by Raven, Sandy
"The young captain couldn't keep his eyes off ye while you were up in the rigging, lass. He was worried sick for ye."
Mary-Michael's gut clenched. A relationship with Lucky would never work, no matter how she might wish it. She couldn't let her husband think she had feelings for the captain. What she and Lucky had was only a temporary affair in which Mary-Michael would hopefully succeed in getting with child. Aside from that, but most especially to her husband, she had to make him believe it was all about these ships, and getting them completed so they could turn them over to Lucky and Ian.
"I've tried to reassure him that I know my job and how to climb. I know no other way to allay his concern. Only his witnessing my skill and competence will do that."
"He canna help worrying because he's smitten."
"You are mistaken, sir." Mary-Michael might not know precisely where she stood with Lucky, but she knew he wasn't smitten. They were attracted to each other like a magnet to steel. They were only compatible in physical ways. Lucky had never mentioned love, or even affection for her. "His interest in me is temporary. After his ships are completed, he'll go back to England. And once he is back in his world, he'll forget about me." She went back for more water and to give herself time to think. Mr. Watkins had always had a romantic heart. Unfortunately there was nothing to be done here, she was already married—to him. She returned to her seat. "Besides, I could never move in the circles he is accustomed to. I'm an orphan from Indian Point." She smiled at Mr. Watkins. "And a married woman, at that."
"I'm an old man, soon to meet my maker, and that lad's a good sort, Mrs. Watkins. You could do far worse."
"I never said he wasn't a good man." She bit the inside of her cheek, biting back the urge to burst into tears. A part of her wanted Lucky to go away, another wanted him to stay with her forever. But the only way she could have Lucky meant she would lose Mr. Watkins forever, and she didn't want that either. She didn't know what she wanted. She wanted everything, and nothing. Her feelings were a mixed up jumble of yearning and happiness and dread and guilt and sadness and longing and lust—lots of lust. And she hated feeling this way.
Mary-Michael scanned the mess to make certain they were alone, then spoke in a hushed tone in case someone were to enter the room. "My life is here. If I were to entertain any relationship with Captain Gualtiero, it might mean I'd have to leave Maryland, which I am not willing to do as you, my brother and my friends are all here."
"I heard your tears a few months back when ye realized you weren't carrying a babe. I know how much you want children. The captain is young enough he can give them to you." The old man sighed. "He can give ye everything ye ever wanted, and I've given ye the ability to design and build ships if that's what ye still want to do."
Mary-Michael stood, and scanned the small galley, feeling as though the walls were closing in on her. She didn't want to think about the future. She liked the way things were now, except she wished Mr. Watkins wasn't ill. And she wanted a child desperately. "For me to think anything along those lines is entirely premature and uncalled for." She bent over and kissed his weathered cheek. "Because I still pray daily for your recovery."
"Only because you're afraid of change," Mr. Watkins said. The tone in his voice, compassion and fatherly-love and understanding was all it took to make the tears start. "Ye always have been. You should be praying for a quiet passing in my sleep, because that's what I pray for."
She hated when he spoke of his death—which he did almost daily these days. Each time he did it only served to remind her she was soon going to be alone again. Just as she'd been the day Sister Agnes separated her from George.
Just then, the cook called luncheon above deck. She ducked her face, and with her sleeve she wiped her eyes. Then, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she prepared herself to be in Lucky's presence again. She stood and told her husband, "I shall fetch you a plate, sir, as I am tired of the subject."
Later, after they'd eaten, she assisted Mr. Watkins to his seat near the binnacle and sat in the shade with him for a while, discussing what to look for when she examined the main yards, especially as they were composite and had several stress points that needed careful inspection.
"I'm not sure I can make the trip tomorrow, Mrs. Watkins," her husband said. "Today has been very tiring."
"But... I..." He stopped her with a sad, resigned smile.
"You can do this, Mrs. Watkins," her husband stated. "I've trained you well."
She wanted to argue with him. Wanted to think of a way to make him come with her as he had since she'd designed her first hull. "I don't hear the things you do, Sir. I can't feel the subtle vibrations in the steering mechanism that you..."
"You can, if you think about what I've taught you."
Mary-Michael knew there was no forcing him. There was no way she could magically make him healthy enough to come with them on the next day's sail with the sister ship to this fine lady. "Get your rest tonight then, sir," she said, "because if it's at all possible, I want—no, need—you to come with me." Hopefully letting Mr. Watkins know how much she needed his guidance would give him the will to go sailing just one more day. Just one more day,she prayed. One more day.
Before she started her climb to the top of the main mast, Mary-Michael stopped by the second cabin. Ian had assigned it to her as her retiring room for the day, so that she would have the privacy a lady needed when she wanted. She opened the door and felt the broad, hard chest of her lover as he slid in close behind her. He bolted the door behind them, then came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.
"Where have you been hiding, Mrs. Watkins?" His warm breath on her neck instantly caused her nipples to harden, but she had work yet to do, and after spending the past two hours with her husband, she wasn't interested in becoming intimate with Lucky again—no matter what her body was telling her.
"Stop." No sooner had she whispered the simple word that his hands instantly dropped to his side. She stepped away from his embrace. "I haven't been hiding. I have been working, and discussing my findings with my husband."
A concerned look crossed his face. "Is anything wrong? Does he think everything is sound and within normal limits?
She understood his worry now, and it wasn't her heart. She deflated a little inside. "With the boats?" she asked. "Yes. They're perfect." He visibly relaxed. Her heart winced that his foremost concern was the boats, not what she was feeling. And it was why she would end this little affair when he left. It was the right thing to do no matter how much she wished otherwise.
"He's very proud of these two ships, Lucky. Maybe it's because of his connection to Ian's father. Only I think today might have taxed him—physically. He is not as strong as he once was, you know. I keep asking him for more time—" She placed the heels of her palms over her eyes and tried to push the tears back down. She didn't want to cry. Not right now. This was supposed to be a happy, momentous day for Empire Tea Importers, and here she was feeling sorry for herself about the changes coming in her life. "Eventually he will not have any more time to share with me, or the rest of us—George, Father Douglass, Mr. Baxter. And that's something I need to prepare myself for." She forced a smile. Needing him out of the room so she could use the facility, she cocked her head toward the door. "I'll be out in a few minutes, and if it would make you feel better, I'll let you spot my line."
Minutes later, she greeted Lucky and asked him to wait as she gave a visual inspection of the braces and rigging on all the main sails before she began her climb. Over the next hour, she checked baggywrinkles on the mast stays and shrouds to protect the sails from chafing. She checked the placement of each iron band, then angle iron placement for the platform, before working her way down the tree itself. She went out the yards on the footrope and examined the placement of the head attachments for each sail. Once she was satisfied all was well with the entire structure, she sat on the lower main yard and took it all in.
If Mary-Michael thought on her entire situa
tion over much, it made her want to cry. She was about to lose the man who made her current life possible. He was a good and honest man, and she would miss him terribly. But while she acknowledged her affection for her husband, she prayed she carried another man's babe within her so she wouldn't be alone for the rest of her life. She'd likely never marry again. Mr. Watkins was a one-of-a-kind, there was no other man like him. He believed a woman could be as intelligent and capable as a man. He gave her a chance to learn at his side that no other Naval Architect would have given a young girl. Even one as awkward and bookish as she.
She didn't know one man who would allow her to continue running Watkins Shipbuilding. More than likely any other man would want to manage her inheritance and run the business. It would be his right as her husband. Which is why she could not remarry. She had a legacy to carry on for her Mr. Watkins.
But her arms ached for, and her heart craved, a babe. One to hold, love and raise. Boy or girl, she would be pleased and proud to have either. And it had to happen now, so that her child could carry her husband's name. If it didn't she'd have to be brave and attempt adopting some of the orphans at the home. Not the wee little ones, like Rowan and Emily, but maybe one or two of the older children, ones who were truly orphaned with no kin left. Like she, Becky and Cady had been.
While she thought on all this, she failed to notice that a visitor had climbed up to talk to her. She turned and squinted into the sun to see Ian take a seat next to her on the other side of the mast. She wondered why he came up.
"You gave up the wheel on your lady's maiden voyage?" she asked.
"Lucky asked, and I—" He looked over the canvas above his head and then back to Mary. "We'll do the same tomorrow." His hazel eyes were clear windows to his soul. His gratitude and pride were obvious, and it made her heart so full it was near to bursting with joy for him. "Besides," he went on, "I wanted to come and thank you personally for all you've done. My Lady S is a fine vessel—fast, sleek, easy to maneuver, and beautiful as well."
"Thank you, Captain." She was certain she had to be blushing a shade of red so dark it matched the hair on her head. "I love what I do."
"You have a gift, Mrs. Watkins. I still cannot believe that you took what amounted to my pitifully-executed drawings and created this. You have an amazing talent and knowledge that should never be taken from the world. You should always have the right to design and build these commanding vessels."
She struggled to speak, so humbled was she by his praise. When she did find her tongue, all she could think to say was, "Thank you, Captain, I plan to."
Soon, Ian was gone and she felt the line she'd hooked around her foot move, as someone below tried to get her attention. Her handsome captain was beginning his climb and within a minute he seated himself next to her. They were quiet a moment, taking in the vast ocean scenery ahead of them. To starboard was Annapolis, and ahead the pine forest coastline of Sandy Point as they headed north, toward Curtis Bay. Mary-Michael couldn't look at him because she might cry. First for her sin of lying to him, second for being such a fool as to think herself in love with him, and lastly because she knew she would have to be the one to say goodbye when he left. She couldn't have him returning every year to think she would invite him to her bed. She could never live that way.
She was first to break the silence. "I love being up here and higher, when we're out on the water. It must be akin to what a bird feels as he flies through the sky."
"It is amazing. All of this—" His voice was tinged with wonder, as he waved at the ship around them. "It's just amazing to me. I saw the initial sketches the day after we met, and to have this come from those rough designs... It's almost magical. It all works so perfectly."
"It's normal for me." Only one person had ever understood her when she explained what happened inside her head as she drew her designs. A part of her was afraid that if she told Lucky he would think she was unusual—and not in a good way. But maybe it would ease the pain of their breakup when he left, if she knew he thought her odd. "When I take a sheet of paper and draw something, you see lines on paper. I see an actual boat. In my mind's eye, I can walk that deck, and even before it is built, I can find flaws in the design. My experience of 'seeing' a set of prints is different from yours." She went silent again. And after what she'd just confessed, she feared he might think she was more than a little daft.
They rode the yard, sitting mere feet from each other, Lucky on one side of the mast, she on the other, never touching though she longed to. She wanted to reach out brush a finger along the fine hairs on the back of his hand, trace a path over the top of his knuckles, up his wrist and arm. She wanted to be naked with him, to touch his flesh with her own, to make him feel the same rush of warm erotic feelings she felt when he held her. At least for the few days they had left.
"I will be honest, I have had a few affairs with married women," he said.
Mary-Michael froze. She shot him a shocked look, unable to believe he'd just said that. Why would he bring up such a thing now?
"Um... er... What prompted that confession?" she asked.
He gave her a disheartened half-grin. "I'm sorry. I've embarrassed you."
"Not embarrassed," she replied. "Just surprised." And thankful that no one could hear them up here.
While she was silent, he seemed to consider his next words. "Though I've always believed the bond of matrimony a sacred one," he began. "At home, there are many unhappily wed ladies who, after providing their husbands with the necessary heirs, are open—even eager—for affairs. For most of the people I know outside of my family, marriage is a vehicle for merging family fortunes, acquiring titles and lands. They usually marry for just about everything but love."
"You may find this hard to believe," she said, "especially after how easily I succumbed to your persistent efforts, but I've never been unfaithful to Mr. Watkins before now." She watched fish frolicking in the waves in order to avoid looking at Lucky, afraid he would read her inner-most emotions—the guilt for her sins, and the affection she was starting to feel for him—on her face. What had started out as a simple deed to give her the child she wanted more than anything, now involved her heart. "With you I couldn't seem to help myself."
"Where does he think you were those nights you visited me?"
"Working late." The lies came from her lips so easily, and she hated herself for it.
"And last year, when he went to his farm?"
"Working."
He let out a heavy sigh. Something was obviously troubling him, though she doubted it could be as serious as the mountain of lies bearing down on her conscience and drowning her soul. Her sins were so dark there could be no deliverance for her. And she knew this would be her fate when she set out on this path.
"There is something that I feel I have the right to know, as we have been, um..." He gazed at the crew working below on the deck, paying no attention to the two of them sitting aloft. "As we have been very intimate."
"Yes?" Mary-Michael shifted nervously. Whatever he might ask, she doubted she could answer truthfully.
"You mentioned before that you'd been unable to provide your husband with a child, but I have to question his—" He met her gaze and his eyes bore a heartfelt concern. "—His ability to perform. Is the reason you haven't provided him with children because you aren't intimate?"
This was the lie she'd practiced since the first night she decided he was the one to help her get her babe. She'd imagined telling him this story so often that the words rolled easily off her tongue. "I assure you, Captain, that I have been a dutiful wife, fulfilling all the obligations Mr. Watkins has asked of me. You need not worry that you will leave me carrying your child. I have been unable to conceive at all in my six years of marriage."
Not one word of that was a lie, technically. While it was truth, her lie was in the omission of the details. Oh, God forgive her for the lies. Forgive her for coveting those tiny living bundles of love and happiness that her friends had. What she could never
have with Mr. Watkins. She would cry later, right now she had to lie convincingly if she wanted to succeed in conceiving a child.
He stared off at the horizon again. "I care for you deeply, Mary. And I want—more than anything—to continue what we have. If you tell me we could have a future together, I would wait until the day you are free, taking what little we can have when I visit. And I will visit you every opportunity I can. If that is what you wish."
If she were a free woman, she would have considered Lucky's offer. While she might not have an intimate relationship with Mr. Watkins, he was still her husband and she didn't want him to die. No one knew how much longer he might live, and Mary-Michael felt like she had a lifetime of learning yet to do at his side. She wasn't ready to be a widow.
But how could she tell this to the man she desired with all her heart and body. So she gave him a lesser reason. Something that was still important to her, but one that kept her heart out of the equation. "I could never leave this little village. My brother and friends are here. The shipyard that I will one day own is here." She hated that her voice cracked and threatened to give away her true feelings for him. He would only hate her if he ever learned what she'd done. "If I could forget how you have made me feel, then telling you goodbye would not hurt as much as it does."
"What if I were to move here? Would you want to continue our relationship, and perhaps even marry one day?"
His voice sounded hopeful. It hurt to have to tell him what she must, rather than what her heart wanted to say. "No, Lucky. There is no future. There is just now. I am married and I do not want my husband to die. Please just take what pleasure we can give each other for now, and understand that one day we—" She cleared her throat of the rising tears. "We will be finished."
They rode in silence for many long minutes as he processed what she'd just said. Hopefully, she clearly conveyed her desire not to continue an affair after their ships were delivered and their business was through. No matter how much her heart might break.