Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt

by Indigo Bay (lit)

  a cruel joke!” Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t

  care. She had trusted him, kissed him, and look what it had

  gotten her.

  “Michaela! What’s wrong with you? Why do you keep

  running away from me?”

  She could see the confusion sketched in his scowling

  features, feel his concern when his whiskey-colored gaze met

  hers. His voice bordered on panic. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted

  to hurt her, but he had still been party to the joke.

  “You blew it, Logan!” She shouted her outrage at his

  betrayal. “I may have let you sucker me into a few kisses, but

  you went too far tonight.” At his look of further confusion, she

  continued to yell. “George Bush is President, and there is no

  way your dad could have fought in a war that took place over

  a...”

  His look of astonishment made her stop. She gazed beyond

  him to the sandy stretch of beach. There were no clusters of

  bright-colored beach umbrellas stuck in the sand, ready to be

  rented the following morning. For as far as she could see, there

  was not one piece of litter scattered anywhere on the pristine

  sand.

  She turned tear-filled eyes back to Logan, who had

  remained at her side even as she ranted and pounded on him

  with her fists. His eyes were full of sympathy, as though he

  understood her loss, even if he didn’t realize what caused it.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Where am I?”

  With hands once again gentle, Logan turned her away from

  the ocean. He wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her

  back against his chest. He fanned the other one out in front of

  them to encompass the entire island.

  “Look before you. All that you see is Indigo Bay—my

  plantation—my island. It has been worked by my father, and

  his father before him.” With a work-callused hand, he brushed

  her hair back from her face. She blinked several times before

  her eyes cleared enough to see what Logan saw.

  She gasped. There were no lights up and down the length

  of shoreline, no privacy fences stretching to the edge of the

  sand to ensure each owner’s territorial rights. Only the soft

  glow from several illuminated windows in one enormous house

  broke the darkness. She listened intently. Where was the traffic

  noise, so constant even from across the bay? Where was the

  odd odor so often prevalent because of the clogged bay and

  stagnant waters?

  She shivered, and Logan’s arms came around her to ward

  off the chill. But he couldn’t remove the deep-down cold that

  had nothing to do with the breeze blowing into shore. This

  time, she didn’t fight his hold, because he seemed the only

  solid thing in a world suddenly gone topsy-turvy.

  She tipped her head back until it rested on his shoulder.

  She recalled other things that hadn’t made sense from the

  beginning—things her mind had blanked out because of her

  fascination with Logan. Antiques that looked new. Mint

  condition law books that were, in fact, new. A house that had

  no air-conditioning and no electricity. And most important of

  all, a man who had the manners and gallantry of a gentleman

  from the antebellum South.

  How could this have happened to her? She turned her head

  to rub her cheek against the soft linen of Logan’s shirt,

  convinced that if she was having some crazy dream, at least he

  had been a nice part of that craziness.

  Still, before she woke herself up, she had to ask, “Logan,

  when did Millard Fillmore become President?” His arms

  tightened around her shoulders as though he were afraid his

  answer would send her away from him again. “Please. It’s

  important.” She felt his sigh against her neck, his breath warm

  and real.

  “Zachary Taylor was elected two years ago. When he died

  this past July, Vice-president Fillmore became the new

  President.”

  “What year, Logan?” Mica tightened her grip on his arms

  to anchor herself for the rest of his response. Even so, nothing

  could prepare her for the instant vertigo she experienced, nor

  the sudden black void that opened up and swallowed her at his

  answer.

  “1850.”

  Four

  Soft voices woke Mica. She felt a gentle hand brush hair

  off her forehead. The touch stirred such pleasant feelings inside

  her, she refrained from opening her eyes for fear it would stop.

  When she could delay the inevitable no longer, she opened

  her eyes and focused her gaze on Logan, his face etched with

  concern. He noticed her open eyes, but he didn’t stop the

  wonderful caresses along her forehead and down the side of

  her neck. If anything, he increased the pressure of his hand as

  it stoked the front of her shoulders and down one arm. She

  sighed in contentment and allowed her eyes to drift closed again.

  “Michaela? Don’t try to sleep again, at least not yet. The

  doctor said when you woke, we were to keep you awake for

  awhile.” As his warm breath grazed her cheek, she felt his

  hand tremble and heard the worry in his voice.

  “You were worried about me?” She shifted her gaze to his

  glittering brown eyes. She had been self-sufficient for too long.

  She had always done the worrying, and she doubted anyone

  except her mother ever worried about her.

  “Of course I am. Did you think I wouldn’t be? You fainted

  on the beach. After I brought you back to the house, I

  immediately sent for the doctor. He, by the way, wondered if I

  had fetched a mermaid from the sea.”

  His smile, tender yet teasing, caused Mica to flush with

  heat. A heat that spread like warm sunshine down her neck,

  across her breasts and belly to pool very low in her anatomy.

  To cover the blush she knew stained her cheeks, she glanced

  around the room. “This is your room.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It was the first bed I came

  to.” His smile grew wider. “I’ve wanted you in my bed from

  the first, though I would have preferred it under different

  circumstances.”

  His head lowered towards her, and though Mica realized

  he meant to kiss her, she felt no panic. She knew he was a

  gentleman—a gentleman from 1850! That thought came

  crashing in on her, squeezing her chest and creating a pain at

  the base of her skull.

  “Ahem. Here is the tea you requested.” A woman’s voice

  from the doorway interrupted her panicked thoughts, but

  increased Mica’s headache. Logan placed another pillow behind

  her, then took the tea tray from a petite gray-haired woman

  with a cheery smile.

  “Thank you, Mattie. Oh, Michaela Marie, this is Matilda

  Brown, my housekeeper, but we call her Mattie. I feel I should

  introduce you—since you’re not her cousin.” A tease had

  entered his voice, but Mica felt only a cold, black helplessness

  swirl around her.

  “I know that.”

  He frowned at her tone, and Mica regretted her surly answer.

&
nbsp; The blackness closed in on her, and Mica welcomed it to avoid

  making up lies. Or worse yet, trying to make Logan understand

  the truth. Just when the blackness would have swallowed her

  completely, Logan’s soft voice beckoned her back.

  “Michaela Marie, don’t run away from me again. Nothing

  can be so bad that you must hide away.”

  “You don’t know any such thing.” She refused to leave the

  soothing blackness behind her closed eyes, but she couldn’t

  deny him some kind of an answer.

  “You are right. I don’t.” He chuckled, but his next words

  were quite serious. “I will not ask you for answers, Michaela.

  I can only hope that, in time, you’ll become comfortable enough

  to share yourself with me without my asking.”

  “Time?” Mica’s eyes popped open. Her gaze flickered to

  the lamp on the bedside table that cast wavering shadows

  against the pale walls. “What time is it?” She tried to rise from

  the bed, but Logan pushed her back down.

  “It is still the middle of the night, and you are not going

  anywhere.” At her look of panic, he softened his tone. “If I

  have to stay here all night, you’ll lie there and rest.”

  “But you don’t understand. I can’t stay,” she whimpered.

  She had no idea what would happen if she remained on his

  side of Sea Crest. Would the key work the next time she tried

  to return home?

  Logan studied her for a long moment, and Mica felt

  uncomfortable beneath his stare. At last he let out a sigh as he

  took one of her hands between his two warm ones.

  He spoke softly, his voice comforting even as he said, “I

  said I wouldn’t question you, but I fear I must ask one after

  all.”

  Mica held her breath. She knew she couldn’t lie, and the

  chances of again evading the truth were slim.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “What?” she asked, blinking in surprise.

  “Do you trust me?”

  She lifted her gaze to his. His dark brown eyes drew her.

  In their depths she saw warmth and caring. She didn’t know

  enough about this man to fill a thimble, but her heart gave her

  the answer to his question.

  “Yes, I believe I do.”

  His audible sigh made her realize he hadn’t been as sure of

  himself as she had thought, and that endeared him to her all the

  more.

  “Then trust me to know what’s good for you, and that

  includes staying here with me.” At her immediate sound of

  protest, he gently put a finger to her lips. “Wait. I will make no

  demands on you. Let me show you my island. Let me share its

  beauty and its secrets with you. Learn who I am. I promise

  you’ll not regret it.”

  Mica could never recall an offer quite like his. She gazed

  at him. He wore an earnest, little-boy expression, and she felt

  honored that her answer could mean so much to anyone.

  She briefly thought of her parents and the argument they

  had before she left—the control they wished to exert over her

  life. Her mother had also mentioned Richard would be paying

  her a visit and she really didn’t want to see him.

  Then Professor Bigley’s words echoed in her mind, asking

  if she feared a little adventure. She allowed herself a smile at

  that, for she doubted the Professor quite had this in mind. Logan

  returned her smile, and she thought, Why not?

  If she were very careful, he would never know where she

  came from, and when the time came, she could leave and have

  no regrets. She fumbled along the side of her skirt until she felt

  the hard metal key in her pocket. The solid weight of it gave

  her the confidence to stay, because she knew she could not

  deny him, or herself, the chance he offered.

  “I have no clothes.” Her protest lacked conviction.

  “I’ll send someone over to Sea Crest to fetch what you

  need.”

  “No!” She realized her error when surprise etched his

  features, then a brow arched in question. She faltered as she

  tried to think of a plausible excuse.

  “It wouldn’t be...my staying here wouldn’t be proper, would

  it?” She could only hope he accepted that.

  “Ah, you’re right about that. Hmm...”

  “I’ll write a note, asking for some things to be delivered

  to…” she paused, not knowing if the same towns existed in

  this time as in her own.

  “Cameron. To the Belleview Hotel,” Logan said,

  completing her sentence.

  Oh gracious! Aunt Theo’s hospital used to be that hotel.

  Well, at least the town existed, which would make it less likely

  she would make grievous mistakes in geography.

  Of course, her note could never be sent, so she’d have to

  come up with some other way to obtain clothes. She sank back

  on the pillow, the headache she had tried to ignore blocking

  her ability to think anymore.

  Logan lightly touched her forehead with warm fingers,

  brushing the hair from her eyes as he graced her with a smile.

  “Rest now, and we’ll talk more later.”

  He rose from the edge of the bed, and panic assailed Mica.

  “Don’t leave me!”

  No matter what her decision to stay in this unknown world,

  she felt safe only because of Logan’s real and solid presence.

  He was a force she hadn’t reckoned with, but now depended

  on.

  He bent close to place a light kiss on her brow. “I won’t

  leave you, Michaela Marie, but you have to rest.” At the look

  of panic she knew remained in place, he sighed and resumed

  his seat on the side of the bed. “All right, I’ll stay until you

  sleep.”

  She reached out and linked her fingers with his. As she

  drifted off to sleep, wrapped in a feeling of security and warmth,

  she had the impression her very own guardian angel kept watch

  over her.

  ***

  Logan had never felt this way before. As he sat beside her,

  their fingers entwined, all his gentlemanly instincts rushed

  forward and squeezed around his heart. He wanted to protect

  her from whatever fears she had and solve all her problems.

  He longed to be her escort around town and show her off, and

  yet a selfish inner voice told him to keep her entirely to himself.

  She had the look of a sophisticate, and he calculated she

  had to be past the age of twenty to have inherited her aunt’s

  estate. Besides, most young women weren’t allowed to travel

  unattended. Even so, she appeared very young and vulnerable

  lying there in his large bed.

  He pondered the mystery surrounding her sudden

  appearance. Even if he overlooked that, it fell beyond his realm

  of experience to understand why a look from her could cause

  his heart to pound and his blood to rush. And her kisses—

  never had such quicksilver heat consumed him.

  He glanced out into the dark night, but within seconds his

  gaze again rested on the sleeping beauty. She had been

  frightened that he would leave her and confused about her

  surroundings. Those feelings made h
im want to keep her safe

  and protected. Every man wanted to feel like a knight in shining

  armor, he thought, grinning to himself.

  He gently brushed a thumb across her lips, parted slightly

  in sleep, and felt her warm breath against his skin. Heat coiled

  deep inside, and his hand trembled as he stroked her smooth

  cheek.

  He thanked the good Lord who saw fit to send him his

  own damsel in distress. He only hoped he had the patience not

  to push her too fast, for he didn’t want her to run away again.

  He thought to move her to a separate room, for his physical

  arousal created an ache he knew could be appeased if he crawled

  into bed with her. Damn, it would be hard not to seduce this

  luscious, dark-haired beauty who had trusted him enough to

  fall peacefully asleep in his bed.

  Trust. Because of that honorable word, Logan spent a

  restless night in the chair beside Michaela.

  He jerked awkwardly when Simon shook his shoulder early

  the next morning. Stretching the kinks from his lower back, he

  only half listened as the butler informed him Neil waited in the

  downstairs study. While he cursed the untimely interruption,

  the situation between him and his wayward stepbrother needed

  to be settled. Logan did not want to it put off.

  He gently tucked the covers over Michaela Marie,

  chuckling to himself, for he could not remember a time where

  he had offered a woman his bed without him being in it. He

  would ask Mattie to ready another room for Michaela to use

  during her visit. If the time became right to make love to her,

  the distance between bedroom doors would be of little

  consequence.

  Having cheered himself with those thoughts and a splash

  of cold water to his face, he walked out the door to take care of

  the business at hand.

  “Have Lana bring some coffee as soon as possible,” he

  instructed Simon as the butler opened the door of the study for

  him. The click of the closing door resounded in the silence as

  Logan faced Neil.

  “Good morning.” His brother did not acknowledge the

  greeting, but kept his head bent over some papers on Logan’s

  desk. Logan shook his head in despair. Neil just would not let

  go and kept trying to find some piece—

  “I didn’t burn your goddamned field, Logan, yet you’ve