Favorite author, Maureen McKade, wants TGTBTU’s readers to have this second of two excerpts for the new entry in her new Forrester Brothers Trilogy, A Reason to Sin. Read on…
Excerpt from A REASON TO SIN by Maureen McKade…
“That’s it. I’m out.” The cattleman tossed his cards into the middle of the table and shoved back his chair.
The other two men shook their heads, finished their beer and ambled out of the saloon.
Alone, Slater shrugged and gathered the deck in his skilled hands. The pile of coins in front of him didn’t add up to much, but for a Friday evening, it wasn’t bad. Rubbing his nose against the stench of tobacco smoke, Slater glanced over at the cleared area that served as a dance floor. The saloon gals were being swung around by men with more enthusiasm than skill. However, the girls didn’t seem to mind. He figured it was a lot like dealing cards in that it was simply a job.
His gaze strayed to the piano where Simon’s fingers flew across the keys. Somewhat hidden beside the piano Miss Glory watched just as she’d done most of the evening. A couple of men had asked her to dance earlier but she’d smiled and shaken her head. Fortunately, the men didn’t press the issue. Dante’s efficiency with the sawed-off shotgun behind the bar was well-known.
With no players in sight and his mouth dry, Slater sauntered up to the bar. Dante brought him a cup of coffee without prompting.
“Thanks.” Slater took a sip. “Quiet night.”
“Everyone is preparing for tomorrow night’s debauchery,” Dante said.
Slater smiled crookedly, appreciating the diminutive man’s wit. “How’s Miss Glory doing?”
Dante glanced over at her and smiled. “She and Simon are getting along splendidly. And I believe she passed her first test.”
“Yeah, I noticed she was wearing Georgia’s usual dress. I expected a cat fight.”
Dante’s smile faded. “Miss Glory’s not your characteristic daughter of joy.”
“If you’re trying to tell me she isn’t a whore, I’m withholding judgment.”
He eyed Slater closely. “You’re a cynical man, Slater Forrester.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Dante’s gaze softened. “Yes, I suppose you have.”
The bartender’s comment sounded too much like pity and Slater’s irritation made him curt. “Think she’ll work out?”
Dante accepted the change of subject gracefully. “I don’t believe she has any other options.”
Most of the women who worked in places like the Scarlet Garter did so because they didn’t have a choice. However, Slater had known a few who preferred that type of life rather than being bound by society’s stringent rules or dominated by a husband. He couldn’t blame them. He, too, preferred to remain free.
Miss Glory glided away from the piano and joined them but she kept her gaze on the bartender. “Could I please have a special, Dante?” she asked, her cultured voice both annoying and alluring.
“One special coming right up, Miss Glory.”
She accepted the weak tea with a tired smile. “Thank you.”
With a flourish, Dante bowed at the waist but was called to the end of the bar, leaving Slater alone with Glory. He deliberately stared at her but she continued to ignore him. However, the pulse in her slender neck betrayed her awareness of his scrutiny.
Slater waited with the patience he’d been forced to learn. Finally he was rewarded and she turned toward him, her eyes flashing.
“Is it me or my breasts that you find so fascinating?” A charming red flush covered her face and spread down her neck and chest.
Slater’s gaze lingered on her breasts, wondering if the rosiness colored them, too. He raised his head and smiled lazily. “Both.”
Although her blush deepened to scarlet, she didn’t look away. “Look all you want. Why should you be any different than the rest of them?” She waved an arm, encompassing the saloon’s occupants.
For some reason it bothered Slater that she thought he was no better than the men who were so starved for female company that they bought overpriced drinks to dance with them. “Is that what you think?”
She propped a hand on a deliciously rounded hip. “What else should I think?”
He kept his features bland even as his blood heated. Although he made it a rule not to bed the women he worked with, he was tempted to make an exception with Glory. “I don’t need to buy time with a lady.”
“You have an inflated opinion of yourself.”
“Maybe I deserve it.”
Her lips twitched. “You obviously think so.”
Slater took a sip of coffee to hide his unexpected amusement. “What about you? Are you too good to be dancing with them?”
Melancholy seized her features and he saw the effort it took her to force a laugh. “Not anymore, Mr. Forrester.”
Her bitter reply made him study her, this time without any preconceptions. Even if Dante was right in his assessment of her, Miss Glory had chosen to work in this place. However, his conscience reminded him that often times a person didn’t have a choice in this life.
Andrew strolled out of the back office and came to stand beside Glory. “Have you and Simon worked out some songs?”
“After they worked out their differences,” Slater remarked.
Glory shot him a glare. Andrew, confused by their byplay, arched a brow at Slater. However, Slater merely shrugged a shoulder. If Glory couldn’t work with Simon, Andrew would know soon enough.
“Simon and I have picked out some songs. He said we could practice tomorrow morning,” Glory answered Andrew. “Is that all right with you, Mr. Kearny?”
Slater gnashed his teeth. With Andrew her voice was honey sweet, but with him she buzzed like an angry bee.
“That would be fine, Glory.” He rubbed his brow.
“Have you been working on the accounts again?” Slater asked.
Andrew nodded wryly. “When I started this place, I never expected to spend most of my time in the back with those damned books.”
“I might be able to help you,” Glory said.
Andrew chuckled. “This isn’t simple addition and subtraction.”
Glory’s eyes narrowed. “I realize that. I’ve worked on account books.”
“Where was that?” Andrew asked.
Curious in spite of himself, Slater wanted to hear her answer, too.
Her gaze skittered away. “St. Louis.”
“Is there someone I can contact who can give me a reference for your work?” Andrew asked.
Glory shook her head too quickly. “No. Please forget that I even mentioned it.”
Slater wanted to push her, but Andrew was more sympathetic. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on your offer one of these days,” the older man said. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Glory? It’s already midnight and if you plan to practice in the morning, you need your rest.”
“Thank you,” she said in obvious relief. “It’s been a long day.”
“They’ll get longer,” Slater said.
She flashed him an irritated look then took Andrew’s suggestion and climbed the stairs to retire for the night. As he watched the gentle sway of her backside, he noticed Andrew, too, was eyeing the new girl.
“Do you think she really knows how to keep accounting books?” Slater asked. An illogical sense of possessiveness wanted Andrew’s attention diverted from Glory’s figure.
Andrew drew his gaze away from her but did so reluctantly. “It’s possible. She’s definitely had an education.”
“Because she talks fancy?”
Andrew chuckled. “We both know a whore can learn how to talk like a lady. No, I knew Glory was the real thing when she first came in here looking for some fellah named Colfax.”
Slater turned Andrew’s words over in his head. “It could have been her intended who left her at the altar.”
“She didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I figured it was her business.”
“So why’d she decide to get a job here if she’s trying to find this Colfax?”
“I got the impression she was low on funds.”
“Like all of ’em.”
Andrew turned to face Slater and rested his forearm on the bar. “Do you have something against Glory? You’re usually more sympathetic to the women.”
Outwardly, Slater remained dispassionate but inside, an unaccustomed uncertainty seethed. “Maybe I just can’t stomach a woman who feels that anyone working in an establishment like this is below her station.”
“Has she given anyone problems?”
Slater thought of her reaction to Simon, but he couldn’t honestly say she’d treated him badly. Not after he gave her her options. He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Did you notice what she was wearing?”
Andrew thought for a moment then chuckled. “I’m surprised Georgia didn’t make a scene.”
Slater grinned. “Oh, she did, but Simon stopped her before it got bad.”
“How’d Glory handle it?”
Slater shrugged. “I saw her say something to Cassie afterward. Cassie didn’t like whatever she said.”
“I’m staying out of the middle. Cassie knows her job and Glory has a lot to learn. But Glory’s smart and she’s got spirit. She’ll do all right.”
Slater lifted his coffee cup but before taking a drink, he silently toasted Miss Glory.
#
The moment the door closed behind her, Rebecca tore off the indecent blue dress and threw it on her bed. Georgia could have the blamed thing with her blessing. Even if all the other dresses were just as short and just as plunging in the front, Rebecca would choose one with a more subdued color, something that would be less noticeable.
She tugged on her wrapper and belted it around her waist then removed her red garter, stockings and shoes. Using the cool basin water, she washed the paint from her face. She brushed her hair and by the hundredth stroke, the tobacco taint had faded to a slight irritant.
She pressed her ear to the door but didn’t hear anyone in the hallway and slipped out to return the blue dress to its former hook. Back in her own tiny room, Rebecca allowed herself to sink into the only chair. She pulled her bare feet up and wrapped her arms around her drawn-up legs. Propping her chin on her knees, she gazed unseeingly at the thin shade over her lone window.
The events of the evening whirled through her thoughts. She’d walked through a den of iniquity wearing a harlot’s costume while men ogled her legs and chest. She’d talked with a man of color and apologized to a Negro woman. In the world where she was raised, there were firm, but invisible, lines drawn between whites and Negroes. She’d never questioned them. Until tonight.
She’d also asked a man if he liked looking at her breasts. Dear God, what had ever possessed her to ask such a question? Merely thinking about it she burned with mortification. Yet Slater Forrester seemed to bring out the worst in her. Those cool blue eyes and dark-winged brows could almost make her believe he was the devil incarnate. Of course, that would explain why she felt so off-balance around him.
The fact that Benjamin was a gambler, too, might have some bearing on her mixed emotions. She’d observed Forrester throughout the evening and couldn’t help but compare the two men. Although she’d never seen Benjamin play poker, he’d practiced in their home, and both he and Forrester were as slick as grease with a deck of cards. Even their expressions, pleasant but giving away nothing, were similar. However, Benjamin was blonde and hazel-eyed with a slender frame. Forrester’s wider shoulders and more muscular body told Rebecca he wasn’t unaccustomed to physical labor. Oddly enough, that softened her opinion of the dealer. Despite his wealth, Rebecca’s father had never scorned physical labor like so many of his social class.
Rebecca closed her eyes and pictured her mother and father, laughing and dancing to the tune of a music box in the parlor. That they loved one another was obvious in every look and every touch they exchanged. She’d even caught them kissing on occasion and although she’d been embarrassed, it had also opened a yearning deep inside her.
When she met Benjamin, she believed she’d found what her parents had shared. Over a year later, Rebecca knew the difference between infatuation and love, and she was still paying for her hard-learned education.
However, she had no choice. She had to find Benjamin and tell him about Daniel. Surely a father would want to raise his son. She clung to that belief for without it, she had nothing left.
