Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (7 page)

Now, when she thought about what she was considering, it made her both nervous and excited at the same time. Was this what it felt like to be so close to a dream? She'd wanted a child for so long, and never, ever thought this might be a possibility for her. Never, of course, with Mr. Watkins. As she grew older each year she didn't think she would ever remarry if and when the time came that he passed from this life. For one, the entire community thought her an oddity, and two, no man ever looked at her the way Captain Gualtiero did. His smoldering gold-flecked cocoa eyes raked over her as though she were beautiful. It was enough to...

Breathe, Mary-Michael. You can do this.

Inhale. Exhale.
When he touched her, her knees weakened and her body melted toward him. He smelled masculine, clean and fresh.
Inhale. Exhale.
Obviously there was some reciprocation of attraction, or he would not be playing these word games with her. "If he only knew what I wanted," she whispered into the empty room.
Inhale. Exhale.

Any adulterous sentiment or action was sinful, no matter what Mr. Watkins said. It was what she'd been taught in her religious upbringing. And while she gave her husband her faithfulness and honor for these past six years, it was her husband who suggested a temporary liaison that would give Mary-Michael the child she so desired. Just one babe. That was all she wanted. All she'd prayed for because she wasn't a greedy woman at heart. But she was a woman. If this captain could just give her
one babe
to bear her husband's name and inherit her husband's fortune then all those prayers would be answered.

Inhale. Exhale.
How was she going to survive tomorrow, now that the captain basically told her he was as attracted to her as she to him?

Inhale. Exhale.
There was only one place to go at a time like this.

She took her plain white parasol and her pad, pencil, and rolled drawing from the night before and left the office. "Andrew, I'm going to work from home the rest of the day so I can start on the official drawings for our new client. But first, I'm going to stop by Becky's and try to have lunch with her."

The other man nodded and she left the building. As she passed the stable, she saw Victor was still out with the buggy, and didn't wonder much about it. With him gone, she wouldn't have to explain her desire to walk today.

But, before she went home she needed to visit with her friend, and tell her that she'd decided to go through with it.

 

L
ucky had felt the ragged breath Mrs. Watkins drew when he'd caught her against him and he knew she shared this spark of a flame attempting to catch between them. His arm still burned with her heat even now, twenty minutes after leaving her office. A sick feeling welled up within him and the pressure made him want to scream. Scream as he hadn't done since he was a child. He'd bedded married women many times before, but always after he knew for certain he wouldn't wake with a blade at his throat from some jealous husband. This frustration bubbling inside him came from wanting something on a different—more intimate—level, and recognizing he couldn't have it. He wanted Mrs. Watkins in this way, and he knew he couldn't have her. She was devoted to another. An old man.

As he made his way back toward Avenger, he kicked a stone in the path for a few yards then, in frustration, picked it up and threw it as far as he could into the bay.

Why did this always happen to him? He realized that this life he chose for himself wasn't the most conducive to courting a woman, marrying, or producing a family. But he did want these things. With all his heart he truly desired them. He wanted the peace and happiness that Ian found with Sarah, and that his sister found with Ren. He loved children and wanted dozens of his own to love as he loved his nieces and nephews.

Long ago he and Ian had bonded over fate's cruel hand when it came to family. Ian had overcome his issues of being abandoned by his father, to live with a grandfather he believed hated him. Lucky's parents had died in a fire when he was a young child, but it was his paternal aunt who'd tried to kill Lia and him to gain the fortune left to their father by Lucky's grandfather. His memories of his parents, their death, and the months living with his aunt were faint, so when Lucky thought about his family, the first thoughts were of his sister, Lia, and her husband, Ren, and his siblings through his sister's marriage, and all the combined children. They were his family, and he'd always hoped to one day add to that family when the time came that he took a wife.

His brother-in-law once told him he'd know when the right woman came along. That when she did, his world would feel more right with her in it, than without. So he'd waited. And now? The devil take him, but he now wanted a married woman
in that way
. He could feel it deep to the very roots of his soul. And the reality of the fact was crushing. He couldn't court her. Couldn't have her.

He knew, as he knew nothing else; that she wasn't like the married women he'd dallied with in the past—women after a fling for a few weeks or months, after which they'd part amicably to seek other beds. Mrs. Watkins was different, and it wasn't just the way she dressed, or that she worked. She impressed him as a woman who took her commitments seriously, and as someone who would give you her all when she gave you her heart.

The Watkins union was very unconventional, this was for certain. From what little he witnessed of their interaction, he would bet his right arm there was no real marriage between them. Lucky's curious mind wondered at many things, but the reality was The Watkins's didn't relate to each other in the manner of the married couples with whom he was familiar. And it wasn't that his family was different or special that he believed this. He saw with his own eyes Watkins treat his wife as one would a devoted daughter, and Mrs. Watkins treated her husband as a respected mentor.

Walking past the street which led to his boat, Lucky kept going until he spied a familiar sight. Taking the stone steps two at a time, he grasped the iron latch on the wooden door and pulled it open. Incense and burning beeswax candles scented the entryway to the small seaside town's only Catholic church. His eyes still adjusting to the dimmer interior, he looked toward the altar and saw the figure of an old man kneeling in prayer in one of the front pews, another seated next to him with his head bowed. Lucky spied the alcove he sought near the statue of St. Joseph and went to kneel in front of the bank of candles adorning the base. He took a match and lit one, then lowered his head.

He stayed that way, meditating and praying for several minutes, when a young priest came out from the sacristy and greeted the elderly man in the pews. The gentleman's voice sounded familiar and from under a bent arm Lucky caught a glimpse of the man. Mr. Watkins?

Lucky didn't move a muscle. He also didn't want to be recognized here. After all, he was praying for the strength of will to overcome this covetous feeling for that same man's wife.
Lord forgive me, but I cannot leave now.
Curiosity ate at him as he wanted to know what the old man was doing here. What were they about to discuss?

The men before the altar exchanged a few words, then Lucky heard a crinkling of paper as Watkins handed a large wrapped package over to the priest. "Thank you again, Spenser," the younger man said. "The children all benefit greatly from your generosity."

"You know my wish, lad. One day, when I'm gone, I pray you'll see that it happens."

"This will bring us one step closer," the priest replied, taking a seat next to Watkins. "So, how is Mary-Michael today?"

Lucky strained to hear the older man's reply. "Ah, your sister.... Poor lass. She still cries at night. I hear her through the wall and it breaks my heart."

"There are many other children she can choose from you know...." Lucky couldn't hear what the younger man said no matter that he held his breath and strained his ears to listen to the two men.

"For some reason Mrs. Watkins took to those two immediately and, I'll admit to loving the two little half-pints myself." Lucky chanced a quick glance under his arm and saw Spenser Watkins' white head shaking mournfully. "Since then, I don't think she has it in her to go through that ordeal yet again to perhaps have her heart broken once more."

"I understand," the priest said. "Other than that is she doing well? I noticed she'd lost some weight the last time I saw her. Please tell her to take care of herself, Spenser."

"I will pass that on," Watkins said. "She does have something new at work that has her excited. There's a new client we've taken on. She'll be designing and building two clippers for a British gent whose partner is Hamish's son. Make sure ye tell Gideon. He'd love to hear that little Ian is all grown and has his own tea import business. And that the old earl is finally fertilizer in the churchyard, and Ian is now the earl."

There were a few more words shared, then Lucky heard some shuffling of paper and the sound of men rising and parting ways. He heard the priest say, "There is a special place in heaven waiting for you, Spenser. I know it."

The older man chuckled. "Eh. That's if I even see those pearly gates."

Lucky heard movement in the pews, and kept his head down as the echoing sound of steps approached, then left the building.

"Victor, help me to the buggy," Watkins said as he walked out of the church, "and get me in my bed soon, before I expire inside this sweltering church. Thank the Lord, I've already got that trip to the farm planned for the weekend. I have to get out of this heat. This town in summer just sucks the life right out of a man."

"It does do that, sir, yes it does," replied his escort. "Especially with summer comin' so early this year."

Lucky kept his head bowed a while longer and did actually pray for a few minutes. When he was done, he looked around to see if the priest was still in the pew before getting up. He wanted to avoid questioning by this man who appeared to be Mrs. Watkins' brother. Realizing the other man had quit the chapel, he got up and walked out as well. Lucky thought that maybe he needed to see if there was another church he might attend for the duration of his visit, perhaps across the bay. One in which the object of his fascination and her husband were not parishioners.

He shaded his eyes as he turned toward the dock where his little gig was tied.

He was already thinking of her as
his
Mary. Mary, the woman with the intellect greater than any many he knew. A woman with silky auburn hair of undetermined length and eyes the color of a cup of fresh-brewed tea. She was his still-married-Mary. Mary, whose husband was a generous and good man. A man who just made what appeared to be a substantial donation to the church for some reason.

She was also a woman who—along with her husband of course—attempted to adopt some children, though lost them to someone else for some reason he couldn't determine. It upset all three of them to know that she still cried at night because of this.

And she was the woman he had to get out of his thoughts if he was to conduct business with her husband's shipyard.

 

L
ucky arrived at the offices of Watkins Shipbuilding the next morning, ready to spend the day with Mrs. Watkins. He’d hoped to be there before she arrived so he could watch her come in, but when got there he found the doors and windows to the offices open. He took the steps up to the second floor and upon reaching the antechamber off the landing, he saw her hunched over the table, with large sheets of paper spread across the drafting table and smudged ink on the sides of her hands. She’d obviously been working for quite a while already.

"I could have been here earlier if you'd needed me," he offered as his eyes raked over her slender form. Today she wore a dove gray apron over her light blue trousers. Under the apron, she had a pale cream blouse with loose sleeves that ended well above the elbow leaving her arms mostly bare and free to move. He knew her uniform was intended for her comfort and ease of doing her tasks, but if she had any idea the effect it had on him, she would cover herself further. But if she wore the dresses with the hoop skirts that were coming into fashion she would look out of place. Out of place, attracting attention and unable to perform her duties.

"Oh, no." Her smile was soft and genuine. "I enjoy coming in before the rest of the staff and getting work done in the undisturbed quiet."

Lucky wondered if her presence, and her unconventional manner of dress distracted the men who worked here. It certainly distracted the hell out of him.

A scuffling noise in the corner of the room, near the filing cabinet caught their attention, and they both watched as a cat carried its freshly-caught meal out of the room. "Good girl," Mrs. Watkins said to the animal. "Take your breakfast outside."

"Early riser, are you?" The skin of her arms was lightly sun-tanned, but not overly so. When she moved her arms across the drafting table and he could catch a glimpse, he noticed that further up the arm it was milk-white, untouched by the sun. And, he was willing to bet, untouched by a man.

She nodded. "You?"

"I cannot seem to sleep past the early shades of dawn. Once the sky begins to lighten, even before the sun is up, I'm stirring." He came around to her side of the drafting table, to get a better view of the drawing she worked on, but not before he drank in more of her appearance.

Her hair was, as usual, coiled practically into a net at the nape of her neck. How he wanted to tug at that bow and pins, allowing the net to drop, freeing all her glorious auburn hair. He wondered again how long it was and if it would be soft to the touch should he run his fingers through it. And if he lifted it to his face to inhale the scent, would it be roses or lavender that filled his nostrils? She was intoxicating him, and he knew of no cure for that ailment but one.