A Very Ruby Christmas Read online

  His cock slid between her legs, replacing his finger, not entering her, just rubbing against her, the friction delicious.

  Her head fell back. She stared up at the ceiling, at the ring that had held her, every piece of her searching for that peak that lay just beyond her reach.

  He pulled back, thrust forward, thrust home.

  It was too much. She felt it coming, felt it begin—and then an unbelievable burn. The clip fastened hard upon her breast. The sensation that had already filled her grew and magnified. She was nothing but feeling—the pain pushing her higher until she was nothing but an endless sea of pleasure and light.

  Each time he filled her the waves crashed, and each time he pulled back the waters receded, only to grow and crest and crash again. Wave after wave after wave.

  She heard his name.

  She heard her own.

  She knew she screamed but could not have said which voice was her own.

  And then the storm stilled and she felt a flood of peace she had never known.

  She knew he lifted her, carried her, laid her on the bed that had been in the corner all along, but still she floated on the tides of pleasure as each wave stilled and grew quiet.

  The bed was soft, but her still-sensitive body felt every wrinkle, every thread.

  Another wave of sudden pain filled her, as she felt the clip release. Her whole body stiffened and then relaxed as his lips fastened about her sore flesh, soothing it.

  She blinked, trying to find focus in the haze.

  A finger brushed the curls between her legs, the feeling so extreme she almost cascaded over again.

  “Are you ready to share your secret now, my love?” His voice was gentle even as that finger moved again.

  Her body jerked tight.

  More. She could not take more. Did not want more.

  With effort she lifted a hand, brushed his cheek. “Yes, I am ready to talk, ready to share all the secrets of my heart.” She pulled air deep into her lungs, let the feeling fill her. “I love you, Colton.”

  It was not the first time that she had said the words, and she knew it would not be the last, but this time there was special meaning attached to them. “I love you with all my heart,” she continued. “I want nothing more than to be with you every day for the rest of my life. That is the only secret I have; that is what fills my soul when I wake and again when I close my eyes at night.”

  He turned his head, smiling against her shoulder. His voice cracked as he answered her, the intensity of his feelings clear upon his face. “And I love you, my angel. Now and always. And I have one more treat for you.”

  Her eyes widened even as she turned on her side, curling into him, her body as limp as a tired kitten. “I don’t think I can take more.”

  “I think you can manage this.” He reached across the bed to the table and lifted the small bundle of leaves and berries. “Magical mistletoe.”

  She tilted her lips in a half smile. “You don’t believe in any such thing.”

  He looked down at her seriously. “Normally you would be right, but tonight I find myself ready to believe. Ruby gave it to me with a letter from Sarah Swilp, now Perry. It assured Ruby that Sarah had been given the mistletoe by a well-respected village wise woman. Apparently the mistletoe from this special vine on this holy tree ensures true love for those who kiss beneath it. Sarah sent it to Ruby in thanks for helping her find her true love—and Ruby was kind enough to give me a piece.” He held it up, over them. “Are you ready for forever?”

  Her eyes met his. “With you? Always.” She pushed up on an elbow and pursed her lips.

  He bent down and placed the lightest kiss upon them, no more than a brush of mouth against mouth. It should have been nothing, barely a kiss at all, and yet she felt it down to her toes, felt the connection with him, felt the ties that bound them grow even tighter.

  She pulled back slightly, her eyes startled. “Did you feel that?”

  He nodded once….

  Reaching up, she ran her fingers over his cheek. “Forever,” she whispered, then let her head fall to the pillow. “I am yours forever.”

  “And I yours,” he answered, lying down beside her and fitting her body to his.

  She relaxed against his warmth, encased in the love and safety that always surrounded him. She was more than ready for forever to begin.

  Chapter 4

  Ruby let out a small groan as she closed the door to the bedchamber behind her. Privacy. It had been a long day. Her sister. Thorton. Angela and Colton. The regular running of the house. Even on the best of nights there was always an upset or two to be soothed, a gentleman who questioned if he’d gotten his money’s worth or a girl who let her feelings run wild. And jealousy. There was always jealousy. Girls wanting the same patron. Patrons wanting the same girl. It never ended. And pregnancy worries. And disease. And…She would be glad to be done with it.

  But the smile she’d caught on Angela’s face when she peeked out from beneath her cloak as she left with Lord Colton, heading out to face the snow, made all the rest of it worth it. It had been late when they left, and Ruby was surprised they were not spending the night, but Colton had whispered something about Angela deciding she wanted her own bed, and Ruby was certainly not going to argue.

  There was something about one’s own bed.

  Although she was not upset to be sleeping in this great wide bed instead of her own much narrower one. Tonight she would leave that to her sister. Her “sister.” Her mind jumped every time she thought the word.

  She pulled off the sapphire earrings and dropped them on the table beside the high bed before taking off her dress and wig and climbing between the fine linen sheets. A deep sigh of relief left her as she fell into the cushioned mattress. Sometimes the simplest pleasures could bring the most joy. She burrowed between the many pillows, enjoying the scent of lavender that lingered from the wash. She was lucky that this chamber had not been taken for the night. It was often in use, and of all the rooms in the house it was her favorite.

  Madame Noir, the previous owner, had designed it for her lover, a wealthy duke. Ruby could have claimed it for her own when she purchased the house, but mostly at the end of a day she wanted the peace and privacy of the more sparsely furnished room she had chosen as her own. This was a room for lovers, with its high bed decorated in white and gold. Simple Emma Scanton had no need of such luxury—and Madame Rouge needed to escape from it.

  Still, it was nice on occasion. She wiggled to the center of the bed and stretched out, unable to reach either edge. Rolling on her side, she stared through the small crack in the curtains. With the candle still lit, it was impossible to see anything, but it was enough to know that the storm still blew. Derek would not be home tonight.

  Her mind traveled briefly to Thorton’s words about the Dawn’s Light’s arrival at the harbor. It was possible. She’d never known the man to directly lie, but she also wasn’t confident he’d spoken the whole truth. If Derek were here, he would have come to her. He’d never been a man for games—except for those she occasionally chose to play. But even then it was always her doing. The man really was happy with a quick fuck and cuddle.

  Well, perhaps not quick.

  And he’d be coming home after being away for months. Derek always had stamina; she could only imagine what he’d be like after such a long time away. She brushed a hand over one breast, feeling the linen of her chemise brush against her tight nipple. The hand moved further, dancing over her belly and coming to rest between her legs.

  The fingers stirred for a moment but then grew still. She wanted Derek. An orgasm would bring some relief, but it would not soothe the inner loneliness that had taken her these past days.

  Perhaps it was good that her sister had arrived. It would certainly help distract her in the coming days if Derek did not appear.

  Was the Dawn’s Light already at port? Why wasn’t he here? Could something have happened to him?

  No.

  She would ha
ve known if there was something wrong. She was not a superstitious woman, but she did believe that.

  And somebody would have sent word, wouldn’t they?

  Yes, they would have. She’d met several members of his crew, and one of them would have let her know.

  Unless something had happened to several of them.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  Now she was simply being foolish, letting Thorton’s words bother her. Everything was fine. In her heart she knew that was true. All she needed was faith, and her captain would come home to her.

  And she needed sleep. Tomorrow she would have to talk to her sister more and they would have to come to some decision. The true daughter of a duke could not take up residence in a brothel—even if the madame was her half sister. It would simply not do.

  But what was the alternative? If Jasmine insisted on keeping the baby, there were not many choices. Assuming the girl had funds, she could head off to someplace remote and pretend to be a widow, hoping that nobody would ever recognize her. Perhaps Ruby could take her on as a lady’s maid when she left with Derek. It was hard to get more remote than the Americas.

  She chuckled. Yes, that would be a fine world, one where her sister waited on her. And that wasn’t even considering how ridiculous a thought it was to have a maid of her own. Yes, there was always a girl here to help with her stays and ties or help curl her wig, but the idea of having her own maid seemed strange. Although perhaps if she chose to live in Rhode Island with Derek, she would be required to have one. And if she chose to live with him in her grandparents’ house and to take over her grandfather’s business? She might share a maid with her grandmother, but how different would that be than having one of her own?

  Her world was about to change, and she was not at all sure she liked it.

  But she was distracting herself from the problem of deciding how to deal with her sister—or was her sister distracting her from the problems of her future life? It was hard to know.

  Surely there was something more pleasant she could think of. Her problems would still be there on the morrow, no matter how she worked to solve them tonight. Pushing another pillow under her head, she thought of Derek’s smile, of how he would turn his face into the wind, letting his too-long hair blow back, of how he seemed to regard even the weather as a challenge that must be overcome.

  A smile of her own crossed her lips as her eyes closed and she drifted toward slumber.

  —

  Devils, it was cold out! Captain Derek Price knocked hard on the red door, hoping that someone would answer. It was late, but it was never too late at Madame Rouge’s. Gentlemen were welcome at all hours. Of course, they probably were not expecting many fools to be wandering about in a blizzard, and it was fast becoming one. The soft snow of early evening had given way to a mess of wind and snow and freezing slush. Without the wind it might not have been bad, but with the wind it cut a man to the bone.

  If he’d had an ounce of sense he’d have stayed on board the Dawn’s Light and waited until the morrow—but, then, he’d never claimed to have a lick of sense.

  He pounded again.

  Should he head round to the back? He’d never been that way, but there must be somebody awake in the kitchens.

  He was just about to turn when the door creaked open and Simms peered out.

  “Oh, Captain, I should have known it was you. Nobody else would be wandering about in this. You’re the only one—”

  “I was just thinking the same thing myself,” Derek answered, cutting him off. “Now, do you mind if I step in, before the hairs blow off my head?”

  “Well, I reckon Madame has a fondness for those overgrown locks of yours,” Simms replied, stepping back.

  Derek followed him, grateful for the warmth that immediately surrounded him. He grinned at Simms, feeling happiness rise within him. He was here; after all this time he was back.

  “Smiling like a fool you are,” Simms said, with a grin of his own.

  Derek almost asked what had gotten into the man. On all other occasions he’d been endlessly polite. This was quite a change in personality. It must be the hour, or the weather—or perhaps he simply liked Derek and was happy for Ruby. Probably the hour. “Can I show myself up? I do know the way.”

  “Certainly.”

  He started up the stairs.

  Simms cleared his throat and held out a key. “She’s in the duke’s room. There’s a guest in Madame’s chamber, and I imagine it would be an unwelcome surprise for all if you were to find your way there.”

  “The duke’s room?”

  “Yes. And I imagine that surprise will be much more welcome.”

  “I do hope so,” he said, and bounded up the stairs, eager to see his lovely Ruby.

  He strode down the hall, making each appropriate turn. He paused when he reached the door, stopping for a moment to let his mind fill with the image of Ruby, sleepy and pink, lying spread upon the bed, her ivory skin glowing in the candlelight.

  With an even bigger smile on his face, he unlocked the door and slid it open. He stepped in and blinked. So much for candlelight. The room was almost pitch black; only a sliver of light slipped through a crack in the curtains. And calling it a sliver was being generous given the weather.

  He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust and then stepped nearer the great bed—and almost laughed out loud at his image of a sprawled naked goddess. The only pieces of Ruby visible were three toes. He couldn’t guess how many quilts were on the bed, but she’d buried herself in them, and her head must be somewhere under that pile of pillows. Ruby had never been fond of the cold, but the room was far from frigid, and the bed looked as if she’d burrowed in to hibernate the winter away.

  Well, he’d never been a man afraid of work and was more than ready to dig her out.

  He slipped out of his boots and coat, pulled his shirt over his head, and prepared. Digging could be dirty work—very, very dirty.

  —

  Something tickled her toes. Ruby jerked them away, tucking them beneath the covers. Another tickle. Hmm. She rolled over, digging deeper into the blankets. She half-opened an eye and shut it again. Dark. Still very dark. She had hours left to sleep.

  Another stroke. Another tickle.

  She didn’t want to wake up, didn’t want to move, not even an inch. She tried to ignore it. Failed.

  She rolled the other way in the bed, for a moment wondering if the ghost of Galahad, her cat of years ago, had found his way into the bed. Her toes were cold. Somehow in all her rolling she’d twisted the quilts wrong.

  She pulled her knee toward her—only it didn’t come. The distinct feel of fingers formed about her ankle. A kiss landed on the arch of her foot.

  A scream rose to her lips, but she held it back, trying to understand what was happening.

  Another kiss, the scratch of a man’s beard on sensitive skin.

  Her mind raced, coming to wakefulness in a flash.

  Her heart beat fast and heavy in her chest. She fought for calm, for clear thought.

  An attacker? A lost guest?

  How had he gotten in? She knew she’d locked the door.

  Another kiss, this one on the inside of her ankle, just above the gripping fingers.

  Her mind sped onward. She would have heard if someone had broken the door, forced his way in.

  Simms? Could someone have attacked Simms and taken the key?

  Her muscles tensed, ready—prepared for fight or flight. A good kick to his nose should give her time for either.

  But…a kiss on her lower calf—and then a nuzzle and a lick.

  “Are you going to scream? I am waiting.” The deep voice resonated against her leg, sounding from low in the bed, under the covers.

  Her heart sped faster but for another reason.

  Derek! Derek was here.

  “Hmmm, I think I am too busy dreaming to scream.” She rolled slightly, coming to rest fully on her back. She closed her eyes and waited. />
  “That’s a rather disappointing response when a man breaks in, ready to rape and plunder. Not even one little scream?”

  “I think not. If you want a scream, you’ll have to work a little harder. I am used to being on my own. I don’t frighten easily. And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll head back to my dreams.” She closed her eyes, her lips turned up in a wide grin. His breath brushed against her leg, warm and delicious. God, it was good to have him home.

  “No respect, not a bit of respect. Well, if I need to work to make you scream, I suppose I’ll just have to act the man and get the job done.”

  The tickle of his beard against her leg. The stroke of a finger up the other leg, pausing just below the knee. His lips brushed her. His tongue traced a delicate pattern.

  Moisture pooled at the apex of her thighs, anticipation already building.

  Derek was home!

  He nibbled gently, his teeth scraping delicately against her tender flesh. He paused for a long time just below her knee, sampling each inch of skin.

  She squirmed, already eager for more, every muscle tense with anticipation. He moved to the folds on the back of her knees. On one side stroking softly with the pad of his finger, while on the other tasting, his tongue flicking quickly over tender flesh.

  It was becoming hard to stay still. Her hips rose from the bed. She wanted to reach down, to run her fingers through his hair, to pull his head up and kiss him as he deserved to be kissed—but even more she wanted this to continue, the mystery of the dark room, the sensation of his mouth moving up her skin, the feeling that anything was possible.

  She opened her legs slightly, the warren of blankets and quilts letting no cool breeze find her skin above the ankle of the single foot that had slipped free.

  Derek placed a hand on each knee and pushed them even farther apart. The blankets lifted as he moved. Now the breeze reached to just above her knee—and so did his mouth, as he settled himself mid-thigh, sucking hard. She would have a bruise, his mark, in the morning.