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,”
