coat his cock in a silent invitation to take all that she offered—and more.

  “Haley, I must have all of you.”

  “Yes.”

  She was on the brink of release but felt no frenzied race to finish what he’d started. Every nerve ending was singing, and Haley felt a languid bliss like no other. He stood in the water, carefully bracing his feet against the sides of the tub, and held out his hand to help her to hers. Like a mermaid rising from the seas, she moved proudly out of the water, relishing the way his eyes roamed over her skin and lingered on her breasts and mons. His open appreciation of her charms sent a new wave of shimmering heat down across her skin to pool between her hips.

  She anticipated his desires, and when he turned her and placed her hands on the smooth lip of the tub, she sighed in anticipation as she bent over and spread her legs for balance. It will be like the carriage—only better . . .

  At the unexpected sensation of warm oil pouring into the crease of her bottom, Haley gasped. But when his fingers slid across her bottom, circling each ripe curve and then sliding against the folds, she gave into the hypnotic feel of his large hands working her flesh and finding every responsive part of her.

  Haley closed her eyes as more oil followed, and his thumb circled the tiny pucker there, pressing it and allowing her to adjust to his touch on this most intimate of portals. His touch was relentless but gentle, and she groaned at the surprising thrill it was giving her.

  His right hand slipped around her hip and then down over her velvet soft curls to reach her clit, and Haley opened her legs even wider to seek more of his touch. The oil had coated her, but he dipped his fingers inside of her core to ensure that she was fully aroused. Then his fingers gently squeezed the skin over her clit, sending an electrical arc of fire and desire across her skin, and Haley tilted her hips to try to give him the access he needed.

  Galen’s fingertips began to flicker against the tight bud of her clit, the friction made delicious by the slippery oil and her own juices—all the while, he’d never neglected her bottom, and Haley began to want more of him there, too. She groaned as the coil inside of her began to slowly tighten, and Haley marveled at his powers to command her body to respond to his.

  Then the pressure changed, and Haley realized that the swollen head of his cock had taken his thumb’s place, and she started to stiffen in surprise. “Galen, I—”

  “Haley,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing, “I . . . must have all of you.”

  “Yes.” She dropped her head in a sigh, giving in to all of it, aware only that she trusted him completely.

  His fingers moved faster over her clit, each time barely brushing over the tip only to jostle the nerves beneath until she was sure she would climax. And when the large ripe head of his cock breached her, the cascade began. But this time, it was a tangled spiral of pain and pleasure blending until she thought she’d faint as she climaxed against his fingers as his cock pressed deeper and deeper inside of her.

  It was like the first time, as her body adjusted to the invasion, accepting the heat of him and slowly stretching to accommodate him. The oil made him slick and he began to ease forward and backward, demonstrating once again how this simple movement could provide her endless fulfillment.

  Her climax echoed on as he drove into her with languid, careful strokes timed with the spasms of pleasure that edged into pain. He teased her clit and then penetrated her with two fingers, matching the rhythm of his cock, and Haley cried out as her release suddenly increased its speed, racing past her control, growing stronger and stronger instead of ebbing as she’d expected.

  At her cry, he held onto her hips with both hands, as his cock seemed to demand that he work the tighter passage in earnest. Galen groaned behind her, and Haley could only clutch the porcelain surface of the bath as the sweet wash of his crème splashed up inside of her, adding another dimension of fire to the moment. She was so tight and full of him in such an impossible way that she wondered who could ever have imagined such bliss in the first place. She knew the taboos, but he’d shattered her reserve and she felt like a woman adrift. How can something so odd be such a slice of paradise?

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly, withdrawing very slowly but with more ease as his cock’s girth had naturally lessened.

  “Yes—No!” she answered quickly, hearing the surprise in her own voice. “I mean . . . I . . . liked it.”

  He bent over her and placed a kiss reverently on each cheek before helping her to straighten. He used a bathing pitcher to pour water over both of them, and Haley laughed as the cool water sluiced across her skin. Within seconds, the evidence of their lovemaking was washed away, and Galen poured an extra pitcher over his own head. “You make a man dizzy, just looking at you, Haley.” He pressed the excess water from his curls. “Especially like that.”

  “Like this?” Haley glanced down, unsure if disheveled and wet could garner any man’s truthful praise or if he was teasing.

  “Wet and wanton, shameless and beautiful”—he stepped closer to her—“I could look at you forever.”

  He pulled her against his chest and held her in a simple embrace, so caring and complete. She closed her eyes at the thrill of his body to hers in quiet communion. But at last, he released her to begin their exodus from the bathtub.

  He climbed out first, wrapping a towel around his waist, then helped her out to sit on the edge of the tub. Without preamble, Galen gently began to dry her with the towels he’d set aside, and she started to blush at the domestic act—so tender and unexpected.

  He lightly pulled the dry cloth around her back and down her arms and legs, across her breasts, lingering wherever his touch elicited a quickened breath or a sigh, and Haley closed her eyes as he par
ted her thighs and the warm cloth dipped even there, and she shuddered as his hand lingered long enough to reawaken the tension between her hips. Haley reached down to still his wrist, her eyelashes fluttering open as she realized what was happening. “Galen . . . you should stop . . . I’m . . . I don’t think I can . . . again . . .”

  He shook his head. “Come again for me, Haley.”

  He knelt before her, then put her hands over his to ensure that she was indeed still in command. “Let me give you pleasure.”

  Galen used a damp cloth and continued to follow the shape of her open sex in the lightest stroke, while his index finger offered a teasing whisper of pleasure alongside the hidden core of her, never pressing her directly, but tormenting her with a phantom hand across her clit.

  It was a long, slow release, almost elegant in its structure, so fragile and perfect she wept. Galen pulled her down into his arms and kissed her, as gently as if she were made of glass, a fragile, fey creature he’d somehow captured and now hoped to keep.

  It was a sweet kiss, and her lips parted under his at the first touch of his satin soft skin to hers. His tongue barely touched hers, and even this careful contact heightened her craving to submit to him again and again. But this time the yearning was familiar and comforting, and Haley clung to him and the knowledge that she alone possessed his heart.

  He wrapped her up in long Turkish towels and carried her back to the bedroom where his large bed awaited them.

  “Galen?”

  “Yes,” he said, kissing her forehead as they settled against the pillows.

  “Before . . . when you spoke of the trick with the lines on my hand . . . you said it hadn’t worked.” She propped herself up on one elbow to look into his smoldering emerald eyes. “But it did. I had never known what it was to love before I met you.”

  His expression was unreadable. “How is that possible? That I am the first . . . There must have been—there was someone else. You’re too beautiful not to have known love before now, Haley.”

  “I know my own heart, Galen.” She laughed, playfully kissing the stubborn line of his jaw. Haley wondered briefly if it were possible for him to harbor any jealousy at all toward poor Mr. Trumble, but dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. “Why is this so difficult to believe?”

  “I think you’re telling me that I’m the first to win your heart, because you suspect it will mean more . . . but you needn’t. If you admitted that you had loved someone else—”

  “I haven’t!” She kissed his cheek again, then gently nipped his ear with her teeth. “My poor Galen. I can only guess that someone has hurt you to make you so wary even now. . . .”

  He didn’t answer, instead reaching up his hand to gently draw his fingers over her cheek and down her throat, as if studying her features to memorize her in this moment. Haley took courage in the tender caress, amazed at his solemn approach to the topic, and spoke before her practical mind could rein in her tongue. “I love you, Galen.”

  He kissed her, so tenderly and so thoroughly that she could feel her eyes overflowing with tears of joy, her emotions too close to the surface to hide from him. He drew her close, into the crook of his arm, to nest alongside him again, and Haley knew that all the happiness she had once disavowed had come to her a thousandfold with Galen’s love.

  His breath evened out, and she sensed him sleeping soundly at last. She lingered in the warm pocket their bodies had created in the large, soft feather mattress, marveling that such simple comfort existed. To lie in his arms and know such peace, it had been beyond her imagination only weeks earlier.

  He’d saved her life. Only hours ago, he’d stepped in front of a knife-wielding monster, as calmly as a man stepping forward to claim a carriage. It didn’t seem possible. More frightening than the strange-looking knife was Galen’s cavalier attitude toward his own safety—as if he valued himself as nothing.

  I love you, Galen. You are everything to me.

  A large clock somewhere in the house softly chimed the hour, and Haley realized with a start that it was three o’clock in the morning. She’d never intended to stay so late. Newly aware that the cook often arose around four, Haley knew that even with her key, she didn’t want to press her luck.

  Still, it was hard to go. She carefully eased away from him, determined not to disturb his slumber. The moon was bright enough through the open curtains to illuminate the room in a cool wash of magical gray and ivory shadows. She slid her feet over the side of the bed and began to retrace her steps to the dressing room and adjoining bath to retrieve her clothes.

  Behind the door, it was easy enough to reconstruct her clothes and put back on all the layers that Galen had so skillfully removed. Haley congratulated herself on wisely beginning to choose dresses that she could manage on her own without the aid of a second pair of hands. She stepped into her shoes and then rolled her still damp hair up into a simple chignon.

  Walking back into the bedroom, she watched him sleep for a few moments, admiring his masculine beauty as he lay across the bed with the moonlight touching his back and showing off his physique.

  She glanced at a small writing desk against the windows and decided to pen a small love note to excuse her lack of a farewell and reassure him that she would seek him again as soon as she could manage it.

  She slid open the wide drawer underneath the leather pressed table and pulled out a sheath of paper, but as she lifted it to look for a blank sheet she could use, her heart began to pound out of control.

  It was a caricature, like one saw in the Times, well drawn but deliberately crude and bawdy to catch the eye—and its subject was unmistakable. Like a nightmare, her initials appeared underneath the rendering of a dark-haired woman tossing up her skirts as she was climbing from one sorrel pony’s saddle to another sturdier-looking mount, even as another stallion pawed the ground in the background. The captions were horrifying—identifying each horse as another man she’d chosen “to ride to the bank,” and a man on the ground looking up the woman’s skirts no doubt in the guise of helping her to keep her balance proclaimed she was the “finest rider in all of England—or I’ve never seen a fortune-hunting gel!”

  Fortune-hunting whore.

  It was graphic and base, and—Haley stopped breathing for an instant as she saw that a note of submission to the Times was attached to it with Galen’s signature.

  She dropped the papers to the floor, stunned by a pain so intense her knees buckled. Haley gripped the desk to maintain her balance and closed her eyes to try to shut out the image of the bright-cheeked whore laughing up at her from the floor.

  A wave of nausea nearly overtook her, but it held no power against the icy wall of agony that had moved into her chest.

  I told him I loved him. I . . . oh, God . . . what have I not willingly and blindly done for this man? And he . . .

  Her mind couldn’t fathom it. It was a betrayal so hateful and shocking that she wasn’t sure what to think or do. The ice began to numb her and Haley was grateful for it. She looked back where he was lying, still so breathtakingly handsome, and wondered why she wasn’t weeping.

  Later. I’ll have all the time I need to cry, won’t I?

  Haley moved toward the bed, almost touching his hand, but she pulled her fingers back at the last instant. She stood absolutely still and waited for the strength she needed to leave him—and then she turned and walked out.

  Galen sighed as the last blissful layer of sleep began to drift away, and he stretched out against the pillows trying to will himself back into the glorious dreamless rest he’d been having. But even that brought him closer to a state of consciousness as the realization of what had just happened slowly sank in.

  I slept. Merciful gods, I slept! And not that restless soulwearying, nightmare-filled semblance of sleep! His eyes flew open. This was real! No dark dreams! No green tea with Bradley at four o’clock in the morning!

  He sat up quickly, multiple questions hitting him at once. It was Haley who had done it, and
he was seized with the need to tell her. Bright light streamed through the windows and he wondered how late he’d slept—and more importantly, where was Haley?

  “Haley!” He called for her, grabbing his wrap to head for the dressing room and see if she was there. “Haley?”

  There was no sign of her in either the dressing room or the bath, and he hurried over to the bellpull to summon Bradley, yanking it with a humorous vigor that was sure to send the poor man running. Galen smiled at the image, elated beyond words at his newfound sleep, but determined to share his joy with Haley as soon as possible.

  Enough of this! I love the woman and I’m going to find her and tell her—and when Michael tries to give me that knowing look, I’ll ignore the hell out of him! I should have told her last night when—

  Galen spotted the papers on the floor by his desk, and the world ground to a horrific stop. On wooden legs, he made his way over to the familiar pages and then had to remind himself to breathe.

  The damning caricature lay on the carpet, and Galen knew it was over.

  She was gone.

  Chapter 20

  Before noon, the front bell at Galen’s brownstone was ringing ferociously. Bradley sheepishly led Mrs. Shaw inside to the ground floor drawing room but hadn’t needed to inform Galen because he’d run down the stairs taking them two at a time in the wild, irrational hope that Haley had returned.

  “Mrs. Shaw.” Disappointment tainted his words, but Galen knew that the time had passed for prevarication. Her appearance was a harbinger of the worst kind, and he tried to brace himself for the inevitable. “I can only imagine what you must think of me.”

  “Oh, you’ll have no need for suppositions, young man,” she replied tartly. “I have every intention of telling you exactly what I think of you!”