Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (40 page)

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 situation 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.

"Are you working late tonight?" he asked, staring at the horizon again.

She gave him as much of a smile as she could. "I can."

"Good. I think there are some details we need to go over after dark." He stood, and began to step over to the ratline.

She smiled. "I look forward to it, Captain." He nodded and gave her a tiny smile, one that told her that everything would be okay. She hoped that meant he wouldn't press her for more that she could give him, because she didn't think she could manage this for much longer.

As she watched him climb down the rope ladder, she decided that she needed to make a trip into the city. She needed to confess these sins because they were eating at her heart. And she had to do it in a church where no one knew her, for she had just become an accomplished liar.

 

A
fter sailing the entire afternoon on the
Lady S
, Ian and Mr. Watkins decided all was well and the ceremonial transfer of ownership should take place. At first light the following day, the exact same crew from her shipyard—specialists in all the trades necessary in case something were to go awry—along with Lucky's sailors would do it all over again on the
Lady M
.

Under spanker and jib alone, Ian proudly and masterfully slid the
Lady S
into their berth at the shipyard, a skill that was slowly being lost with the mechanization in their industry. A captain able to perfect this was starting to become a rare professional indeed. Mary-Michael disembarked first to fetch all the employees and craftsmen still on the premises. She called them all over to the pier in front of the boat. Everyone who had anything at all to do with the construction of the
Lady S
was encouraged to gather dockside. Andrew, the shipyard's senior draftsman, brought out the French-polished mahogany box and tried to hand it to Spenser. Her husband motioned that he should give it to Mary-Michael, and she took the hand-crafted box from Andrew's hands. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat as she traced the hand-carved image of the
Lady S,
cut into her lid by an artist of talent superior to hers, and an etched brass plate bearing the name of the ship. Inside the specially made box on a bed of crushed burgundy velvet, were the delicate tools and instruments necessary for navigation, and recalibration of the compasses, including the sextant, level, telescope, chart dividers, magnifying glass, spare optics, and pocket watch.