Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4)

by Raven, Sandy

  Frustration with him, her situation and the fact that the sky was lightening by the second, she snatched them from his hand and sat on the room's only chair. The man was just not gathering her meaning. She was afraid last night's wine had numbed all sense of reason in his insistent, satisfaction-seeking brain. Her gaze snapped up at him. "No, Lucky. I must hurry home." She pulled on her stockings as Lucky retrieved her shoes from somewhere behind the table. "I have a precious few minutes before the sun is up and the fog begins to burn off." She pointed out the window. "That fog is my undeserved miracle. I cannot believe I overslept." Standing, she lowered the dress over her body and presented her back to him. He fastened the same buttons he'd undone the night before.

  "Fine. Do you need privacy?"

  She'd been ignoring her need for the chamber pot, and nodded.

  He found his trousers and put them and his boots on. "I'll go to the privy above deck and leave you the cabin. There should be enough water in the pitcher, Tally refilled it earlier."

  Someone had seen her naked in Lucky's arms? "You mean, someone came in here?"

  "Just Tally. I trust him with my life."

  "I was... uncovered. Unclothed!" She was sure she was going to be sick now. "Lucky, I was naked!"

  He grinned, a satisfied grin of a man with a wicked sense of humor. "You were well-covered my lady, I assure you."

  She couldn't believe he was making a joke about their previous nights' repeated lovemaking at a time like this. She huffed and held up a shoe, preparing to throw it at him.

  "I placed the sheet over you when I heard him slide the latch." He blew her a kiss before he threw back the latch, and opened the door. "I will be but a few minutes," he said, closing the door behind him after he'd quit the room.

  True to his word he'd hurried back, and they soon wended their way through the closed shipyard. Mary-Michael offered up the story she'd concocted while dressing. "I'll walk behind you, so no one thinks you're following me. Go through the alley again. We'll enter the house from the rear."

  "It's foggy," he said. "No one will see us."

  "Please. People around here stir before sunrise, even on Sunday. And in summer, the earlier services are more popular because of the heat later in the day." Once they left the shipyard proper, both walked silently and with a determined stride toward her house. Mary stayed on the opposite side of the street, behind Lucky, and she saw no one during her trek. And though she saw no one, it didn't necessarily mean no one saw her. Her mind raced with possible explanations for walking through the village in the early morning hours. And in a dress! She never wore a dress except to church. That's it! It was Sunday morning, except while she could say she was on her way to church, the church was in a different direction from her home. She was coming from the shipyard, except she was in a dress... That's it! She was on her way back to the house from the office where she had to drop off her drawings. That would cover the fact that she held nothing in her arms, so she obviously wasn't picking up drawings.

  Mary-Michael was terribly afraid that she was becoming quite an accomplished liar. She would have to add that to her growing list of offenses for which to confess.

  The fog was just starting to thin out when they reached her back porch. Mary-Michael breathed a sigh of relief as she fished her key from where it was pinned to the inside pocket of her dress and opened the door. Lucky followed behind, locking the door once he was inside. They walked into the warm, stuffy house and she immediately began opening the windows. "I have to get air moving through the house again. Please stay away from any of the windows facing the street, I beg you. The neighbors across the way, two elderly sisters, are rather gossipy. They are also Constable Potts' mother and aunt."

  She stoked the nearly-dead coals in the cast iron cook stove to rebuild the fire for their tea and her bathwater, then searched the pie cupboard hoping for something leftover. "Thank goodness Sally left food." She lifted the cotton napkin covering the bread basket and smiled. "It's not much, a half loaf of bread, a jar of apple butter, and..." she unwrapped another small item. "And this" she grinned as she showed the wedge to Lucky, "is my favorite cheese we can cut wedges from. Bless that woman, we will not starve today."

  Placing the food items on the table, she filled the kettle, then the larger pot. Lucky came up behind her, and his arms wrapped around her. The feel of his hard body behind her and the scent of their lovemaking still on both of them was causing her insides to do cartwheels and somersaults like the performers in the circus she saw in Philadelphia last summer.

  "Let me help you," he said. His warm, moist breath caused the baby fine hairs along her nape to stir, the sensation sending tiny tremors careening through her.

  She stopped pumping the water when he kissed her neck. If she hadn't held on to the counter she would have fallen. "You should go," she whispered. "I'm afraid..."

  "Don't be." He put his hands over hers on the big pot.

  The feel of his work-roughened hands gently caressing her forearms sent shivers coursing through her. She was losing the battle to keep him at a distance. How could she go to church knowing this man sat in the same building with her? She would never be able to keep her mind on the service, when all she wanted was to be in his arms, to feel him inside of her again, moving in that way that brought them both pleasure.

  "We can spend the day together," he whispered.

  Her entire body trembled at the unspoken promise in his words. Her breasts ached and she was growing wet between her legs yet again. This was madness! How on earth could she go from having never been touched by a man to a wanton in twelve short hours?

  Mary-Michael ducked under his arm and turned to face Lucky, the gold flecks in his brown eyes reflecting the rising sun coming in the kitchen window. "If I don't go to church people will notice." Her words sounded weak, even to her.

  "They'll think you left with your husband, won't they?"

  "My brother knows I stayed behind to work on your prints." She motioned to the pot of water in the sink. "If you don't mind placing that on the fire. I'll be right back."

  She had to get out of that kitchen or she would let the man have his way with her right there. And trollop that she was, she wanted him again! Taking the steps two at a time she ran to her room and closed the door, leaning against it in the dark. They had only this one weekend, she told herself. If she could make it through one more day, she wouldn't have to endure the temptation of his presence. Wouldn't have to decide between her lover and her everlasting soul.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed. What she wouldn't give to feel her belly grow with a babe! She'd give anything—everything—for a child of her own.

  Her decision made, she prepared the bathing chamber for her bath, but didn't get her dress and underclothes laid out. She didn't do it because she had less than twenty-four hours remaining to spend with her captain and for what she had in mind, clothing was not necessary.

  Chapter Eight

  They ate some of the cheese and bread with a spiced apple spread while the water heated, and when it boiled Lucky carried the pot for her while Mary carried another filled with cold water. He watched the sway of her bottom as she climbed the steps and his cock stirred. She was about to be naked in a tub and she wanted him to leave? Not hardly. He wanted to show her his idea of a Sunday morning worship service. Of course it would have to be quick so they could still make church if she insisted.

  He followed her into the bathing chamber, a room barely big enough for the two of them. Mary set her pot down and as Lucky poured the hot water into a slipper bath made of copper she added oil, filling the room with the scent of lavender. Light from the single window flooded the east-facing room. Louvered shutters prevented anyone from peering in, while still managing to let the breeze flow through. Morning light behind her caused Mary's hair to glow as though on fire and Lucky wanted nothing more than to touch her, and burn with her.

  In the quiet hours before she woke that morning, he thought about t
heir circumstance—her marriage and his commitment to his company, and decided it was for the best if he ended their affair after he took ownership of the two new vessels. Who knew how long her husband might yet live. And while he was attracted to her, and desired her unlike any woman ever, unless she wanted to come with him to England and be his mistress, they could never carry this any further than a brief affair.

  He would have definitely considered marriage to Mary Watkins when she became a widow, except for the fact that she'd never borne a child. Though he'd never introduced himself by his title, it was still a part of the legacy he wanted to pass down to a son one day. Except when he thought about a future without Mary-Michael Watkins, a cold, desolate sensation filled his heart.

  Perhaps he could take a house in Baltimore to facilitate their affair? Yes. That's quite doable. He would spend every free moment possible with her. Given time, he sensed something precious could grow from their relationship.

  He added the cool water, and put both pots in a corner while she replaced the vial on the washstand. Lucky came up behind her. Their gazes met in the oval looking glass hanging on the wall above it.

  She gave him the tiniest of smiles. "I guess we aren't going to church today."

  "That's a safe assumption," he murmured as he began to unfasten the buttons on the back of her dress. He could do this every day for the rest of his life and he would never tire of it. Her skin was silky soft and flawless beneath the time-worn clothing she wore. One day he would love to take her to London and Paris, and bring her to the most fashionable modistes, and garb her with the finest materials and latest colors and fashions. He wanted to adorn her with jewels that would set off her amber-colored eyes. And just as he had these thoughts, a part of him knew she'd never accept him. She was too proud to be any man's mistress, and too independent to be an idle wife. At this realization, a crushing sensation overcame him. He reminded himself to hold fast to this moment and the memories they would have of this weekend.

  He pushed the bodice over her shoulders, revealing the curve of her bare shoulders, and her pert breasts beneath the soft fabric of her chemise. "My lady requires help with her bath," he murmured. He lifted her hair to the side and bent down to place a light kiss on the sweet curve of her neck, right where it met her shoulder. "And I am," he whispered onto her moist, hot skin, "a very experienced lady's maid."

  Running his hands down her sides, he grasped the material of her dress below her hips and lifted it. When she raised her arms, he knew she was just as eager as he for this. He knew he should think of her, of her comfort, but right then he was more likely to stop the sun from rising in the sky than stop what they were about to do. Dress, petticoat and chemise all came off together, leaving her standing in her drawers and stockings. In the mirror, he watched her nipples pucker tight and beg for his touch.

  Lucky turned Mary in his arms, then he sat on the only stool in the room, positioning her between his legs. "How do you feel?"

  She was silent a moment, while he tugged at the knot of ribbons holding her drawers up. "Desiring of..." The soft cotton material slid down her thighs to the floor, exposing all of her for his pleasure. His breath caught in his chest, the sight of her naked beauty so arrested him. In the faint morning light, he thought her more beautiful than a Titian painting. He forced himself to remember she was already married, and that she could never be his no matter how he wished it. She made a vow to her husband—and he had the partnership with Ian he was committed to, and a duty to his title to marry and produce heirs. He could make no promises to her of a future together. He could never offer her what she deserved from a man. Marriage, fidelity, children. But he could pleasure her now, for it would please him as well.

  He grasped her bottom and pulled her close. He inhaled her scent, kissing her belly. "What is it my lady desires?" He looked up into her amber eyes, and saw the longing on her face. If she only knew how badly he wanted to be inside her.

  She clutched his head. "More of what we had last night." Her fingers threaded through his hair as he took a nipple between his lips and held it between his teeth, teasing it with his tongue. He was going to satisfy that need in her. In him as well.

  Her faint moans told him she enjoyed his attention, and when her legs parted and she straddled his thigh he moved to the other nipple. Soon she began to rock back and forth gently on his leg, the slow rhythm instantly making his cock hard. He cupped her soft, dark curls with his left hand and parted her with a middle finger. The feel of her, so wet and ready for him, made him nearly climax in his trousers. Lucky had to remember to be gentle on her for it had been an active night, and she hadn't been in her husband's bed in years.

  He lifted his lips to hers. "Are you sore at all?"

  She shook her head. Her glowing eyes were alive with wonder at what his fingers were doing on her sensitive nub. "Lucky," she said on a shaky breath, "I ache." He watched as she fought the sensations in order to finish her sentence. "From... a void... that needs filling."

  He groaned. She had no idea the effect her words had on him. His hands roved upwards, grasping her by the waist, he lifted her from him. "I can take care of that for you," he murmured. He quickly shed his shirt, then stood to remove the rest of his clothing. Assessing the room, he decided to take her standing, from the rear. He wanted to watch her face as he took her. He wanted to see the play of emotions in her eyes—the desire, the reach, the climax, the satiation.

  He placed her in front of the mirror. "Hold the edge of the washstand and look at us. Do not close your eyes. Understand?" She nodded, and when she grabbed the stand she spread her legs apart and stuck her bottom up for him. He moved close and reached around and parted her in front with his right hand and found her sensitive nub, then found the pool of liquid silk. With his left hand he guided his cock head to her moisture and he spread it with his member, before positioning himself at her entrance.

  "Don't tease." Her voice trembled with desire, and complaint. He pressed against her clitoris harder, faster. "Yes," she sighed. He brought her to the edge of a climax, and unable to take more himself, he grabbed her hips and plunged inside. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and squeezed her eyes shut, breaking their eye contact.

  He pulled back, resting the head of his cock at her entrance. "Open your eyes," he commanded. He wanted her to watch him as he moved within her, wanted to see her climax blossom across her face as she reached it.

  Her desire-filled eyes met his in the mirror and he thrust into her. She gasped, then her walls tightened around him. He held still, hoping he hadn't hurt her, as her entire body spasmed. When she relaxed, he began to move within her, sliding in and out with some ease, though she was still very tight. "How do you feel now?" he asked.

  "Good. No, wonderful. Please don't stop, Lucky."

  He pushed in again, this time deeper, and watched the reaction on her face, the look in her eyes told him what he wanted. She was enjoying this as much as he. He thrust in again, this time to the hilt, and she moaned. "Yes, Lucky," her breathless pleas encouraged him. "Yes."

  He moved deeper and faster. Again and again. She gave a muted cry, and he paused. "Am I hurting you?" He didn't think he could take much more. He needed to come, soon.

  "No. Please. Don't stop."

  He wanted her to come with him, and he was so close. His fingers began toying with her clit again and a deep moan from some primal place inside her filled the room. Her eyes threw golden daggers at him as she pleaded for him to bring her to orgasm. His body took over as he moved with a faster, deeper rhythm. His need for release was every bit as desperate as hers, and he plowed her silken depths until he finally thrust deeply one last time. Lucky held himself there, relishing in the sensations and emotions playing across Mary's face. Only then did he give in to the most satisfying orgasm he'd ever experienced.

  Mary-Michael held his gaze in the mirror until the moment they climaxed. The buildup of sensations, and an intense and brilliant light, all came to an explosive peak ins
ide her. There wasn't energy left to hold her eyelids open, and she hoped he understood. She'd tried to keep her eyes open for him, wanted to see his expression when he climaxed as well. It just wasn't possible, so strong was this culmination of their loving. As her entire body trembled with her shattering climax, she instinctively pressed her backside into him wanting to keep him joined to her as long as possible. Her head fell forward and Lucky's arm reached around her waist, supporting them both as he leaned onto her back, kissing her shoulder.

  The romantic in her wanted this forever. This feeling. His strong arms around her, protecting her from... what? Life? Sanity began to trickle back through the haze of satiation, bringing her to her senses. He couldn't protect her from the future—whatever that may be. She just had to make sure he didn't suspect her reasons for needing him as badly as she did.

  "That has to be uncomfortable for you." She fought to regain her breath as she stood there, relishing the feel of him over her.

  "Not at all." His lips lazily nibbled along her shoulder. "When I'm inside you, I feel amazing."

  She met his brown-eyed gaze in the mirror. She wanted to share with him as well the wonder of what she'd just experienced, but couldn't find the right words. Too, was it even appropriate to share so intimate a feeling when they were only lovers for the weekend? Not knowing what to say, she said nothing. He must have taken this as a way for her to maintain her distance, so he backed away, slipping from her body. She felt the void in her heart.

  "Your bathwater is getting cold." Was it her imagination, or was that a hint of sadness in his whispered words? She looked at the inviting tub, and winced when she straightened. He frowned. "I'm sorry if I was too rough. It's just that... it's been a while for me."

  Mary-Michael remembered that she had a pretense to keep up—that of a wife who'd not been in her husband's bed for several years. "Likely not as long as it's been for me." She climbed into her bath and thought once again that she was becoming quite an accomplished liar. And she hated herself for it.