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“When the boat stops later this morning, I’ll find something for Lily to wear.” The glance he shot in her direction was eloquent, and Lily was silent. “She needs to wear something that makes a man wish he owned her, but at the same time establishes her unavailability to those in the crowd.”
Ham’s eyes narrowed and he held up a hand in protest. “See here, Morgan. I’m not investing money in the girl so’s she can look like the picture on a box of candy and be just about as touchable. These men are willing to pay for the women they want.”
Morgan straightened from his relaxed stance and tucked one hand in his trouser pocket. “I’m buying her company for the rest of the trip downriver,” he said mildly. At Ham’s grunt of derision, Morgan smiled and showed the edges of straight, white teeth. He resembled a wolf about to attack, Lily decided, and apparently Ham thought along a similar vein.
“Long as you’ve got hard, cold cash, she’s yours,” the man said after a moment. “But you’ll pay a high price, Morgan. I’ve had several offers already.”
“This isn’t the place for this discussion,” Morgan told him, his voice a low, menacing growl. And then he looked once more at Lily. “I think the lady needs to voice an opinion on the matter.”
She looked down at the floor, wishing herself a million miles away, and was relieved to feel May’s arm around her shoulders. “Y’all need to leave the girl alone,” May said with a decided lilt in her voice. “She’s got more important things to think about right now. We’ve got music to work on.”
She waved long, graceful fingers in a languid movement at the two men and laughed, a dark, smoky sound. “Go on now. Out with the pair of you. You can settle your business somewhere else.”
Morgan nodded, his final look in Lily’s direction one of approval, she thought. At least his eyes warmed as they focused on her face, and she thought a small smile tilted his lips for just a moment.
“He’s smitten,” May said bluntly. “You must have given him quite a night of—”
“No.” The single word was a denial of May’s assumption, spoken softly but firmly as Lily met the other woman’s gaze. “I gave him nothing. Nothing but conversation and my company in his room until morning.”
May looked dubious, but laughed aloud. “Well, keeping him dangling seems to be working, sweetheart. Just don’t let it go to your head. One of these days, or nights, he’ll expect payment for his protection of you.” She smiled and bent her head, the better to speak in Lily’s ear.
“I’ve never heard of Gage Morgan buying a woman’s favors. You’re a first.”
“You know him?” Lily’s eyes widened as she watched May’s smile. The woman’s dark eyes flashed with humor, and she smiled openly, yet Lily would lay odds that they held an abundance of secrets.
“He’s been on the riverboat before, a couple of times in the past months.”
“Is he only a gambler? Or does he have another occupation?”
May shrugged idly. “Who knows? He gambles, but I have a notion he doesn’t need to, not for his spending money anyway. The girls would give their eye teeth to have him pay them a little notice, but he’s not that way.”
Lily nodded, her thoughts spinning as she considered May’s remarks. The man was not poor, of that there was no doubt. And yet he seemed to her to be more ambitious than his occupation would indicate. “Maybe he comes from well-to-do people,” Lily surmised.
“Well, it doesn’t matter much right now,” May said flatly. “This morning we’ve got a program to work up for you. Ham won’t let you sing center stage if the audience doesn’t take to you.” She motioned to Charlie, who had strolled back into the saloon from the deck outside.
“Let’s try a couple of ballads, Charlie. How about ‘Swanee River’? Do you know that one, Lily?”
“I think so.” In fact, it was a song she’d heard from childhood, one her mother had sung to her. “Let me try it.”
May stalked her, pacing in a circle as she sang, and Lily finally closed her eyes, the better to concentrate on the words that appeared in her mind as Charlie’s talented fingers moved up and down the keyboard. “Now let’s try ‘A Soldier’s Farewell,’” May said, and Charlie obligingly changed keys and began a short introduction.
Lily recalled the words as she waited for her cue to begin and then the music became merely a backdrop for her voice as Charlie played chords that supported the music she created.
“Lift one hand a bit. That’s it,” May said quietly. “Now touch the skin beneath your eye with the tips of your fingers. Just a whisper of movement, as if you might have shed a tear.”
Lily’s eyes flew open and she felt her throat thicken as the melody soared. A lace-edged handkerchief in her pocket was in her hand then, and the gesture she obediently performed bore fruit as a lone tear slid from each eye.
“You’ll have them cheering and standing on their feet, honey,” May said. “Just keep that innocent look on your face, and don’t meet their eyes. Keep lookin’ over their heads as if you’re watching for some handsome stranger to come in the door.”
And well she might be, Lily thought. Although Gage Morgan was no longer a stranger. She’d spent the night with him, slept in his arms, if his word could be believed. And if she were to be completely honest, she had to acknowledge she bore no memory of those hours, as if she had been aware of the safety he offered.
“Well,” May said after a moment, “I think Ham Scott would be a fool to waste you on serving beer.”
“I’m no fool,” the man said from the doorway. “We’ll give you a shot at it tonight, Lily. It’ll be sink or swim.”
Behind him, Morgan watched and then turned aside.
Chapter Three
T he applause soared to the ceiling of the saloon and Lily bent her head in response, then stood upright to face the men before her. Breathless as she heard the whistles and stomping feet of the men who cheered her performance, she relished the moment of undiluted pleasure.
Standing with his back to the bar, Gage Morgan watched, a half smile twisting his lips, his eyes glittering in the light of kerosene lanterns. His presence drew her, and with a degree of reluctance, Lily looked his way, flicking a glance at the dark-haired man who viewed her with a gaze that laid claim to her.
And after all, Lily thought grimly, he had the right. He’d bought her company for the duration of the trip down the river, and had already given Ham seven more five-dollar gold pieces to complete the purchase. She’d watched as the money changed hands, and then turned aside, feeling like so much merchandise being traded over the counter in a general store.
Or perhaps as if she’d been rented out by a madam in one of the establishments men patronized in every town between New York City and San Francisco. In any event, it was a case of being bought and sold, and the humiliation of it clung to her like wet feathers from a plucked chicken.
She looked out over the men gathered before the stage and allowed a small smile to touch her lips, then backed from their view to stand behind the gaudy velvet curtain that hid the wings of the stage. May touched her shoulder, a gentle brush of her fingers, and the words she spoke were like balm to Lily’s hurt pride.
“I told you they’d love you, didn’t I? Morgan picked out just the right dress for you to wear, honey.” May’s fingers tugged lightly at the soft, turquoise fabric, and her knowing eyes swept over Lily’s slender form. “You had them in the palm of your hand when you sang that last song,” she told her. “Men away from home, no matter how hard and callused they might be, are always suckers for that kind of music.”
“Ham said he wants me to split this skirt and let my legs show when I walk,” Lily told her. That his exact words had been a bit more specific was a humiliation in itself, she thought. Men like legs. The longer, the better. His gaze sliding to encompass her entire body had reminded Lily that Ham was, in effect, the man who’d sold her to Morgan, as if he owned her, body and soul.
“Ignore him,” May advised her with a smile. “I’ll remind him how much the men liked you, just the way you look right now. He won’t argue with me.”
And that was the truth, Lily decided. Whether or not May was occupying Ham’s cabin was none of her business, but obviously the woman had influence.
“Now,” May said briskly, “you need to find someplace to put your feet up for an hour. Your next show is at eight.” She shot a quick look at Morgan and earned a lifted brow as he smiled at her. “Try Morgan’s cabin. Ham won’t bother you there.”
“No,” Lily agreed. “But Morgan might. And I’d just as soon not have to get that close to him till I have to.” Memories of the previous night had huddled in the back of her mind all day long. The thought of what Morgan might demand of her once the last show was finished was uppermost in her mind, and the further she could stay from him, the better she’d like it, for now.
May seemed to sense her disquiet. “He won’t bother you between shows,” she told her. “That’s almost a guarantee. Do you have a key to his cabin?”
Lily shook her head. “No. I’ll have to ask him to let me in, I suppose.”
“Well, you can’t go back to your old bunk,” May said flatly. “Ham’s already given it to the woman he hired to help with the cooking. She was stuck in the galley cabin with Hank, and more than ready to share a room with women.” She touched Lily’s shoulder, urging her from the wings. “I’m on,” she said, and tugged at her dress, then patted her hair as she prepared to take the stage.
The three steps that led downward to the saloon floor were in shadow, and Lily used the wall for balance as she touched the first tread. A hand settled on her elbow and without looking up, she recognized Morgan’s scent and the firm grip of his fingers. Her whisper of thanks was swallowed by the roar of the men as May strolled out onto the stage.
“Come on,” Morgan said quietly. “You look like you need to put your feet up.”
Lily shot him an amused look. “You must have been talking to May. That’s almost a direct quote,” she said. Her feet ached. The pair of shoes Ham had tossed in her direction apparently had belonged to the same woman who’d worn the red dress and the other shoes. They were a size too small, and Lily’s toes felt numbed from the pressure.
Edging along the wall, Lily headed for the door to the port side of the boat, Morgan close behind her. The fresh air was a relief after the smoky atmosphere in the saloon, and she inhaled deeply as she walked to the rail. Her hands touched the smooth wood and clutched it as she looked down into the water.
Muddy brown, the Mississippi was anything but a beautiful river. She’d decided that at first glance, and her assessment had not altered over the past two days. Beside her Morgan was silent, his hand sliding from her elbow to rest on her shoulder, his arm bending to tug her closer to his side. She allowed it. Indeed, she had no choice, she thought, her mouth twisting as she relaxed against him.
“Ready to lie down for a bit?” he asked, his head bending, allowing his lips to nuzzle her temple.
“Where will you be?” she asked, tilting her head to peer up at him in the darkness.
He was silent for a moment and then he laughed, a dark, edgy sound that brought gooseflesh to her upper arms. “Now, where do you think I’ll be? It’s my cabin, Lily.”
“Why don’t you go and play poker?” Her voice sounded waspish, she thought, and not for a moment did she rue the tone.
“Not tonight.” And that seemed to be his final word on the subject, for he turned her and nudged her in the direction of his cabin.
He left the lamp unlit, and she stood just inside the door until he crossed before her to the single, small porthole that looked out on the water. A curtain hung over it, and he drew it back, allowing the stars to filter a faint glow into the room. “We don’t need the lamp, do we?” he asked, turning back toward her.
“I don’t,” she answered shortly. “I’m going to take off these miserable shoes and give my feet a rest.” She crossed the room and felt for the end of the bed, then settled there, lifting one foot, then the other to remove her shoes.
“Wanna take off your dress?” He spoke in a low, lazy drawl, a touch of the South turning his words into a smoky invitation.
“No, thanks.” She tucked the pillow under her head and settled close to the edge of the bunk, wishing fervently that he would leave her alone. It was not to be.
“Move over just a little,” he said, and then bent to pick up her feet and shift her toward the center of the quilt. His body blocked the light from the porthole as he lowered himself to sit beside her. With an easy movement, he circled her ankles and brought her feet to rest in his lap.
“Morgan?” Her knees bent as she attempted to move from his grasp, but his fingers tightened and he shushed her with a soft, hissing sound.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Lily. If I were going to give you trouble, I’d have done it last night. Just lie there and think lovely thoughts. I’m going to help you relax.”
And he did. His hands worked magic as she obeyed his dictates, fingers rubbing her toes, his palm massaging the arch of each foot, and never once did those big, warm hands stray above her ankles. She closed her eyes, the pleasure of being tended in such a way touching her heart in a way she’d almost forgotten.
“What are you thinking, Lily?” he asked quietly.
“You’ll laugh,” she answered, and then chuckled herself as she considered her answer. “I was thinking of when I was very young and my mother used to bathe me at night and then cut my toenails and tut-tut over the calluses on my feet. I used to go barefoot whenever I had the chance, and she told me time and again that ladies always wore shoes.”
“You had a happy home?” His voice was dark, blending with the shadows in the room, soothing her, luring her into a state of relaxation she had not enjoyed in over a year. She nodded, even though she knew he could not see the movement of her head.
“A wonderful home,” she said after a moment. “My brothers used to tease me unmercifully, but I knew they adored me. My father—” Her voice broke and she swallowed the emotion welling up within her. “He put me up on a horse when I was two years old. Mama scolded him and made a fuss, but I loved it.”
“Where did you live?” he asked in that same, soothing tone.
She roused from her reverie and drew one foot from his hands. “Far away from reality, I fear. Someplace I can never go again.”
“Reality?” He lifted her foot again and held it with a firm grip. “Hold still, Lily,” he said. “Just take it easy for a few more minutes. You’ll be wishing you had when you put those shoes back on.”
“Probably.” It wasn’t worth fussing over, not when his hands were so warm and firm against the bones and muscles they tended.
“We’re going to get you a new pair when we dock next,” he said. And as if that were the final word on the matter, he changed the subject.
“Had you planned on going all the way down the river?” he asked, his words an idle query, as if it were of little account in the general scheme of things.
She held her breath and thought with frantic haste. If she told him she’d planned on leaving the boat once it neared the homestead in Louisiana, he might protest, might even tell Ham that his employee was planning to run off. On the other hand, she’d never had an easy time telling falsehoods. Her mama had always said she couldn’t lie worth a tinker’s damn, whatever that meant.
“Well, I suspect you’re not going to tell me your plans, are you, Lily?” His hand slid up from her ankle to curl around the back of her calf.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Please, Morgan.”
“Are you going to stay on the boat to the end of the ride?” he asked again, his fingers gentle as they kneaded the firm flesh beneath the stockings she wore.
“No.”
“Where will you go?”
His fingers worked unceasingly at her muscles, but they’d moved back to her foot, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know for certain,” she said after a moment.
“Home?”
“I want to, but I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
“Not if your folks are worried about you, Lily. It’s never too late to go home when the people you love are there.”
She laughed softly. “Listen to the man. When was the last time you saw your family? What about the people you love, Morgan?”
“I don’t have anyone to go home to,” he said. “Not anymore.”
“A loner?”
“No, I’ve had to live in close quarters with other men sometimes. But not lately.”
“Not with a woman?” The darkness made her bold, and she waited in silence for his answer. If she’d expected some revelation of the man’s past, she was in for a disappointment, for he simply lowered her feet to the mattress and rose from the bed.
“I’ll come back and rap on the door ten minutes before you go on stage again,” he said, and now his voice was cool, remote, as if he’d withdrawn from her. His footsteps were quiet as he crossed the few feet of floor to the door, and then he was gone.
Lily looked at the circle of light, beyond which the stars glittered in a dark sky. He was different, nothing like the men she’d known before now. Perhaps somewhat like her brother Roan, she thought, that strong, silent man who had gone to fight on the other side during the great conflict. He’d worn a blue uniform, and almost broke his mother’s heart in the process.
Her eyes closed as she considered the place where she’d been born and raised, and the words, “River Bend,” vibrated in her mind. Pictures of the big, white plantation house, the fields filled with those who worked them, and the horses her father took such pride in raising, blended into a kaleidoscope of color behind her closed eyelids.
Lily sang four songs, with barely a pause between them, before she left the stage. Ham met her in the wings and his brow furrowed as he scanned her dress. “I didn’t think they’d take to you in that outfit,” he said gruffly. “I’ll have to admit Morgan was right. The dress fits the music all right.”
“Thank you,” Lily said. She looked down at the simple lines of the gown, and brushed the skirt, relishing the fine fabric. “It’s the nicest thing I’ve worn in quite some time,” she told Ham.
“Morgan told me he bought another one, too. Said it’s cream-colored with lace and a wide ruffle across the shoulders. Shows a little more skin.”
Lily nodded. “I haven’t tried it on yet. But it’s the same size. It ought to fit.”
Ham’s grin was knowing, and his head tilted to one side as he met her gaze, and then surveyed her with eyes that seemed to note every square inch of her body. “I suspect Morgan’s pretty familiar with your—”
“That’s enough.” The words were low, spoken in a graveled tone that brought Ham up short. Morgan was cutting the man no slack, Lily decided, and for that she could only be thankful.
“You want something to drink?” he asked Lily. “You’ll be on stage again in ten minutes, won’t you?”
She nodded and followed him down into the saloon, then sat at a table near the wall as he walked to the bar. The glass he offered her was cool, the taste that of lemon, with but a tinge of something stronger.
“I don’t drink,” she said, after the first swallow.
“There’s not much in it,” he said. “Just enough to relax you a little. Ham had you pretty strung out back there.”
