Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (22 page)

"I insist," he said. "A few sips might help you relax."

"No, thank you. I should be going soon. I cannot chance being seen." She paused and smiled. "Though they'd likely think I was some spirit or ghost again. Some people in these parts—in my opinion, the ones who imbibe a wee bit too much—are superstitious."

He smiled. She was no spirit or ghost, this he knew. Mary Watkins was every bit flesh-and-blood, woman. "I'll have you home before sunrise, my lady. I promise."

"I need to be home well before sunrise," she said. "I have to attend church later."

"As should I," he added, knowing he had to beg forgiveness for encouraging her to break her vows with him.

"We cannot go together. We can meet in the church, exchange a greeting and you may sit nearby, though not in the same pew as me." She took his wine glass and sipped from it. "I still have a husband and even though you and I have been..."

She appeared uncomfortable with the word, so he filled in for her. "Lovers?" he whispered. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at him, as though just realizing the gravity of their affair.

"I was going to say intimate, but there's not much difference is there?" She sipped the wine again, and gave him an awkward smile. "I will not shame my husband."

"You mean any more than we already have?" Lucky realized that, as the one to initiate the affair, he couldn't make demands on the parameters she set. He should abide by her rules, even though something inside him insisted this was more than an affair—that more would come of this relationship, and that Mrs. Watkins was more than just an available woman in the latest port.

He nodded, then stood and extended a hand to Mary. "Come, let's sleep for a few hours. I shall wake well before time for us to leave."

Lucky stretched out on the bed, and patted the mattress next to him.

She stretched out beside him, lying in the crook of his right arm as he caressed her linen-covered back and bottom with gentle strokes until she slept.

 

U
sually it didn't matter what time Mary-Michael went to sleep, she was wide awake at the very first streaking of light in the sky. This morning was no different. Except when she attempted to stretch, her arms bumped into the fully-muscled hardness of this man who was her lover until Monday morning.

That's when reality sank into her sleep-deprived brain. She was still in Lucky's cabin, aboard Avenger with the man and the memories of what they'd done. Oh, dear God in heaven. And, on top of that, she overslept! Glancing out the open porthole, she saw the glowing gray fog on the bay as the sun rose. She slowly raised her leg off of his and attempted to untangle herself from his embrace. Of course this caused Lucky to stir as well and his arm tightened around her. Damn. She had to get out of here. How was she going to get by him and into her home before the entire village woke?

The rain must have stopped while she slept, and the gulls were starting their morning calls, which would mean there would soon be people heading to the early morning church services. She had to leave.
Now.
She tried to roll off the side of the bed, hoping it wouldn't stir her bedmate. No such luck. His arm reached for her, cupping a bare breast.

"I must hurry," she said, pushing his hand away. Mary-Michael slipped off the bed quickly before he could catch her, and she began to search for her clothing in what little light there was coming through the portholes.

"Mmm... How are you feeling?" He rolled onto his back and stretched his arms behind his head, looking for all the world like an Adonis. One she hoped was discreet now that the affair had begun.

"Fine," she replied, unwilling to tell him about the soreness between her legs. "I must leave now, Lucky. People will be moving about soon, and I have to get inside my house before anyone sees me." She found her chemise and Lucky's smalls, tossed them on the bed. Her dress was next, but her drawers and stockings eluded her. "Lucky, please help me find the rest of my clothing," she whispered. "And my shoes..." she scanned the floor of the cabin, "I don't know where they are."

Mary-Michael searched behind the privacy screen in the corner of his cabin and found her drawers, then made quick work of putting both that and her chemise on. Why wasn't he helping her? As her chemise slid over her head she tried to remember where they were when Lucky removed her stockings. And her shoes. She needed to find her shoes! She couldn't walk through the shipyard without her shoes.

Lucky came to her, holding her stockings. "You could spend the day here, with me." The look on his face told her he was sincere in his offer. If her life was different, if she didn't have responsibilities to her husband and his shipyard, she could see herself spending an entire day in this man's bed, in his arms, making love again as they had during the past night.

Frustration with him, her situation and the fact that the sky was lightening by the second, she snatched them from his hand and sat on the room's only chair. The man was just not gathering her meaning. She was afraid last night's wine had numbed all sense of reason in his insistent, satisfaction-seeking brain. Her gaze snapped up at him. "No, Lucky. I must hurry home." She pulled on her stockings as Lucky retrieved her shoes from somewhere behind the table. "I have a precious few minutes before the sun is up and the fog begins to burn off." She pointed out the window. "That fog is my undeserved miracle. I cannot believe I overslept." Standing, she lowered the dress over her body and presented her back to him. He fastened the same buttons he'd undone the night before.

"Fine. Do you need privacy?"

She'd been ignoring her need for the chamber pot, and nodded.

He found his trousers and put them and his boots on. "I'll go to the privy above deck and leave you the cabin. There should be enough water in the pitcher, Tally refilled it earlier."

Someone had seen her naked in Lucky's arms? "You mean, someone came in here?"

"Just Tally. I trust him with my life."

"I was... uncovered. Unclothed!" She was sure she was going to be sick now. "Lucky,
I was naked!
"

He grinned, a satisfied grin of a man with a wicked sense of humor. "You were well-covered my lady, I assure you."

She couldn't believe he was making a joke about their previous nights' repeated lovemaking at a time like this. She huffed and held up a shoe, preparing to throw it at him.

"I placed the sheet over you when I heard him slide the latch." He blew her a kiss before he threw back the latch, and opened the door. "I will be but a few minutes," he said, closing the door behind him after he'd quit the room.

True to his word he'd hurried back, and they soon wended their way through the closed shipyard. Mary-Michael offered up the story she'd concocted while dressing. "I'll walk behind you, so no one thinks you're following me. Go through the alley again. We'll enter the house from the rear."

"It's foggy," he said. "No one will see us."

"Please. People around here stir before sunrise, even on Sunday. And in summer, the earlier services are more popular because of the heat later in the day." Once they left the shipyard proper, both walked silently and with a determined stride toward her house. Mary stayed on the opposite side of the street, behind Lucky, and she saw no one during her trek. And though she saw no one, it didn't necessarily mean no one saw
her
. Her mind raced with possible explanations for walking through the village in the early morning hours. And in a dress! She never wore a dress except to church. That's it! It
was
Sunday morning, except while she could say she was on her way to church, the church was in a different direction from her home. She was coming from the shipyard, except she was in a dress... That's it! She was on her way back
to
the house from the office where she had to drop off her drawings. That would cover the fact that she held nothing in her arms, so she obviously wasn't
picking up
drawings.

Mary-Michael was terribly afraid that she was becoming quite an accomplished liar. She would have to add that to her growing list of offenses for which to confess.

The fog was just starting to thin out when they reached her back porch. Mary-Michael breathed a sigh of relief as she fished her key from where it was pinned to the inside pocket of her dress and opened the door. Lucky followed behind, locking the door once he was inside. They walked into the warm, stuffy house and she immediately began opening the windows. "I have to get air moving through the house again. Please stay away from any of the windows facing the street, I beg you. The neighbors across the way, two elderly sisters, are rather gossipy. They are also Constable Potts' mother and aunt."

She stoked the nearly-dead coals in the cast iron cook stove to rebuild the fire for their tea and her bathwater, then searched the pie cupboard hoping for something leftover. "Thank goodness Sally left food." She lifted the cotton napkin covering the bread basket and smiled. "It's not much, a half loaf of bread, a jar of apple butter, and..." she unwrapped another small item. "And this" she grinned as she showed the wedge to Lucky, "is my favorite cheese we can cut wedges from. Bless that woman, we will not starve today."

Placing the food items on the table, she filled the kettle, then the larger pot. Lucky came up behind her, and his arms wrapped around her. The feel of his hard body behind her and the scent of their lovemaking still on both of them was causing her insides to do cartwheels and somersaults like the performers in the circus she saw in Philadelphia last summer.

"Let me help you," he said. His warm, moist breath caused the baby fine hairs along her nape to stir, the sensation sending tiny tremors careening through her.

She stopped pumping the water when he kissed her neck. If she hadn't held on to the counter she would have fallen. "You should go," she whispered. "I'm afraid..."

"Don't be." He put his hands over hers on the big pot.

The feel of his work-roughened hands gently caressing her forearms sent shivers coursing through her. She was losing the battle to keep him at a distance. How could she go to church knowing this man sat in the same building with her? She would never be able to keep her mind on the service, when all she wanted was to be in his arms, to feel him inside of her again, moving in that way that brought them both pleasure.

"We can spend the day together," he whispered.

Her entire body trembled at the unspoken promise in his words. Her breasts ached and she was growing wet between her legs yet again. This was madness! How on earth could she go from having never been touched by a man to a wanton in twelve short hours?

Mary-Michael ducked under his arm and turned to face Lucky, the gold flecks in his brown eyes reflecting the rising sun coming in the kitchen window. "If I don't go to church people will notice." Her words sounded weak, even to her.

"They'll think you left with your husband, won't they?"

"My brother knows I stayed behind to work on your prints." She motioned to the pot of water in the sink. "If you don't mind placing that on the fire. I'll be right back."

She had to get out of that kitchen or she would let the man have his way with her right there. And trollop that she was, she wanted him again! Taking the steps two at a time she ran to her room and closed the door, leaning against it in the dark. They had only this one weekend, she told herself. If she could make it through one more day, she wouldn't have to endure the temptation of his presence. Wouldn't have to decide between her lover and her everlasting soul.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed. What she wouldn't give to feel her belly grow with a babe! She'd give anything—everything—for a child of her own.

Her decision made, she prepared the bathing chamber for her bath, but didn't get her dress and underclothes laid out. She didn't do it because she had less than twenty-four hours remaining to spend with her captain and for what she had in mind, clothing was not necessary.

  

T
hey ate some of the cheese and bread with a spiced apple spread while the water heated, and when it boiled Lucky carried the pot for her while Mary carried another filled with cold water. He watched the sway of her bottom as she climbed the steps and his cock stirred. She was about to be naked in a tub and she wanted him to leave? Not hardly. He wanted to show her his idea of a Sunday morning worship service. Of course it would have to be quick so they could still make church if she insisted.

He followed her into the bathing chamber, a room barely big enough for the two of them. Mary set her pot down and as Lucky poured the hot water into a slipper bath made of copper she added oil, filling the room with the scent of lavender. Light from the single window flooded the east-facing room. Louvered shutters prevented anyone from peering in, while still managing to let the breeze flow through. Morning light behind her caused Mary's hair to glow as though on fire and Lucky wanted nothing more than to touch her, and burn with her.

In the quiet hours before she woke that morning, he thought about their circumstance—her marriage and his commitment to his company, and decided it was for the best if he ended their affair after he took ownership of the two new vessels. Who knew how long her husband might yet live. And while he was attracted to her, and desired her unlike any woman ever, unless she wanted to come with him to England and be his mistress, they could never carry this any further than a brief affair.

He would have definitely considered marriage to Mary Watkins when she became a widow, except for the fact that she'd never borne a child. Though he'd never introduced himself by his title, it was still a part of the legacy he wanted to pass down to a son one day. Except when he thought about a future without Mary-Michael Watkins, a cold, desolate sensation filled his heart.