Free Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) by Sandy Raven Page B

follow through with it.
    Mary-Michael bent over the edge of the counter before she hit the floor. Several deep breaths later and she was almost composed again. It would be too easy to succumb to daydreams like other young women when she looked into the captain's eyes. She wasn't in the position to allow herself the fantasy of a normal marriage bed. Not while Mr. Watkins lived.
    She couldn't think of a life with another man while her husband lived, and she would never regret her years of marriage with Mr. Watkins for the future it provided her. She prayed daily for the return of his health and many more years of learning the trade at his side. Yet she also realized that she must reconcile her conscience to the fact that she needed something the captain could give her, and she needed it soon, so any child she might conceive could bear her husband's name.
    After a few more deep breaths she felt ready to return to her husband's office and back to work with the captain and those blasted lists.
    Three hours later, only one of three was near completion and she was ready for luncheon. She leaned back from the desk and stretched her arms in front of her. "Are you as hungry as I am?"
    He nodded.
    "Then let's take a break and come back in an hour or so."
    When he stood, he came over to her and assisted her with her chair and for some reason her gaze focused on his hands. They were beautiful hands. A working man's hands. The breadth and length of the back of his hand and his fingers were fascinating. The roughened skin of his palms embraced her bare forearm when he assisted her to stand beside him and she felt that same shocking current as she felt the day lightning struck the mast on Windjammer as she stood close by. That day, she was thankful for her life. Today, she was thankful she was alive. She froze. Trembled, as she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Surely her face must be as red as her hair, for it certainly felt that way.
    "Would you like for me to get your jacket?" He glanced at the coat rack in the corner where one of her many summer jackets hung.
    "No. Thank you. I'm not cold."
    "You just shivered." The look of concern on his face as he held her gaze was enough to make her turn away.
    Not from the temperature, I assure you. She wanted to say it but instead, she said, "I've been sitting too long." Mary-Michael took her favorite parasol out of the umbrella holder in the corner.
    "What plans do you have for luncheon?" The captain held out his arm for her as she came from the office.
    "I usually go home." She told Robert she was going to eat, and took the captain's arm as he led the way down the stairs and out to the sunlight. "What plans do you have for luncheon, Captain?"
    "I will be fortunate to find a piece of hard tack and an orange left from breakfast in the galley aboard Avenger."
    "Where is your cook?" She popped open her parasol to shade her face from the summer sun.
    "Likely off with my first officer, starting to replenish the stores. I came with a light crew of forty men. Most are ashore somewhere on leave. Some return to the boat at night to sleep, but most have found a bed that doesn't sway beneath them. They will all be back on Sunday before we depart on Monday's first outgoing tide."
    "You sound certain of their return. What if they decide they like the freedom of living in a new country?"
    "My crew are all good, loyal men and professional sailors. They could have jumped ship in any port in the world and yet they are still with me."
    "Right. Well then," she mused, then changed the subject. "Since there is a chance that you have no meal awaiting you aboard your ship, you are invited to come to our home for luncheon, Captain." She turned her head and gave him a suspicious little half-smile. "Though, I am almost certain that was your intent."
    Those strong, full lips of his on his short-whiskered face were so terribly attractive. And his eyes. She could drown in those pools of gold-flecked coffee. The man was so