She turned an astonished look his way. "Do you really think so?"
She was a curious mixture of meek and independent, and the combination was enticing as all hell. "I do."
He saw her eyes glisten in the light of the single kitchen candle. Nerves again, he thought. She took a shaky breath and blew it out before opening the back door. "I'd rather not call attention to ourselves, so I'll be taking a different route than usual. If you could walk behind me somewhat, and not speak to me until we are well onto the shipyard property, I would appreciate that. And let's hurry. Not that I believe anyone would recognize me dressed as I am, but I'd rather not chance being seen."
Lucky nodded and they went out the back door, slipping behind the stable in the dark. They followed the alleyway until it ended, then she rounded the corner and led them onto the footpath alongside the street, where they kept to the shadows in the residential area of her small village. He wondered what Watkins was thinking to leave his wife, unattended, unchaperoned and completely available to him for the next thirty-six hours. He didn't ever want Mary to think he was taking advantage of her, but he was silently thanking all deities both religious and mythological for the opportunity to explore this attraction between them.
Within minutes they were behind the gates of Watkins Shipbuilding and she slowed her pace. She began to speak, softly, as though she expected someone to discover the two of them together. "You said you wanted us to learn about each other. So, Captain, what shall we talk about?"
They crossed the expansive construction yard with only the light from a cloud-covered moon to guide them. It cast an almost ethereal glow about her. "You can ask me anything. As long you call me Lucky."
She looked at him and gave him a half-smile. The tilt of her head and the dimple in her left cheek told him she was relaxing. "Why do you not shave more frequently?"
He grinned back at her, shaking his head in a bemused manner. He wondered how much he should tell her. How would she react to learning of his background? Would she instantly dislike him for his noble heritage? There was no way to tell for certain. She seemed very liberated and democratic, and that might not work in his favor if he wished to remain in her good graces. "For no other reason except I'm not good at it."
"You seemed surprised by my question," she mused as they continued walking. "You said I could ask anything." She flashed him a dimpled smile. "Last night you surprised me with your haircut and shave."
"I wanted to be presentable for dinner, thus sought the services of a skilled barber yesterday afternoon."
She toyed with her hair, another clear sign that she was nervous. He had a bottle of his favorite wine in his cabin, a glass of that should more than ease her worries. "Your beard, kept short as you had it... Well, I don't find it... unattractive." Not that he could see, but he imagined her cheeks were as red as her hair. He could tell in the way her voice trailed off to a whisper as she made her confession. "You seem to buck convention in your own way. You have fine, tailored clothing that denotes your privileged upbringing, yet you roll the sleeves and unbutton the shirt, as if to show you aren't afraid of hard work."
He chuckled. "I'm not afraid of work, but I come from a cooler climate and your heat is truly oppressive. Ian warned me about it."
They'd reached the skiff tied to the dock and he helped her into the rocking little boat, and watched her take her seat with absolute balance and grace. He waited for her to be situated before stepping in himself. She was an unassuming beauty and he found that her most attractive quality. She didn't need to play with fashion to enhance a thing. She was already perfect, in his opinion.
Lucky rowed the two of them out to
Avenger
as the rain began to fall softly. The thunder in the distance told him there was much more to come. He tied the little boat off at the rope ladder and reached out to untie the safety rope. He handed it to Mary and said, "Place this around your waist, with the point of the hook facing down, in case you slip and lose your footing."
"I won't lose my footing." Mary pulled the back hem of her skirt forward between her legs then tugged it through the white ribbon tied at her waist. She threw him an unreadable glance over her shoulder, her amber eyes appearing golden-brown in the cloud-filtered moonlight.
"You might, so just do as I say." She raised a brow at the tone of his voice, something he'd caught as soon as the words left his mouth. "I don't want you to get hurt." Only after she'd done so did Lucky offer her a hand up to start her climb, watching her closely the entire way.
After she was safely on deck he followed behind her up the rope ladder. Once on board, he took her hand and hurried them to his cabin where Tally would bring their dinner now that it was raining. Her fingers were like ice, even though it was warm out and she'd walked the distance from the house to the shipyard. He went to the cabinet and took out the bottle of wine and two glasses, then poured. This would warm her, and if it didn't do a sufficient job, then he could think of other things to get the blood flowing.
He almost hoped he was right in his earlier assumption and that she and Watkins had no marital intimacy. There was this primal, selfish beast inside of him that wanted to be her first and only. Though it wasn't likely, after all, she'd been married for six years. Surely they'd consummated the union.
In the past, he'd always hated the thought of being the first lover a woman took. He'd made it a practice to stay as far away from untried misses and ladies as he could. But with Mary, he both wanted to be the one to teach her, yet loathed the idea of hurting her.
"I had planned for dinner on deck, but suspected the weather wouldn't hold for us." The portholes were open and they could hear the sound of the storm growing closer from across the bay. The rain became more intense and the wind-tossed waves in the bay caused his boat to rock.
"I'm glad we made it in time," she said, taking the glass from his grasp. She stepped back slightly and looked out over the bay, and into the increasingly stormy night. A bolt of lightning tore a bright, jagged line across the sky in the distance and she shivered. "These evening thunderstorms will help cool the sweltering temperatures we've had lately."
"Drink the wine, it will relax you."
She silently moved around his cabin, running a finger along the spines of the titles he had on his bookcase. Taking a sip from the glass, she finally spoke, "I am relaxed, Captain." Though she said the words, the half-smile she gave him almost made him want to call an end to the evening.
"We agreed you would call me Lucky. And you're not a very good liar, Mary Watkins." He came to her, and caught her free hand as she studied the craftsmanship of his wardrobe pulls. He forced her to look at him. Something in him had to ask, because she was acting in such a way that he feared he was correct. He held her gaze. "Have you done this before?"
She stared at him a moment, and Lucky could swear she was trying to work up the courage to lie. Taking a hefty swig of the wine, she clenched the glass in her hands. "If you are asking me if I have ever been unfaithful to my husband, then surely you can tell the answer to that." She took yet another large swallow of wine. "And if you are asking what I think you are, then need I remind you that I have been married for six years? And my husband wasn't always ill."
How could a man be both happy and yet disappointed at the same time? He wasn't sure. But he realized how difficult it was for her to be honest with him, and with that admission he believed he found someone special because she'd chosen him with whom to break her marriage vow. He knew that had to be incredibly difficult for her.
He had to touch her, hold her, and feel her softness in his arms. He wanted to make love to her through the night, and between loving her he would cradle her close. He sensed she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of a day without worrying about work or her husband in a very long time. Just as he leaned in to kiss her, he heard footsteps in the companionway.
Mary heard them as well, her eye widening in fear as she backed away from him. "I thought we were alone," she whispered.
He placed a finger to her lips and gave her a reassuring smile. "That would be our dinner."
She nodded, before turning to face one of the porthole windows and stare out at the storm. Lucky thought perhaps she didn't wish to be seen by his crewman in the privacy of the captain's cabin. He knew he'd never be able to convince her his crew were all trustworthy and loyal to him unless she trusted him first. And he had a feeling Mary Watkins didn't trust many people.
When the knock came he threw the latch and opened the door for Tally who set the tray on the table. "Dinner is served, Captain," his crewman said. "Shall I make a table ready?"
He glimpsed Mary's straight-backed and tense form as she stared out the window and knew it would make her more comfortable if his cook left the cabin. "No thank you, Tally. We can manage." The lanky African bowed then left the room. Lucky went over to where Mary stood and lifted her chin to face him.
"He will never speak of this. I trust him implicitly."
"The stakes are very high for me if I am ever found out." She closed her eyes and shuddered before taking another sip of the wine. "You can leave after your ships are completed. I will have to remain."
"I give you my word, no one on my crew will ever mention this." He motioned back to the platter on the table. "Care for dinner?"
"I don't think I can eat." She tipped up her glass and finished her wine. "Every ounce of common sense I possess is screaming at me to leave now" she whispered. "To go home. Telling me this is wrong." She heaved a quivering sigh. "But for the past few days I've been thinking... about us. Doing sinful things. And I want this. I want you... so much." She looked up at him and stared with wide eyes, filled partly with fear, partly with excitement.
Thunder rumbled nearer, and the rain got louder.
Lucky went to where she stood in front of the window overlooking the oncoming turbulent weather, grateful she wasn't rejecting him. "We can go slowly." His palms cupped each side of her face and he slid his fingers into the silken strands of her auburn hair. Her expressive amber eyes stared up to him and something inside him clenched with longing. Every part of his body desired this woman—his head, his heart, even his very soul. He didn't understand it, but from the moment they'd met, it was as though an unstoppable force greater than they conspired to bring them together. Stopping what he felt for her was as easy as stopping the storm outside.
She dropped her forehead onto his chest and exhaled a tense breath.
Lucky buried his face in her hair and inhaled before pressing a kiss on her crown. Her hair smelled so fresh and clean. Lifting the length to his face, he inhaled its scent, the silkiness of it almost tickling his face.
"So sweet," he murmured just as she turned her face up to his with lips begging to be kissed. He claimed her mouth as his, pressing his lips on hers. She opened for him when he touched his tongue to her lower lip. His chest tightened and his palms burned as they roved over her back. She tasted of his favorite wine and honey. Her body arched into his and Lucky realized how perfectly they fit together. Everywhere they touched he burned and he wanted her with an intensity he'd never known until this very moment. If it weren't for her confession just now, confirming that she felt the same, he'd be afraid it was a sentiment only on his part.
Every night since he met her, he dreamed of kissing that hollow behind her earlobe and tasting the nape of her neck. He moved her hair aside with a finger and settled a delicate kiss on that spot. Her scent was intoxicating, and he kissed her there again. Lucky felt whatever resolve she had weaken and her head fell back as she sighed.
He watched her face as she sucked in a breath and trembled. He longed to trace a finger down from her lips to her navel, then lower still to tangle in the curls above her mons. Would she enjoy his touch as much as he knew he would enjoy hers? He'd fantasized again and again about undressing her layer by layer, as one would pluck the petals of a flower, then spreading her out her on his bed and making love to her. First with his mouth and later with his body. She appeared so fine and delicate that he worried at times he might hurt her should he unleash the full force of his desire. Then he remembered how forceful she was in her anger when she sent the thieves from the office and chuckled. She might be delicate in appearance, but Lucky knew she had a will and spirit that surpassed even that of most men.
Mary backed away from his hold. "What do you find so amusing?"
"Not so much amusing, as... delightful." He stroked her arm, the pulled her closer. He roved his palms over her back. He pulled the bow on the back of her dress. "You. Are. Delightful." The rain fell harder, and Lucky leaned in and kissed her again.
C
hapter
S
even
T
his was dangerous territory, Mary-Michael reminded herself as his lips came down on hers in her very first kiss. Her emotions were in jeopardy. She didn't like this feeling of helplessness when he touched her the way he was touching her... as though he treasured her, adored her. And she most especially didn't want to lose her heart to this man.
If she were honest with herself, she'd known all along that this was a possibility. Perhaps that was why she had she tried her best to keep him at a distance. Now, with her husband's blessing, she stood in this room, about to make love with this man. She was going to break her vow of fidelity while at the same time she prayed to get with child.
She shouldn't be reveling in the myriad sensations he created in her. She shouldn't be enjoying this as much as she was. All this man had to do was touch her, hold her, whisper sweet words to her and she was tingly and wet between her legs, her breasts ached, and she was pressing herself into his embrace. Surely he would think her a harlot.