The Marriage Agreement. Carolyn Davidson

have to put out the word that your services are available after the saloon closes at night.”

      “That’s blackmail,” Lily said quietly. “I didn’t hire on as a whore, Mr. Scott.”

      “And who are you going to complain to, Miss Devereaux?” he retorted quickly. “I own this boat, and what I say goes. We won’t be docking anywhere for another couple of days. I’d say it would behoove you to measure up to Mr. Morgan’s expectations.”

      Lily stalked toward the bar, blindly making her way on feet that protested, fearful of tripping and falling over the multitude of men who managed to block her way with outthrust hands and vile suggestions. Tears threatened to fall as she reached the relative safety of the walnut bar, and she leaned against it, barely able to conceal the trembling of her hands as the bartender, a man named John, pushed a loaded tray in her direction.

      “That table by the door, Lily,” he said quietly. “Are you all right, honey?” he asked, not releasing his hold on the heavy tray as she would have lifted it.

      “No, but I doubt it’s going to get any better,” she said harshly.

      “Uh-oh,” the barkeep said softly. “Here comes trouble.”

      “I’ll give you a hand with that, Lily.” Gage Morgan stood behind her, and the barkeep met the man’s gaze with a look of query.

      “Lily don’t need any trouble, Mr. Morgan,” John said quietly.

      “I’m not going to give her any,” Morgan returned. “Just thought I’d lend a hand.”

      His warmth behind her was a revelation, Lily decided. Though they stood inches apart, the heat from his big body touched her from nape to knees, and she resisted the urge to lean against him for just a moment. Wouldn’t that bring every eye in the place in her direction?

      Morgan’s hands were strong, his fingers long and he lifted the tray without a trace of effort, then nodded at Lily to lead the way to their destination. The men whose drinks he carried watched in bafflement as the duo neared their table, and then Lily smiled and sorted out each drink with its intended owner.

      “That’s two bits each,” she said pleasantly, and smiled nicely as the men responded quickly, placing their cash on the tray, three of them adding a bit extra for her. Morgan stepped aside and nodded at her, ushering her back to the bar with a small ceremony that was the center of attention in the smoky room.

      “Thank you,” she whispered as he placed the empty tray on the bar. She transferred the cash to John’s hand and tucked the extra coins into her bodice. A choked sound from Morgan brought her eyes in his direction and as she watched, his gaze fastened there. Not only was the dress too small, but the neckline was lower than anything she’d ever worn, and her breasts were in dire straits, almost overflowing the red fabric. She tugged at the ruched edging that rimmed the sweetheart neckline, to no avail, for it was already stretched almost beyond bearing.

      Morgan cleared his throat and faced the bar. “Give me a shot of whiskey, straight up,” he told John, his voice strained.

      John grinned. “Quite a woman, ain’t she?” he asked, pushing the glass across the bar and into Morgan’s grip.

      “More than most,” Morgan said bluntly. “And certainly more than these clowns deserve to have delivering their drinks.”

      “I think I mis-spoke myself,” John said quietly. “She’s a lady, Morgan. I recognized that right off, first time she opened her mouth this afternoon.”

      Morgan lifted his shot glass and drank deeply, downing the whiskey as if it were bad-tasting medicine and he was in dire need of a cure. And then he glanced again at Lily and his gaze touched her face and hair, his eyes a darker gray than she’d first thought. He pushed the glass back toward the bartender and shook his head as John would have refilled it from a bottle behind the bar.

      Lily listened to the two men, her eyes traveling from one to the other as they discussed her attributes and decreed her a step above the position she held here. It was almost too much for her patience to bear, she decided, that these two should speak of her as if she could not hear their opinions, and certainly should not be concerned with them.

      “I’m not a lady, Mr. Morgan,” she said finally. “No lady ever dressed like this or served drinks in a saloon.”

      “Ah,” he said softly, touching his brow with his index finger, as if he saluted her. “But I suspect that at one time you were a most respectable woman, Lily. And I think that you still carry yourself as a lady, no matter what you’re wearing or what your job is.”

      “I’m not very good at some things,” she said boldly. “You may be sorry you paid Ham Scott for my time.” She felt, as she spoke, the warm flush of crimson that touched her cheeks and proclaimed her embarrassment.

      Morgan smiled, a slow, gradually widening movement of lips and teeth that made his eyes narrow and gleam in the light of the kerosene lanterns overhead. “I doubt I’ll be disappointed in you, Miss Lily,” he murmured, and she felt the heat of his gaze touch her breasts once more, as if he could make out the outline of the coins she’d stored there during the evening.

      Another table of men beckoned her and she left Morgan where he stood, aware that he turned his back to the bar and leaned his elbows on it as he watched her cross the floor. For some reason, the men she passed by kept their hands to themselves and she heard soft murmurs from behind her as she passed by.

      “Morgan…handy with a gun,” one man whispered.

      “Wouldn’t take kindly…” another said, then spoke in an undertone as she moved past his table.

      It seemed that Gage Morgan’s interest in her was bearing fruit tonight, and she could not help but be relieved by the changed attitude of those who ordered drinks during the next half hour. When Ham Scott stepped up to the bar and nodded at her, she lifted her eyebrow in question.

      “I reckon you’ve done your share for the night,” Ham said easily and then glanced at Morgan. “She’s got work to do tomorrow,” he said lightly. “Including singin’ for me in the morning.”

      “I’ll see to it she gets a good night’s sleep,” Morgan said, moving to take Lily’s elbow in his grasp. “Come on, Lily,” he murmured in an undertone, leading her to where an open doorway beckoned.

      She stepped before him as they skirted tables, and then beside him as they paused to look out on the river. “I don’t know where your room is,” she said. “And I’ll need to go to my bunk first to get my things.”

      “What things?” Gage asked, his hand tightening as if he were unwilling to allow her out of his sight.

      “My nightgown, for one,” she said, and was silenced by his low chuckle.

      “You won’t need it, Lily.”

      “I need my hairbrush and face cream,” she told him, breathless as she considered his words. “I can’t go to bed without washing my face.”

      “All right,” he said, allowing her this small victory that wasn’t really any triumph at all, she decided. Only a stop-gap until she should face him in his stateroom and be required to deliver whatever he deemed to be his due.

      “How much did you pay for me?” she asked as she turned away from the saloon, leaving behind the music of the piano and the catcalls that followed their exit.

      “Does it matter?” He slid his hand down and held her fingers in his palm.

      She shrugged. “I suppose not. I probably won’t come up to what you expect anyway. I’m not really in the business, Mr. Morgan.”

      “I already figured that out, Miss Devereaux.” He squeezed her fingers a bit and she knew a moment of relief, whether from his reply or the touch of his hand holding hers securely in its depth.

      “How did you know my name?” she asked.

      “Ham