by Raven, Sandy
Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, "Meet me at the office in one hour?"
Lucky gave her a disapproving look, and Mary-Michael thought for sure he was about to reject her proposition. "I don't like the idea of you walking these streets alone in the dark," he said softly. "What if I wait for you around back and we can walk there together? I would bring you home afterward."
She wanted to tell him no, but couldn't. Didn't want to. Because she wanted to feel his skin on hers. Needed to feel him inside her.
"I would be more comfortable escorting you." Mary-Michael acknowledged that Lucky had a superior power of persuasion. At least with her. She didn't know how he'd learned it, but he'd been an expert at it from the moment they met the previous summer.
She thought about the risk they took and agreed, but added, "We cannot walk together, but you can walk nearby. Would that satisfy your worry?" He nodded. "Good," she said. "I will be at the alley entrance to our stable in twenty minutes."
Chapter Fourteen
Early the next morning, and after only three hours of sleep, Lucky watched Ian pour the second cup of coffee and hand it to him. "Do you think the weather will cooperate today?" Ian asked.
"You couldn't have asked for better sailing weather—nice winds and not too much chop on the water."
"I hope you're right."
Lucky just raised a brow in return, then took the spoon from the sugar bowl.
Ian shoved a hand through his hair, something his friend only did when he was truly worried. "Well, what can I say? I'm a little nervous and want everything to go smoothly."
"It will." Lucky stirred his coffee, again pondering the events of the night before. He and Mary never made it to the shipyard office for their planned tryst. Lucky had noticed someone following Mary, so he closed in on her, and walked beside her for a while—long enough to warn her of their observer, and to tell her he was escorting her back home immediately. Something he was still unsure was the best thing to have done. Perhaps by wanting to protect Mary, he'd just called attention to their affair.
"What's wrong?" Ian asked, bringing his attention back.
"What makes you think something is wrong?"
"Aside from the fact that you have an unusually dire look about you, you haven't put any sugar in your coffee."
Lucky stared at the cup and lifted his spoon to his lips and realized that Ian was correct—he'd forgotten to sweeten it. "You're right." After pouring a suitable amount of the granules into his coffee, he continued. "Mary and I were followed last night." He didn't elaborate as he didn't think it important that they'd not had their time together.
"Ah... I see," Ian said. "Did you find out who it was?"
Lucky shook his head. "No. By the time I was sure Mary was safe in the house, the man was gone. Vanished into thin air."
"And you're certain he followed Mary?" Ian asked. "Not just happened to be walking in the same direction as the two of you?"
"We thought that at first, but no," Lucky said. "We tried to lose him, but were unable to. He followed us both to the shipyard—where we never entered because by this point Mary was frightened—then all the way back to the Watkins' home."
A sound from above deck told Lucky that his available crewmen had arrived to help with the day's trial.
Ian looked at the galley door, then back at him. "We'll have to discuss this later. Perhaps give some thought to breaking it off with the lady. She is married."
Lucky thought it might be easier to just cut his heart out, because it had become clear to him over the past twelve hours that Mary-Michael Watkins was coming to mean more to him than any woman ever had before. He didn't think he could make a complete break with her. Knowing how fragile her husband was, if he were to return in a year chances were good she would be a widow.
One he would be willing to wait for.
Lucky followed Ian above and when he spied Mr. Watkins next to his wife, he told Ian, "I'm glad Spenser has come."
Watkins' manservant, Victor, helped the older man onto the deck and to a nearby bench. Mary came toward them, carrying a large, heavy basket. Lucky reached out for it. "Let me take this for you." As he removed the load from her arms, he took in her appearance. She was as beautiful as always with her auburn hair pulled behind her and tied at the nape, and wearing the loose trousers she usually wore while working. But Lucky could tell she'd not slept much the night before. Likely she'd slept about as much as he had, both of them having been spooked by the man following them.
Ian greeted Mary, then went up to speak with Spenser.
"Is this what I hope it is?" Lucky asked, keeping his tone light, but eager to ask her how she felt this morning after the fright they'd had.
She nodded. "There are more sweets in that basket than your entire crew can eat."
Lucky leaned toward Mary and whispered, "Please do not let what happened worry you. Whoever it was had no idea that it was you with me."
Mary nodded, her wide-brimmed hat slipping down her back as she led the way to the galley. Once they were alone she told him what had her feeling so foolish and careless. "I was desperate to be with you, and I didn't stop to consider that the constable has officers who patrol the village at night. It was reckless of me."
"Then we just need to be more careful," he said, trying to keep his tone light to reassure her that she had nothing to fear. He glanced down at the basket he set on the table.
"I have an idea to make up for last night," Mary said, her eyes glowing with excitement. "Scribe for me today?"
He cocked a brow, curious as to what she had in mind.
"I will need someone to write down notes as I call them out. You see, I must inspect every square inch of this vessel once she is underway, starting with the keel." Lucky started to follow her line of thinking, and grinned. "Unfortunately," Mary continued, "it will be a tedious, very detailed task, that will place us in dark, tight quarters for indeterminate lengths of time."
"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"
They walked out to the deck and Mary smiled at Spenser. Any other man in a similar situation might feel jealous of the man married to the woman he was having affair with. Lucky felt a number of things, but jealousy was not one of them.
"I'll have a cookie, Mrs. Watkins," Spenser said as he inspected the craftsmanship of his workers that had built the Lady S.
"Not now, Mr. Watkins. We need to get this ship underway first." She lifted her gaze to the masts, checking the placement of the men on the yards, then back at Spenser. "Where would you like to sit while we are towed out?"
The elder man looked aft and said, "Where I usually sit. Behind the wheel, above the rudder." Addressing Lucky, he said, "Bring me a chair from the galley, lad. And since you're coming from there, a cookie as well." He gave Mary a victorious smirk.
"You are incorrigible, sir," Mary chided.
"Bah." Spenser struggled to stand again, leaning heavily on his cane. "Help me up these steps, Mrs. Watkins."
"Yes, sir." She rolled her eyes behind Spenser's back. Lucky chuckled as he went to get the man a chair and a cookie.
Once they had Spenser seated behind the wheel, Ian returned from consulting with the men in the tow vessels. With the sun just full over the water, the lines were cast from the dock and the tow ropes connecting them to the two ten-oar boats pulling them into the bay began to lift and tighten as the oarsmen bent to their work. From there, they'd raise the Lady S's sails to get underway. Lucky and Ian watched as the strongest men from the shipyard rowed in unison. Only one line belayed to the back of each large gig pulled the nine hundred ton, and one-hundred and eighty-four foot long vessel. The lady rocked as she started to lumber through the calm inlet. His friend grinned from ear to ear, and his hazel eyes were aglow with delight once they rounded the jetty. Lucky was envious of Ian right then, but only a little, because he knew he would be doing the same come tomorrow morning.
About eighty yards into the bay, Spenser Watkins said, "Captain, ask your
lady to dance."
"Cast the tow lines," Ian shouted. Lines were uncleated from the two gigs, and once the Lady S was clear of the lines, Ian called out, "Unfurl the sails, Mr. Currie." For the next few minutes, sailors began to haul in the lines and flake them neatly on deck while the sounds of heavy cotton duck cloth snapping in the wind filled Lucky's heart as the sails were let. Ian guided his lady through the calm waters of Curtis Bay and into the Chesapeake, as sailors were sweating up the spanker gaff.
He looked over at Mary, and smiled to himself. Perhaps he wasn't envious after all. With Ian as captain on this day, it left him free to spend this time watching Mary and accompanying her on her inspection.
She studied everything, from the top of the mast to the keelson in the belly of the hull, from jib boom to the taffrail. She noted each creak and leak, explaining to Lucky what she was looking for, and what was acceptable and what needed minor adjusting. Everything was reported back to Spenser who would nod and smile. The frail old man closed his eyes and listened to the hull move through the waves. Most times he knew of minor issues before Mary noted them herself. He called for adding grease to a section of the steering arrangement when he thought he'd heard grinding, and no sooner was the grease added than the noise stopped. That told Lucky the man was still sharp behind those rheumy eyes.
And it left him feeling guilty, unclean even, that he and this married woman, whose husband he admired, had taken the opportunity for a quick sexual release while they were inspecting the seat of the main mast. The hold had been dark, and they were out of sight of anyone should they pass by the open hatch to the lower chamber. Lucky had needed Mary as much she wanted him, and he wasn't surprised to find her wet and ready. Once he'd slid into her from behind, their climax came quick and within minutes they were moving on to another item on her list.
Not for the first time, Lucky wondered if Spenser knew. If he did, the old man never hinted at it. Which made what they were doing all the more shameful to Lucky. But he could as soon stay away from Mary as the sunrise could stay away from the morning. He just needed to give their relationship time. Because as sad as the thought was, Spenser Watkins was not long for this world.
Several hours later as they sailed at a brisk clip through the deep waters of the Chesapeake, Lucky could feel the power in the ship. The wind filled all the sails from the courses to the upper tops and the jibs, and Ian held her steady between the waves. She cut through them with the grace of a ballerina.
That must be why Spenser called it "dancing." Ian led, his lady responded.
The placement of the foremast a little further back and the higher, lighter bow really made a difference to the feel of the hull cutting through the waves, and reduced windage. He'd have to let Mary know she was right. She moved forward into the bow, then up onto the anchor deck. Lucky came up behind her as she studied something between the knightheads.
She looked over the rail, down at the waves parting to the bow. "I love that moment of suspension, where the bow is not in contact with the water. The designer in me sees it as a potential cause for the bend in the keel over time, but the dreamer in me sees it as flying."
"Have you ever been aloft when under sail?" Lucky asked. He knew she climbed the masts while the ship was berthed at the shipyard, but had she been above while under sail? When he was a child, he'd watched the men on his brother-in-law's ships climbing the ropes up to the yards for their various duties. But he also noticed that a few of the men would climb aloft for time alone to think. The first time he'd attempted to do as the older lads, he'd been scolded by Cully and set to tying knots on deck as punishment. Of course, he'd tried again. And was successful, much to Cully's vexation.
From the very first moment he climbed out on the yard, he thought it was as close to flying as man could get, and he was hooked on it.
"Of course," she replied. "I have to climb up later to inspect stress points on the masts and yards." She faced him, and her smile was infectious. "There is nothing like being on the top yard of the foremast when under sail. It's truly an amazing feeling. You know that dip I just mentioned? Aloft, it's magnified to the point of exhilaration."
He grinned, then added, "I've often compared it to sitting on an enormous rocking horse. One that moves much slower because of its size, and with a bigger arc." His voice dipped lower, then he added, "And when standing, it's a slower version of what we did below a little while ago." That conjured images of hurriedly dropped breeches, her begging for release as she presented her bare backside to him, his throbbing cock sliding into her tight, wet passage as he claimed her yet again, and that sweet whisper of satisfaction that comes with an orgasm.
"Really? I've never made the connection," said as she inspected a knightshead. Her voice came softly when she spoke again. So softly, he could barely hear her over the sluicing of water against the hull. "Perhaps I shall need more experience to see which aspects you find similar. The ride itself, or the soaring afterward."
She walked away and left him standing there in the bow, unable to turn around without every man on board knowing his condition. The little vixen knew what she was about, for once he brought his erection back under control and was finally able to follow her, he spotted her halfway up the ratlines in a canvas bosun's seat attached to the halyard, and a spotter watching her progress, and tempering his line. The sight caused his heart to stop because he'd never seen her climb before, and he was afraid for her if she fell. From that height, a fall would kill her. And, even though he knew she was likely safe enough, he still feared for her. He didn't want to contemplate losing her now that he'd found her.
The men aboard the ship continued to perform their tasks as though nothing were unusual—even though there was a woman on the highest yard of the fore mast. Lucky supposed that, to the crew from the shipyard, it must seem ordinary to have this woman climbing the masts on a ship.
"Take care up there," he shouted, and crossed himself in a quick silent prayer that she remain safe. Even though he knew she'd done this many times before, he still had an uneasy feeling watching her as she climbed to the very top of the mast. She began checking the ironworks from girds to braces on cross trees, then worked her way down to the next level and did the same, until finally she was back on the deck.
When he saw her standing there on the solid deck, looking upward to where she had just been, he released the breath he'd been holding. She looked so vibrant and alive with her hat hanging down her back and her infectious ear-to-ear smile. Her wind-whipped hair was almost completely out of its leather binding and her amber eyes glistened with unabashed excitement. At that moment he knew he was hopelessly in love with her. There was nothing for him to do but continue to pray for her safety.
"I think I shall have a piece of cake now, Captain, before I climb the mizzen." She picked up her leather board and pencil and began to make notes as she headed toward the galley. As she passed him she said for his ears only, "How I would love to ride your... bowsprit, Captain." She sighed, then turned a smile up at him. "All the way home." The little minx! She knew what her words did to him, had even looked down to the falls of his breeches, while his expression vacillated from shock to humor, causing Mary-Michael to laugh.
He gave in to the laughter as well. "You cruel and heartless wench." He followed closely behind her, trying to hide the fact that he was adjusting his erection as he walked. "I'll get you for this, you can count on it."
She tossed her head, causing her hat to fall down her back, before turning those glowing amber eyes and infectious smile on him. "I look forward to it, Captain."
"I thought I might find you in here," Mary-Michael said a couple of hours later as she sought her husband out to share with him her findings thus far. "The ironwork on the cross trees of the fore and mizzen are fine. I expect the main to be of equal quality. Patrick and his men did splendid work."
"Glad to hear it, Mrs. Watkins." She'd found her mentor and husband in the crew's mess, where he had before him a short stack of thre
e cookies. She wondered how many he'd already consumed, and if it would ruin his appetite. The elderly man motioned for her to sit beside him on the bench as they both sought refuge from the sun for a while. They watched as Goran and Tally ventured in and out of the room carrying the prepared meal they were about to serve for luncheon. The sweets she brought from home were already set out and the two men were currently adding cold sliced meats, smoked and salted fish, and early season fruits to the trestle table quickly becoming laden with food.
"After luncheon I shall inspect the main." Mary-Michael fished the sprig of mint out of the glass and took another swig of cool water, letting it rehydrate her parched throat.
She didn't quite understand how it had happened, but somehow over the past ten months she'd allowed herself to think that what she was attempting to do—conceive a child outside of her marriage so that her husband would have a child to leave his fortune to—was not as sinful, not as shameful, as it actually was. And, while at first she'd been more than a little uncomfortable entering into a sexual relationship with Lucky, she enjoyed the relationship she had with him now. If she was honest with herself she didn't want it to end, but knew that it was soon about to. He would leave for his home after taking ownership of these two vessels, and may or may not return for the two he was leaving in dry dock for work. Business owner that he was, it would likely make more sense for him to send someone—new captains perhaps—to bring the other ships back to England.
Just thinking about a future without Lucky in it, made her feel equally as sad as one without Mr. Watkins in it. There was just nothing she could do about it. Besides, he would despise her if he ever learned what she'd done, using him in the manner she was.