Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4)

by Raven, Sandy

  Oh, what did she know about relationships? She, the woman who'd never been kissed. She, the woman who worked alongside men in a profession that she'd never have if it weren't for the protection and encouragement of her husband.

  Mary-Michael inwardly cringed. She had no idea what men actually wanted, she just hoped that this one wanted her for at least two days. And for as much as she was attracted to him, and was starting to like him, she could not let herself hope for anything permanent with him. He lived in another country, and she would never leave Indian Point, much less America.

  She lifted her gaze to the captain's lips again as he drank his ale and had a fleeting thought of what it might be like to kiss those strong, full lips that smiled more than they didn't. And as she'd never been kissed, she had to accept the word of the girls she knew who had, and she seemed to remember them saying that full lips were better than thinner lips.

  Her gaze dropped down to the table and she tried—really, really tried—to not look at the width of his arms or the breadth of his chest. Surely she wasn't the only woman who'd fantasized about being held in those enormous arms, how secure and safe they would make a woman feel. His forearms were bare, having rolled his sleeves up before he arrived at the office. From his wrist to his elbow, he had a sprinkling of dark fine hairs that ended at the rolled cuffs. She wondered if it continued all the way up and across his chest. The tiny bit of his chest she managed to get a peek at above the unbuttoned top of his shirt proved positive for a smattering of dark hair. Her mouth suddenly went dry and she took a hefty swig from her water glass.

  Her mind raced with thoughts of touching his bare skin. Would the hair on his chest be soft? Would the rest of his body be as hard and muscled as the parts she could see?

  As she reveled in her own thoughts she never realized he'd spoken to her. Now, surely he thought her nothing more than a desperate, unfulfilled wife. Here she was making a fool of herself over his looks, when she had to keep on her mission. She had to remember she'd selected him because of this attraction they shared and his looks—this was only to beget a child. That was all she needed from him.

  "I'm sorry. My mind was drifting."

  He looked around at the remaining customers in the dining room at Becky's. When he returned his intent gaze to her, he said, "I said we've been dancing around something all morning."

  She looked at him, concerned at what he might say in this public room, and who might overhear him. Because while she suspected Potts was already removed, she wasn't sure that his lackeys were gone with him. All she needed was for one of them to walk into the taproom.

  "I want to make myself clear about this—" Lucky spoke in a soothing whisper. "—you and I will be dining tonight in my cabin and afterward we are going to make love, Mary Watkins. Prepare to spend the entire night with me."

  Her heart raced and that riotous fluttering started up again in her belly. Her breathing hitched. Likely from the shock of his words. That and his stare caused her to shift uncomfortably in her chair and cross her legs at the ankle. She clenched tightly at the knees, as a tingly wet sensation began between her legs.

  He sounded so sure of himself, as though he knew she wouldn't refuse him. If this were any other situation but the one she faced currently, she would remind him of his manners. As it was, their meal arrived and they both found conversation uncomfortable after the captain's declaration.

  Mary-Michael pushed the stew meat around her plate, finally dropping her fork. As if waiting for her cue, Captain Gualtiero placed his fork and knife across his plate indicating he, too, was finished.

  "Are you ready to go?"

  After a terrifying moment of speechlessness, she found her tongue. "Sir, I cannot go to your cabin in broad daylight. There are still men working in parts of the yard and it would surely set the gossips' tongues to wagging if they saw us. You must know I would never intentionally cause my husband shame."

  "I meant to return you to your office. With regard to tonight, I shall be at your house at just dark."

  Panic struck her. "Please," she begged. "You cannot be seen at the house, Captain. Some of my neighbors are rather nosy busy-bodies." She had to dissuade him from picking her up. "Meet me at the office after dark, please?"

  "No, Mary," he said. "I will not leave you to walk the streets of even this safe village alone at night. If I must, I will come to your back door."

  She relented with a curt nod. "And I suppose we can begin calling each other by our Christian names seeing as we are about to become...." Her voice faltered, unable to give credence to the deed they were about to perform later.

  "Lovers, Mary. We're going to become lovers."

  She simply nodded in agreement, then quietly cleared her throat. "Well then... Please come to my back door from the alley. And make sure you are not seen entering through our gate by anyone."

  She returned to the office, and within thirty minutes Mary-Michael had rolled up the sail plans she'd been working on, unable to focus after the luncheon she'd just shared with the captain. She used the heat as the excuse for leaving when she told Robert and Andrew she'd continue working from home.

  It wasn't too far from the truth. The afternoon was stifling, muggy, and only getting warmer. As she walked home, she realized that with Sally gone she had no one to help her dress or arrange her hair. Did she leave it down, or tie it back at the nape. She had no idea which the captain preferred. She also couldn't wear a full corset without Sally's help, so she would have to manage with a demi-corset that she could lace up on her own. For the first time in her life she was having womanly concerns pop into her head and she had no one she could turn to for answers.

  Mary-Michael wanted the captain to desire her as much as she desired him. At least for tonight. Because she needed him to plant the seed to make her dream of becoming a mother come true, and she didn't have much time to make this happen.

  Just as dusk turned full dark, Lucky slipped past the small stable behind the Watkins home, and saw Mrs. Watkins standing just inside her back door. With the bottom portion closed, and the top open, he smiled to her as he walked up the fragrant, flowered path. He hadn't sneaked in through the back door of a woman's home since he was a green lad. If Mary Watkins only knew how much he was doing for her company this night. She opened the lower half of the dutch door, careful to hide behind it as he slipped inside. In the dimly lit kitchen he drank in her appearance. She wore a sleeveless aqua-colored muslin dress, the bodice shot with gold thread in a floral pattern. A wide white sash tied into a bow behind her back and it told him what he'd suspected all along–that behind that men's garb she wore, she was slender and finely boned with a tiny waist.

  Her scooped neckline was modest, giving her the appearance of a girl younger than her twenty-four years. Outside of those work clothes she favored, she was incredibly beautiful, in a fragile-bird sort of way. He was almost afraid he'd hurt her. He'd have to be mindful of her delicate frame later.

  Lucky reached out with a hand and cupped the soft skin of her face with the work-roughened skin of his palm. Her skin was smooth and flawless, like that of a perfect, delicate bloom. She'd bathed and her hair still hung to her waist, damp and loose.

  "You are so beautiful." He ran his fingers up her scalp then through her hair, separating it, and fanning the gleaming tresses out behind her. "You should wear it down always."

  "I have to keep it up for work." She backed away, and reached out for her key ring and put it in the pocket of her dress. "If I didn't, I would have ink stained ends. And that wouldn't be very attractive, now would it?" She went to check the front door and returned to the kitchen where Lucky waited. She appeared very nervous. Checking all the windows and doors, some more than once. "Not to mention my hair would smear the ink on the drawings. Recently I have considered cutting it short. Some of the working women at church have done so and it's rather convenient, they say."

  Her nerves made her chatty. He wished there was a way to calm her, but he knew the only way wa
s leave her, and he couldn't do that. "I'm sure it will be equally as lovely short as it is long." He rather hoped she'd never cut it because he wanted to always picture her with that glorious head of red hair fanned out across his pillows.

  She turned an astonished look his way. "Do you really think so?"

  She was a curious mixture of meek and independent, and the combination was enticing as all hell. "I do."

  He saw her eyes glisten in the light of the single kitchen candle. Nerves again, he thought. She took a shaky breath and blew it out before opening the back door. "I'd rather not call attention to ourselves, so I'll be taking a different route than usual. If you could walk behind me somewhat, and not speak to me until we are well onto the shipyard property, I would appreciate that. And let's hurry. Not that I believe anyone would recognize me dressed as I am, but I'd rather not chance being seen."

  Lucky nodded and they went out the back door, slipping behind the stable in the dark. They followed the alleyway until it ended, then she rounded the corner and led them onto the footpath alongside the street, where they kept to the shadows in the residential area of her small village. He wondered what Watkins was thinking to leave his wife, unattended, unchaperoned and completely available to him for the next thirty-six hours. He didn't ever want Mary to think he was taking advantage of her, but he was silently thanking all deities both religious and mythological for the opportunity to explore this attraction between them.

  Within minutes they were behind the gates of Watkins Shipbuilding and she slowed her pace. She began to speak, softly, as though she expected someone to discover the two of them together. "You said you wanted us to learn about each other. So, Captain, what shall we talk about?"

  They crossed the expansive construction yard with only the light from a cloud-covered moon to guide them. It cast an almost ethereal glow about her. "You can ask me anything. As long you call me Lucky."

  She looked at him and gave him a half-smile. The tilt of her head and the dimple in her left cheek told him she was relaxing. "Why do you not shave more frequently?"

  He grinned back at her, shaking his head in a bemused manner. He wondered how much he should tell her. How would she react to learning of his background? Would she instantly dislike him for his noble heritage? There was no way to tell for certain. She seemed very liberated and democratic, and that might not work in his favor if he wished to remain in her good graces. "For no other reason except I'm not good at it."

  "You seemed surprised by my question," she mused as they continued walking. "You said I could ask anything." She flashed him a dimpled smile. "Last night you surprised me with your haircut and shave."

  "I wanted to be presentable for dinner, thus sought the services of a skilled barber yesterday afternoon."

  She toyed with her hair, another clear sign that she was nervous. He had a bottle of his favorite wine in his cabin, a glass of that should more than ease her worries. "Your beard, kept short as you had it... Well, I don't find it... unattractive." Not that he could see, but he imagined her cheeks were as red as her hair. He could tell in the way her voice trailed off to a whisper as she made her confession. "You seem to buck convention in your own way. You have fine, tailored clothing that denotes your privileged upbringing, yet you roll the sleeves and unbutton the shirt, as if to show you aren't afraid of hard work."

  He chuckled. "I'm not afraid of work, but I come from a cooler climate and your heat is truly oppressive. Ian warned me about it."

  They'd reached the skiff tied to the dock and he helped her into the rocking little boat, and watched her take her seat with absolute balance and grace. He waited for her to be situated before stepping in himself. She was an unassuming beauty and he found that her most attractive quality. She didn't need to play with fashion to enhance a thing. She was already perfect, in his opinion.

  Lucky rowed the two of them out to Avenger as the rain began to fall softly. The thunder in the distance told him there was much more to come. He tied the little boat off at the rope ladder and reached out to untie the safety rope. He handed it to Mary and said, "Place this around your waist, with the point of the hook facing down, in case you slip and lose your footing."

  "I won't lose my footing." Mary pulled the back hem of her skirt forward between her legs then tugged it through the white ribbon tied at her waist. She threw him an unreadable glance over her shoulder, her amber eyes appearing golden-brown in the cloud-filtered moonlight.

  "You might, so just do as I say." She raised a brow at the tone of his voice, something he'd caught as soon as the words left his mouth. "I don't want you to get hurt." Only after she'd done so did Lucky offer her a hand up to start her climb, watching her closely the entire way.

  After she was safely on deck he followed behind her up the rope ladder. Once on board, he took her hand and hurried them to his cabin where Tally would bring their dinner now that it was raining. Her fingers were like ice, even though it was warm out and she'd walked the distance from the house to the shipyard. He went to the cabinet and took out the bottle of wine and two glasses, then poured. This would warm her, and if it didn't do a sufficient job, then he could think of other things to get the blood flowing.

  He almost hoped he was right in his earlier assumption and that she and Watkins had no marital intimacy. There was this primal, selfish beast inside of him that wanted to be her first and only. Though it wasn't likely, after all, she'd been married for six years. Surely they'd consummated the union.

  In the past, he'd always hated the thought of being the first lover a woman took. He'd made it a practice to stay as far away from untried misses and ladies as he could. But with Mary, he both wanted to be the one to teach her, yet loathed the idea of hurting her.

  "I had planned for dinner on deck, but suspected the weather wouldn't hold for us." The portholes were open and they could hear the sound of the storm growing closer from across the bay. The rain became more intense and the wind-tossed waves in the bay caused his boat to rock.

  "I'm glad we made it in time," she said, taking the glass from his grasp. She stepped back slightly and looked out over the bay, and into the increasingly stormy night. A bolt of lightning tore a bright, jagged line across the sky in the distance and she shivered. "These evening thunderstorms will help cool the sweltering temperatures we've had lately."

  "Drink the wine, it will relax you."

  She silently moved around his cabin, running a finger along the spines of the titles he had on his bookcase. Taking a sip from the glass, she finally spoke, "I am relaxed, Captain." Though she said the words, the half-smile she gave him almost made him want to call an end to the evening.

  "We agreed you would call me Lucky. And you're not a very good liar, Mary Watkins." He came to her, and caught her free hand as she studied the craftsmanship of his wardrobe pulls. He forced her to look at him. Something in him had to ask, because she was acting in such a way that he feared he was correct. He held her gaze. "Have you done this before?"

  She stared at him a moment, and Lucky could swear she was trying to work up the courage to lie. Taking a hefty swig of the wine, she clenched the glass in her hands. "If you are asking me if I have ever been unfaithful to my husband, then surely you can tell the answer to that." She took yet another large swallow of wine. "And if you are asking what I think you are, then need I remind you that I have been married for six years? And my husband wasn't always ill."

  How could a man be both happy and yet disappointed at the same time? He wasn't sure. But he realized how difficult it was for her to be honest with him, and with that admission he believed he found someone special because she'd chosen him with whom to break her marriage vow. He knew that had to be incredibly difficult for her.

  He had to touch her, hold her, and feel her softness in his arms. He wanted to make love to her through the night, and between loving her he would cradle her close. He sensed she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of a day without worrying about work or her husband in a very long time. Just as
he leaned in to kiss her, he heard footsteps in the companionway.

  Mary heard them as well, her eye widening in fear as she backed away from him. "I thought we were alone," she whispered.

  He placed a finger to her lips and gave her a reassuring smile. "That would be our dinner."

  She nodded, before turning to face one of the porthole windows and stare out at the storm. Lucky thought perhaps she didn't wish to be seen by his crewman in the privacy of the captain's cabin. He knew he'd never be able to convince her his crew were all trustworthy and loyal to him unless she trusted him first. And he had a feeling Mary Watkins didn't trust many people.

  When the knock came he threw the latch and opened the door for Tally who set the tray on the table. "Dinner is served, Captain," his crewman said. "Shall I make a table ready?"

  He glimpsed Mary's straight-backed and tense form as she stared out the window and knew it would make her more comfortable if his cook left the cabin. "No thank you, Tally. We can manage." The lanky African bowed then left the room. Lucky went over to where Mary stood and lifted her chin to face him.

  "He will never speak of this. I trust him implicitly."

  "The stakes are very high for me if I am ever found out." She closed her eyes and shuddered before taking another sip of the wine. "You can leave after your ships are completed. I will have to remain."

  "I give you my word, no one on my crew will ever mention this." He motioned back to the platter on the table. "Care for dinner?"

  "I don't think I can eat." She tipped up her glass and finished her wine. "Every ounce of common sense I possess is screaming at me to leave now" she whispered. "To go home. Telling me this is wrong." She heaved a quivering sigh. "But for the past few days I've been thinking... about us. Doing sinful things. And I want this. I want you... so much." She looked up at him and stared with wide eyes, filled partly with fear, partly with excitement.