When she was assured that she had the right size, she stepped away to mark it down, grateful for the chance to move a little away and calm her labored breathing.
Quent, too, seemed deeply affected by this encounter. He stood, lifted the tumbler and took several long drinks of whiskey.
“Now your chest,” she said.
He set the tumbler on the mantel and moved his arms out stiffly at his sides.
Ruby had never felt so unnerved in her life. With Adam and Diamond standing to one side watching, and Quent staring down at her in that quiet, watchful way he had, she became aware of the fact that she was the center of attention. Like an actress overcome with stage fright, she found herself momentarily paralyzed. Then, forcing herself to move, she reached around his back and drew the tape firmly about his chest.
“My. You are...” She could feel her mouth going dry. Could feel her heart beating like a bird caught in a trap. She swallowed. Loudly. Her voice sounded unusually loud in her ears. “A very big man, Marshal.”
Her fingertips brushed his nipple, and he thought he’d die from the pleasure. If Adam and Diamond weren’t here... Oh, the thought of what he’d like to do was driving him around the bend.
Nerves had Ruby letting go of the tape. For a moment she couldn’t believe what she’d done. Then, biting back a curse, she dropped to the floor and fumbled around until she located it. She stood. And was forced to start over.
As her fingers guided the tape around his back under his arms, across his chest, Quent stood very still, enduring the sweetest torture he’d ever known. If he were to move his face just a fraction, his lips would brush her temple. The thought brought a rush of heat that left him weak. For what seemed an eternity he forgot to breathe. His heart forgot to beat.
“There. I have it.” She noted the size and jotted it down beside the others. “There is just one more measurement needed.”
He groaned inwardly. He wasn’t going to make it. If she touched him one more time, he’d lose whatever control he had left. And he’d embarrass her and himself by crushing her in his arms and kissing her until they were both breathless.
“Turn around, Marshal,” she commanded.
She’d never know how grateful he was to obey. At least, for the moment, the proof of what he was thinking would be hidden from view.
She measured from his neck to his waist. The hair at his nape tickled the back of her hand, and she drew away as though burned.
Quent, too, felt the tremor when her hand brushed his collar. Little pinpricks of pleasure shot along his spine. The thought of those long, slender fingers running through his hair had him closing his eyes.
He heard the rustle of her skirt as she moved away.
“All right, Marshal.”
He turned.
She kept her face averted as she busied herself at the table, returning everything to the little pouch.
For the space of several seconds he watched her, but she kept her lashes lowered, veiling her thoughts.
“Come on, Quent,” Diamond called. “Adam and I will ride with you as far as our place.”
Quent picked up the tumbler and drained it in one long swallow, then trailed the others to the door.
On the front porch Diamond and Adam kissed Ruby before mounting their horses.
Quent offered his hand. Ruby had no choice but to accept. The current that shot between them had the force of a bolt of lightning.
Though he frowned, he didn’t let go of her hand. “Good night, Ruby. Thanks for supper.”
“Good night, Marshal.” She prayed her legs would support her a little longer. Just until he rode away. “I’ll have your new shirt ready in a few days.”
“There’s no rush.”
She glanced down at the big hand holding hers. “I don’t mind. I’m grateful for the work.”
He released her hand and forced himself to take a step back. Feeling more in control now, he strode toward his horse and pulled himself into the saddle.
“Good night,” she called again.
As he urged his horse into the darkness, Quent turned for a last glimpse of Ruby, standing on the porch in a pool of lantern light.
Even now he could feel the touch of those hands, moving gently over him. And smell, in the clear night air, the fragrance of crushed roses.
Chapter Eight
R
uby flicked the reins, guiding the horse and rig along the dusty stretch of road heading into town. On the seat beside her, nestled between layers of brown paper to keep it safe from trail dust, lay the new shirt she’d made for Quent.
As she halted outside the livery, Neville Oakley lumbered forward.
“Morning, Miss Ruby.”
“Good morning, Mr. Oakley.”
He offered a hand and she stepped down, clutching the package.
“You look...pretty, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr. Oakley.” She gave him her brightest smile. “I won’t be long. I have to see the marshal, and make a quick stop at Durfee’s. There’s no need to unhitch my horse.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He waited until Ruby disappeared up the street. Then he unhitched her horse and began rubbing it down before leading it to a stall, where it was given oats and water. That done, he thoroughly cleaned her rig.
Nothing was too good for Miss Ruby Jewel.
Ruby paused at the site of her new building. Farley Duke was directing a group of workmen who were unloading a pile of lumber from a wagon. When he caught sight of her he waved before continuing with his chore.
Ruby waved back and continued to watch in fascination as the men struggled beneath the load of wood until it was formed into several neat piles.
“Oh, Papa,” she whispered. “Look at the wood for my shop.” Her heart swelled with a rare sense of pride. “The shop I am building in your town. No,” she suddenly corrected. “Not your town. It is my town now, as well.”
As she continued along the dusty street, her heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time.
Outside the jail she paused to greet Arlo Spitz.
“Good morning, Deputy.”
At the sight of her he set the broom against the wall and whipped his hat from his head. “Morning, Miss Ruby.” He eyed the package in her hand. “What brings you to town this morning?”
“Business,” she replied. The very sound of that word pleased her.
“With the marshal?”
She nodded. “Is he in?”
“Yep. But not for long.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice, to convey the importance of what he was confiding. “The marshal got word about a rancher and his wife found dead.”
“Here in Hanging Tree?”
“No, ma’am. About a week’s ride from here. A local sheriff found them. Sent word for the marshal to come take a look.”
“Are you going along, Deputy?”
Arlo puffed up his chest. “The marshal said someone has to stay here and take care of the folks in town.”
“Yes, of course. How foolish of me not to think of such a thing.” With a smile she swept past him and walked inside.
For a moment her smile disappeared as her gaze swept the empty cells and she recalled the night she’d been forced to spend here. Then she nudged aside the troubling thought. Today was a happy day. She wouldn’t allow a dark cloud to spoil it.
Finding the office empty, she glanced toward Quent’s private room. The door was open, and the shadow moving back and forth alerted her to his presence.
“Hello,” she called.
Quent’s tall frame filled the doorway. A bedroll was under his arm, and two fat saddlebags were slung over his shoulder. He carried a rifle in one hand.
“Good morning, Marshal. Arlo said you’re leaving to hunt outlaws.”
“That’s right.” He stayed where he was, drinking in the sight of her. “What brings you into town so early in the morning?”
“I wanted you to have your new shirt as soon as it was finished. But I didn’t realize...I mean...I don’t want to interfere with your work.” She set the package on his desk. “You can open this when you get back.”
“I’ll open it now.”
In quick strides he was across the room. He tossed his burdens aside and tore open the paper.
At first glance the shirt seemed ordinary enough. It was black, with black buttons. But when he touched it, he realized that she’d turned the fabric inside out, so that the tough outer sheen would wear like cowhide, and the soft inner nap would be against his skin.
“You...don’t like it.” She’d been watching his face. And she’d seen the way his eyes had narrowed slightly as he’d studied her work.
He didn’t say a word. Just removed his cowhide jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. And while she watched in astonishment, he stripped off his old shirt and shrugged into the new one.
In those few moments she’d had a chance to see again the hard, chiseled body, the ripple of muscle. Her throat went dry at the sight of him.
“I... made it larger than the measurements, to allow for sudden movements.” She was feeling suddenly shy. “I know that a lawman needs to draw his weapon, and occasionally engage in brawls.”
He bit back the smile that hovered at the corners of his mouth. He was beginning to see what she thought of his job. “Occasionally.”
“And I made the seams as strong as I could, so they wouldn’t give way.”
Now he was smiling. But he couldn’t help himself. “So, even if I’m knocked around and find myself bruised and bloody, my shirt will remain intact.”
She lowered her head. “I believe you’re mocking me, Marshal.”
He touched a hand to her cheek. “I would never mock you, Ruby. I was just having fun with you. I couldn’t resist.” He couldn’t resist moving his thumb across her lips, either, before he lowered his hand to his side. “It’s a fine shirt. And I thank you. Now, what do I owe you?”
“Fifty cents.”
“Fifty cents? What kind of price is that?” he demanded.
“That’s the price Rufus Durfee is charging for his shirts.”
“Durfee’s shirts are made out of old feed sacks,” he said irritably. “And this...” He looked up. “Where did you get this fabric?”
“I bought it in New Orleans. I was going to make a special shirt for my papa.”
“You probably paid more for the material than I’d pay for a good rifle.” He dug in to his pocket and unrolled several bills.
Seeing it, she shook her head. “I will take no more than fifty cents. It is only fair. Otherwise you could have bought your new shirt at Durfee’s Mercantile, and you would have had it days ago.”
“Ruby.” He pressed a bill into her hand and closed his hand over hers. “I really want to keep this shirt. But I won’t, unless you allow me to pay what’s fair.”
She continued to look troubled, though she finally nodded her head in reluctant agreement.
He surprised her by lifting her hand to his lips. She felt a rush of heat clear up her arm.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Now I really have to leave. But I’ll think of you whenever I wear this shirt.”
He tossed the saddlebags over his shoulder and tucked the bedroll under his arm. He picked up the rifle and headed for the door. But after only two steps he stopped, turned and walked back to her side. Without a word he circled her waist with the rifle and dragged her against him. His mouth covered hers in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it startled both of them.
She had no time to think, to formulate a defense. All she could do was stand there, being assaulted by so many emotions, she couldn’t even sort them out. Her lips warmed, softened and opened for him. And she felt herself drowning in wave after wave of pleasure as she returned his kiss.
He certainly hadn’t planned this. But now that it was happening, he wasn’t about to stop. In fact, he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. The heat was too intense. The need too overpowering.
He could feel her breath hitching, her pulse quickening, and knew he ought to pull back. Instead, he dragged her even closer, until he could feel the pounding of her heartbeat inside his own chest.
He cursed all these barriers between them. Saddlebags. Bedroll. A rifle instead of his open palm pressed to her back. But nothing could stop him from feeling. And with every movement of his lips on hers, the feelings intensified, until he thought about taking her here and now.
It was the warrior in him, he knew. He’d already been preparing himself for the thrill of the hunt. His blood was already hot for battle. But now, with Ruby in his arms, her taste warm on his lips, her exotic fragrance filling his lungs, he was sliding toward the very edge of some kind of madness.
It took all his willpower to stop. Lifting his head, he studied her through narrowed eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her moist lips thoroughly kissed.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” He nuzzled her temple and buried his lips in her hair. “But when I get back, we’ll try this again. And see if we can’t—” He shot her a quick, dangerous smile “—choose a better time and place to start a fire.”
He took a step back, then turned and stalked to the door.
This time he made it out.
Ruby leaned weakly against his desk. From outside she could hear him giving last-minute orders to his deputy. She closed her eyes at the deep timbre of his voice, still causing little explosions all along her spine.
She waited until she heard the sound of hoofbeats signaling his departure. Then she sank into his chair, willing her heartbeat to return to normal.
Ruby shaded her eyes as she watched the workmen swarm over the roof of her shop.
“That’s it, Miss Ruby.” Farley Duke couldn’t help swaggering just a bit. After all, he’d amazed even himself by finishing this job in half the time he’d predicted. “We can start on the interior tomorrow. You ought to be open for business in another week.”
“Thank you, Mr. Duke. That’s wonderful news.” She stood watching a few minutes longer. Then she turned away. She had a need to celebrate. But how? She smiled. She would ask Carmelita to prepare a special supper for her sisters and their husbands.
At the stable she waited while Neville brought her horse and cart.
“Thank you, Mr. Oakley.” Ruby gave him her usual bright smile as she accepted his outstretched hand and climbed aboard her rig.
“You’re welcome, Miss Ruby. Will I see you tomorrow?”
She nodded. “And soon, Mr. Oakley, you will see me here in town every day.”
Ruby flicked the reins and headed toward the ranch in a state of high excitement. There was so much to do. And much less time than she’d anticipated. For weeks she’d been working late into the night sewing as many ladies’ gowns as she could. She hoped, by the time she moved in to her shop, to have enough variety to tempt every woman in Hanging Tree to stop by.
A large shipment had arrived by stage from San Francisco, containing bolts of fabric, spools of thread and buttons of every size and color. And the lace for Millie’s tablecloth, napkins and curtains had arrived, as well. She had just now taken it to Millie’s for her approval, and was delighted with her response. Ruby suspected that she would probably find it much more difficult to make her fine, even stitches on the delicate lace. But the result would be well worth the effort.
She smiled, thinking how lovely it would all look in Millie’s boardinghouse. Perhaps, until the work was completed, she would hang it in the window of her shop, so that the other women of the town could admire the quality of the lace and drool just a bit. Yes, she would like it if they coveted her work.
She was so deep in thought, she didn’t notice the horseman coming toward her. Even when she did, she wouldn’t have recognized him had he not called out her name.
“Ruby.”
Her heart turned over in her chest at the sound of that familiar, deep voice. “Quent.”
As he drew near, she was shocked by his appearance. He looked like some sort of wild mountain man, with a growth of dark beard masking most of his features. But his eyes, when they focused on her, were clear and bright. And dancing with a wicked light.
“Now, how did I know you’d be the first thing I’d see when I returned to civilization?”
At his words a little thrill shot through her. “Maybe I planned it that way.”
His lips curved into a smile. “Are you flirting with me, Miss Jewel?”
She couldn’t help laughing. “And if I am?”
“A dangerous thing to do with a man who’s forgotten how to behave in civilized society.” He urged his horse closer, until he was near enough to touch her. “I want to see you. Tonight.”
At the intimacy of his words, she felt her heart leap to her throat. “You’re seeing me now, Marshal. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not nearly enough.” He reached out a hand and caught a tangle of her hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers. “I’ve had three weeks to think about you. About that kiss. About...things. And the things I’ve been thinking nearly drove me mad. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend a little time just looking at you.”
Her heart was hammering; the blood was throbbing in her temples. Even her laughter was strained and husky as she said, “Go ahead.”