fine,” she said quietly, even as her heart thumped unmercifully in her breast, and her fingers clung damply to the articles of clothing and grooming she held.
“I’ll take those,” he offered, holding out his hand, and she stared dumbly at his open palm, then shook her head.
“No, just tell me where I can change,” she told him, and realized as she spoke those words that there was not even the benefit of a screen for her privacy.
Morgan smiled, his gleaming eyes sweeping her length. “Right here will do,” he said, lifting one hand to touch the bodice of her dress. His fingers were long, elegant and tanned, and she was reminded of their dexterity as they’d handled the cards earlier. Now she knew a moment of panic as they lingered just above the line of cleavage where her breasts strained the fabric of the red gown…then brushed against her skin, as if he must test the texture.
His murmur was soft, inviting. “Would you like me to give you a hand?”
“No.” She shook her head in an abrupt movement, stepping back, her flesh tingling where his fingertips had rested. “I’ll do it,” she added hastily, aware that a five-dollar gold piece was a high price to pay for an evening with a woman whose value was yet to be determined.
“All right.” Agreeably, he turned and propped a shoulder against the door jamb, his gaze focused on her in a lazy manner. His eyes seemed darker, she thought, glistening in the lamp’s glow, and with indolent ease they passed over her, lingering on the curve of her breasts, and then settling on the line of her hips. Heat rose to color her cheeks, and its warmth radiated from her skin.
“Lily?” Her name had never sounded so soft, had never whispered against her ears with such a seductive murmur as he repeated his offer. “Shall I help you?” His lids barely masked the glitter of passion as he watched her, and she thought for a moment that he surely possessed some eerie power, perhaps the ability to see beneath her clothing. Her breasts were taut and tingling, her legs trembled, and she prayed silently for the strength to perform this denial of all she’d been raised to believe in.
With a sound of dismay, uttered in a barely audible whisper, she turned from him, reaching behind her back. The task of undoing the fastenings that held her dress together was hampered by the trembling of her fingers. He touched her shoulder gently, halting her efforts.
“Begin with your hair, Lily,” he said softly. “Let it loose. Please.”
“My hair?” Obediently, she lifted her hands to touch the dark curls, her fingers curving to pull the silver combs from place. The heavy fall of waves caressed her shoulders and she turned back to face him. His eyes narrowed, as if drawn to the unruly tresses and he gently grasped a curl, allowing it to wrap the length of his index finger. His gaze settled there for a long moment, as though the texture and weight of that lone bit of waving hair held some sort of appeal.
Gray eyes silvered as his hand abandoned that single curl and instead rose to fit his palm to the curve of her neck. Long fingers moved upward, tunneling through her hair, and the heat of his hand was like a branding iron on her scalp. Without warning, his head lowered and his mouth touched hers, opening to suckle the plump line of her lower lip. A warning growl made her aware of danger just as his other arm circled her waist and snagged her against his length.
The kiss took on a more seductive angle, his head tilting as he sought to invade the soft tissues behind her lips. A harsh sound in his throat gave her warning that Gage Morgan was not to be denied, and she shrank from him and the force of his desire.
Tears spilled from her eyes to flow unchecked down her cheeks, and he hesitated. Lips that had demanded her submission softened, opening a bit, damp and warm against her mouth. “I won’t hurt you, Lily,” he murmured. His touch on her nape became a caress, yet she trembled in his embrace, her breath a soft gasp.
Her scent rose to tempt him, an aroma of flowers blended with that of woman, and he inhaled it, recognizing the moment as one that would dictate the whole of their relationship. She was warm against him, yet she shivered, and he became aware that his attraction to her was not mutual. The woman he held in his arms was compliant to his touch, but her murmured cry denied the passion he’d hoped to arouse within her body.
“Well, hell.” Morgan uttered the curse even as he heard her almost silent sob, knew a moment’s remorse as she cringed from his touch, and then opened his eyes to see twin trails of dampness on her cheeks. A frown marred his brow as he took her measure.
“Lily…” He hesitated, and then shook his head. “I’m sorry.” The words seemed not enough of an apology he decided as he lifted a hand to touch her cheek. “I really planned to be a gentleman. I’m not generally so heavy-handed when I spend time with a woman.” It had been too damn long, he thought. Too many months without a woman’s touch.
His palm spread wide across her back, and his fingers caressed her through the satin dress she wore. Bending to her again, his mouth touched her forehead, then brushed a path to her cheek. “Can I start over?” he asked. And then, without waiting for her answer, he turned her within his embrace and worked slowly at the fastenings of her dress.
“How did you get into this thing?” he mused, his fingers clumsy at the task.
“One of the girls helped,” she said, and shivered anew as his hands found bare skin just below her waistline. “Please, can you blow out the lamp?”
His words held a tinge of amusement. “Has no one ever told you that some things are better accomplished in the light?” Turning her to face him, he smiled and looked down to where her hands gripped the red satin over the contours of her breasts. “Am I not going to be allowed to look?”
Lily bit her lip, tasting the blood, aware that he was more patient than she had a right to expect. “I told you I’m not very good at this,” she whispered. “I’m not worth five dollars, I fear.”
His head tilted to one side and his smile vanished, as though he saw something within her that held him immobile, his eyes darkening. His words were dry and a bit cynical, but spoken carefully. “How many men have bought your favors, Lily? A hundred? Fifty, maybe?” He paused and she swallowed, the lump in her throat almost smothering the laugh that denied his suggestion.
“Am I the first?” he asked, the words so quiet she strained to hear them.
“No.” And he wasn’t, not if she were to be honest. The Yankee colonel had paid the price for her compliance five years ago, and made a whore of her in the process. When he took her from her home.
“But you haven’t done this often, have you?” he persisted, his hands holding her firmly in his grasp.
She shook her head. “No.” Then she tilted her head back to offer him a look of resolve. “But I expect it’s something I’ll learn, Mr. Morgan.”
He sighed and shook his head, a strangely sad emotion washing over him. Her scent rose again to tempt him, that of a woman whose skin was clean, almost a rarity in her profession. He denied the stirring in his groin, turning his back on the thought of taking this female to his bed, and shook his head.
“But not tonight, Lily,” he said. “I won’t take a woman who weeps at my touch.”
“If Ham Scott finds out—” She broke off and her teeth touched the spot where blood had begun to dry.
“He won’t,” Morgan said, his finger nudging her lip. “Don’t do that, Lily. You’ve already
