Ruby by Ruth Langan Page A

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