The Gambler by Lily Graison

and reaching up to help her down. When her feet
were on the ground, he looked at her and frowned. She probably
looked a sight. Harold's discarded trousers and shirt seemed like
the most logical choice since she’d be on horseback and the blanket
would keep her from freezing when the temperatures dropped at
night.
     
    But looking down at herself now, she frowned.
The pants legs were bunched at her feet, they were baggy and being
held up by nothing but a thin piece of twine she’d found. The old
hat she put on her head was floppy and smelled like horseshit but
it kept the sun out of her eyes. A bedraggled street urchin
probably looked better but she raised her head high and glared back
at him. “What are you staring at?”
     
    He smiled, that dimple in his cheek catching
her attention before he looked away from her, his gaze traveling
the main street, his eyes lighting up when he spotted whatever it
was he’d been searching for. “Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm, guided
her through the throng of people lining the street and ushered her
into a dress shop.
     
    Once inside the warm building, he spoke in
quiet tones to the woman who greeted them then turned back to face
her. “I’ll be back for you after I gather the rest of the supplies
we need. Mrs. Kilpatrick will help you pick out a few things so you
don’t freeze to death.” He left without another word and Emmaline
watched his retreating back until he disappeared from sight.
     
    Turning to face Mrs. Kilpatrick, the woman
smiled and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Well, lets
get a good look at you, then.” She hesitantly reached for the
blanket around Emmaline’s shoulders and tugged it away from her
before her eyes roamed Emmaline's figure from head to toe. “Oh,
you’re a tiny thing.” She pursed her lips, her brows scrunching as
if thinking before she nodded her head and walked to the back of
the room.
     
    Emmaline watched her rummage through a shelf
of calico dresses, selecting a few before doing the same with a
rack of gowns that looked fit for a queen.
     
    The woman turned back to face her and smiled.
“I think these will all fit. I’ve a nice selection of under-things
as well.” She walked to a table near the wall, picked up a few lacy
things and turned, her arms full. “Would you like to try them
on?”
     
    “Why”
     
    Mrs. Kilpatrick laughed. “To see if you like
the way they look, of course.” The woman crossed the distance, took
Emmaline by the arm and ushered her into a small room with a
curtain. She hung the dresses from a peg on the wall and handed her
the lacy under things. “I know these are a bit extravagant but I
know men, especially rich men, and I have a hunch Mr. Avery would
only want the best for his lady.”
     
    The woman turned and left, pulling the
curtain closed, and Emmaline stared at the blue fabric curtain for
long moments, the words…his lady, ringing inside her head. She
wasn’t Tristan’s lady in any sense of the word but Mrs. Kilpatrick
seemed to think so. Had Tristan told her that?
     
    She glanced down at the shift she’d been
handed. The delicate lace around the top and the blue satin ribbon
that held it closed made the garment look very feminine. The
bloomers were made of silk, embellished with lace around the legs,
and Emmaline had never touched such fine material in her life. It
was soft and cool to the touch and so pristine white, it looked
like newly fallen snow in her hands.
     
    Tristan wasn’t buying her these clothes, was
he? Was that what he’d discussed in hushed tones with Mrs.
Kilpatrick before he left?
     
    It was absurd to think he’d go to the
trouble. And for what reason? Did he think of her as his lady? She
laughed at the thought but sobered a moment later.
     
    Why else was he going to so much trouble for
her? Did he think last night meant more than it did? Had he enjoyed
it enough to want to keep her? But keep her for what, exactly?
     
    The first thought to pop into