by Raven, Sandy
"You can ask me, Captain. I'm right here."
The sound of Mary's soft voice soothed a worry Lucky didn't know he held. His head whipped around to the base of the stairway where he saw her. She was a vision in butter-yellow silk, a white ribbon holding her still-damp, loose red hair back off her face. Lucky's mouth went dry at the sight of her and his heart tripped several beats. The dress she wore, while the color was a fine complement to her skin and hair, enhanced her cleavage beautifully. Something was different about her. She was changed from last summer. The fact that he couldn't put his finger on the difference, bothered him because he thought he remembered everything thoroughly.
She came forward and thanked the servant, who nodded and went toward the kitchen.
He wondered how she fared while he was gone. Did anyone know of their affair? Had the busy-body neighbors across the street seen him the morning he left the house while Mary still slept? Surely not. If there had been any gossip about the two of them she would never have invited him to dinner. Would she be smiling as she was, if she had faced any ostracism? He didn't think so.
"I saw your ships enter the bay," she said. "I knew for sure it was you when I recognized your colors."
She saw them? Where had she been that she saw them? A part of him had to know, the other part felt sick because he had an idea of where she'd been. "How did you see us?"
"I was inspecting the iron fittings on the foremast of the Lady S. I was up on the skysail yard when I first spotted you."
As soon as she said the words, his gut twisted. If she'd fallen, she could have died. "How did you get up there? Isn't there a man that can do that?"
"Please do not tell me how to do my job, Lucky," she whispered through a smile. "It's because I inspect everything that your ships are turning into the finest ever built by my husband's shipyard."
"Mary," he said softly so no one else could hear, "I do not want to argue with you. You could get killed if you fell."
"So could any lad I send up," she said. "Remember, I asked you to trust me, I know what I'm doing."
Lucky caught a glimpse of Ian and Watkins from the corner of his eye, and turned to see Watkins watching the interplay with amusement. But not Ian. His look of surprise told Lucky he was shocked at the familiar way in which they spoke. Lucky was embarrassed at having been caught in so personal a dialog.
He motioned to Ian and Watkins. "Come. Let me introduce you to my business partner."
Her eyes followed his gesture, and she gave Watkins and Ian a smile. "Please. Let's not argue," she whispered through her clenched teeth. She gave Lucky a brief glance and turned to walk toward the two at the other end of the room. "I have missed you greatly."
Her words warmed him—as though he'd waited the entire year for this admission. And that thing about her? It was an air of confidence she'd not had last summer. That's what was different. She also wasn't fighting the attraction. Just the fact that she admitted to missing him was very telling.
"Let me introduce you to Ian, and see how he and Spenser fare. When I stepped away from them, they were revisiting memories," Lucky said. "Most of which I doubt Ian recalls. You will like him."
"I'm sure I will." She turned back to him, joy and relief written across her brow simultaneously. They heard laughter from the opposite corner of the room, and Mary whispered, "I see you have shaved, Captain. Are you becoming more proficient with the razor?"
He remembered needing the services of a barber when he was here last. But also that Mrs. Watkins wasn't as offended of his several-days growth of beard as some of the unmarried ladies he was familiar with in London. "Well, let's say that I am growing less likely to slit my own throat when I shave aboard ship."
"That is good to know." she replied, her amber-colored eyes glowing with humor and mischief. He was relieved that she still cared for him outside of a business relationship. He didn't want to think about her finding favor with another. Yes, he realized she was still married, but his gut told him that her relationship with Watkins was not—and likely had never been—a romantic one. He just couldn't imagine it.
They started across the room. Lucky followed behind Mary, and his palms itched to lift her damp hair and bring it to his face so he can inhale the scent of her lavender soap. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, and make love to her as he had for that weekend last summer. But time and company prevented it from happening.
Watkins and Ian stood, and after introductions were made they were called into the dining room by Victor who along with Sally began to serve the foursome. Watkins asked questions about Lucky's recent trip to China and the ports he normally stopped at en route, the types of cargoes they carried. Watkins wanted details from Ian on how he'd managed to win the Trans-Atlantic Challenge the year before.
While they waited on their desserts, Watkins finally addressed the reason for their visit. "You will both be very pleased to meet your ladies in the morning," Watkins said. There was a hint of wistfulness in his aged voice, even though he spoke about the two clippers with a deep pride. "They are the finest creations to come out of our yard. Mary-Michael has outdone herself this time."
"We cannot wait to see them in daylight, sir," Ian said. Ian then directed the next question to Mrs. Watkins. "Spenser says you are ahead of schedule, and that one of the ships will be ready to sail in a few days."
"That's right," Mary replied between bites of pie. "We have been blessed with a mild winter and were able to work uninterrupted. If the spring winds hold out for a few days, we'll have her sails hung and we can load more ballast, then take the Lady S out in the Chesapeake." Lucky thought her eyes glowed with excitement as she spoke about the maiden voyage. "If all is well, then she will be ready for delivery."
After dinner, Watkins claimed exhaustion and asked Victor to help him upstairs, inviting the gentlemen to stay and have a glass of wine with Mary. Once Lucky heard the door at the top of the stairs close, he went to Mary and for the first time all night, he hugged her. She fit him as perfectly as he remembered, but she allowed only a brief touch, backing away quickly.
She glanced at Ian, then Lucky. Her eyes filled with tears and she fought them back. Lucky realized right then that she'd been holding herself together for Spenser's sake. Mary didn't want her husband to see her upset over his condition. And Lucky wondered how long she'd been putting on this brave front for the old man.
"Mr. Watkins caught a lung infection last winter," she said. "He has been fighting to come back from it for months now. The past year has not been an easy one for him. If I think too long on his changed condition, I will cry. And that will upset my happy mood at seeing you both." She then invited them into the study, and Victor soon entered.
"Shall I pour, Miz Watkins?"
"Would you like some wine?" She looked at both him and Ian. Lucky nodded, and Ian did the same.
Lucky waited until her servant left the room. "What does the doctor say?"
"He will not see one. He refuses." Lucky could see that she held back emotion and it tore at him because he wanted to comfort her, yet knew it was inappropriate with Ian present. "He has even threatened Victor and Sally that if I were to ask for the physician to arrive before his death he will turn them both out without pay and without papers."
"What is to keep you from sending for a doctor?" This came from Ian, in a non-accusatory manner, but direct nonetheless.
"I made him a promise," Mary said softly.
Ian looked at her curiously, as though waiting for her to finish. Lucky had been on the other end of look in the past and he knew how scrutinizing it could be. But Mary was strong out of necessity, and didn't back down. Lucky also got the impression she was debating what she would share with a man who was a stranger to her before this night.
"That I would honor his wishes. He believes the doctors killed his first wife when she became sick with the fever. Of course this was years before I was even born, and the practice of medicine has come so far in the past thirty years."
"But if
there is some tonic—"
Mary Watkins put her hand up, cutting Ian off. "I've tried to reason with him. Do you think I haven't? He is an incredibly intelligent man, who is equally stubborn."
"I'm sorry," Ian offered. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't. And it isn't as though I have not heard it before. But those few of us whom Spenser Watkins considers his family and friends know what his wishes are." She changed the topic, visibly uncomfortable talking about her husband's health. "You will love your new clippers. We have both of your ships, the Lady M and the Lady S, nearly finished. Overall, I believe you will be very pleased. We can take a tour in the morning."
"I, for one, look forward to it," Lucky said, wanting to help her out of the uncomfortable situation. He could understand that for someone unfamiliar with the situation it might appear awkward. And he knew Ian would have a barrage of questions to answer, which is why he chose to walk back to the shipyard.
"As do I, Mrs. Watkins." Ian tipped up his glass finishing his wine, and set the glass on the tray Victor set upon the sideboard. He gave Lucky a befuddled look as he stood next to Mary's chair.
When Lucky was done with his wine, he and Ian thanked Mary for the dinner, and declined a ride in the carriage from Victor, saying they needed the walk after their meal.
"Have a good rest of your evening, gentlemen," Mary said. "Please stay away from the new tavern, as I expect to see you both bright and early."
Once the door closed on Mary, Ian turned to him with ferocious scowl. "What in the hell is going on between you two?" he hissed. "And don't try to deny it, because I can tell." His voice got a little shrill at the end, and Lucky motioned with his hand to keep it down.
"I'm not going to deny it, Ian. I cannot." Aside from keeping himself and his crew alive out on the ocean, Mary and the weekend they shared was the foremost thing on his mind all day every day. How could he convey to his friend the instant attraction, the magnetic draw, between them? He couldn't even make sense of it himself no matter how he tried. "But, if you believe nothing else about me, believe this—it was not her fault. She wanted nothing to do with me at first. I was the one... I couldn't stay away."
"What about Watkins?" Ian hissed. "Good God, man! What if he suspects? She's his wife!"
Ian was never going to believe him when he told him what he suspected. "I believe Watkins gave us his blessing," he replied.
"This is growing stranger by the minute," Ian muttered as the two of them passed the tavern owned by Mary's friend and her husband.
Once they were clear of the business, Lucky tried explaining further. "She is different and special, not just beautiful. She's got a keen intelligence that far surpasses yours and mine." She was so intelligent that it initially intimidated Lucky, until he got to know her. "You'll see that tomorrow. And remember, when you see the ships, that she has designed everything, coordinated the construction and managed the crews necessary. She obviously also does some of the physical labor as well, because she saw us arrive while she was climbing the foremast, inspecting the ironwork on the skysail yard."
Ian looked as surprised as he was when he heard her. "It doesn't matter. She's married, Lucky."
"Believe me, it's a fact of which I am well aware." No one could be more frustrated than Lucky. He knew desiring a married woman was wrong. And desiring a woman that was soon to be a widow didn't make that any less sinful. He just didn't know what he could do about it. Should he simply take possession of the boats, leave and never return? Try to forget her? That would be impossible at this point. He didn't think he could just marry some pouty-mouthed, insipid little thing and get his children on her. His body burned for Mary. There could be no other.
He would never be able to get her off his mind. Whenever he saw an auburn-haired lady with amber eyes, he would forever compare her to the woman his body desired so fiercely his heart raced just thinking of her.
They walked through the shipyard in the dark, using the muted light of the moon to guide them. Rows of varying-sized vessels rested on top of blocks and scaffolding on the dry land, all in various stages of repair or refurbishing. The pungent odor of pitch and salt water permeated the air through entire shipyard, and their boots crunched on the ground covered with scraped barnacles and other shells as they walked between the hulls of two ships prepared for new cladding. When they neared the bulkhead, Lucky picked up a rock and pitched it out into the water, his mood as shadowed as the cloud-covered moon.
"Is she running the entire operation herself?" Ian asked.
"It appears so, though Watkins said she'd been taking on more and more of the responsibilities for about two years now." Lucky couldn't hide the pride and amazement in his own voice. "She has all these men around her, working for her, and she is so bright and competent the men do not counter her when she commands them. It is amazing to see. Last year, I watched her fire two young men who were stealing from her. She's no delicate miss in that office."
They continued making their way through the yard and reached the bulkhead and followed it down to where their dingy was tied.
"There was obviously something in her that made Watkins think she was talented enough to train her to run his entire operation."
"I agree. But I think it's more than that," Lucky said with unabashed pride in his voice. "She has a hunger to succeed and not fail. I think it comes from being orphaned at an impressionable age."
His friend was still disappointed or fearful, Lucky couldn't tell which. "She'll inherit Watkins Shipbuilding, then?"
"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."
Chapter Eleven
Mary-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.