Read Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) for Free Online Page B

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."
    He nodded and rose as Mr. Watkins excused himself, but before leaving the room, Watkins gave Lucky a wink as he made his way toward the stairwell, "Feel free to use my office, Mrs. Watkins."
    Lucky quickly glanced back at Mrs. Watkins and for a fraction of a moment, he thought he saw fear, or perhaps uncertainty cross her brow. He hoped she wasn't afraid of being alone with him. God alone knew he'd never harm her. Quite the opposite, he wanted to bring her to his cabin and worship her body until the sun rose the following morning.
    "I always do, Mr. Watkins," she replied.
    Lucky noticed she treated her husband as an employer, rather than a husband or partner, which again made him wonder at the nature of their relationship. But, when it came right down to it, it didn't matter. The earthy and intelligent Mrs. Watkins had a husband who was a likable enough man. He was a man Lucky could respect and admire for his accomplishments. And Lucky had a long held stipulation when it came to dallying with married women—if the man was a friend he wouldn't