by Raven, Sandy
"True, but I worry that I hurt you." His voice was filled with sincere regret, and she couldn't stop thinking that, if her life had been different she could have had something special with this man. Something worth cherishing.
But she had to keep him at somewhat of a distance because he would leave. He'd go about living his life. And she would go back to being Mrs. Watkins, of Watkins Shipbuilding, and M. Michael Watkins, Naval Architect.
"You worry far too much about me," she said as she sunk into the deliciously warm water. "My size and frame are deceptive. I am very sturdily built."
He didn't reply, but took her towel and moved the stool closer to the tub. He pushed aside her hair and cupping his hands, he poured the warm water over her back. "You are so fair and beautiful." A single finger traced a path up her neck, sending a shiver racing up her spine. His touch forced a moan from her as her head fell backwards.
She lost herself in the sensual web he was creating around them. His touch had, from the moment they met, stirred unsettled emotions in her. Making her wish for things she couldn't have—and one she perhaps could, with his help. She sensed he was as disappointed as she that their time together was quickly coming to an end. His crew would be returning today. Surely he had to be on his ship to prepare to weigh anchor in the morning.
Mary-Michael opened her eyes and looked into his. "I... I find you very appealing, too." She didn't know what else to say. Even though she'd lied plenty over the past twenty-four hours, this she knew was truth. She also couldn't give him any impression, any hope that there might be something more than what there is today. And by the change in his mood—a mindful, observant silence she'd seen on a few occasions—she sensed he seemed to understand this.
She quickly bathed, and while she did, Lucky started the pot for more hot water and carried up the cool water for his bath. When she was done, Mary-Michael slipped into her bedroom and pulled a fresh chemise over her head and combed her hair. She suddenly felt sleepy, even though by the sun's height in the sky, she should be leaving for church soon. People would miss her. Her brother would worry about her.
While she waited for Lucky, Mary-Michael sat on her bed, thinking of the best way to get him out of the house without the any of the neighbors seeing him. Especially the ladies directly across the street. All they would have to do to ruin her is to say they witnessed a man leaving her home while Mr. Watkins was at the farm and she would lose credibility at work, and her standing in the community.
They never should have come to her home.
Lucky walked in, his thick, dark waves, wet from his bath, wearing nothing but his drawers. His body still glistened in places where he'd missed drying himself, and those droplets begged her touch, but she kept her hands to her lap.
"We have to manage a way to get you out so no one sees you leave." She yawned as she finished her words, and Lucky smiled.
"I think," he said coming close and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "that we are both tired and could use a short nap. When we wake we shall worry about when and how I leave."
"But you have to get to your ship. Shouldn't you be there this afternoon as your crew returns?" She made room for him to sit next to her, but he lay down instead.
"Yes, and I shall." He motioned for her to join him on the bed, and she did. Even with the temperatures rising in the house as the sun rose, her lover pulled her close and held onto her. Tired and very much in need of a nap, she didn't have the energy to pull away. So Mary-Michael curled into her captain's side and slept.
The sound of her brother's voice penetrated the fog that shrouded Mary-Michael's brain. George's voice sounded very near, as if directly under her window. Odd dream. Her brother calling for her while she slept... while she slept... in her lover's arms. Oh, holy mother of God!
Throwing her pillow onto the floor, she bolted out of bed, waking said lover. She was wearing a chemise when she laid on the bed. Where was it? "Lord have mercy," she whispered. "Do not say a word," she hissed at Lucky. "Understand?" She tried to find her dressing robe. In the absence of that, she yanked the sheet from the bed, and her chemise dropped to the floor.
"I hear you up there, Mary-Michael. Are you all right?" Genuine concern tinted George's voice, which caused her stomach ball up into a tight knot at what she was about to do.
"Oh, George, I must have been over tired from working late last night." She peered out the side of her window at her brother below on the front lawn, hiding her sheet-clad nakedness to one side. She didn't want to chance being seen in her undressed state at this time of day. "I intended to go to church. Really, I did, but after that bath I fell back asleep." This part wasn't a lie really, leading her brother to believe she'd been working on anything other than drawings for their client was lying. "I didn't mean to miss mass."
"You have been working too hard, Mary-Michael," her brother said. "I told you this the other night. Can I do something to help?"
"No, thank you, George," she replied. "I will be fine when this part of the process is over. Then I can get some rest." Lucky stirred on the bed, then stood. Her eyes darted to his and he nodded an understanding. Without crossing in front of the window, he walked to her privy. She watched his tan, naked form move with the grace of a cat, and coughed to cover a desire to sigh with appreciation.
"Where's Sally? I know Spenser took Victor with him to the farm, but Sally isn't answering the door."
"At the last minute, Mr. Watkins took them both. I believe Sally wanted to spend some time with her grandchildren. Since I would take the next train on Wednesday, Mr. Watkins thought it would be fine for me to finish my work then join them later." Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Lucky's bare backside as he stood over her privy chair and took his comfort.
"Get your rest, little sister," her brother said. "The Lord knows your heart is pure." His words and the sincerity behind them only added to the guilt she already felt. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?" he asked.
"I must finish the sail plan on Captain Gualtiero's clippers," she said. "He leaves tomorrow for his home and I'd like to have him approve those this afternoon."
"Well, if you get hungry, come by the rectory for dinner. In fact, I'll send a boy out to the shipyard and invite the captain. I'm sure he'd appreciate one last land-cooked meal before traveling."
"I'm sure he would, and I can give him the invitation if you'd like, as I'll be meeting with him later." She watched Lucky move back toward her bed in his full naked and proud glory. Yes, he had much of which to be proud—his broad, muscular chest, his nicely rounded and firm backside, and his impressive and... talented manhood. The one that brought her to the heights of pleasure several times over the past twenty-four hours.
Then there was his kiss. The thing he did which sucked her in to the sensual whirlpool that was his lovemaking. Once inside that vortex there was no leaving unless through mutual, orgasmic satisfaction. Just looking at him—whether clothed or unclothed—made her ache inside for his touch.
Mary-Michael pointed her finger and swung her arm in wide arc, motioning for him to keep a wide berth away from the windows. He ignored her plea and came to where she stood beside the window in the corner of her room. She knew George was unable to see into the room from where he stood, but that wasn't the point. He was in her yard and if he suspected Lucky was in the house... she didn't want to think what her brother might do! He might be a priest, yes. But he was still a big brother who would protect his younger sister, she had no doubt!
Lucky pulled her into his embrace and she gave a faint squeal when he cupped her bottom through the sheet, his fingers deftly raising the cotton fabric until he touched bare skin.
"Stop it." she hissed.
He nuzzled the exposed skin of her shoulder. "Get rid of him," he whispered. "He's interrupting us."
"He's concerned about me, and he won't leave if he's suspicious of something."
"Who are you talking to, Mary-Michael?"
She groaned. "No one, G
eorge. There is no one here but me. Perhaps you hear the neighbors through their windows. They can be rather loud at times." This wasn't a lie. Their arguments could be heard over the entire block.
"I suppose," her brother said. "Perhaps I shall see you later then." Was it her guilty conscience? Or her imagination? Was there a hint of disappointment in his voice? It made what she was about to say even worse.
She closed her eyes. "I wouldn't plan on it. I have many hours of work left to do." She hated the lie. Hated herself for having to say it. Hated the fact that she was so wrapped up in her own desire for a child that it was changing her inside. Making her into a person she didn't know. And didn't like.
"Yet another lie to confess next weekend," Lucky whispered as he began to nibble on her earlobe. "Because you are not going to work, I assure you."
Mary-Michael pushed out of Lucky's arms, and gave him a glare. "I have to get my brother to leave," she hissed at Lucky. Peeking around the corner of the window, she saw her brother standing at the front gate. "George, I need to hurry and finish these drawings before my meeting with the captain. I thank you for waking me, and am truly sorry I overslept and missed church. When I see Captain Gualtiero this afternoon, I shall ask him if he has dinner plans and send you a note. Though with the preparations to sail in the morning, I cannot say if he would accept. And don't worry about me for dinner, I can grab something at Becky's."
"I'll look for your note then," her brother replied.
"Yes. I'll send you one after I know something."
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Looking back out the window she tried to find where her brother had gone but couldn't see him. Until she knew where he was, she wasn't speaking another word. Moving to the other side of room, she got a better view of the street from the other window and saw her brother's back as he walked toward the rectory. Relieved, she turned on her lover.
"You!" She hissed, stomping toward where he sat on the edge of her bed. "Your misbehavior almost gave us away! How on earth would I explain you to my brother?"
Mary-Michael tightened the sheet around her, while Lucky, comfortable in his nakedness, rested against the headboard, and gave her a mischievous half-grin. "I'm sorry we missed church, but I didn't lie to my priest."
"I had to. He's also my brother and he worries about me. What would he think if he found out about us?"
"You're a married woman. You can do as you please." He pulled a pillow over his private area and patted the bed next to him. The man was distracting her such that she could not look at him. Certain she was not visible from the street, she leaned against the wall, still wrapped in her sheet. How could she make him understand? "No, I cannot, Lucky. I cannot possibly expect you to understand." She trailed off, thinking how best to explain to him the predicament in which she lived. "I am in a position where people either look up to me, or look down on me. Many of the young girls in the community and in the children's home look up to me for what I have accomplished with hard work and my determination to succeed.
"But, the married women in the community, especially the younger ones, look at me with a sense of dubious skepticism because of my chosen field. That and the fact that I am comfortable working among their husbands while wearing clothing that is not conventional women's garb." She closed her eyes and sighed. "Lucky, my marriage is what protects me from gossip and the unwanted attentions of the men whose paths I cross daily. I have to project myself in this community as not really a woman, but always more than a lady in order to maintain respectability."
"Come here." He patted the space next to him again, and this time, like a lamb, she obeyed. She didn't know what it was about him that attracted her like the proverbial moth to flame, but all he had to do was crook a finger and give her a look and she was as malleable as putty in his hand. Thankfully he was leaving soon. She couldn't imagine what a fool she'd become if he lived here. "So, we have missed church and I don't have to meet my crew for a few hours yet."
She climbed onto the bed, and sat back on her heels, facing him. The sheet covering her was twisted around her hips, and his hand reached up to where it was tucked into the space between her breasts. The feel of his work-roughened fingers grazing the hollow between her breasts started a cauldron of sensation to simmer within her. She felt herself growing wet between her legs again—her body's normal reaction to his touch from the moment they met. She didn't understand it. How on earth could her body be ready for the man again after just a few hours?
"What could we possibly do to pass the time?" he teased, the gold flecks in his eyes glowing bright as he looked up at her. The material fell away when he pulled it from where it was tucked, revealing her nakedness to him. Again.
Mary-Michael wanted him with an intensity that frightened her. Was this normal behavior for a woman who was attracted to a man? Was she, heaven forbid, like those women she saw in Baltimore once who fornicated with men for money? They appeared to enjoy the sexual attentions of men. And she enjoyed Lucky's. Though the thought of doing this with any other man made her feel almost nauseous.
She stroked a finger down the length of his thickly-muscled forearm, toward his fingers. "I don't want to think of you leaving right now. I just want to lie with you, Lucky," she said. "And make love with you again. Because you will soon be gone and..." He was so sincere in his affection, his attraction to her that she was beginning to think of him as more than the sire for her babe. She was starting to care about him.
And as she realized this, suddenly it was about more than creating this child she wanted so desperately. It was about so much more! She wanted to know things about him, things that she'd been afraid of asking him before now. She wanted to know about his life. Did he have a sweetheart in London awaiting his return? Was he planning to always captain his ships? Or would he eventually want to remain ashore and take a wife?
"I'll be back next year," he reminded her.
"I know, but...." Her voice cracked with an odd sensation, something akin to longing and sadness. "You'll be gone. For a whole year."
He coaxed her back onto the mattress. "I think—" He said as he spread her legs and knelt between them, humor tinging his voice as he spoke, "—that if you are feeling rested, I could be persuaded to satisfy you again. Right now." He reached forward, cupped her nether curls, and when his finger grazed her sensitive spot she moaned. "And again, later."
She sucked in a breath when he began to move his fingers through her wet slit and over her bud. She moaned softly, not wanting the neighbors to hear them, but wanting to encourage her lover on.
"You are so responsive and so vocal."
She opened her eyes and saw the smile on his face. "Does that please you?"
"Very much so." He dropped a kiss onto her belly then scooted lower. Her body leapt when he parted her and began to stroke her with this tongue. He stroked her into yet another frenzied state where the only satisfaction to be had was after he entered her and carried her over the edge with him again.
Later, he slid to one side and gathered her sweat-slickened body to his and cupped a breast with one hand, as though he was claiming a possession, or unwilling to let her go. Little could he know she'd just made a wish for bad weather or calm winds, either one, just so he might stay with her another day. She'd then send a note to the office telling them she was not feeling well. Anything so she could spend more time with her captain.
"Stay with me tonight?" Swiping a tear, she hoped that didn't come out as desperate sounding to him as it did to her.
He raised himself to his elbow and stroked the stray tendrils from her face and gave her a reassuring grin. "I was planning on it."
Chapter Nine
While Lucky was gone to see to his preparations, Mary-Michael worked on a list of questions to ask him about the interior finish of the galley and cabins, then worked on the sail plans until he returned. Hopefully he managed to make it far enough away from the house before anyone noticed him as he walked back to his ship. Second to having a child, th
e thing she most wanted was never to bring shame onto her husband or child. Several of her friends in the home when she was growing up were sailors' by-blows. It was inevitable living in a port town. And her dearest friend, Becky, was one of them. Becky's mother died shortly after she was born. When the man her mother had been married to returned from sea, he placed the infant Becky in the home saying the child wasn't his. He then went on sailing the seas never to be heard from in Indian Point again.
Mary-Michael's situation was a polar opposite to Becky's mother's. Her husband wanted her to have this child, and he or she would inherit a sizable fortune along with the shipyard as Spenser Watkins' child. The only thing that caused her heart to ache was the thought of ending all contact with Lucky. She couldn't very well have him suspect that her child was his. He might take her babe from her, leaving her alone. For that reason she knew it was the right thing to do. Becky had agreed to help her when the captain returned for his ships, if she were fortunate enough to get with child. And after he took ownership of the two clippers, Mary-Michael would never see him again.
As she worked on his drawings, she had to stop and give in to the tears. Let them take their course while she was alone. If he suspected anything and asked her, she feared she couldn't keep the truth inside.
She'd miss him. Each and every day she'd miss seeing his smile, miss his directness, and his touch.
Right after dark, Lucky rapped on the door jamb of the open back door. Mary-Michael had several candles lit in the center of the kitchen work table, where they would eat their dinner.
She closed the dutch door behind him. "I thought this would serve us better as it's more private than the dining room at the front of the house. I don't want the neighbors to see me entertaining a man in the house while my husband is away." Who knew what kind of rumors the two old busy-bodies across the street would start if they suspected her of infidelity? Even the appearance of infidelity?