Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (30 page)

"Yes."

Ian stopped walking. Lucky turned and focused on Ian through the mist that had begun to roll in from the bay.

"Lucky, if
I
can tell there was something... intimate... between you, surely her husband can as well." Ian raked a hand through his shaggy locks, a perplexed look upon his face. "This isn't just wrong, it could potentially backfire on you both. There are laws here, ideals that in England we just scoff at. We might turn a blind eye to an affair with a married woman after she's provided her husband with his heir. It might ruin her socially if she becomes too attached and she doesn't mind her behavior. But here... Lucky, here they still have archaic laws on the books. Such as hanging a woman for committing adultery. Are you willing to watch that happen? Because it could if someone made a public accusation."

 

M
ary-Michael strode into the office at six-thirty the next morning and made herself a pot of tea. On this particular morning, she needed the pick-me-up a strong pot provided. She'd lain in bed most of the night reliving each moment she and Lucky shared the previous summer. She also remembered the days immediately after he left, when she'd prayed that God had given her a child to carry and nurture—a part of Lucky to have forever and remind her of their one passionate weekend.

Then she got her menses. She'd been devastated. Even Mr. Watkins had seen how upset she was on that fateful morning when she realized she would not become a mother. She spent that entire day in her room crying. The following morning she was back at work, with a renewed energy to complete the two clippers and send them out onto the high seas for a life of commercial shipping.

And just minutes earlier, before she'd left the house, Mr. Watkins reminded her that there was still a chance for her to get with child now that Lucky was back. Knowing she couldn't keep them here much longer than a week, Mary-Michael knew if she wanted to conceive she had to move quickly. Because she desperately wanted a child of her very own.

Too, she had to contend with the feelings she'd grown to have for the captain. Because at some point over the past ten months, Mary-Michael had to admit to having certain tender feelings for him. Of course, she could never tell him, or anyone for that matter. They would only think the worst of her. At times she thought the worst of herself. Her calculated method of going about getting with child would certainly upset Lucky if he even suspected what she was doing. From their discussions last summer, she got the impression he was very much interested in a family and children. He likely wouldn't be happy if he'd sired one but would never be acknowledged as the child's father.

There were times when she felt such guilt and shame over what she was planning and doing that couldn't stand to look at herself in the mirror in the morning. But then she would remember how it felt to hold Rowan and Emily. She'd remember their laughter and hugging them when they cried for whatever reasons. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered how they smelled after their bath, and how they would sweetly say their prayers before bed when she tucked them in before returning to her drafting table.

She had to stop with the maudlin thoughts before someone walked into her office and caught her weeping.

Noises from the yard below told her the men were coming onto their jobs. Soon Lucky and Ian would be climbing the steps toward her office. She had to steel herself for the oncoming rush of emotion. She knew she would get that same jittery sensation in her breast when she saw Lucky again—the one that felt like her heart was racing and tripping at the same time, while her belly did somersaults tirelessly like a gypsy boy she saw once.

Nor did it appear that time and distance had caused his feelings for her to wane either. If anything she felt a stronger connection with him, not just because of their shared determination and drive to succeed professionally—though that was one of the first things that drew her to him—but for so many other things. Mary-Michael admired his quick intelligence, his loyalty to his partner and his crew, the obvious love he had for his family, and she wanted just a piece of what he had for her very own. A small piece she could keep for always.

The sound of the door below opening and closing, then multiple heavy-booted footsteps coming up told her the captains had arrived. Robert and Andrew weren't due for an hour yet. She saw her captain as he rounded the landing at the top of the steps and walked toward her open door. His swagger was almost as big as the grin on his face. He looked like a pirate with his tall black boots and buff breeches, his white shirt open at the throat. His sleeves were rolled up as usual, even though the temperatures were a bit on the cool side this morning. A damp curl hugged his ear and she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through it to loosen it.

Her insides quivered like jelly at the sight of the faint beard along his jawline, and she noticed as he got closer that his gold-flecked coffee-colored eyes were alight with joy. She almost thought the delight in his eyes was for seeing her, but the closer he got, the more she realized it wasn't. But it didn't upset her. After all, it was her own creations that had him so ecstatic he could barely contain his delight.

"You went over there, didn't you?" she said from her seat behind the desk. "Before coming here to get me, you went and looked."

"Sorry, I couldn't wait." Lucky's wide grin and lively expression illuminated his entire face.

"We didn't board either one," Ian added, hoping to calm Mary-Michael. "We saved that for the tour."

She couldn't help herself, she had to ask, because she wanted them to love their boats as much as she did. She wanted them to appreciate the work her men put into the twin ladies. "Well, now that you've had a peek, what do you think so far?"

"They are amazing, Mary," Lucky said. "I feel like a child at Christmas—getting his best present ever."

"Do you like the colors? That dark green you wanted was really hard to find in a heavy marine paint. I had to have that shade blended. When I saw what a good job the painter had done with that, I asked him to make the golden-white as well." She was babbling. She did that when she got nervous. She had to get a hold of her emotions. She had to stop talking and let the man get a word in edgewise.

"The striping came out wonderfully." Lucky's eyes crinkled as he smiled at her and she really couldn't stop her racing heart. "It's everything we discussed, only a hundred times more beautiful."

Mary-Michael smiled. She loved seeing him happy. Lucky was excited and pleased with something she, and all the men that worked for her husband's shipyard, had created.

A forced cough from behind Lucky reminded Mary-Michael they weren't alone. Flames of embarrassment crawled up her neck to scorch her cheeks. Why couldn't she be as collected and cool as Becky and Cady when situations such as this came up? Instead she colored up like a ripe tomato when she tripped up socially. She cleared her throat and stepped around Lucky to take Ian's outstretched hand.

"Good morning, Captain," she said to Ian. Ian's excitement was equally visible in his expression as well, but she sensed an underlying thread of disapproval. Likely it was her behavior. She would have to check herself and not allow herself to get caught up in Lucky's sensual web. She would have to remain conscious of Ian's presence throughout the day, or she would continually make a fool out of herself.

Glancing back at Lucky, she offered him her hand.

He lifted it and brought it to his lips, his eyes holding hers as he bent over her hand, pressing his lips against her knuckles. They lingered perhaps longer than what the ladies at church might consider polite.

The warm touch of his lips on her bare skin turned her insides turned to jelly. She quivered so violently she thought surely he must see. What would he think of her if he saw her so discomposed? She was supposed to be a professional. A capable businesswoman. And here she's portraying a simpering idiot in the man's presence.

Mary-Michael had to pull her hand away before she swooned at his feet. She returned to her seat and the two captains sat opposite.

"How much longer do you think it will be, Mrs. Watkins, before they are ready to sail?"

"Please, call me Mary-Michael." At that she gave Lucky a glare. She accepted him calling her Mary when they were alone—and only for Lucky—would she accept that. It was something intimate and special between them. For others, she preferred they use her given name.

Thinking about being alone with Lucky, she felt herself start to blush. She had to check her emotions yet again, before lifting her gaze to Captain Ross-Mackeever. "We can test your
Lady S
in a couple of days. Her rigging is about to go up and her sails are here on the property, but not on board yet. I just yesterday finished inspecting the ironwork on the masts and yards." She looked at Lucky. "The
Lady M
will be about two or three more days after that."

"It all went so quickly." Lucky held her gaze and melted her insides. She really had to stop sharing glances with him, he was going to be her ruin.

"Your two—" She cleared her throat. Why was she having so much trouble speaking? "Two ships— have, have been— my— um— my priority this past year." Her brain seemed to have ceased functioning and her heart pounded as though it wanted to burst out of her chest. Before she embarrassed herself any further, she averted her eyes, stood, and excused herself. "When I, um... return why don't we begin our tour?" And then she hurried down the hall.

She continued to the solitude of the privy closet to take a moment to calm her nerves. She pressed the back of her hand, the one Lucky had just kissed, to her lips. She could almost imagine the warmth of his touch still there. Mary-Michael fought to control her rapid breathing. Her hands shook as she tightened the knot holding her hair net and tucked a stray tendril behind her ear to get it out of the way.

Before leaving the house this morning, she'd made sure her shirt and trousers were not worn or torn, and that she'd put on the better of her two pair of boots. There was nothing more to do to try to make herself more presentable except to calm her trembling nerves. "Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out," she whispered, hoping to slow her racing heart.

From the moment she saw his boats coming toward her docks the day before, she had this slow growing feeling of uncertainty. Almost as though she wasn't sure if the feelings were still there on his part—or if what she remembered from last summer was just her imagination, something she'd dreamed of in her heart. Last night she suspected it might still be there. Now she knew.

It was in his look, in his manner. She could also tell that Lucky had spoken to Ian about their relationship because Ian didn't give her that look of disapproval as he had the night before. Mary-Michael hoped that was a good sign, because she wanted time alone with Lucky. She wanted to feel his touch on her body again, and wanted more than anything to try again to conceive a child. It was these thoughts that had her knotted inside.

Lucky was poised and collected. Always had been from the moment she met him. He'd confessed last summer that she'd upset his code of honor. If he'd never said it, she never would have known.

Perhaps if he just held her for a few minutes, it might help settle her nervousness. If she kissed him, some of his composure might rub off on her. On the other hand, maybe not. She wondered if his lips were as firm and skilled as she remembered, or was it all just her imagination. Ten months could do a great deal to fade a memory, even one as magnificent as the memory of his kisses.

 

"T
he poor thing is trembling from nerves," Ian growled. "What have you done to her?"

"Only the same thing she does to me." Lucky lowered his voice to a whisper, as the company's accounting clerk arrived and spied him and Ian in Mr. Watkins' office. "And she has since the moment we met." How could he explain what he felt when he wasn't even sure of it himself? He was painfully attracted to her, yet knew they were from different worlds. He wanted her, but didn't think marriage to her would be likely, and he respected her too much to ask her to be his mistress. Besides she didn't need the monetary support as she was obviously well-off, if not wealthy. In fact, she didn't need him at all.

But he knew she wanted him physically, almost as much as he wanted her. And if what they had now was all he could ever have of her, then that was what he'd have to accept.

Ian glanced towards the doorway. "She wears men's clothing and does a man's job. No, many men's jobs."

"I know. Isn't she great?" Able to see the length of the corridor from where he sat, Lucky kept a lookout for Mary's return.

"I will admit to being impressed with what I see thus far." Ian looked around the room. "Though this place hasn't changed a bit in all the years I've been gone. Except maybe gotten older. The interior of this building could use a coat of paint. Which is leading me to some serious questions about their finances."

"From what I gather—and I spoke to a few people in the community last year—Watkins is something of a miser. Except when it comes to the money he gives to the children's home." Lucky glanced out the door to make sure the clerk couldn't hear him, he didn't want to appear to be gossiping about the owner of the shipyard. "I witnessed him give a parcel full of cash to Mary's brother specifically for that home. The two men did not know I was in the back of the chapel while they transacted their business. Mary has told me he gives to the church as well to help the community."

"I left the area when I was not more than a boy," Ian said. "But I remember even then people revered Watkins, my father included."

Lucky heard the squeaky hinge on the door at the end of the hall and turned to watch Mary walk down the long corridor toward him. The sway of her hips held him mesmerized. She had a glint in her eyes and a smile on her face, and Lucky could tell she was more composed than she'd been just minutes earlier.