Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (33 page)

Because she needed and wanted him, she returned his smile. "I know we've done this before and I have dreamed of this for the last ten months, but... I'm still nervous." She took his hand and placed it between her breasts. "Feel how fast my heart is beating and," she lifted her hand so he could see it, "I'm trembling."

"It's because we've been apart, and you're wondering if I missed you as you missed me. And—" He tipped her chin up with the barest touch of his finger. "I assure you, Mary, I did. I thought about you every day."

In the growing darkness of the room, she fell into his kiss. She opened for him, and the meeting of their lips proved she remembered exactly how every bit of him felt. He was hard all over, but his lips were soft as lamb's fleece and as firm as the erection pressing into her belly. The entire time he was away, her mind replayed that sensation of his lips on her body over and over. And now, as he kissed her, she opened for him, welcoming him home.

She ran her tongue over the sharp ridges of his teeth and the strong smoothness of his lips, burning memories into her brain. Because he
would
leave again, and these would have to last her until his return. She had no idea how many opportunities she would have to be alone with him during the next few days, and she was taking everything he offered her right now.

Her hands roved over his chest, his back, and his buttocks. The growling sounds coming from him told her he needed her touch as much as she needed his. The taut sinews of his back muscles flexed wherever she touched and she relished the power she had that she could do this to him. She'd had no idea when she met him that feelings such as this could exist, which was probably why she was still so unsure of herself.

 

 

Breaking the kiss, she burrowed her face into his chest, inhaling his unique and arousing manly scent. She thought again of his note and knew she would have to warn him against any attempt on his part for a relationship between them—no matter how much it hurt her. If she was fortunate enough to get with child, any future return beyond retrieving his older clippers had to be discouraged.

Besides, she didn't believe anyone could love her like that, enough to want to marry her. She wasn't like normal girls. She was unusual, as Sister Euphrenia used to say.
Too
unusual. Certainly not feminine and bosomy, nor knowledgeable of how to use any feminine attributes to their fullest potential. So since she was quirky and unusual, what could he possibly find attractive in her?

She wanted to ask him, but it might seem as though she were fishing for compliments, when she really wasn't. She truly wanted to know. Why did
he
find her attractive, and not any of the other dozens of men she came into contact with on a daily basis? Well, no one other than Constable Potts. That man had been entirely too forward with her, and thanks to her husband, was relieved of his duty here in Indian Point last year and sent to a post in Baltimore.

"Who makes your clothes?" he asked, catching her off-guard.

She met his gaze with a blank one, unsure of how to reply. "Why do you ask?"

"You don't impress me as the type who sews and your wardrobe is unconventional, you must admit."

"You're right," she admitted, curious what prompted this conversation. "I can't sew a button. I also cannot find comfortable work clothes for what I do in a shop. There is a widow in our church who makes clothing from home. It's how she supports her family since her husband died. She and I came up with this design, to protect my modesty and allow me to work as a man does. Why do you ask?" She searched his face, praying his expression did reveal a disapproval he was too kind to speak out loud. "Does it offend you?"

"No. I find it interesting. One of my sisters-by-marriage wears riding breeches every day when we're in the country. She trains horses and rides astride as a man would. She's a very skilled horsewoman. And Ian's wife, Sarah, has been known to wear boys' trousers on occasion, though I don't think my sister has ever done anything of the sort. She's always the height of propriety. She has to be because of her... position."

"What position is that?" Mary-Michael asked.

"My brother-in-law is... somewhat influential in the community."

"Oh? Like Mr. Watkins?" she asked.

Lucky nodded. "Yes."

Mary-Michael sighed. "Well, I certainly understand her fear of crossing any boundaries–real or imagined–of propriety. Heaven forbid someone thinks we aren't good enough for our husbands."

"I believe it is now dark enough to cross the yard. I have a gig tied and dinner awaits us aboard my humble vessel, my lady."

"Your crew? Are they on board?" She worried the inside of her lower lip. Wanting him desperately, but also fearful of talk in the village.

"Most of them are in your taverns, only a few men remain on board as watch. They will not talk of us."

"How can you be so sure?" She wondered at his certainty.

"Trust me, Mary," he said. The words were like a soothing balm over her burning flesh.

"I do, Lucky. I do." She grabbed her jacket to guard against the slight chill coming off the water. "I cannot stay the night, you know this. Tomorrow is a work day."

He nodded. "Let us hurry now." They walked through the shipyard in silence, to where he had a boat waiting for them. The sound of the gentle waves lapping at the bulkhead and the scent of pitch and salt water permeated the cool, moist air. He rowed them out the short distance to his ship, and minutes later she watched as he tied the gig off to the
Avenger.
Lucky held her hand as she stood, grabbed hold of the ladder, and began to climb. Once she reached the top, Mary-Michael saw a man step out of the shadows to help her over the railing.

When Lucky had both feet on deck, his man brought up the ladder. "Cap'n, the basket's in yer cabin," the man said.

"Thank you, Goran," Lucky said before placing his hand behind her elbow.

Mary-Michael felt the warmth of his touch through the fabric of her jacket. While she might wish to bury herself in Lucky's warmth, she thought about how this might appear to his crewman, but it was too late to change her mind and remain in her office where there was no one to see them together. Glancing around the decks, she didn't see any other men topside, and didn't hear voices either.

Lucky led her down to his cabin, where he held open the cabin door and she entered the quarters she hadn't seen in all those months. Except for the Atlantic currents chart, which had been on the table last time, it looked, and smelled, exactly the same. The scent of lemon oil and cedar, combined with a musky bergamot soap tinted the air in the room.

Lucky slid the bolt on the door and had her in his arm within seconds. His lips came down on hers in a rough, possessive kiss that reminded her of his words from earlier that day,
"I will make love to you as though I've been away for ten long months."
Oh, how she needed that. She needed him and the way he made her feel—desired, feminine. She fantasized about a different reality for them. As if they'd met in another place and time and they had a future ahead of them. She didn't want to think of Lucky leaving, returning to the sea once his business with her husband's shipyard was complete and he had what he'd come for.

No... right now she wanted her captain, and what he could hopefully help her achieve. It was so easy to give into the passion he ignited in her. Strong and eager, yet somehow tender as well, his faintest touch drove her insane for more of him. He backed her into the wall next to the door, as impatient for this as she. His lips were all over her mouth, chin, eyes and neck, dropping trickles of flame everywhere they touched. She ran her hands over his back and shoulders, holding him as close to her as she could, unwilling to let him go. When she reached his bottom, he moaned into her mouth and ground into her. She felt his shaft hard and ready behind the layers of material separating them.

Her own breathing became ragged as she tried to catch a breath between his kisses, but couldn't. As he frantically tugged her blouse out of her breeches, she pulled his shirt over his head then ran her hands over the hard-muscled planes of his chest and back. He deftly unfastened the row of buttons along her spine, and removed her shirt from her without ever taking his lips away. His hands began unlacing her demi-corset and soon that too joined the blouse and shirt on the floor.

She didn't know which one of them was more excited to have the other naked in their arms. As she began to unbutton his trousers, he worked on hers. When she pushed the fabric down he did the same, and their drawers fell together. He cupped her bare bottom to pull her closer so she could feel his naked arousal against the soft skin of her lower belly.

It had been months—many months—since she'd felt his skin against hers, felt his erection straining against her flesh. Her entire body shivered with erotic excitement. She wanted him inside her now. She needed him to make her feel like a woman again.
Now.

She tried but couldn't kick her breeches off. Her boots kept her bound in fabric preventing her from putting her legs around him. She glanced down and saw that Lucky had the same problem. He growled his frustration and turned Mary-Michael easily in his arms, facing her toward his
armoire
.

"Bend over and hold on."

The urgency in his voice caused her to glance at him over her shoulder where she gave him a fearful look. "Just trust me," he whispered as he kissed her back and parted her with his fingers. He dipped into her core and spread her wetness to ease his entry.

His touch, his voice, and his kisses caused her entire body to burn for him. What they had would consume them both if she allowed it. But just for tonight she wanted a taste of it.

"I do," she murmured as she spread her knees so he had even greater access to her. "Lucky, hurry, please. I need you." She no sooner said the last word, than he plunged into her willing depths. The invasion forced a muted cry from her and he stopped. "No," she begged him. "Lucky, please. Please don't stop."

Mary-Michael held tight to the dresser, while Lucky rode her from behind. His hands were everywhere, alternately grabbing her hips to hold her in place, then reaching around to tease her clitoris from the front. His pounding rhythm inside her created the familiar aching as it coiled tight, deep within her. He leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck and stroke her breasts, tweak her nipples, and touch her everywhere. Her entire body began to quicken—tingling and burning simultaneously—as her climax built. The pressure grew inside her and she moaned. His hands skimmed down her waist to her hips, then finally back to the origin of all sensation between her legs.

He moved his fingers over her sensitive nub, while driving into her with a deep, steady rhythm. Mary-Michael trembled, then shattered, crying out for him to join her. He took his release deep inside her, then collapsed onto her back, pressing hot kisses on her cheek, her earlobe and neck, and whispering words she didn't understand. A part of her wanted to know what he said. Another part didn't, because if it was anything less than what she'd fantasized—words of love or a future together—she didn't think she could bear it.

He backed away from her and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily while he recovered himself. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For not taking my time." He pulled up his breeches and buttoned the top two buttons only.

"Lucky, I needed that as much as you," she assured him as she searched for her blouse but couldn't find it. "Please don't apologize." Little did he know that she would take him any way she could have him.

He sighed as though absolved of some great crime and then stood.

Her stomach growled, the need for food now becoming more necessary after exercise. "You lured me here with the promise of dinner. Now that my body has been temporarily sated by our lovemaking, my stomach needs nourishment so we can do this again later." She pulled up her underpants and refastened her breeches and added, "I do hope you have enough energy to do this again later."

Lucky gave her a wicked grin. "My dear, I have more energy than the entire Royal Navy."

"Good." She watched him spread the contents of a familiar basket on the table. "Where is my blouse? I know I came in here with it." Taking his shirt from the chair, she slipped the over-sized linen tunic on over her head then slid onto the bench behind the table.

"If you give me a few minutes," he said, "I'll make love to you again. Properly this time, on the bed."

She gave him a devilish grin and asked, "Will you let me put my legs around you?" She couldn't tell him how much she enjoyed the feel of him deep inside her, touching that part of her that made her a woman. The part that would hopefully make her a mother one day.

He chuckled, handing her a glass of wine. "Oh, Mary, Mary, what am I to do with you?"

She gave him a sheepish shrug of her shoulders. She wanted to say "
Love me?"
, but said nothing as she sipped from her glass. She didn't want to frighten him with her desire for him. If he thought she was feeling as casual as he about their relationship, she stood a better chance of getting him to break off from seeing each other after their business was concluded. She steeled herself for the inevitable, resolved not to feel sad when she didn't get the words of love from him. "This is good," she said holding up her glass. "It's smooth and fruity. It doesn't burn going down like some wines."

"Penedès.
I will go out of my way, when necessary, to stop in Barcelona just for this."

While she waited for their dinner, she removed her boots and stockings, then brought her bare feet up to tuck under her. She thought about his life, and if he actually lived aboard his ship. She knew he had a family, a sister married to a man who had some influence in his community, and that man had a sister who was married to his partner Ian, who inherited a title from some relative. She would have to tell Ian that he was the first nobleman that she'd ever met. "Do you have a home in England?"