by Lisa Cooke
She brushed her hand against her hair the way she had seen Sally do and said, “If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.”
With a glance at the other men, he shrugged. “I don’t mind. Do you gentlemen mind if the lady joins us?”
The other men mumbled and coughed nervously, each eventually claiming they didn’t mind at all. She wanted to giggle, but since she’d never seen any of the other gamblers giggle, she controlled the urge.
“What’s the game?” She took a seat at the table. Another round of anxious muttering finally brought an answer from the brave one, “It don’t matter to us. What would you like to play?”
“Have you heard of Texas Hold’em?”
“Yes’m. Is that what you want to play?”
“If it’d be agreeable with you gentlemen.”
Lottie allowed herself to relax and pitched her ante into the center of the table. This was better than she’d thought it would be. So far, the biggest danger was that the men at her table would have a fit of apoplexy before she won her money. Of course, that could work to her advantage.
She picked up her cards, careful to mask her tells, though she wasn’t exactly sure what her tells were just yet. A pair of tens was a good start. Perhaps she should frown just to confuse the other players. Or maybe she should smile instead so they would think she had a bad hand and was trying to confuse them. Then again, no expression at all might really keep them perplexed. Hmmmm, this was harder than she’d expected . . .
* * *
Dyer watched Lottie from across the room and tried to figure out what the hell she was doing. In the span of twenty seconds, her expression had changed at least ten times, and based on the looks on the other players’ faces, they weren’t sure what she was up to, either. He leaned back against the bar, deciding watching her was more interesting than joining any of the other games in the room.
In the matter of a few minutes, she smiled and raked in the pot. Evidently her plan had worked . . . what ever it was. She folded early in the next hand, then quickly won two more. He didn’t know how much she’d earned, but based on the way she sparkled, it must be more than she’d hoped.
Then out of the blue, she gathered up her winnings and hurried from the gaming salon. He was bound and determined not to follow her. It was none of his business what she did. But, damn it, the gentleman in him suspected she was about to get herself into trouble. So he stepped out onto the deck and watched as she rushed up the stairs to the passenger cabins. He hesitated before heading to the steps and was almost to the first one when she came flying down to return to the salon.
Frustrated with himself for getting caught looking out for her, he started to make up an excuse when she interrupted him with, “I’m so glad I found you.” Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed with excitement as her smile lit up the deck.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Fifteen dollars.”
“For what?”
She fanned out a handful of money. “I just won fifteen dollars at the tables. And I already had twenty, so that gives me thirty-five dollars.”
“I believe that is correct,” he said, wondering how any one woman could be so beautiful.
“Well, I obviously know how to play this game, and I need to move up to the higher ante tables—”
“Miss Mace—”
“I could play at that lower table all night and not make a dent in my entry fee, but if I move up, well, maybe I won’t even need to enter that tournament after all—”
“Miss Mace—”
“You are such a good teacher. I just knew if I could have you teach me I’d do well—”
He finally placed his finger against her lips. “If you don’t stop to take a breath, you’re going to swoon.”
She frowned. “Are you going to lend me the money or not?”
“It’s not smart to gamble with borrowed money.”
“I’ll pay you back. It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing. I won three out of four hands.” She held up her money again for him to see.
“Winning a few hands at a lower table is just luck.”
“Oh no.” She shook her head. “It’s not luck. I’ve learned how to mask my tells.”
Dyer bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t have the heart to tell her there was a difference between masking her tells and confusing her opponents to the point of distraction. Then again, if the results were the same, did it really matter?
“You’d be best off to practice at the lower table a little while longer.”
“I can’t afford to waste the time. I have to earn my entry.” She folded her money into her hand, giving him a petulant look. “Are you going to help me, or do I need to find Newt?”
He knew she threw Newt’s name at him hoping he’d get jealous. What she didn’t know was that he didn’t give a rat’s ass if Newt helped her or not.
“I’ll lend you the money.” Now, why in the hell did he keep doing that?
She flashed her sassy little smile again, and he had the distinct impression she was dragging him around by his balls.
“Oh, thank you! I’ll pay you back—”
“Miss Mace, you know I don’t take money as payback.”
Her sassy little smile sagged a mite. “What do you want?”
He shrugged. “A kiss.”
“Oh, of course.”
She closed her eyes and turned her cheek toward him, obviously expecting the same payment he’d taken before, but earlier he’d been protecting himself in a moment of vulnerability. That moment was gone now, and it was time for him to take back his balls.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, jerking her hard against his chest. Her eyes flew open, and a startled gasp rushed from her mouth.
He leaned into her, nibbling the side of her neck as he spoke. “Fifteen dollars is a lot of money.” His lips trailed up her throat to her jaw, then brushed against her cheek. He grabbed her hips, pulling her against his groin.
She made a tiny sound before she softened, allowing every inch of her body to press against the hard planes of his. She slid her hands around his neck, and the feeling of her fingers through his hair sent a shiver down his spine. The control he thought he’d had slipped away fast.
He reached his hand to the back of her neck, tipping her head to ravish her mouth. He wanted to show her he was in charge, but when she parted her mouth to accept his tongue, he lost his balls again. And the hand that slid up her side to clutch her breast was gentle instead of demanding as he stroked her through the fabric of her gown. The lips that were supposed to teach her about passion nibbled instead of crushed, and damn it all to hell and back if he weren’t acting like some young pup with his first girl.
He unwrapped her arms from around his neck and stepped back, determined to make her think she’d had no effect on him as he reached in his jacket for his wallet.
“Fifteen dollars, you say?” He handed her the money and winked. “Worth every penny of it, darlin’,” he said as he walked away.
Lottie wanted to say, Well, I never, but no words would come out of her mouth. He had managed once again to reduce her to a common trollop in a matter of minutes. It wouldn’t be so bad if it hadn’t proven Mimi right. Dyer was only interested in her to slake his lust, but then, she had already made her deal with this devil, and lust-slaking was all he had required. She just needed to be more careful, or he might take his slaking before she even made it to the tournament.
She folded his money in with hers and tucked it into her bodice. It would take her the rest of the evening to get over this fluster, and she’d best not attempt to gamble under the circumstances. Tomorrow she would be in a better state of mind to enter the games. Tomorrow she would win her entry fee.
Chapter Eleven
A two of spades and four of hearts looked up at her as though they had no idea they were not the beginnings of a good hand. Lottie slid her cards to the dealer to fold on the second hand in a row. So far, all she had lost was her
ante, but each time she folded she had a little less than before, and losing money was not as much fun as winning it. The stack of chips in front of her wasn’t nearly as impressive as the fifty dollars it had taken to buy them.
She waited patiently for the next hand to be dealt, and finally fate smiled on her. A pair of jacks. This was a winning hand if ever she saw one. She started slowly, calling the bid on the first time around, not raising until the dealer turned over the next three cards. No jacks, but a pair of threes gave her two pair, and her excitement escalated.
“All in,” she said shoving her meager pile of chips to the center.
She fought not to look too smug as the rest of the cards were played. Two pairs was a good hand, and the odds were with her.
Unfortunately, the man across from her had a three. And with the other threes already in the center of the table, that gave him three of a kind. A trip.
Her heart fell to her stomach. “I lost,” she muttered, still unable to believe what had just happened. “That was everything I had.”
She hadn’t spoken to anyone in particular, but in her eagerness to find a table, she had taken a seat beside the obnoxious Mr. Joseph Cullen, and for some reason he felt compelled to address her situation.
Cullen laid his pudgy hand on her knee beneath the table and leaned closer. The smell of his cigar made Lottie’s eyes water as he said, “Now, darlin’, there’s no need for you to get upset. I’m sure I could loan you a little stake money if you’ll do a favor or two for me in return.”
His tone left no doubt as to what he wanted those favors to be, and the insulting suggestion snapped Lottie from her shock. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Mr. Cullen, I would rather lie with a pig. I’m sure the difference would be minimal, and at least the pig would have the decency not to talk about it.”
Lottie shoved away from the table, crossing the room to the door that led outside to the deck. There was too much noise and too many people in the salon for her to think clearly, and she needed to do some serious thinking. She suddenly found herself no better off than the first day she’d stepped foot on the Magnolia Belle. Two weeks of working and learning, and she still needed fifteen thousand dollars and had none.
None.
Not even a nickel.
“Run of bad luck?” Dyer spoke to her from behind.
She took a calming breath before she answered, “Just a little.” She kept her eyes focused on the moon’s reflection off the river. It was safer than facing him right now.
“That’s the life of a gambler. You lose more than you win.”
“You don’t.”
“I’ve been at it a long time. A lot longer than you’re going to have before St. Louis.”
She nodded but didn’t comment.
“Go home, Miss Mace. A riverboat is no place for a lady like you.”
She heard his footsteps trail away as he headed back to the salon. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had been a fool all along to think she could win the money to save her father.
“Don’t listen to him, Lottie.” Now it appeared to be Newt’s turn to give advice.
She turned toward him and sighed. “How do I know he’s not right?”
He scrunched his brows together, studying her face. “I’m sorry. I thought I was talking to Lottie Mace.”
She dropped her head and mumbled, “You know you are.”
“Can’t be.” He tipped her chin up to look at him. “The Lottie Mace I know wouldn’t quit because of one bad night at the tables. She’s got a lot more backbone than that.” He gave her a quick peck on her forehead before he too left her alone with her thoughts.
She pulled her momma’s locket out of her bodice to hold in her hand. “What do I do now, Momma?” she whispered into the darkness.
“Just don’t ever give up.” A woman’s voice caused Lottie to flinch and spin toward a couple strolling down the deck in the direction of the cabins. The woman had her arm laced through the man’s, and they talked and laughed as they strode together in the darkness. She knew the woman’s comment was in response to something her husband had said, but Lottie couldn’t help wondering whether maybe Momma had answered her after all.
She tucked the locket back into her bodice. “I won’t quit, Momma,” she whispered into the night. “I can’t.”
“Who you talking to?” Sally stepped out of the shadows to join Lottie at the rail. Evidently everyone had witnessed her loss and now felt compelled to comfort her.
“No one,” she answered at first, then showed Sally her locket. “Actually, I was kind of talking to my momma.”
Sally took the locket in her hand for a moment. “That’s pretty.” She let the locket fall back to Lottie’s bodice before turning to look out at the dark water. “Your momma gone?”
Lottie fought back a tear. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry. It’s tough to lose someone you love.”
“You sound like you’ve lost a few yourself.”
Sally chuckled without humor. “Name me someone who hasn’t.”
Of course, Lottie couldn’t, but for the first time since she’d met Sally, she saw a vulnerability slip to the surface. “Have you ever been in love?” Lottie asked, fully expecting Sally to scoff at such foolishness.
But she didn’t. Instead she sighed. “I thought I was once.”
“What happened?”
“Life.” Her cryptic answer hung in the night air with the sounds of the tree frogs, and just when Lottie thought Sally was going to offer no more, she said, “He was so handsome. So strong. I had come aboard the riverboat just to work for one summer. You know,” she said, giving a knowing glance to Lottie, “just long enough to earn some quick money.”
Lottie flushed. “And who was he?” It seemed like a good way to divert Sally’s attention back to her story and away from Lottie’s reasons for being on the boat.
“The best gambler on the river. But he had dreams that didn’t include a riverboat whore,” Sally said, shrugging.
“Did he say that to you?”
With a slow shake of her head, Sally stepped away from the rail. “He was too much of a gentleman to ever say something like that, but there are some things a girl knows without saying.”
“Did he know you loved him?” Lottie asked, wondering who had broken Sally’s heart all those years ago.
Sally looked off for a second, then muttered as she walked away, “He has no idea.”
Another morning in Natchez had proven as useless to Dyer as the others. One of the men in the general store had told him of a farmer who might have been stationed in the Jasper area in sixty-three. So Dyer hired a horse and spent most of the day looking for the man’s farm before returning to the livery empty-handed.
Oh, he’d found the old fart all right. But the drunk couldn’t remember where he was yesterday, let alone four years ago.
Dyer returned to the Belle wondering if Lottie was still on board. Seeing her lose the night before had been tough, especially since Cullen had no doubt cheated her somewhere along the way, but it was just as well. She needed to hop the first boat heading south and give up on her ridiculous notions. He’d worried about her far too much, and that nonsense was about to stop.
For four years, he’d had no one to worry about or watch for except himself, and that suited him just fine. The last thing he wanted was for someone to depend on him for anything.
He climbed the steps to his cabin, digging the key from his jacket as he rounded the corner to find Lottie Mace sitting in the chair outside his room. She was already dressed for work in her tight green dress. Her hair wisped in little curls around her face, and the touch of rouge on her lips gave them a pout they didn’t really need.
“Hell,” he muttered. His groin tightened immediately, and she hadn’t even looked at him yet.
“What are you doing here?” Hopefully his gruff tone would dissuade her from hanging around.
She raised her head and smiled. What ever had made him think she cou
ld be deterred by a tone, gruff or otherwise?
“You weren’t here for my lesson this morning, so I thought maybe I could have one before going in to work.”
She stood and smoothed down the front of her satin gown as he jabbed the key into the door and slung it open. He crossed his cabin to his whiskey bottle to pour himself a stiff drink. Slamming it back with one gulp, he waited for the fire to settle in his gut before he turned to face her.
“I would’ve thought after losing everything you had last night, you would finally quit this stupid idea and go home.”
She walked silently to the table and sat down, folding her hands on top to wait for him to join her. He didn’t know why he was so angry with her. It wasn’t her fault he’d wasted another day chasing dead ends.
It wasn’t her fault their kiss the night before had left him shattered and unable to think straight . . . Well, maybe that part was her fault, just not her intention. He took a deep breath and sighed audibly.
Damn, he was tired.
“I can’t quit, Mr. Straights.”
Her quiet statement couldn’t have echoed more in his mind if she’d shouted it. Apparently, there was something they had in common after all. He pulled his cards out of the bureau and walked over to the table, pitching them to the center before he took a seat opposite hers.
“In that case, I reckon you need to learn how to play Draw.”
The tiny tear glistening in the corner of her eye made him feel like the world’s biggest ass as he counted out a hundred dollars worth of chips and shoved them across the table to her.
“I don’t have any money,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I know.”
“If I lose, what will be your payment?”
He thought of the kiss, and the fact the woman already had his balls. There really wasn’t anything else he wanted to lose at the moment.
“Just make sure you win, and it won’t be a problem.” For either of us.
A wistful smile played across her mouth while she picked up the cards he’d dealt her. “If you insist.”
Better.