“I’ll just keep this for now,” he said. “I think we’ll ask Ham to find you something else to wear today.”
“I’ll be in trouble if I show up without that dress,” Lily warned him. “I need it to wear when I sing for him this morning.”
Morgan shook his head. “No, you don’t. Wear whatever you had on yesterday, before he stuck you into this thing.”
She shot him a glance of disbelief. “I thought you liked it on me.”
“I do. But I don’t think I like every other man on board looking at you wearing it.”
“You can’t call the shots with him,” she said. “He’s not a soft touch.”
“Let me worry about that. You just get yourself in my room tonight when you’ve finished the last show.”
Her chin lifted defiantly. “I don’t know that you can afford to buy me, Morgan. I’m not even sure you’ll want to after a couple of days. I’m afraid you won’t be getting the best part of this bargain.”
His teeth were white and even when he smiled, his eyes holding a determination she would not dispute. “I’ll get what I want,” he said. “I always do.”
The door opened with a creak and she slipped through the opening into the narrow passageway, to where the cabin she shared held a modicum of safety. Inside, the two occupants slept, her own bunk untouched. In a matter of minutes she’d donned her clothing and slipped into her shoes. The women slept undisturbed, and she left as quietly as she’d come.
“Lily?” Ham Scott stood before her, his eyes registering his displeasure with her appearance as she left the area where breakfast was being served. “You lose your red dress during the night?” he asked.
“Mr. Morgan wouldn’t let me take it with me this morning,” she told him.
Ham waved a hand, dismissing her words. “You’ll have to retrieve it before you go to work tonight.” He turned aside and issued a command she’d expected. “Come on inside. I want you to sing for me.”
May Kettering stood on the stage, dressed in a simple cotton frock, and her gaze moved over Lily in a lazy survey as she sang the final bars of a song. “Thanks,” she murmured to the piano player. “You’ve got it down pat, Charlie.” And then she lifted her hand and beckoned to Lily. “Come on up here, honey.”
Ham stood aside as Lily climbed the three steps to the stage and approached the woman. “I enjoyed your singing last evening,” she said quietly. “I fear I don’t have much talent compared to your ability.”
May lifted an eyebrow. “We all have talent of one sort or another, Lily. I’d like to hear what you’ve got to offer.” Her nod at the piano player was barely perceptible, then she looked back at Lily and made a suggestion.
“Do you know ‘I Dream of Jeannie’?” she asked. She hummed a few notes, and then sang a line of lyrics. “‘I dream of Jeannie with the light brown hair—borne like a vapor on the summer air—’”
“I know it,” Lily said quickly. Singing ballads was not new to her, for her voice was more suited to their simple melodies.
Charlie allowed his fingers to move leisurely across the keys, his chords giving Lily the key he’d chosen. She focused on May, aware that her salvation lay in the woman’s influence on Ham Scott. Untrained, yet melodic, her voice rose in the first notes of the song May had chosen. It was guaranteed to make any wanderer homesick, she thought, and she was no exception.
May smiled, her mouth quirking with approval. “You’ll do, honey,” she said as the last note faded. “Stephen Foster is your style.”
Ham walked to the edge of the stage and cast a glowering look at his star performer. “That’s not what I had in mind for her, May. I wanted a contrast to your way of singing. You know, lifting her dress and showing her legs some. A fast song with words the men in the crowd will get a kick out of.”
May snorted, a strangely inelegant sound coming from such a woman, Lily thought. “You don’t know diddly about what men want from a singer, Scott. Lily has a body that’ll show up well in most anything she wears. And keeping them guessing about her legs will have them on the edges of their seats.”
“Well, she’s not wearin’ that rag,” Ham said bluntly. “I want her in the red satin.”
“No.” It was a softly spoken denial, yet held a definite threat should it be ignored. “She won’t be wearing it again.” Morgan shoved away from the doorway and approached Ham, the red satin crumpled in his hand. “We’re docking somewhere today, aren’t we?”
Ham nodded, his look at Morgan bordering on anger. Yet he held his tongue, as though he dared not argue with the man who faced him.
“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.
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“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
The 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.
The Marriage Agreement Page 4