Free The Gambler by Lily Graison Page A

front door of the hotel.
     
    “Now, where are you off to, Mr. Avery?” She
bypassed the desk when she reached the hotel lobby and ventured out
onto the sidewalk, her gaze scanning the street for Tristan. She
saw him moments later, heading away from the hotel. She followed
him.
     
    When he entered the saloon at the end of the
street, she rolled her eyes heavenward. “Figures.” The urge to turn
around and go back to the hotel was strong, especially since she
hadn’t bothered to grab her coat. The air was brisk and cut to the
bone but at least the snow hadn't chased them when they left
Cottonwood Springs. She could smell it in the air though.
     
    Hurrying to the saloon, she peeked into the
window. Tristan was turning from the bar, a bottle of whiskey in
one hand, a glass in the other. He crossed the room, his gaze
lingering over the tables before he sat down at one near the
piano.
     
    Emmaline shook her head. “Gambling. Why am I
not surprised?” She watched him until her hands were numb from the
wind whipping through town and was turning away when she saw a
flash of red out of the corner of her eye. Looking back into the
window, she saw one of the saloon girls take a seat in Tristan’s
lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and either whispered in
his ear or kissed him. She couldn’t tell which. Either way,
something ugly burned in her stomach at the sight. Thoughts of
violence whispered inside her head and she blinked when she
realized she’d left her perch outside on the sidewalk and was now
standing inside the building, a murderous glare tossed in Tristan’s
direction.
     
    The noise inside the saloon was like any
other. Laughter, a string of notes pounded out on the piano, and
the occasional curse or angry shout. The smell was about the same
too. Whiskey, sweat and cigar smoke.
     
    She took a step toward the table Tristan sat
at but stopped. Why did she even care? It wasn’t as if he meant
anything to her. She slept with him but that didn't mean there was
any form of relationship between them. She didn’t even like him
very much. She was with him for one reason. To get her land deed
back. But watching that saloon girl wiggle on his lap and seeing
him grin that cocky little smile caused that burn in her stomach to
spread to her limbs. How dare he accept the advances of a whore
after she gave herself to him the night before?
     
    Clenching her jaw, she crossed the room and
stopped by the table he sat at. It took him a few moments to see
her and when he did, his eyes widened before he tried to sit up
straight in his seat. The floozy in his lap prevented it and
Emmaline threw him a sarcastic smile before glancing at the girl.
“Slumming it, Tristan? I would have thought a man as wealthy as you
would find your pleasure in one of the more upscale whore houses in
town.” She smiled when the woman on his lap gasped and tried to
look offended. “I know money can’t buy you everything but I thought
it would at least buy you a woman that didn’t have the spendings of
four other men still on her thighs.” The whore gasped again and
stood. Tristan grabbed her arm when she started around the
table.
     
    “Go home, little girl,” the whore said. “I’ll
send your man home nice and relaxed for you.”
     
    Emmaline laughed. “Keep him. I’d rather have
a dirt-poor pig farmer than a no good gambler anyway.” She gave
Tristan a sneer and turned.
     
    She was shaking by the time she reached the
bar. Why was she so rattled? She didn't have time to contemplate
the reason as a group of men by the bar started laughing, a few
moving into the open area leading to the door and blocking her
exit. Emmaline stopped, waiting for them to move, when one of them
turned and saw her. He smiled a wide toothy grin and bowed,
courtly, in her direction. “My apologies, My Lady.”
     
    The other men laughed and Emmaline raised an
eyebrow at them. Drunkards, the whole lot of 'em. “No harm done,”
she said.
     
    One of the men