acknowledging the awkward situation in the hallway, then strode into the office to stare out the window at the work going on down in the dockyard. Some sixty yards away, Simon had a team of horses harnessed and lined up to connect the traces to the chains that would lift the rudder onto Carolina. She watched, still fascinated even though she'd seen it nearly a hundred times. She clutched the window frame as she stared, unfocused really, out into the yard. Her emotions were getting the better of her, and she had to rein them in. This man made her thinking scattered and when he looked at her it caused her to lose her focus. She had to remember she was a professional. This was her business.
The employees would begin talking and she stood to lose their hard-earned respect. She couldn't allow that to happen. She'd worked too hard to get this far, only to see it fall apart because one man flustered her.
She had to give Captain Gualtiero an ultimatum. This verbal sparring and innuendo on both their parts had to cease immediately. He either did as she demanded and behaved himself while in the presence of her employees, or she would have her husband complete the contracting and selection processes.
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
The employees would begin talking and she stood to lose their hard-earned respect. She couldn't allow that to happen. She'd worked too hard to get this far, only to see it fall apart because one man flustered her.
She had to give Captain Gualtiero an ultimatum. This verbal sparring and innuendo on both their parts had to cease immediately. He either did as she demanded and behaved himself while in the presence of her employees, or she would have her husband complete the contracting and selection processes.
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
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