Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (23 page)

Perhaps he could take a house in Baltimore to facilitate their affair? Yes. That's quite doable. He would spend every free moment possible with her. Given time, he sensed something precious could grow from their relationship.

He added the cool water, and put both pots in a corner while she replaced the vial on the washstand. Lucky came up behind her. Their gazes met in the oval looking glass hanging on the wall above it.

She gave him the tiniest of smiles. "I guess we aren't going to church today."

"That's a safe assumption," he murmured as he began to unfasten the buttons on the back of her dress. He could do this every day for the rest of his life and he would never tire of it. Her skin was silky soft and flawless beneath the time-worn clothing she wore. One day he would love to take her to London and Paris, and bring her to the most fashionable modistes, and garb her with the finest materials and latest colors and fashions. He wanted to adorn her with jewels that would set off her amber-colored eyes. And just as he had these thoughts, a part of him knew she'd never accept him. She was too proud to be any man's mistress, and too independent to be an idle wife. At this realization, a crushing sensation overcame him. He reminded himself to hold fast to this moment and the memories they would have of this weekend.

He pushed the bodice over her shoulders, revealing the curve of her bare shoulders, and her pert breasts beneath the soft fabric of her chemise. "My lady requires help with her bath," he murmured. He lifted her hair to the side and bent down to place a light kiss on the sweet curve of her neck, right where it met her shoulder. "And I am," he whispered onto her moist, hot skin, "a very experienced lady's maid."

Running his hands down her sides, he grasped the material of her dress below her hips and lifted it. When she raised her arms, he knew she was just as eager as he for this. He knew he should think of her, of her comfort, but right then he was more likely to stop the sun from rising in the sky than stop what they were about to do. Dress, petticoat and chemise all came off together, leaving her standing in her drawers and stockings. In the mirror, he watched her nipples pucker tight and beg for his touch.

Lucky turned Mary in his arms, then he sat on the only stool in the room, positioning her between his legs. "How do you feel?"

She was silent a moment, while he tugged at the knot of ribbons holding her drawers up. "Desiring of..." The soft cotton material slid down her thighs to the floor, exposing all of her for his pleasure. His breath caught in his chest, the sight of her naked beauty so arrested him. In the faint morning light, he thought her more beautiful than a Titian painting. He forced himself to remember she was already married, and that she could never be his no matter how he wished it. She made a vow to her husband—and he had the partnership with Ian he was committed to, and a duty to his title to marry and produce heirs. He could make no promises to her of a future together. He could never offer her what she deserved from a man. Marriage, fidelity, children. But he could pleasure her now, for it would please him as well.

He grasped her bottom and pulled her close. He inhaled her scent, kissing her belly. "What is it my lady desires?" He looked up into her amber eyes, and saw the longing on her face. If she only knew how badly he wanted to be inside her.

She clutched his head. "More of what we had last night." Her fingers threaded through his hair as he took a nipple between his lips and held it between his teeth, teasing it with his tongue. He was going to satisfy that need in her. In him as well.

Her faint moans told him she enjoyed his attention, and when her legs parted and she straddled his thigh he moved to the other nipple. Soon she began to rock back and forth gently on his leg, the slow rhythm instantly making his cock hard. He cupped her soft, dark curls with his left hand and parted her with a middle finger. The feel of her, so wet and ready for him, made him nearly climax in his trousers. Lucky had to remember to be gentle on her for it had been an active night, and she hadn't been in her husband's bed in years.

He lifted his lips to hers. "Are you sore at all?"

She shook her head. Her glowing eyes were alive with wonder at what his fingers were doing on her sensitive nub. "Lucky," she said on a shaky breath, "I ache." He watched as she fought the sensations in order to finish her sentence. "From... a void... that needs filling."

He groaned. She had no idea the effect her words had on him. His hands roved upwards, grasping her by the waist, he lifted her from him. "I can take care of that for you," he murmured. He quickly shed his shirt, then stood to remove the rest of his clothing. Assessing the room, he decided to take her standing, from the rear. He wanted to watch her face as he took her. He wanted to see the play of emotions in her eyes—the desire, the reach, the climax, the satiation.

He placed her in front of the mirror. "Hold the edge of the washstand and look at us. Do not close your eyes. Understand?" She nodded, and when she grabbed the stand she spread her legs apart and stuck her bottom up for him. He moved close and reached around and parted her in front with his right hand and found her sensitive nub, then found the pool of liquid silk. With his left hand he guided his cock head to her moisture and he spread it with his member, before positioning himself at her entrance.

"Don't tease." Her voice trembled with desire, and complaint. He pressed against her clitoris harder, faster. "Yes," she sighed. He brought her to the edge of a climax, and unable to take more himself, he grabbed her hips and plunged inside. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and squeezed her eyes shut, breaking their eye contact.

He pulled back, resting the head of his cock at her entrance. "Open your eyes," he commanded. He wanted her to watch him as he moved within her, wanted to see her climax blossom across her face as she reached it.

Her desire-filled eyes met his in the mirror and he thrust into her. She gasped, then her walls tightened around him. He held still, hoping he hadn't hurt her, as her entire body spasmed. When she relaxed, he began to move within her, sliding in and out with some ease, though she was still very tight. "How do you feel now?" he asked.

"Good. No, wonderful. Please don't stop, Lucky."

He pushed in again, this time deeper, and watched the reaction on her face, the look in her eyes told him what he wanted. She was enjoying this as much as he. He thrust in again, this time to the hilt, and she moaned. "Yes, Lucky," her breathless pleas encouraged him. "Yes."

He moved deeper and faster. Again and again. She gave a muted cry, and he paused. "Am I hurting you?" He didn't think he could take much more. He needed to come, soon.

"No. Please. Don't stop."

He wanted her to come with him, and he was so close. His fingers began toying with her clit again and a deep moan from some primal place inside her filled the room. Her eyes threw golden daggers at him as she pleaded for him to bring her to orgasm. His body took over as he moved with a faster, deeper rhythm. His need for release was every bit as desperate as hers, and he plowed her silken depths until he finally thrust deeply one last time. Lucky held himself there, relishing in the sensations and emotions playing across Mary's face. Only then did he give in to the most satisfying orgasm he'd ever experienced.

 

M
ary-Michael held his gaze in the mirror until the moment they climaxed. The buildup of sensations, and an intense and brilliant light, all came to an explosive peak inside her. There wasn't energy left to hold her eyelids open, and she hoped he understood. She'd tried to keep her eyes open for him, wanted to see his expression when he climaxed as well. It just wasn't possible, so strong was this culmination of their loving. As her entire body trembled with her shattering climax, she instinctively pressed her backside into him wanting to keep him joined to her as long as possible. Her head fell forward and Lucky's arm reached around her waist, supporting them both as he leaned onto her back, kissing her shoulder.

The romantic in her wanted this forever. This feeling. His strong arms around her, protecting her from... what? Life? Sanity began to trickle back through the haze of satiation, bringing her to her senses. He couldn't protect her from the future—whatever that may be. She just had to make sure he didn't suspect her reasons for needing him as badly as she did.

"That has to be uncomfortable for you." She fought to regain her breath as she stood there, relishing the feel of him over her.

"Not at all." His lips lazily nibbled along her shoulder. "When I'm inside you, I feel amazing."

She met his brown-eyed gaze in the mirror. She wanted to share with him as well the wonder of what she'd just experienced, but couldn't find the right words. Too, was it even appropriate to share so intimate a feeling when they were only lovers for the weekend? Not knowing what to say, she said nothing. He must have taken this as a way for her to maintain her distance, so he backed away, slipping from her body. She felt the void in her heart.

"Your bathwater is getting cold." Was it her imagination, or was that a hint of sadness in his whispered words? She looked at the inviting tub, and winced when she straightened. He frowned. "I'm sorry if I was too rough. It's just that... it's been a while for me."

Mary-Michael remembered that she had a pretense to keep up—that of a wife who'd not been in her husband's bed for several years. "Likely not as long as it's been for me." She climbed into her bath and thought once again that she was becoming quite an accomplished liar. And she hated herself for it.

"True, but I worry that I hurt you." His voice was filled with sincere regret, and she couldn't stop thinking that, if her life had been different she could have had something special with this man. Something worth cherishing.

But she had to keep him at somewhat of a distance because he would leave. He'd go about living his life. And she would go back to being Mrs. Watkins, of Watkins Shipbuilding, and M. Michael Watkins, Naval Architect.

"You worry far too much about me," she said as she sunk into the deliciously warm water. "My size and frame are deceptive. I am very sturdily built."

He didn't reply, but took her towel and moved the stool closer to the tub. He pushed aside her hair and cupping his hands, he poured the warm water over her back. "You are so fair and beautiful." A single finger traced a path up her neck, sending a shiver racing up her spine. His touch forced a moan from her as her head fell backwards.

She lost herself in the sensual web he was creating around them. His touch had, from the moment they met, stirred unsettled emotions in her. Making her wish for things she couldn't have—and one she perhaps could, with his help. She sensed he was as disappointed as she that their time together was quickly coming to an end. His crew would be returning today. Surely he had to be on his ship to prepare to weigh anchor in the morning.

Mary-Michael opened her eyes and looked into his. "I... I find you very appealing, too." She didn't know what else to say. Even though she'd lied plenty over the past twenty-four hours,
this
she knew was truth. She also couldn't give him any impression, any hope that there might be something more than what there is today. And by the change in his mood—a mindful, observant silence she'd seen on a few occasions—she sensed he seemed to understand this.

She quickly bathed, and while she did, Lucky started the pot for more hot water and carried up the cool water for his bath. When she was done, Mary-Michael slipped into her bedroom and pulled a fresh chemise over her head and combed her hair. She suddenly felt sleepy, even though by the sun's height in the sky, she should be leaving for church soon. People would miss her. Her brother would worry about her.

While she waited for Lucky, Mary-Michael sat on her bed, thinking of the best way to get him out of the house without the any of the neighbors seeing him. Especially the ladies directly across the street. All they would have to do to ruin her is to say they witnessed a man leaving her home while Mr. Watkins was at the farm and she would lose credibility at work, and her standing in the community.

They never should have come to her home.

Lucky walked in, his thick, dark waves, wet from his bath, wearing nothing but his drawers. His body still glistened in places where he'd missed drying himself, and those droplets begged her touch, but she kept her hands to her lap.

"We have to manage a way to get you out so no one sees you leave." She yawned as she finished her words, and Lucky smiled.

"I think," he said coming close and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "that we are both tired and could use a short nap. When we wake we shall worry about when and how I leave."

"But you have to get to your ship. Shouldn't you be there this afternoon as your crew returns?" She made room for him to sit next to her, but he lay down instead.

"Yes, and I shall." He motioned for her to join him on the bed, and she did. Even with the temperatures rising in the house as the sun rose, her lover pulled her close and held onto her. Tired and very much in need of a nap, she didn't have the energy to pull away. So Mary-Michael curled into her captain's side and slept.

 

T
he sound of her brother's voice penetrated the fog that shrouded Mary-Michael's brain. George's voice sounded very near, as if directly under her window. Odd dream. Her brother calling for her while she slept... while she slept... in her lover's arms.
Oh, holy mother of God!

Throwing her pillow onto the floor, she bolted out of bed, waking said lover. She was wearing a chemise when she laid on the bed. Where was it? "Lord have mercy," she whispered. "Do not say a word," she hissed at Lucky. "Understand?" She tried to find her dressing robe. In the absence of that, she yanked the sheet from the bed, and her chemise dropped to the floor.

"I hear you up there, Mary-Michael. Are you all right?" Genuine concern tinted George's voice, which caused her stomach ball up into a tight knot at what she was about to do.