Read Online Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) by Sandy Raven - Free Book Online
Authors: Sandy Raven
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grandfather he believed hated him. Lucky's parents had died in a fire when he was a young child, but it was his paternal aunt who'd tried to kill Lia and him to gain the fortune left to their father by Lucky's grandfather. His memories of his parents, their death, and the months living with his aunt were faint, so when Lucky thought about his family, the first thoughts were of his sister, Lia, and her husband, Ren, and his siblings through his sister's marriage, and all the combined children. They were his family, and he'd always hoped to one day add to that family when the time came that he took a wife.
His brother-in-law once told him he'd know when the right woman came along. That when she did, his world would feel more right with her in it, than without. So he'd waited. And now? The devil take him, but he now wanted a married woman in that way . He could feel it deep to the very roots of his soul. And the reality of the fact was crushing. He couldn't court her. Couldn't have her.
He knew, as he knew nothing else; that she wasn't like the married women he'd dallied with in the past—women after a fling for a few weeks or months, after which they'd part amicably to seek other beds. Mrs. Watkins was different, and it wasn't just the way she dressed, or that she worked. She impressed him as a woman who took her commitments seriously, and as someone who would give you her all when she gave you her heart.
The Watkins union was very unconventional, this was for certain. From what little he witnessed of their interaction, he would bet his right arm there was no real marriage between them. Lucky's curious mind wondered at many things, but the reality was The Watkins's didn't relate to each other in the manner of the married couples with whom he was familiar. And it wasn't that his family was different or special that he believed this. He saw with his own eyes Watkins treat his wife as one would a devoted daughter, and Mrs. Watkins treated her husband as a respected mentor.
Walking past the street which led to his boat, Lucky kept going until he spied a familiar sight. Taking the stone steps two at a time, he grasped the iron latch on the wooden door and pulled it open. Incense and burning beeswax candles scented the entryway to the small seaside town's only Catholic church. His eyes still adjusting to the dimmer interior, he looked toward the altar and saw the figure of an old man kneeling in prayer in one of the front pews, another seated next to him with his head bowed. Lucky spied the alcove he sought near the statue of St. Joseph and went to kneel in front of the bank of candles adorning the base. He took a match and lit one, then lowered his head.
He stayed that way, meditating and praying for several minutes, when a young priest came out from the sacristy and greeted the elderly man in the pews. The gentleman's voice sounded familiar and from under a bent arm Lucky caught a glimpse of the man. Mr. Watkins?
Lucky didn't move a muscle. He also didn't want to be recognized here. After all, he was praying for the strength of will to overcome this covetous feeling for that same man's wife. Lord forgive me, but I cannot leave now. Curiosity ate at him as he wanted to know what the old man was doing here. What were they about to discuss?
The men before the altar exchanged a few words, then Lucky heard a crinkling of paper as Watkins handed a large wrapped package over to the priest. "Thank you again, Spenser," the younger man said. "The children all benefit greatly from your generosity."
"You know my wish, lad. One day, when I'm gone, I pray you'll see that it happens."
"This will bring us one step closer," the priest replied, taking a seat next to Watkins. "So, how is Mary-Michael today?"
Lucky strained to hear the older man's reply. "Ah, your sister.... Poor lass. She still cries at night. I hear her through the wall and it breaks my heart."
"There are many other children she can choose from you know...." Lucky
His brother-in-law once told him he'd know when the right woman came along. That when she did, his world would feel more right with her in it, than without. So he'd waited. And now? The devil take him, but he now wanted a married woman in that way . He could feel it deep to the very roots of his soul. And the reality of the fact was crushing. He couldn't court her. Couldn't have her.
He knew, as he knew nothing else; that she wasn't like the married women he'd dallied with in the past—women after a fling for a few weeks or months, after which they'd part amicably to seek other beds. Mrs. Watkins was different, and it wasn't just the way she dressed, or that she worked. She impressed him as a woman who took her commitments seriously, and as someone who would give you her all when she gave you her heart.
The Watkins union was very unconventional, this was for certain. From what little he witnessed of their interaction, he would bet his right arm there was no real marriage between them. Lucky's curious mind wondered at many things, but the reality was The Watkins's didn't relate to each other in the manner of the married couples with whom he was familiar. And it wasn't that his family was different or special that he believed this. He saw with his own eyes Watkins treat his wife as one would a devoted daughter, and Mrs. Watkins treated her husband as a respected mentor.
Walking past the street which led to his boat, Lucky kept going until he spied a familiar sight. Taking the stone steps two at a time, he grasped the iron latch on the wooden door and pulled it open. Incense and burning beeswax candles scented the entryway to the small seaside town's only Catholic church. His eyes still adjusting to the dimmer interior, he looked toward the altar and saw the figure of an old man kneeling in prayer in one of the front pews, another seated next to him with his head bowed. Lucky spied the alcove he sought near the statue of St. Joseph and went to kneel in front of the bank of candles adorning the base. He took a match and lit one, then lowered his head.
He stayed that way, meditating and praying for several minutes, when a young priest came out from the sacristy and greeted the elderly man in the pews. The gentleman's voice sounded familiar and from under a bent arm Lucky caught a glimpse of the man. Mr. Watkins?
Lucky didn't move a muscle. He also didn't want to be recognized here. After all, he was praying for the strength of will to overcome this covetous feeling for that same man's wife. Lord forgive me, but I cannot leave now. Curiosity ate at him as he wanted to know what the old man was doing here. What were they about to discuss?
The men before the altar exchanged a few words, then Lucky heard a crinkling of paper as Watkins handed a large wrapped package over to the priest. "Thank you again, Spenser," the younger man said. "The children all benefit greatly from your generosity."
"You know my wish, lad. One day, when I'm gone, I pray you'll see that it happens."
"This will bring us one step closer," the priest replied, taking a seat next to Watkins. "So, how is Mary-Michael today?"
Lucky strained to hear the older man's reply. "Ah, your sister.... Poor lass. She still cries at night. I hear her through the wall and it breaks my heart."
"There are many other children she can choose from you know...." Lucky
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