Lucky slammed his palm onto the table and his plate bounced perilously close to the edge, and the coffee in his mug sloshed onto the table surface. "Because I fell asleep and she left my bed and went home alone, without my escort. She could have been hurt, or worse..."
"Who brought her to the dock? Someone had to have rowed her over?"
Lucky replayed in his mind the conversation he'd had with his sailor who'd been on watch. "Kinley had just come on watch and she charmed him into rowing her back to the dock."
"Didn't he see her home?" Ian asked.
"No." Lucky stabbed the knife point into the table. "She said she'd be fine as she didn't live but a few minutes away."
"So," Ian surmised, "you're upset because you fell asleep and she crept from your bed to return to her husband's... home? Can't say her husband's bed, because well... We both know that doesn't happen."
"God. You make it sound so illicit." He needed go to church and pray for his soul and hers. Especially his because he didn't think he was strong enough to stay away from her. Even angry as he was with Mary at that moment, Lucky still couldn't wait to get over to the other boat and see her. It was madness to feel this way. Knowing what they were doing was sinful and being unable to stop because... because it felt so right to be with her.
"So did you fall asleep because the food was so good, or the dessert?"
"Ian, I value our friendship. Have I ever once questioned or made reference to your
relationship
with Sarah during the race to New York?"
The other man gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, acknowledging the truth of Lucky's words and perhaps realizing the line he'd crossed. "Then I apologize."
"Accepted." They ate their breakfasts in silence for a few minutes and Lucky felt the need to apologize for his behavior. He did, then in an attempt to lighten the mood he added, "Dessert was superb, and I wish I could have it every night."
The shock on Ian's face was nearly comical. Hopefully he now understood how important Mary-Michael Watkins was to him. Because she was more than a bit of red-headed fluff. Lucky cared deeply for her.
"This is becoming quite a tale," Ian said. "How will you explain this to the family?"
"They don't need to know anything. At least for now. Maybe one day." Lucky raked a hand through his hair, tugging it in frustration. The whole situation was nuts. "She married him for the education he could provide for her. Theirs was never... a
normal
marriage."
"Never? How do you know that?"
Lucky gave him a look that said he knew without a doubt and any further probing along that line would be unwelcome.
"Besides," Lucky added, "he's so old, he probably couldn't."
"I will when I'm that old."
"Well, so would I, but..." It hit him then, just how ridiculous they sounded, and he laughed.
C
hapter
T
hirteen
M
ary-Michael watched the wind gusts pull at the folded flakes of heavy cloth while the men hauled again at the sail on the main yard. Though the temperatures were pleasant, the wind was not cooperating with them. It was proving a great challenge just to get the sails hung this morning. The one they held now had already torn away from a man at one corner of the main course. As the biggest of the sails they had to hang, it was more difficult to tie in place, even with the strongest men on today's rigging crew guiding the ropes to hold it in place. Ian assured her that more crewmen were coming over from
Avenger,
which would help. They certainly could use a few more men up on the yards to hold the sail while the riggers tied it in place.
From her position near the helm, she watched the men work and stayed out of the way as much as possible. The firm's sail maker and his apprentices worked in unison with her and her crew to identify and place the right sails on the right mast and yards. From the triangular jibs and staysails for balance to the big square mains, fores and mizzens for speed, each sail was placed with the care and efficiency of a well-oiled machine.
Except the windy conditions were slowing them down and at this rate it would be Tuesday before she could approve taking the
Lady S,
the first of the two ships ready, out to stretch her sea legs. Ian was so excited and so confident about everything moving smoothly, he'd moved onto his new boat already and had the
Revenge
towed over to await dry docking. Lucky said he planned to do the same this afternoon.
Mary-Michael made notes of some final details she needed to tend to, such as picking up the gift cases and compass tools so she could present them to both captains after they took that test sail on Monday and Tuesday. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure swagger toward the
Lady S.
Mary-Michael wondered how Lucky would greet her this morning, leaving him as she had the night before. He'd slept so soundly that she just didn't have the heart to wake him to escort her home. Of course, she knew the way home even by moonlight so his escort was unnecessary. She also didn't want to be seen walking through town with the unmarried captain. If anyone had seen her alone, she could say she'd just left the office as she was known to keep irregular hours. Thankfully that hadn't happened, but she'd been prepared to lie again—something she'd become comfortable doing since deciding to take this path to possible motherhood. It disappointed her that she could let herself lie now without a blink of an eye.
He boarded and looked around the deck, then turned his head upward, checking the progress of the men. She tried to hide behind the binnacle, but it wasn't tall enough to hide her completely. Feigning interest in the lamp and lid, she tried her hardest to avoid making any eye contact with him. She feared what he would say after waking to find she'd left his bed in the middle of the night.
"I heard you were out here before sunrise, my lady." Lucky leaned in closer and growled, "You should have awakened me to bring you home.
Never
do that again. You could have been harmed."
Seething under the smile she turned on him, she gave her attention to the men on the main yard tying off the sail they had finally got under control. "Not here," she hissed under her breath. Then lifting her voice to a normal tone, hoping her expression was businesslike, she spoke again. "Excuse me, sir, I must check something." She moved to pass him and go to the main deck.
She didn't think he would do or say anything to humiliate her publicly, but if it was his intention to scold her or to make her feel ashamed for leaving as she did, Mary-Michael didn't think she could take it. Having this affair was difficult enough, especially because she was starting to hope for things... and wish for things... things that could never be. And she fought those feelings constantly during the day.
But at night? At night she let herself dream.
Lucky extended his arm to rest his hand on the railing, blocking her escape. "No you don't. You're trying to avoid me."
"If you would look behind you, you'll see I have another sail about to go up now that the main course is almost done." She stepped around him, but to soothe his ruffled man-feathers she pressed her hand to his chest, letting it rest there a while to remind him that she was as desirous of him as he was of her. The touch lingered perhaps a moment longer than proper, and if anyone should happen to observe, it would appear she placed her hand on something solid for balance on this windy day on Curtis Bay.
If only he could know how she'd tossed and turned in her bed after returning home. She hated herself for the lies she'd told him, and would continue to tell him, in order to get the child she wanted. And she most especially hated the fact that she found pleasure in his bed and they weren't married. What they were doing was wrong, sinful even, and here she was praying for a child that she would never share with him.
How on earth could she ever justify the pleasure she received with the magnitude of her sin? Or her potential joy if she did get with child, with her lies and actions? She couldn't. She could only pray for mercy.
He let her slip past him, following closely behind her. Too close for propriety. She wished she could give him an elbow to the gut, but that might cause more of a scene. "How can I be of use to you this morning, Mrs. Watkins?"
"Lucky, I cannot think with you near and I must be on top of this last task, so I can turn both ladies over to you and Ian." He could never understand how important it was to her that they maintain a professional distance in public.
"There's only one lady I want right now," he whispered from behind. "And I want her on top of me."
Heat rushed up her neck to her cheeks. Even though she doubted anyone could hear his words, people could see them here. Didn't he care about her reputation? Her hands shook, rustling the sheets of paper tacked to her leather-covered board she held, rattling the graphite pencil against it. "Lucky don't—"
A cry from above cut her off, and her gaze snapped up to the main yard where her men stood.
One, three, five... eleven men. All there, thank God!
She exhaled in relief, then suddenly found herself against the rail with Lucky's massive body shielding her. He braced as something slammed into his back forcing them both into the rail and knocking the breath out of them. It took her a moment to realize Lucky held her tight, unmoving. He finally sucked in a shallow breath and tried to stand straight. Mary-Michael turned in his arms and he pressed his lips to her cheek. Relief flooded through her. Even though he was in obvious pain from the tightly closed eyes and the grimace on his face, he was alive.
Mary-Michael looked at the block on the deck and knew. Lucky put himself between her and the wood and iron pulley block, and taking the injury to himself.
"Oh, my God! Lucky? Are you okay?" He groaned as she stepped out of his embrace and went around him. "Let me have a look." Mary-Michael tugged the shirt tail out of his trouser waist and as he held onto the rail, she inspected the skin that was starting to turn dark red in the horse-shoe shape of the flat-end of the block. "Thankfully, there's no blood. But you will have a nasty bruise, perhaps even a broken rib or two."
Ian arrived, his face filled with concern. "Jesus, Lucky. That was a close call. A few inches higher and it could have been your head." He turned to Mary- Michael and whispered, "You do know every man here saw you do that."
That's when she realized she'd had Lucky's naked back under her hands within full view of everyone from two ships plus her own riggers and sail makers. She turned to everyone still staring at them, and shouted, "He's fine, now get back to work. All of you need to be more careful. It wouldn't do to go killing our esteemed client, now would it?" He'd protected her. He'd moved over her so quickly she had no idea what was coming toward them... and he'd very possibly saved her life. The spot on his back where the block hit him was right at the same height as her head.
It could have killed her, and all she could think about was she and Lucky would then never have a chance to have children.
Behind her a few of the men began to murmur in soft undertones—she knew not what about—and Ian drew closer to check for himself that Lucky was okay.
"I'm fine, see?" Lucky stretched out his left arm, raised it over his head and out in front of him, where he winced.
"Take a deep breath, as deep as you can," Ian said.
Mary winced when he appeared to have difficulty expanding his chest completely without pain.
Ian nodded his head. "I agree with the cracked or broken ribs. Bad luck for you, but you saved Mary-Michael's life."
"Didn't you see that?" Lucky asked her.
"No, when I heard the cry, I immediately counted the men on the yard to make sure no one had fallen." Her voice trembled as she spoke. "This wind is causing the hanging of the sails to be a little more tricky than usual. Perhaps we—"
Dear God, he'd kissed her. In full view of every man on this ship, he'd kissed her. Then she'd bared his back and touched him intimately. And for the first time since it happened minutes earlier, Mary-Michael realized the magnitude of the impropriety of their actions. "Perhaps... Perhaps..." Her breath caught. "Perhaps we should try again later in the day. This wind... Usually these spring winds die down in the afternoon."
Ian agreed, and with Mary's permission called for everyone to break for several hours for luncheon and to see if the wind would abate, telling them all to return at three. Mary excused herself and practically ran the half mile distance to her office, leaving Lucky and Ian behind on the
Lady S.
It was pure instinct that took over and made her do what she'd done. She could never admit to more than that. No matter that her heart had stopped beating until she saw for herself that he was fine. No matter that for the time it took to realize her lover was not injured she thought about how empty
her
life would be without him in it. At that very moment her very own husband lay on the brink of death, and her first thought went to her lover. How could she?
How could she?
Thinking on it, his kiss had been a brief pressing of his lips to her cheek—not on her mouth. She prayed it didn't look like a kiss to the men who'd been close enough to witness it. Then she had to go and bare her lover's back to check him over for injuries. Mary-Michael couldn't say for certain that she would have done the same thing had it been another client, or even an employee. More likely than not she would have had one of her crew bosses do a physical assessment of the injured man.
This was going to cost her the respect of her employees. She'd also disrespected her husband's client in a very public manner. How was she ever going to recover from this shameful act?
Reaching her office, she closed the door and locked it. She collapsed in Mr. Watkins' big brown wing chair in the corner. Curling her feet under her, she began to cry, something she couldn't have done outside of this room. If that block had hit Lucky's head, she could have lost a man she was beginning to care for. She cried because she had instinctively gone to check his injury, not thinking how it would look to the crewmen, to Ian, and to Lucky himself. And she cried because she'd had too little sleep lately and she was tired. A knock at the door interrupted her tears and self-pity.