The Gambler by Lily Graison Page A

her head was
that of a mistress. She had let him bed her hours after meeting
him. If that didn't scream wanton hussy, she didn't know what did.
And maybe, just maybe, he thought taking her home with him provided
him with a few extra perks.
     
    She’d heard enough gossip in town to know
some men preferred having a mistress to marrying. It was less
complicated and freed them to do as they pleased. Was that what
Tristan was doing? Thinking to take her out of her horrible life?
To be her rich benefactor? To give her a fabulous life full of fine
clothing, food enough to make ten people fat and paraded her around
on his arm like she was his very own prize heifer. Grooming her to
be his kept whore?
     
    Was he going to buy her fancy dresses and
lacy under-things and take her home with him to live in a fancy
house? Would he stay once they arrived or would he amble through
town every once in a while and visit her, expect payment in the
form of bed play, then be off again?
     
    Emmaline looked down at the soft materials in
her hands, and could imagine him doing that very thing. He hadn’t
wanted her to begin with last night but changed his mind pretty
damned quick. Then brought her straight to a dressmaker and
instructed the owner to make her look presentable. That old goat.
He didn’t want her unless it was to his liking.
     
    She smiled. Well, she’d show him a thing or
two. Emmaline undressed, throwing her borrowed trousers and dingy
shirt to the floor before slipping into the satin and lace
bloomers, the soft chemise, tying the blue ribbon that closed the
material over her breasts and fumbled with the corset until she
tossed it to the floor forgotten. She picked the dark green fancy
dress from the peg, ignoring the homespun dresses, and slipped it
on, buttoned the front and smoothed the shiny material down.
     
    Pulling the curtain back, she stepped out of
the small dressing room and stumbled to a stop when she saw
Tristan. He smiled at her and nodded. “We’ll take everything you
picked out, Mrs. Kilpatrick.” He met Emmaline’s gaze. “Unless you
don’t like them, of course.”
     
    Emmaline smiled back, making sure her
irritation at being turned into a kept woman didn’t show. “I don’t
like the calico dresses but this one will do.” Mrs. Kilpatrick
flicked a nervous glance toward Tristan and walked to where she
stood, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid I only have one
traveling gown in her size. Will that be enough?”
     
    “It’ll have to do,” Tristan said. “We can
pick up a few more later.” He looked Emmaline over from head to
toe, frowning as he looked at her feet. “She’ll need new boots and
a good, thick, coat. We have a long way to go and winter is chasing
us. I don’t want her catching a chill on the journey.”
     
    Mrs. Kilpatrick busied herself picking out
the things Tristan had requested and Emmaline cleared her throat.
“I’ll need stockings as well.” She glanced at Tristan and smiled
again. “And a new hat." When he raised an eyebrow at her, she
repeated the gesture. "Also a reticule and a few
handkerchiefs.”
     
    Tristan frowned at her.
     
    "A lady always needs a place to put her
things." Emmaline's smile widened and she fluttered her eyelashes
at him. If Tristan was buying her clothes in order for her to be
his kept whore, then he would pay to have her at his beck and call.
She’d get his money any way she could. She would just sell
everything he purchased for her later and pocket the money.
     
    Mrs. Kilpatrick handed her a pair of silky
stockings with dainty bows at the top to hold them in place and the
woman was scandalized when Emmaline lifted the hem of her skirt and
put them on in the middle of her store.
     
    She’d watched Tristan as she slid them up her
leg, taking her time tying those little bows around her thighs
before lowering her skirt. The new kid boots, with their tight
little buttons in a neat even row were slipped on, the button