lips, an unconscious gesture Gage decided, since she didn’t seem to be interested in attracting him. In fact, he’d be willing to warrant she wasn’t interested in drawing any more attention to herself than necessary.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m new. Mr. Scott hired me this afternoon when y’all docked at Saint Louis.”
Gage took her elbow and steered her toward an open doorway, beyond which the Mississippi River lay, its current carrying the boat southward at a leisurely pace. She allowed his guiding hand, offering no protest as they stepped out on deck and moved to the rail. Slender fingers gripped the gleaming wood, and she bent her head, as if the weight of it were too heavy for her fragile neck to support.
“Are you feeling ill?” he asked. “Do you need to sit down?” And then he eased his arm around her waist as he heard footsteps behind them.
“Lily?” It was the voice of Ham Scott, the owner of the boat, a man Gage knew to be fair but possessed of a short temper when it came to disturbances in his establishment. “What’s the problem? I thought you understood what was required of you when you came on board.”
She shuddered, lifting her head with a jerk at the man’s accusing words. Gage tightened his hold for a moment on her slender waist, then released her as he turned to face Ham. “I’d already asked the lady for her company, Scott. There was a slight misunderstanding, that’s all.”
“I don’t like brawling in my place, Morgan.” His eyes glittered in the moonlight as he allowed his gaze to touch Lily and then focus once more on the man he challenged. “Lily knew she’d be expected to be nice to the gentlemen on board when I hired her on.”
Gage smiled. “She’s being nice to me, and I can guarantee she won’t be wearing bruises, come morning.”
Ham hesitated and then nodded shortly. “We’ll let it go for now, but she’s got work to do for the next hour or so. I can’t afford to let my girls run off before midnight. Especially since she turned down a customer already. There’s too many men in there wanting drinks served to their tables during the stage show. Lily has to do her job.”
Gage nodded. “All right, I understand that.” He looked at Lily, and his mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I’ll just sit and watch, if you don’t mind, though. I’d like her in one piece when her work’s over for the night.”
“Sounds fair to me,” Ham said. And then he shot Lily a measuring look. “Are you sure you’ve worked a riverboat saloon before?”
She nodded. “I mostly sang, though.”
Ham lifted an eyebrow as he considered that statement. “I’ll listen to you tomorrow—see how you sound. My singers don’t serve drinks, Lily. That might suit you better.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” she said quietly. Her back was straight, her shoulders square as she walked back into the noisy, smoke-laden saloon, and Ham Scott chuckled beneath his breath.
“Gage Morgan to the rescue,” he murmured. “That white hat looks good on you, Morgan. Problem now is you’re stuck with paying for a woman for the night. Lily’s been getting the eye from half a dozen fellas in there. She’ll bring a pretty price.”
“I’m not averse to paying for what I get,” Gage said softly. He pushed away from the rail and slid a hand into his trouser pocket. “Now, I think I need to keep an eye on my investment.” He drew a five-dollar gold piece from his pocket and flipped it in the air. “This should cover Lily’s company till morning, I’d think.”
And then he halted in his tracks, watching as Ham snatched the coin from midair and pocketed it. “Tell her you’ve already paid in full for whatever strikes your fancy,” he said. “From what she told me, she’s been around for a while. You oughta get your money’s worth.” He grinned. “Her name’s Devereaux. Lily Devereaux. These French women are supposed to be good at what they do.”
Gage knew a moment of disgust at the words, but a bland expression covered his thoughts as he strode in Lily’s wake. A table at the rear, farthest from the low stage, was empty and he settled there, aware that he was the focus of more than one man’s attention. Lily stood at the bar, waiting for a nod from customers who needed a refill, and her eyes drifted across the crowd until they met his.
He lifted his index finger and nodded at her, then watched as she made her way through the tables to where he waited. “What can I get you?” she asked, standing across the width of the table. Her voice was husky, as if she held back tears, and Gage felt a moment of pity, laced with an awakening in his nether parts.
“Just a whiskey, Lily. I’ll wait here till you finish working, and then we’ll go to my stateroom.”
She hesitated only a few seconds, and then nodded, turning away. Gage watched as she walked across the floor, noticed the eyes of those who followed her progress and felt a surge of possessiveness that gave him pause. He’d managed to stick himself with a woman’s company for the night—not that it would be any great sacrifice to spend a few hours with Lily. He was allowed to be jealous of her time over the next hour or so. He’d already paid the price.
Her feet hurt, her face ached from forcing a smile into place and keeping it there, and for Lily Devereaux, it seemed that she’d reached the end of her rope. If not for the man called Morgan, she’d even now be fighting off the filthy hands of the man who’d been intent on dragging her from the saloon earlier. And no doubt Mr. Scott would have allowed it, rather than cause a disturbance.
It seemed that Morgan had no such qualms in that direction. His two-fisted attack had delivered her from the disgruntled loser at the poker game, and placed her smack-dab in his debt. It seemed she was about to discover just how far she was willing to go in order to survive.
There was little doubt in her mind that the man called Morgan would expect full payment for the rescue he’d pulled off. The memory of his scent clung in her mind, that faint odor of smoke that was a part of this room, the masculine smell of some sort of shaving soap, and the aroma of a male creature bent on seeking out a woman. She had no doubt that she would receive his full attention once her work in the saloon came to an end, when the last drink had been served and the last table wiped with a dingy cloth.
Even now his gaze followed her and she knew the heat of masculine appraisal bent on her form. The dress was snug, her shoes too small. Apparently the last woman to work this room hadn’t had much of a bosom. Lily’s own abundant curves were well-nigh overflowing her low neckline, and she concentrated on ignoring the men whose eyes were drawn to a figure her mama had described as ample.
Men like their wives to be modest and their charms to be viewed only by their husbands. A man only marries a woman he respects. Mama’s words that rang in her head had proved to be true in the end. The past two years spent on her own had provided Lily with enough shame to last her a lifetime. The Union soldier who’d bargained with her, torch held in his hand, the flame reflected in his eyes as he offered her the choice that was really no choice at all, had kept his word—to a point.
She shook her head, as if that small movement would dismiss the past from her mind. “Take those men in the corner their drinks,” the barkeep said from behind her. She turned to the glossy walnut bar, where rows of bottles caught the light from kerosene lanterns hanging from the ceiling. “Two bits each, Lily.” Handing her the rough wooden tray, he nodded to where three men huddled around a small table.
Making her way through the tables, ignoring the grasping hands that reached to touch her dress, she focused
