But it wasn't just the captain who had to take care. She was growing frightened of her attraction to him, and now that she knew the attraction was reciprocated, making love with him was the only thing on her mind.
C
hapter
F
our
L
ucky re-entered the office and his eyes discovered Mrs. Watkins' enticing backside as she leaned against an open window looking out at the scenery in the yard before her. He knew from standing in that same spot earlier that a nice breeze entered the room from that direction, making the heat a slight bit more bearable. He went to stand at the next window over, staring out at the same scene, but really seeing nothing. "I didn't know where you'd gone. I wanted to make sure you were—" How could he tell her he wanted to make sure she hadn't just fled the building because of him? "I owe you an apology. I am sorry." His voice quavered over his apology as her eyes begged him to stay quiet.
Her gaze darted a frightened glance at the doorway as she placed a finger to her lips to silence him, afraid of the men in the other office overhearing them. "I owe you one as well," she said, her voice softer than a whisper.
He shook his head, if he hadn't antagonized her, she wouldn't be in this condition. "Me first," he stated, keeping his naturally booming voice as quiet as possible. He paused, unsure of how to proceed. "I don't know why I react the way I do when you speak of your marriage, or your husband. I shouldn't care because you're married, but—" How did he explain this emotional conundrum in which he found himself just since meeting her? "Perhaps it is because I have a different perception of what a marriage should be. I want a marriage where I cannot keep my hands off my wife. I want to make love to her every moment of every day and when we cannot, I want to be thinking of it." Her expression wasn't one of shock or upset, but she did blush nearly the same shade of dark red as her hair. Lucky had gone too far to turn back now. "And it appears to me that you cut yourself off from the fullness of marriage to have this... unusual career."
Mrs. Watkins turned away and stared out onto the acres and acres of laborers toiling away in the shipyard owned by her husband. "What goes on under my roof, between me and my husband, is none of your concern. You have no idea how difficult—" She stopped, catching herself before she went any further. Her voice changed, became less strong, and if he wasn't mistaking it held a hint of sorrow. "Do not presume to guess what transpires in my marriage bed."
"You may have had one at one time, but it's obvious that you don't have one now," he asserted. How could he tell her about the comfortable ease between a husband and wife that comes with a satisfying marriage? She treated her own husband as though he were an employer, a mentor, perhaps even a guardian-figure. He wasn't her lover, he was sure of it. Watkins didn't give her the glances he caught Ren or Michael giving Lia or Elise. And Ian was just like a love-struck school boy, so in awe with his wife was he. Mrs. Watkins didn't get pink with color when her husband looked at her because he wasn't satisfying her in bed. Lucky would put money on it.
He cocked his head to the side and studied her troubled expression and knew he was right. "I have been around couples in love my entire life, beginning with my own parents. Without ever having been married, I know what a happy marriage is."
Though she faced the yard, he heard her clearly when she whispered. "I love my husband, Captain."
"I believe you love him, Mrs. Watkins," he said. "I do. But you're not lovers now and likely never were." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one happened to be near the door. "Look at me, Mary," he said. "Before I leave here, we will become lovers. It's not as though we can stop it from happening, because the attraction is far stronger than you and I."
Eyes wide, mouth agape, she snapped her head around and stared at him. But, she didn't argue. She couldn't in his opinion, because if she was satisfied in bed she wouldn't be looking at him as though she needed him as much as he needed her. She huffed and turned back to the view out the window.
They were silent a while. Lucky thought he heard a hitch in her breath, as though she wanted to cry but refused to. Her silence was her way of refusing him, and he'd never been refused before. For some reason it smarted, rather painfully. It hadn't been his intention to make her cry when he told her his plan, but to merely point out that he sensed something was amiss, and that he desired her.
Lucky changed the subject. "Let's finish these items on this list, and call it a day. We're both hot and tired, and feeling short-fused."
She nodded, ducked her head to the side to dab at her eyes, then stepped over to her desk and began to shuffle the papers around nervously.
"It has been a long day. Tomorrow morning we can work on the interior finish of the cabins. Though frankly," he added, "I'm sure that anything you chose would suffice. Thus far, your tastes seem on par with my own."
"I don't feel comfortable making those types of decisions without your input." He noticed she refused to meet his gaze as she took a knife out from the drawer and with shaking hand began to sharpen her pencil over the wastebasket. He almost thought he should take the knife from her before she hurt herself with it, when she dropped her hands to her side, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "If we were talking hull design or structure, rigging or sail plans I would, but... these are personal appointments. Surely you would want to have input on them."
He shrugged. It would mean another day in close confines with her and he didn't think he could do it without kissing her. Just the thought of his lips on hers stirred his cock. Spending more time in her company would be his penance for wanting a married woman.
Mrs. Watkins sat in the chair and changed into business professional again, with a veneer just this side of impenetrable. "We can get an earlier start tomorrow, and be done with it before the heat becomes unbearable for you." They then settled in to complete the rest of the items on her exterior appointments list. After color selections for paints were made, the last item was naming the boats. It was something he and his partner had discussed before he'd left England.
"Ian is naming his the
Lady S,
for his wife Sarah," Lucky said, tapping his lips with a forefinger.
"And yours?"
He hesitated a moment. Initially he'd intended to name her
Maura,
but right then, a voice in his heart told him to change it. Only to do so might prompt another unwelcome reaction on her part. "
Lady M.
"
Mrs. Watkins lifted her gaze to his and quirked a brow, then checked the open door to make sure they were not being overheard. "Please do not do this," she pleaded. "I have to live and work here, long after you are gone. I cannot have my employees believing we've become—" She looked at the doorway and lowered her voice even further. "—intimate." She pointed to the workroom beyond her office door. "As it is, there are three men who already wonder what happened in the hallway. I do not need for rumors to begin. My husband would be devastated."
Lucky could tell this was very difficult for her. "It's named for Maura, Ian and Sarah's daughter, and my goddaughter."
There was only a tiny measure of relief in her eyes as she reluctantly added his name selection to the page. After she'd done that, she looked back at him and handed him the list for final review. "If all is well on these three pages, sign the bottom, and we're done for the day. Andrew will begin copying everything within the next week or two."
He made the motions of going over each item. His brain may have registered each one, but his heart saw only the definite feminine script on the page. The bold capital letters, the curves connecting the smaller ones were all indicative of a formal education. He knew so little about her, but he wanted to know it all. Taking the quill from her, he signed the bottom and passed it all back. Mrs. Watkins poured fine sand on the wet ink and blew off the excess.
She heaved a relieved sigh, rested her elbows on the desktop, and placed her chin in the cup of her hands. "We are almost done. Tomorrow's list is much smaller. The selections should take only a couple of hours. You should be free before nine or ten if we start early enough. Well, aside from dinner, that is."
"We actually have accomplished a great deal," He leaned back into the leather chair. "I was unaware of the detail work involved in having someone build you a ship." Lucky's gaze fixed on her face, on the youthful round cheeks with that smattering of freckles over the whole thing. Her perfect, straight nose tilted up just a fraction at the end, making him want to kiss it because it was so adorable. And her lips... Her full lips were the color of a juicy summer raspberry. He'd be willing to bet that if he kissed them they would be equally as sweet and even perhaps contain a hint of tartness, much like her all-business-only personality. God, how he wanted to crack that hardened exterior of hers. He'd given it his best attempt, but she was having no part of him.
"I have a question for you, if you don't mind me asking." Her voice pulled him from his reverie. The richness of her amber-brown eyes made him want to dive into them and never resurface. A man would willingly drown in them for her good favor. At least this man would. And all she wanted to do was work.
"This is important to me. I really would like to know what led you to believe—" She swiped a stray wisp of hair that had loosed itself from her hair net behind an ear and lowered her voice. "Did I do something or say something that gave you the impression I would be agreeable to a flirtation?" She looked beyond the office door and lowered her voice so only he heard her say, "Or more with you?"
Lucky wanted to laugh. The woman had no idea what power she could have over him. From the moment he met her he'd been attracted to her as he'd never been to any other woman in his entire life. But he held back from reacting at all, for to do so might embarrass her. Yet it was obvious this was a problem that troubled her, so he felt the need to give her a reply. He shook his head in the negative, closed his eyes as he thought about her question a moment. "Do you remember when we met the other day?"
She frowned at him, but nodded.
He gave her a slight grin. "I told you I was knocked a little off kilter––first by your age, then your intelligence, your straightforwardness, your comfort in this business setting, and I'll admit, even by your appearance." He studied her reaction, which was not perturbed, seeing as he'd just admitted to an attraction to her. "And the way you dress is so—" He paused, looking for the right word. "—Unconventional, that I found it charming and appealing."
"I wasn't planning on any visitors arriving that day." She gathered papers pertaining to his order and placed then in a leather folio. "I had been in Carolina's hull supervising the installation of the iron pegs in the iron knees the owner demanded, in place of wooden shelf clamps." His puzzled look must have asked for explanation, for she gave one. "That owner ordered iron, not wood. I usually give the owner what he wants if I can, and engineer it in a way that makes the whole structure safe."
"But they'll rust in place," Lucky said, "then be difficult to remove without taking out the entire..."
"Exactly! And in two or three years, the man will be back in dry dock and I will replace them all with wood. I tried to warn him." She flicked her hand in the air. "But the man thinks he knows more than I, a mere female. So I gave him precisely what he asked for." She was quiet a moment, then straightened in her seat. "I'm sorry to digress Captain, please continue with your response."
There was so much he wanted to tell her about why his frustration had got the better of him earlier, but for now, he chose to remain quiet. Perhaps one day, he'd tell her how his attraction to her, her unattainability, and his desire to possess and cherish her, all collided on this hot, humid afternoon. "You did nothing, except smile at me. It took nothing more than that for me to—" He stopped before he confessed to falling in love. "You are unlike any woman I've ever known. And the women in my family are extraordinary, so that is truly a compliment."
Color rose in her cheeks, making the freckles seem to disappear as she grew embarrassed and uneasy. "I wasn't fishing for compliments, Captain. I simply wanted to know what you see that no other man has ever seen."
"Then every other man in this village is a fool, my lady. Because I sense a deep need in you. And I want to be the one who satisfies that need, as no other ever will."
T
his was going to happen. Mary-Michael wasn't sure if the heat and humidity were finally getting to her or if she'd begun hallucinating. Her heart began to race, and she felt a little light-headed. Well, she thought, that just made one part of her task much easier. Now the calculating part of her brain had to figure out how to proceed. She would speak to Mr. Watkins about this before dinner tonight.
"You were not entirely wrong earlier," she whispered, embarrassed to admit that he was right about her frustrated state. "But there is nothing to be done about it." She lifted her gaze to meet his. "At least not today."
"What are you saying, Mrs. Watkins?" the captain asked, disbelief in his voice and expression. His expression was to be expected after all her protestation and arguing with him.
Mary-Michael checked the doorway again to make sure Andrew was at his drafting table. She saw him and Robert in discussion, paying no attention to her and the captain. "I don't know why I'm telling you this." She worried her lower lip, wondering what he would think of her when she told him this bit of news. She'd never done this before, and was uncomfortable doing so. It was basically her way of inviting the captain to her bed to help her conceive a child, only she couldn't phrase it quite like that. She had to be coy, seductive, alluring. Something she'd never been in her entire life. "My husband is going to his farm this weekend to get away from the oppressive heat. He does this in the summer months. The distance is such that he usually remains gone for several weeks or more before returning."