The Best of Sisters by Dilly Court Page B

globes protruding above a low-cut bodice. He had to drag his gaze upwards and found himself looking into a pair of mischievous blue eyes beneath sandy brows. He pulled off his cap, clutching it to his chest. ‘How do, ma’am.’
    A chuckle bubbled up from her throat so that her breasts shook, seeming to be in imminent danger of popping out of her bodice. She cocked her head, smiling. ‘It’s Daisy, love. Daisy Dawkins.’
    ‘Bart, Bartholomew Bragg from London.’
    ‘Well, Bart Bragg from London, you look as though you could do with a drink.’ Daisy tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
    ‘I’d like nothing better,’ Bart said, shaking his head. ‘But you was right the first time. I’m broke, Daisy.’
    She eyed him up and down. ‘Just arrived, have you?’
    ‘That’s about it.’
    ‘Then I’ll buy you a beer, my lad. And when you’ve struck it rich you can remember Daisy Dawkins was the first to lend you a helping hand.’ Giving his arm a companionable squeeze, she led him into the lobby of the Provincial Hotel and through to the bar room where she perched on the edge of a barstool, signalling to the barman. ‘Two pints of your best, Jim.’
    ‘Right you are, Daisy.’
    Bart pulled up a stool, eyeing Daisy curiously. She was obviously very much at home in these surroundings. Back home he would have called her a loose woman, but despite her worldly air, he sensed a touching, underlying innocence in her that reminded him forcibly of Eliza. Her silver-blonde hair was piled up on her head in a halo of curls, and to him she looked like an angel.
    ‘Well then, love, tell us your story,’ Daisy said, taking a swig of her beer.
    Bart drank deeply. He didn’t want to tell this beautiful creature that he had killed a man. He hesitated. In the far corner of the room, he could just make out Tate’s dark head bent over a handof cards. From the hunch of his shoulders, Bart guessed that his lucky streak was not proving so good after all.
    Daisy laid her hand on his knee. ‘Is he a mate of yours, dearie?’
    ‘We travelled together from Wellington.’
    ‘Gambling and prospecting don’t go well together. I seen whole fortunes change hands in a night.’
    ‘We need stake money,’ Bart said, trying not to stare at Daisy’s breasts. He could feel the alcohol going straight to his head, and a stirring in his loins that was almost impossible to ignore. It was months since he’d had a woman and then it had only been a quick coupling with a prostitute in a back alley off Ratcliff Highway. It had satisfied a need, but had been a simple business transaction. Although his spirit yearned for a deep emotional attachment, he was only too aware that he would not find what he was seeking in the back streets and brothels. His work on the river and caring for Eliza had left little time to go looking for a respectable young woman with a view to courting her. Raising his eyes, Bart saw that Daisy was sipping her beer and smiling at him in a knowing way. He felt his cheeks flame beneath his whiskers and he looked away quickly.
    ‘It’s all right, love,’ Daisy said softly. ‘I ain’t no angel. You don’t have to be shy with me.’
    He finished his drink, wiping his mouth on theback of his hand. ‘You’ve been good to me, Daisy. I ain’t one to take advantage of a woman.’
    ‘Glory be to God, a gent.’ Daisy’s laughter echoed round the bar, causing a few heads to turn. ‘I tell you what you need, love.’ She leaned closer so that her breasts grazed Bart’s bare forearm. ‘A bath, a shave and a bit of food.’
    He closed his eyes, inhaling the intoxicating smell of woman laced with beer and cheap cologne. ‘I never had a more tempting offer, but I can’t leave Tate on his own.’
    ‘He’s a big boy, just like you,’ Daisy said, running her hand up Bart’s leg to his thigh. ‘Here, Jim,’ she called to the barman. ‘If that fellow over there wants to find his mate, tell him where I live and he’s to