Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4)
Page 26
His hot mouth came down on her nipple forcing a moan from her. "Oh yes, Lucky." Holding his head against her breast, she rocked in his lap as his tongue tickled the tip, driving her insane with the need to have him inside her.
She stood and began to remove the remainder of her clothing as he watched. It was thrilling and erotic to have this man before her, wanting her as much as she wanted him. When she was finally naked before him, one of his hands cupped her at the junction of her thighs. "You're so wet," he whispered as his fingers slid between the folds of her sex.
"Because I want you again, Lucky."
Her legs parted for him, and she encouraged him further while she tried desperately to catch her breath. He used his fingers inside her to draw forth her moisture. In and out, they mimicked the action of his shaft inside her, and when his thumb found her sensitive button again, she threw her head back and cried out, begging him to finish her off.
Mary-Michael pressed into his hand and he stroked her fast, giving her what she needed. Her insides wound tighter and tighter until she felt another orgasm crash through her, leaving her an incoherent mess.
Lucky stood, removing everything until he was finally as naked as she. Obviously he enjoyed their love play too, because his manhood was proud and erect once again. Falling back into the room's only chair he led Mary-Michael to stand before him. Reaching around him, she grabbed the chair back and straddled him. She lowered herself into position, nestling his arousal between the juncture of her thighs. He shifted under her, and she felt his ready erection beneath her, poised for entry. Inch by inch he stretched her, filled her. She watched as his enormous shaft slid into her. It was erotic and mesmerizing at the same time. She felt powerful that she had the ability to arouse him to this magnitude.
As if he knew her thoughts, he said, "You don't know what you're doing to me, Mary."
"I think I do." She kissed his temple and forehead, needing the feel of his skin under her lips. "You're hard. You need release." She seated herself to the hilt and her walls clenched around him. "I'm empty and in dire need of filling. Help me, Lucky, so we can both gain relief from this torment."
Then she began to move on him, riding him slowly at first, then a little faster. She rocked her hips, trying to take him in as deep as she could get him. His moans told her he enjoyed what she was doing. She felt the involuntary, rhythmic clenching of her internal muscles which sent her nearer the edge of another shattering climax, when all of the sudden her lover stopped.
"You're killing me at this pace. I need a faster rhythm." He stood, his member still embedded, her legs wrapped about his hips, and carried her to the bed. He lowered them both to the mattress and began to pound into her with his urgent need for release.
"So much for your promise to go slower," she teased.
Her words were met with a growl, as though he couldn't form coherent thought. He thrust into her as deeply as he could, and she encouraged him, wanting him to find his release. This was what she wanted, what she needed from him. This man and no other made her feel like a sensual woman. One who could arouse her lover and satisfy his baser needs.
Her husband might have given her many things, but never this. Only Lucky could ever give her this kind of passion.
And God willing, Lucky would be the one to give her a child.
She brought her knees up and grabbed his bottom, urging him to bring them both to completion. Within minutes she again felt her body reaching for the fulfillment it needed, then shatter in climax they both wanted so desperately.
With a final, deep thrust he met her in her shattering orgasm. Mary-Michael cried out Lucky's name and held onto her lover as he filled her with life.
The following morning, just after sunrise, Lucky left his cabin to get some breakfast when he heard Ian's booted steps headed his way. He bumped shoulders with Ian trying to get past him in the narrow passageway. Lucky mumbled an apologetic greeting and continued on his way to find coffee.
"Good morning," Ian said, as the two of them walked toward the galley on Avenger. The smile on his friend's face irritated Lucky's mood further. "With as windy as it is right now, it will prove to be a challenging morning, but it shouldn't be too terrible a task."
Lucky could have sworn his friend had swallowed a flute of French bubbly he was so breezy and cheerful this morning. It irritated him. And what was this task he was mentioning? He didn't want to think about it. All he wanted was to take that woman, put her over his knees and throttle her for leaving as she did.
"You haven't heard a word I've said. What's gotten into you?" Ian asked.
"Nothing," Lucky grumbled, the scent of food and coffee growing closer. "I'm hungry and didn't get a lot of sleep."
"Ah..." Ian said, his voice giving off more than just a tinge of superiority. He leaned and whispered to Lucky, "Redhead on the brain?"
Lucky just glared at Ian as he pulled open the door to the galley. "Can I help you with something?" Yes, he was snarling like a cur with a sore paw. Ian would just have to deal with it. "Why are you breaking fast on my boat? You have two of your own."
"I'm afraid things are in a disarray on both of them right now. And I didn't think you'd mind if I came over."
Lucky muttered a curse as his friend looked him over. Lucky cocked a brow, daring Ian to make further remark on his mood. The two men went toward Lucky's cook and he handed each of them a generous ration of hot ham and fresh buttered biscuits.
"Two lads from the tavern delivered a big ham and two baskets filled with hot biscuits this morning before sunrise." The cook pointed to the mugs at the end of the galley counter. "There's coffee on the fire over yonder, an' clean mugs off to the side," he added.
"Thank you, Goran," Ian said. Turning to Lucky he said, "Have I told you how much I have enjoyed being home, specifically for the ham and biscuits. As I was having dinner last night, David Parks and I were recollecting our childhood here. He was a friend of mine when we were young. Now he's married also, and has two sons. He married Mrs. Watkins' friend, Becky. They own the inn and tavern here in the village."
Ian's chatter was annoying him. "Is there a reason for the jabbering? Can I help you with something?"
"Yes, you can. We're hanging sails on my Lady today. We could use your help." Ian followed Lucky as he left the galley. "After you've had a few cups of coffee first. I don't want you biting the heads off my men."
Carrying his plate and mug, he made for his cabin again. Lucky sighed. Neither Ian nor anyone else on this boat deserved this lashing out because she'd left his bed in the middle of the night. "Fine. Did I tell you that we're scheduled to load cargo Friday, all day? Both of us. That means we can leave on Saturday." The sooner he left the better. And if he was lucky he'd find some sweet thing that might take his mind off the married amber-eyed vixen that was winding her way into his heart. If he didn't pull away soon he didn't think he would ever be able to.
"In a hurry now? You don't have to be back until June for Isabel's ball."
"Are we not in a business to make money? I can make two round trips before then."
Lucky reached his cabin, Ian on his heels. When he left the galley he'd hoped to leave Ian's cheerful mug behind, but the pest just continued to follow him, popping a strawberry into his smug mouth as he crossed into his quarters. If he could lock the man out of his cabin, he would. But what would that accomplish, aside from his appearing childish? He put the plate and mug on the table and sat. "My food is getting cold. I said I would help. I'll be over later."
"Good, Mary-Michael said you might be agreeable to helping."
He cocked a brow. "Oh? You've seen her already this morning?" Having no idea what time she left his cabin because he'd fallen into a sound sleep after their second round of lovemaking, Lucky couldn't be sure how much sleep she'd had. Knowing what time it was now, he calculated that it couldn't have been more than a few hours. He didn't want her working herself senseless just because he was here—yet another reason for him to leave soon.
"Stubborn wench," he mumbled. "She doesn't need anyone."
"Ahh, that's where you are wrong, my friend. Mary-Michael is a woman tired of being strong." Ian took a bite from the piece of ham on his knife, and spoke through his chewing. "She may not have said the words, but it's written all over her face."
"I'm afraid that's a lack of sleep you're seeing," Lucky muttered. Blasted woman managed to make the jobs of a dozen men seem simple and effortless. He didn't know how she did what she did, or how long she could continue to keep the pace she did. She was delivering both new boats two months ahead of schedule, ran both operations in the shipyard for her husband, and cared for the man as well. He knew from last summer that she volunteered with the young girls in the children's home, and regularly saw her married friends.
He wondered if she did anything normal, like shop for ribbons and threads.
"What's got you so out of sorts this morning?" Ian asked. "You had, um... dinner... with her last night, and this morning you're walking around like a lion with a thorn in his paw. Why?"
Lucky slammed his palm onto the table and his plate bounced perilously close to the edge, and the coffee in his mug sloshed onto the table surface. "Because I fell asleep and she left my bed and went home alone, without my escort. She could have been hurt, or worse..."
"Who brought her to the dock? Someone had to have rowed her over?"
Lucky replayed in his mind the conversation he'd had with his sailor who'd been on watch. "Kinley had just come on watch and she charmed him into rowing her back to the dock."
"Didn't he see her home?" Ian asked.
"No." Lucky stabbed the knife point into the table. "She said she'd be fine as she didn't live but a few minutes away."
"So," Ian surmised, "you're upset because you fell asleep and she crept from your bed to return to her husband's... home? Can't say her husband's bed, because well... We both know that doesn't happen."
"God. You make it sound so illicit." He needed go to church and pray for his soul and hers. Especially his because he didn't think he was strong enough to stay away from her. Even angry as he was with Mary at that moment, Lucky still couldn't wait to get over to the other boat and see her. It was madness to feel this way. Knowing what they were doing was sinful and being unable to stop because... because it felt so right to be with her.
"So did you fall asleep because the food was so good, or the dessert?"
"Ian, I value our friendship. Have I ever once questioned or made reference to your relationship with Sarah during the race to New York?"
The other man gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, acknowledging the truth of Lucky's words and perhaps realizing the line he'd crossed. "Then I apologize."
"Accepted." They ate their breakfasts in silence for a few minutes and Lucky felt the need to apologize for his behavior. He did, then in an attempt to lighten the mood he added, "Dessert was superb, and I wish I could have it every night."
The shock on Ian's face was nearly comical. Hopefully he now understood how important Mary-Michael Watkins was to him. Because she was more than a bit of red-headed fluff. Lucky cared deeply for her.
"This is becoming quite a tale," Ian said. "How will you explain this to the family?"
"They don't need to know anything. At least for now. Maybe one day." Lucky raked a hand through his hair, tugging it in frustration. The whole situation was nuts. "She married him for the education he could provide for her. Theirs was never... a normal marriage."
"Never? How do you know that?"
Lucky gave him a look that said he knew without a doubt and any further probing along that line would be unwelcome.
"Besides," Lucky added, "he's so old, he probably couldn't."
"I will when I'm that old."
"Well, so would I, but..." It hit him then, just how ridiculous they sounded, and he laughed.
Chapter Thirteen
Mary-Michael watched the wind gusts pull at the folded flakes of heavy cloth while the men hauled again at the sail on the main yard. Though the temperatures were pleasant, the wind was not cooperating with them. It was proving a great challenge just to get the sails hung this morning. The one they held now had already torn away from a man at one corner of the main course. As the biggest of the sails they had to hang, it was more difficult to tie in place, even with the strongest men on today's rigging crew guiding the ropes to hold it in place. Ian assured her that more crewmen were coming over from Avenger, which would help. They certainly could use a few more men up on the yards to hold the sail while the riggers tied it in place.
From her position near the helm, she watched the men work and stayed out of the way as much as possible. The firm's sail maker and his apprentices worked in unison with her and her crew to identify and place the right sails on the right mast and yards. From the triangular jibs and staysails for balance to the big square mains, fores and mizzens for speed, each sail was placed with the care and efficiency of a well-oiled machine.
Except the windy conditions were slowing them down and at this rate it would be Tuesday before she could approve taking the Lady S, the first of the two ships ready, out to stretch her sea legs. Ian was so excited and so confident about everything moving smoothly, he'd moved onto his new boat already and had the Revenge towed over to await dry docking. Lucky said he planned to do the same this afternoon.
Mary-Michael made notes of some final details she needed to tend to, such as picking up the gift cases and compass tools so she could present them to both captains after they took that test sail on Monday and Tuesday. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure swagger toward the Lady S. Mary-Michael wondered how Lucky would greet her this morning, leaving him as she had the night before. He'd slept so soundly that she just didn't have the heart to wake him to escort her home. Of course, she knew the way home even by moonlight so his escort was unnecessary. She also didn't want to be seen walking through town with the unmarried captain. If anyone had seen her alone, she could say she'd just left the office as she was known to keep irregular hours. Thankfully that hadn't happened, but she'd been prepared to lie again—something she'd become comfortable doing since deciding to take this path to possible motherhood. It disappointed her that she could let herself lie now without a blink of an eye.
He boarded and looked around the deck, then turned his head upward, checking the progress of the men. She tried to hide behind the binnacle, but it wasn't tall enough to hide her completely. Feigning interest in the lamp and lid, she tried her hardest to avoid making any eye contact with him. She feared what he would say after waking to find she'd left his bed in the middle of the night.
"I heard you were out here before sunrise, my lady." Lucky leaned in closer and growled, "You should have awakened me to bring you home. Never do that again. You could have been harmed."
Seething under the smile she turned on him, she gave her attention to the men on the main yard tying off the sail they had finally got under control. "Not here," she hissed under her breath. Then lifting her voice to a normal tone, hoping her expression was businesslike, she spoke again. "Excuse me, sir, I must check something." She moved to pass him and go to the main deck.
She didn't think he would do or say anything to humiliate her publicly, but if it was his intention to scold her or to make her feel ashamed for leaving as she did, Mary-Michael didn't think she could take it. Having this affair was difficult enough, especially because she was starting to hope for things... and wish for things... things that could never be. And she fought those feelings constantly during the day.
But at night? At night she let herself dream.
Lucky extended his arm to rest his hand on the railing, blocking her escape. "No you don't. You're trying to avoid me."
"If you would look behind you, you'll see I have another sail about to go up now that the main cou
rse is almost done." She stepped around him, but to soothe his ruffled man-feathers she pressed her hand to his chest, letting it rest there a while to remind him that she was as desirous of him as he was of her. The touch lingered perhaps a moment longer than proper, and if anyone should happen to observe, it would appear she placed her hand on something solid for balance on this windy day on Curtis Bay.
If only he could know how she'd tossed and turned in her bed after returning home. She hated herself for the lies she'd told him, and would continue to tell him, in order to get the child she wanted. And she most especially hated the fact that she found pleasure in his bed and they weren't married. What they were doing was wrong, sinful even, and here she was praying for a child that she would never share with him.
How on earth could she ever justify the pleasure she received with the magnitude of her sin? Or her potential joy if she did get with child, with her lies and actions? She couldn't. She could only pray for mercy.
He let her slip past him, following closely behind her. Too close for propriety. She wished she could give him an elbow to the gut, but that might cause more of a scene. "How can I be of use to you this morning, Mrs. Watkins?"
"Lucky, I cannot think with you near and I must be on top of this last task, so I can turn both ladies over to you and Ian." He could never understand how important it was to her that they maintain a professional distance in public.
"There's only one lady I want right now," he whispered from behind. "And I want her on top of me."
Heat rushed up her neck to her cheeks. Even though she doubted anyone could hear his words, people could see them here. Didn't he care about her reputation? Her hands shook, rustling the sheets of paper tacked to her leather-covered board she held, rattling the graphite pencil against it. "Lucky don't—"