Lucky's Lady

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

The following morning at precisely eight, Lucky entered the offices of Watkins Shipbuilding resolved to never again think the inappropriate thoughts he had the day before about the wife of the shipyard owner. The village church was empty when he’d gone in the night before. Seeing no priest with whom to speak with, he’d lit a candle and said a prayer for Maura, the little babe he’d wanted to raise as his own until learning of his sister’s loss, then begged God for strength and wisdom in dealing with this attraction to a married woman, and went on his way. He’d then spent the rest of the night thinking about it, and concluded that no dalliance with this woman would be easy. His business was at stake here, and an affair with this particular woman could cost him and his partner their ships.

No matter that the desire to be near her was almost painful, no temporary affair was worth so high a price.

Which meant he was not to focus on her perfectly symmetrical full lips nor the expressive golden-brown eyes under her perfectly arched brows. Nor her round face which dimpled adorably when she smiled. Yesterday, she’d had her auburn hair tied back and coiled under a net, which led to at least one hour of contemplation last night as to how long it was, and whether it was wavy or straight. Then he wondered what she would wear and how she’d style her hair today before squashing those thoughts and reminding himself that he had everything to lose if their affair turned sour.

When he entered the antechamber to the offices that held the drafting tables, Lucky had his answer. She stood with her back to him, as she leaned over one of the tables. Wearing light gray breeches over her slightly curved backside with black boots, they did not hide the fact that she was slender and tall for a woman. She had a pink short-sleeved jacket fitted over a white high-collared shirt. As he visually caressed the bare golden skin of her forearms, his mouth suddenly went dry and the tickle in his throat began to rise. He coughed, gaining her attention. When she turned to him, she smiled, revealing those enchanting dimples. His chest tightened and his heart began to race.

So much for resolutions of thinking only pure, appropriate thoughts about another man’s wife–even after sitting in church the night before and vowing before God that he would be on his best, most gentlemanly behavior around her. It did no good because his sleep had been peppered with erotic dreams all night long about having her dark red hair fanned out on his pillows, her body writhing beneath his while he thrust into her until they both reached completion.

“Good morning, sir.” Her golden-brown eyes shone bright as the smile broadened, revealing those even white teeth that he longed to part with his tongue.

Oh, God. Mercy. Please. He forced a cheerful reply. “Good morning to you, too, Mrs. Watkins.” She came forward and, wiping her hands on her trousers, she held out her hand again for him to take. He noticed her hand was stained dark gray, likely from the graphite pencils she’d been working with, but he took it anyway. Anything to touch her. Anything to untie the lace netting holding her braid coiled at the nape of her neck and run his fingers through her hair. But he hadn’t been invited to touch her hair. Only her hand.

“I have been working on a few preliminary drawings since you left yesterday and I’m excited to show them to you.” She took her hand back and his felt the absence of her warmth. “But first—,” She turned to the open door of her husband’s office. “I have someone for you to meet.” Pushing the door open further, she motioned for him to follow her. “Mr. Watkins, our potential client has arrived.”

Lucky entered the office behind Mrs. Watkins and noticed immediately the slight figure of an elderly man behind the same desk where Mrs. Watkins had sat just yesterday. Lucky stepped forward and nodded his greeting as the older man rose and stretched out his hand. It was cold, the skin dry and thin with an ashen hue and Lucky sensed the man was not long for this world.

But that didn’t make coveting his wife any less sinful.

“Have a seat and tell me how Hamish’s lad fares,” the gray-haired gentleman asked. Lucky noticed that Mrs. Watkins had backed out of the room and closed the door silently behind her, leaving the two men alone. He wondered why she’d done that since she would be the designer on the project.

Nearly an hour later, Lucky realized he found himself in the awkward position of liking this man whose wife he’d dreamed of the night before. Though he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but wonder at the nature of their marriage. Surely it wasn’t normal. He just couldn’t imagine that with the great disparity in age they could have anything in common outside of their work. And as the elder man spoke of his years beginning his yard with Ian’s father and another man who’d given it up for the church, Lucky knew he probably should listen a little more closely than he was. Instead he found himself nodding at what he hoped were appropriate times as the elder man droned on.

He told Mr. Watkins about Ian’s wife and daughter, and promised the man that Ian would certainly come in person at least once to sail his vessel home to England. At that time he could see what a fine man Ian had become. Then they got into the business end of their discussion.

From what it seemed, Watkins was leaving the architectural layout, structural engineering, selection of structural fittings—all the technical things—to Mrs. Watkins. Lucky thought this was highly unusual, but Mr. Watkins assured him of his young wife’s competence. He’d trained her himself and he guaranteed he would supervise her closely on this job, as he did all the others.

Only after Lucky was comfortable with the plan, did they talk of contracts. “After you have signed off on the final drawings and specifications list, the final contract will be sent to you for signatures. When we receive our copies back, along with the second portion of payment, we begin actual construction,” Watkins said.

Lucky nodded. “How soon could you have a final drawing and specifications list for review? I’m prepared to sign a contract before I sail back next week. Ian and I will have a narrow window of time to prepare for the upcoming tea run.”

“Are you certain you’ve decided then?”

“I’ve seen all I need to convince me. You should know that your shipyard was Ian’s first and only choice, as he’s more familiar with the business side of construction. Though he did leave the decision to me, whether I choose another firm or stay with yours. I think he knew once I came here and saw your finished product I would go no place else.”

He let the man know that he’d walked around his yard the day before, observing the construction and placement of ribs of the hull on the ways, and had gone onto the nearly finished construction to scrutinize the appointments. He also let him know that he’d done some asking around about his business practices at the local merchants, and the local bank he’d chosen to perhaps hold the funds for construction. “Everyone speaks highly of your firm, Mr. Watkins. I feel safe with the decision and think it shall be a pleasure to have you as our shipbuilder.”

“Excellent,” Watkins said, before the two men shook hands. “Let’s ask Mrs. Watkins about her schedule for drawings.” The man called for his wife, and when she opened the door and stepped in, the room suddenly got smaller and much, much warmer. “Mrs. Watkins, tonight we celebrate with champagne, for we are the new shipbuilders for the Empire Tea Importers.” For just a fraction of a moment, Lucky thought he saw surprise flash in her eyes, then she smiled and congratulated them both.

“Captain Gualtiero is asking about your time frame for drawings, specifications lists, and such for him to sign off on, so we can get contracts written and he can be on his way to China.”

Mrs. Watkins glanced out toward the drafting table in the other room, back at her husband, then at Lucky. “I already have some preliminary work I sketched last night, as I knew you were coming this morning.”

She excused herself and returned with a large sheet of paper which she spread over her husband’s desk. “Of course, I didn’t know what layout you wished for accommodations, so this is a very rough design. But I’ve given you one hundred and eighty feet. Any longer and she may appear under-sparred.”

Lucky looked at the intricate graphite drawing before him. It was beautiful to the point of breathtaking.

“This design has a long, raised quarter-deck and traditional American forecastle to give the illusion she’s more in balance.” Mrs. Watkins glanced at her husband, then at Lucky. “She’s a solid wood hull and fully loaded she’ll do eighteen to twenty knots easily, all day long. Well, with wind of course.” She pointed to the breadth of the hull. “Also, I’ve increased your cargo capacity by approximately seventy percent.”

Lucky could only stare at the drawing, mouth agape. It was perfect. Well, if there were any such thing as the perfect ship. The vessel sketched on paper appeared well-balanced and sleek in design. He began to imagine the reality of this vessel. “How do you know...” he began, unsure of what question it was he really wanted to ask.

“I did the calculations,” she stated, as though he should have known that fact.

“My dear, I’m sure Captain Gualtiero is not interested in the actual formulas you use,” Mr. Watkins said to his wife. “What he wants to know is when you might have official drawings for him to sign-off on.”

“If I start now,” she began, as she turned her golden brown-eyed gaze on Lucky for approval, sending his heart to skipping beats, “I should have it in… two days? I’ve finished the project I was working on, and I’m now free to work solely on this one.”

“For finishes and such,” Mr. Watkins said, “you’ll need to sit with Mrs. Watkins and go over each appointment and decide the material and design. That alone will take an entire day as she lists each item on the specifications sheet for the different tradesmen in the yard. The contracts should be ready on Friday, late morning. I’ll have Frank Baxter bring them over, along with someone to act as witness to the signatures.”

Lucky again felt as though he’d stepped into a completely different world, one unfamiliar to his European sensibilities. Since when did a man’s gentle wife work alongside him in a business such as this? Sometimes this country felt completely foreign to him. The language was the same, but the mores and business practices were more liberal than what he was accustomed to. “I look forward to working with you both,” he replied, wondering if his world was about to turn upside down because of his fascination with this auburn-haired beauty. The one who was going to design the ships that would help him build his future.

“To seal the deal, you must come for dinner Friday night, as I leave for the farm on Saturday,” Mr. Watkins said. “It’s already past time for me to go inland to beat this heat. We shall have Sally prepare her delicious crab soup, and for dessert, her pecan pie. Many cooks can make both, but trust me when I say none in the world is better than my Sally’s.” He backed his chair away from the desk. “Mrs. Watkins, perhaps you can learn what the Captain might like as a main course and see that it gets on the dinner menu.”

“I will do that, Mr. Watkins,” Mrs. Watkins said from her seat across the desk from her husband.

“Well.” The elder man stood and came out from behind his desk. “I’m off to take care of some other business. I shall see you at home later, my dear.” The old man’s benevolent smile at his young wife made Lucky hate himself at the directions his thought took each time he caught a glance of the woman.

She rolled her drawing, then straightened. “Yes, sir. I think I shall be home early, so I can begin working on this project.” She turned to Lucky. “Do you have some time so we can go over some of your requirements for cabins, crew quarters and galley appointments? Knowing that will help me with creating the main deck layout.”