Ruby

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Some of the men disappeared from time to time, to sip from a jug supplied by Beau Baskin. Of course, Beau had to take a sip for every one taken by the others. And very soon Beau’s eyes started to cross, and he was walking like a sailor on a rolling ship.

  When the music started, Pearl and Cal were the first to step onto the dance floor. Pearl, in the new pink gown supplied by Ruby, offered her hand to her handsome husband, and they began to move in a slow circle. Their two sons looked equally handsome in their new clothes, with their faces shining and their hair slicked back.

  Daniel and some of his friends stood to one side of the hall, eyeing the platter of cookies. Whenever they thought no one was looking, they would snatch another cookie, or fill another cup with punch.

  Fourteen-year-old Gil was too old for snitching cookies and punch. Besides, the minute he laid eyes on Birdie Bidwell, wearing her new frilly white dress, with her hair tied back in white ribbons, all he could think about was getting closer to her. And the only proper way for a boy to get close to a girl was to ask her to dance. So he did. And she floated around the room in his arms. It was the first time anyone in Hanging Tree had ever seen Birdie look anything but clumsy. In truth, she looked absolutely graceful, blushing and smiling up into Gil’s eyes, being held in his arms.

  Jade and Dan, on opposite sides of the hall, were still busy directing the social. Jade was folding the quilts that would be raffled off. Dan was trying to keep the men from slipping away to drink. But at the first strains of music, they looked across the room, then drifted toward each other and came together in a dance.

  Adam searched the crowded room until he located Diamond sitting with a cluster of women. Judging by the look on her face, it was the last place she wanted to be. Taking pity on her, he approached and said, “Want to dance?”

  She accepted his hand and got awkwardly to her feet. As soon as they were out of earshot she hissed, “You know I don’t dance.”

  “Want to go back and gossip with Lavinia and Gladys?” he muttered.

  She put a hand on his shoulder and allowed him to lead her to the floor.

  “Oh,” she said between gritted teeth, “I’ll be so glad when I can walk without waddling.”

  “You look beautiful,” he whispered.

  For a moment she merely stared at him. Then she said, “How can you say that? I’m fat and clumsy and ugly.”

  He drew her as close as her swollen middle would allow, and pressed his lips to hers. “Diamond, you’re so beautiful, you take my breath away.”

  She had to blink back the tears that sprang to her eyes. But she was flushed and radiant as she allowed him to lead her slowly through the dance.

  Ruby, watching from across the room, felt tears in her own eyes, as well.

  Beside her Patience said, “All three of your sisters look so happy. They’re positively glowing. And their husbands are so handsome, and so in love.”

  “Oui.” It was all she could manage over the lump in her throat.

  At a little gasp from Patience, Ruby turned to where her young friend was looking. Making his way across the room was Neville Oakley. His hair had been neatly washed and combed. And he was wearing a clean shirt and trousers.

  “Good evening, Miss Ruby, Miss Patience,” he said.

  “Good evening, Mr. Oakley. My, you look fine,” Ruby said with a smile.

  “Thank you.” His big hands hung at his sides. He was staring at Patience with hungry eyes. “You look as pretty as a sunflower.”

  Ruby glanced at the young woman beside her, who was blushing clear to her toes.

  “Will you dance with me, Miss Patience?”

  She nodded, too overcome to speak. He took her hand and led her to the floor. And as they started to dance, Ruby felt the lump in her throat getting too big to swallow. To some in the crowd, Neville Oakley probably looked like a big, clumsy giant, and Patience like a small, helpless waif. But to Ruby they looked like a happy, perfectly suited couple.

  “Beau Baskin had better watch himself now,” came the voice of Arlo Spitz. “Here’s the marshal. And he looks mad enough to spit bullets.”

  Ruby tore her gaze from Neville and Patience.

  Quent Regan stood framed in the doorway, studying the crowd. The anger his deputy had mentioned was evident in the frown line between his brows, and the tight set of his jaw.

  When he spotted Ruby he started across the room. She felt the pull of his dark gaze, and her heart started doing somersaults. Several times Quent was stopped by friends and neighbors. Though he paused to shake a hand, or offer a word, he continued making his way toward her.

  Mon Dieu. He was going to ask her to dance. Her heartbeat accelerated. She reached for a fan and began waving it frantically, in the hope of cooling her heated flesh. And all the while she watched him, feeling her cheeks growing more flushed with every step he took in her direction.

  “May I have this dance, Miss Ruby?”

  For a moment Ruby was too distracted to hear. But when the voice came again, louder, she turned her head. And felt a stab of bitter disappointment. Byron Conner was standing directly beside her.

  “Mr. Conner.” The fan slipped from her hand.

  The handsome young banker gallantly bent and retrieved it. She closed it and set it aside, just in time to see Quent, still watching her, pause beside Millie Potter.

  “Well, Miss Ruby? May I have this dance?”

  “Oui. Of course.” Flustered, she allowed him to take her hand and lead her to the dance floor.

  As they began to move together, she peered over his shoulder in time to see Quent take Millie’s hand and lead her onto the floor.

  Moments later they danced by, and Ruby heard the lilt of Millie’s laughter. And the deeper sound of Quent’s chuckle.

  It cut, sharp as a razor.

  “You’re a very good dancer, Miss Ruby,” Byron said. “And easily the prettiest lady in the room.”

  “Merci.” She forced a smile to her lips. But her voice lacked conviction. And she thought her heart was surely breaking. In fact, as she moved in Byron’s arms, she was certain she could feel the sharp, brittle shards as her heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

  The dance floor grew more crowded as the music became livelier. There were bursts of laughter as the musicians broke into jigs and reels, bringing even the most reluctant dancers to their feet. Even the frail widow Purdy, who seemed constantly at death’s door, lifted her skirts and set her feet flying through a jig. Afterward, she collapsed into a chair, laughing and blushing at the wild applause.

  Through it all, Ruby was forced to dance with nearly every man in Hanging Tree. All except one. Quent Regan, she noticed, had danced with every woman in the room. But he had steadfastly managed to avoid coming near her.

  Now, as another song ended and Arlo Spitz escorted her to a chair, he said, “How about some punch, Miss Ruby?”

  “Yes, please. That would be nice.”

  She picked up her fan, but before she could use it, Adam caught her hand. “Come on. They’re playing a reel. And Diamond says she’d rather sit this one out.”

  Ruby and her brother-in-law joined the other couples, clapping their hands, moving through the steps. But as the reel ended, the music began again, and Farley Duke announced that every man had to change partners and dance with the lady on his left. Adam turned to his left, Ruby turned to her right. And found herself face-to-face with Quent Regan.

  For a moment neither of them moved. Quent scowled, looking as if he’d been caught in a trap. Then, stepping closer, he reluctantly opened his arms. Ruby hesitated, and thought about running from the room. But everyone would see. And she would be the topic of discussion for a very long time to come.

  She could get through this, she told herself. It was, after all, just a dance. Lifting her hand to his shoulder, she began to move with him.

  At first their movements were stiff and awkward.

  “Looks like you’re having fun tonight.” Quent had never before n
oticed how small her hand was. And how cold.

  She lifted her head in that haughty way. “I am having a marvelous time. And you?”

  “Great. Just great.”

  Someone bumped them, and Quent felt the quick press of her body against his before Ruby managed to pull back. Heat jolted through him. God in heaven. His body was on fire.

  Ruby wished she had her fan. A moment ago she’d been cold. Cold and rigid with anger. Now she was far too warm.

  She struggled to think of something simple to say. Something impersonal. “I saw Beau Baskin passing a jug earlier.” The hand at her waist tightened. A barely perceptible move. But she felt it through every pore of her body. She could remember a time when that same hand had stroked, and aroused. Mon Dieu, she was nearly jumping out of her skin.

  “Beau’s probably lying in the street by now, dead drunk.” Without meaning to, Quent pressed his lips to her temple.

  Ruby’s hand tightened at his shoulder as she absorbed the tremors that exploded through her.

  “I’ll take Beau over to the jail in a while. Lock him up till morning so he can sleep it off.” With his lips in her hair, Quent could smell the sweet, earthy scent of her. It always did something to his brain. And his body. Right now his body was reacting in the worst possible way. The whole damned town could see him. And he couldn’t stop himself. Now that he was finally touching her, he could feel himself slipping.

  It had been so long. So damned long.

  The music ended, but Quent continued holding her, standing so still he looked like a statue.

  Arlo hurried up, holding out a cup. “I got that punch, Miss Ruby.”

  She seemed not to hear. She didn’t even look at him. And when he tried again, Quent growled, “The lady doesn’t want punch right now, Arlo.”

  “Well, yes. I can see...I guess...” The deputy gave them both a long, puzzled look, then drained the cup and hurried away for more.

  The music started again. A slow waltz. But though the couples around them circled and twirled, Quent and Ruby stood, barely swaying, just holding on to each other.

  “Ruby...”

  “Quent...”

  They spoke each other’s name in unison. Each stopped, flustered, waiting for the other to finish.

  Ruby’s face colored.

  Quent’s jaw clenched.

  He swallowed and tried again. “Would you like some air?”

  “That...that would be nice. Some other time. But I don’t think it would be proper to leave since Jade and Dan—”

  “For God’s sake, Ruby.” The words were wrenched from him. “Won’t you, just this once, take pity on me? I want you away from all these prying eyes. I want you alone. Now.”

  Her eyes widened. She looked up into his and could read a slow, simmering fury there. And something more. Something she hadn’t recognized until this moment. Anguish. Torment. The same torment she’d been suffering all these long agonizing weeks.

  She wanted to touch a hand to his cheek. But she dared not. One touch, and they’d both be lost. Instead, she lowered her head, avoiding his eyes.

  “Oui.”

  It was all she said.

  All he needed to hear.

  Chapter Eighteen

  They 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. Lo
ok 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.”