Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4)
Page 43
Once seated he gave a slight chuckle, unwilling to laugh just yet even though he was overcome with joy to be leaving with his wife and daughter. He recognized the two men who worked in Mary's office, Robert and Andrew, both men he'd thought might not be supportive of this abduction. The men all nodded in silent greeting, and Lucky decided in that moment how he would repay these men.
When they reached the M, Mary sped up the ladder first, running to Lia and gathering their daughter to her and holding her tight. Lucky went to his cabin and returned carrying a large pouch and climbed back down to the boats.
"This is the gold I brought here to purchase Mary's freedom if necessary," Lucky said to the men in both tow vessels. "I am giving it to Robert, to split between you all. My family means everything to me, and I can never repay your kindness this night. We will return as soon as we are able."
The men all smiled and began to chatter. Ian motioned for them to whisper if they must say anything. "You'll be giving us away before we tie our lines," he said.
Lucky, Mary, Lia, and Ren, said goodbye to Ian and Michael who promised to write as soon as they had news.
"It won't be long," Michael said. "Especially when Barlowe learns of the transfer of the trust. He will have no way of getting his hands on your property, Mary."
Ian reminded them all that high tide was in thirty minutes and they had to leave. Lucky promised to send a boat back for them as the two men climbed back down the ladder. Even in the dark, it was only a matter of minutes before his crew had the anchor weighed, bringing the Lady M to life as quietly as possible. His experienced men took their places, preparing to unfurl the sails once they cleared the jetty, bringing them one step closer to freedom.
An hour later they were free of the longboats and under the power of the wind, and being carried by the outgoing tide. Mary-Michael climbed the three steps up to the poop and stood silently by his side.
He reached for one of her hands and brought it to his lips. "Is our daughter asleep?"
She nodded and turned her head away. He knew she'd never left her home, in fact had never traveled except to the farm owned by Watkins. He wished there was a way to calm her fears of the unknown, but knew the only way would be to remain constant and be understanding.
"You should try to sleep as well. You've had a long night—not to mention a difficult year."
"I have several weeks ahead of me to rest." Her voice cracked as she held back her tears.
Lucky thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, standing next to him in boy's trousers and shirt. In the gray early morning light, her hair was blowing free from her plait, and she tucked the loose strands behind her ear in a move he'd seen her do frequently when she was nervous. He could understand feeling this way. Heaven knew she had plenty to worry over now.
"I love you Contessa," he said, "You will never again have to fear the future. I will always protect you, and I will never leave you."
"I hope you do leave, to sail this boat I designed for you! You said you wanted to import tea, not be a slug-a-bed."
He laughed. "Eager to be rid of me so soon, wife?" Gray-pink skies began to streak the horizon as they neared Sparrows Point. Right on time.
She laughed, too, for the first time since he'd returned to Indian Point. Lucky knew all was well when she looked at him with those glowing amber eyes and a smile that warmed his soul. He called the order to add more sail, and Mary quirked a brow at him. "I will not slow down until we clear Annapolis, and I cannot rest easy until we hit the Atlantic in about ten hours."
She watched his sailors unfurling the cloth. "I do want to continue to design, Lucky," she said. "Even if we leave the running of the yard to Andrew and Robert, they seem to be doing a fine job." Her gaze followed the men walking the footropes on the yards as they did their job. "I have never felt such a sense of accomplishment than I get when I sail on one of my own creations." She thought a moment, then added, "Except when I hold Lucy. She is more perfect in my eyes than any ship I designed.
"And I honestly never thought to marry again. In my head, I feared losing who and what I am if were to marry again. Especially to someone who didn't understand me or my relationship with Mr. Watkins."
"You have nothing to fear now," he said, then corrected himself. "Except perhaps someone chasing us. Though, whoever it might be, it won't be the new constable. Not for some time anyway. That man is currently locked in his own jail cell."
Mary laughed again, a sound that he discovered he enjoyed hearing. "Oh dear. He will not appreciate that."
Now it was Lucky's turn to laugh. "Then I'm glad we brought the keys with us."
Minutes later, as their laughter eased, they both heard Ren shout from the cabin directly beneath them, "You're what?"
Epilogue
Late August, 1838
"Wake up, my sleepy-head," Lucky whispered in Mary-Michael's ear as she struggled to remain in her dream-filled slumber. When she refused to respond, her husband grew more insistent, sliding his hand seductively up the length of her thigh, resting it over her womb.
He didn't suspect, she was fairly sure. She hadn't told him yet because she wanted to be certain first. It wouldn't be the first time she was late with her monthly courses. Only this time she had other symptoms which led her to believe she really was about to present her husband with another daughter, or perhaps a son in about seven and a half months.
"But I'm comfortable and warm," she whispered into his shoulder, slipping one hand under his silken robe.
"A letter came for you," he replied. "It's from Michael."
She paused her exploration of her husband's muscled abdomen. Touching Lucky, feeling the dips and ridges of his hard-muscled body, excited her already sensitive breasts and her woman's core, and Mary-Michael wanted him again.
While the letter was surely interesting, it would still be there in thirty minutes. There could be nothing of such great importance in the letter that stopping her sensual foreplay might change. She ached for him again, sliding her hand down and wrapping it around his already hardened shaft, moving it up and down in a slow, rhythmic motion that he'd told her he enjoyed.
"If you don't stop now, we will be seeing this through to completion," Lucky growled into her mussed hair as he kissed the top of her head.
"I like completion. It's so... satisfying." She squealed as he rolled her onto her back and climbed on top, throwing off his black robe. Mary-Michael wrapped her legs around his hips and welcomed his second invasion. He thrust into her deeply, filling her so perfectly. She grasped his bottom, and held onto him as he struggled to control his lovemaking.
But she didn't want control. Not this morning. She wanted abandon. Joyful, wild, uncontrolled abandon. Reaching up to kiss him, she parted his lips and with her tongue traced the sharp planes of his teeth, begging for him to duel with her.
His hot, damp breath on her flesh caused her to shiver. The hair on his chest made her already sensitive nipples harden as he moved inside her. She reached up to kiss his neck, then lick and nibble her way to his ear lobe. He enjoyed this, she knew because of the way he reacted. He growled and returned her feverish kisses while attempting to keep the frantic pace that would lead to release.
She was right. Lucky's pace grew faster and his thrusts deeper and more purposeful. Mary-Michael joined her husband in the frantic pace he set for this round of lovemaking. She held onto him for dear life as they rode together on that upward spiral, the one that would send her once again diving off the highest yardarm and into the deepest ocean of ecstasy. The rising pressure built within her, the peak of orgasmic pleasure crested, and she knew her husband would be right beside her in that glorious dive into rapture. All she had to do was let go.
She did, and they dove together.
One hour later, after Lucy's nurse took their daughter back upstairs, Lucky handed her the letter from their brother-in-law, Lord Camden. Mary-Michael opened it and began to read, as her husband read a shorter missive from his partner
.
She stared at the page, the words growing blurry and watery. For some reason, her eyes burned and when the drop fell onto the page, her husband took it from her and read what Michael had written. When he was done, he smiled.
"We can go home, Mary," Lucky said softly while he continued reading. "...While they were never able to prove he orchestrated the deaths of Mr. Frank Baxter and the Slocum brothers, Nicholas Barlowe has been found guilty of the murder of Nelson Potts, and for that crime has been sentenced to hang. There will, of course, be an appeal, but according to Michael having an eye witness to the murder testify in the trial was the determining factor for the jury."
The knot in her throat preventing her from speech burst. "Thank God!" The words came out with a deep, relieved sigh. Mary-Michael wanted nothing more than to bring her family back to Indian Point. "This is good news, husband," she said as she wiped her eyes with her fingers, sniffled and tried to smile.
His grin was as brilliant as sunshine on this summer day in this place called Haldenwood. His eyes sparkled with true, deep happiness for them. But she had a special reason to be thankful for going back, and she had to share it with him. Now.
"I want our son born in America, Lucky."
The End
Putting our work “out there” makes most artists feel vulnerable in some way. But, for a few of us, there is nothing in the world we would rather be doing than creating stories that touch the heart, no matter the fear of scrutiny. I hope you enjoyed reading about Lucky and Mary-Michael as much as I enjoyed writing their story. If you did, please leave a rating or review at the vendor where you purchased this book because I truly believe all constructive criticism helps writers better themselves at this craft we love so much.
About the Author
Sandy Raven has a husband who spoils her rotten, and kids that are just a hair’s breadth away from perfect. She’s addicted to House Hunters International and has never missed an episode, though she acknowledges that she could never live in most of those countries because the houses are just too small. She is also addicted to Starbucks’ chai latte, and never passes up an opportunity to have one.
Sandy grew up on the Texas Gulf Coast with sand between her toes and perpetually frizzy hair. Which is why she now lives in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, in a place with minimal to moderate humidity (for perfect, non-frizzy curls) rolling hills and farmed forests. The only downside to living where there are no lines on the paved roads, is having to drive at least one hour to get herself a chai latte.
Home is a renovated old farm house she shares with her hero husband, in the foothills of Blue Ridge Mountains, where she’s owned by more cats, dogs and horses than she cares to admit to. She’s a long-time member of RWA, and is a member of VRW and the Beau Monde. Second to writing is her love for her animals. She practices natural horsemanship, and loves to ride her barefoot Tennessee Walkers on the trails and in the woods around her home.
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