already spread the vicious rumor all over the island.” He
stormed around the desk to stand toe-to-toe with Logan. “If I
wanted to take over, I’d just kill you and be done with it!” He
swung away from Logan and moved to the liquor cabinet,
pouring himself a rather large glass of whiskey for so early in
the morning.
“I’d go easy on that if I were you.” Though they were close
to the same age, Logan always felt himself older and in charge
of a temperamental younger brother.
“Don’t tell me what to do! You’re always trying to tell me
what to do. Remember, I lived here with Father, working from
sunup to sundown, making this damnable island produce
indigo—the prize of the South,” he added with sarcasm. “You
were off with your studies, taking all that your dear mother
would send you, when it should have been mine.”
Logan studied his stepbrother as he guzzled the whiskey
and poured more. They had the same build and were within
months of being the same age, but there the similarities ended.
Neil was as fair and blonde as Logan was dark. While Logan
supposed Neil could be considered handsome, he had a mean
streak that radiated around him and emanated from his cold,
green eyes.
There had never been any love lost between them.
Somehow, though, Logan always felt he should try to make
Neil his brother, if not in blood, then at least in word and deed.
Unfortunately, Neil would have none of it.
Logan knew Neil had always been jealous of his
relationship with his mother, who had married Neil’s father.
While Neil’s father had been consumed with making money
and seeing the island produce more and more, Elizabeth
Rutledge Seaton had bestowed her time, energy and love on
Logan. Though she had tried to share that love with Neil, the
boy would have none of it and had been moody from the day
their parents had married.
“This land should have been mine! I worked it with my
own two hands—these hands.” He thrust his arms straight at
Logan, the whiskey in his glass sloshing over the side onto the
carpet.
Though Logan knew it would be useless, he tried to reason
with him. “Neil, I’ve told you before, the Will—”
“Goddamn you! You could have forged the Will. You’re
the goddamn lawyer. You could have written anything you
wanted.” He guzzled the rest of his drink then slammed the
glass down on the desk. He turned towards Logan, his eyes
glazed with drink, and his step faltering as he rushed him, arms
upraised as though he would strangle him.
Logan neatly sidestepped his brother, grabbing an arm and
twisting it behind his back, locking his own arm around Neil’s
neck. He exerted pressure until Neil quit struggling, but he
held on until he felt the tension leave Neil’s body. Even drunk,
Neil could be a formidable opponent. Logan just wished he
would use all that energy in helping at Indigo Bay, instead of
wasting it on hate.
Neil hung his head in defeat, his voice a whisper in the
silence. “Jacobs told me you thought I started the fire.”
Logan let Neil go, stepped back, and said softly, “Jacobs
doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. I’ll have to speak
to him about that.”
One look at Neil’s slumped shoulders and haggard face,
and Logan said without thinking, “Neil, stay here at Indigo
Bay. Together we can make it great again—the way it was.”
The instant the words were out, Logan realized his mistake.
Neil’s shoulders squared, and his head snapped up, eyes again
glittering with hatred. Although Indigo Bay had always
belonged to Logan’s family, Neil felt when his father married
Logan’s mother, the plantation should have been his.
“I don’t need your pity, Brother.” He sneered the word.
“But I give you fair warning. Indigo Bay should have become
mine, and I won’t rest until I have set the record straight.”
Without a word of farewell, he turned and jerked open the door,
storming out of sight before Logan could stop him.
“Get the hell out of my way!” A crash of dishes in the
hallway followed Neil’s rude command. A muffled shriek
accompanied by a thud brought Logan to the doorway to assess
the damage.
“Good God in Heaven, what—”
“It weren’t my fault, Mister Logan, sir.” Lana, one of the
maids, crawled on her hands and knees, scooping dishes and
silver back onto the tray. “Why, he just came out of there like
all the demons of hell was right on his heels, that’s a fact.”
Nodding her head vigorously, Lana dropped the last of the
morning cakes back onto a plate and then plopped right down
in the middle of the hallway as though cleaning up the mess
had tuckered her out for the day.
Logan laughed outright at her antics and received a toothy
grin in return. A groan swung both their attentions to where
Mica sat propped against the wall.
“Oh, mercy heavens,” Lana exclaimed, scrambling across
the hall on hands and knees.
“Christ!” Two strides brought Logan to her side, squatting
down so his eyes were level with her own.
Mica’s heart beat in funny little thumps as Logan’s wide
eyes searched her face, and concern etched his brow. She
managed a weak smile as she glanced between Logan and the
maid, the last few minutes a blur of frenzied movement. When
she awoke alone in Logan’s huge bed, voices raised in argument
had led her downstairs.
“You weren’t there, when I woke up.” She thought how
handsome he looked, even with stubble on his chin and rather
wrinkled clothes. Had he stayed by her side all night and never
gone to bed?
“I know. I had to speak with Neil.” His voice remained
soft, but Mica could see a visible change in his features as he
took in her bare legs sticking out from the short hem of one of
his shirts. She had changed when she got up because her own
clothes had been wrinkled and spotted with soot.
Her skin grew warm beneath his perusal. Her heart pounded
faster as his voice lowered to a deep, seductive whisper. “Had
I known an angel slept in my bed, you can rest assured I would
never have left her side.”
As always, his glittering gaze and powerful presence
reduced her to fidgeting. She nervously tucked her hair behind
her ear. “Angels always have blonde hair.”
“Not mine.” He tucked her hair behind her other ear, placed
his hand on the wall beside her head, and leaned forward. Mica
closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss.
“Ahhhhh.” The heartfelt sigh jerked them both upright.
They had forgotten the maid sprawled at Mica’s feet, a
moonstruck expression on her young face.
Mica’s face flamed hot with embarrassment. Logan just
laughed as he stood, then gracefully lifted the maid to her feet.
Before she could utter a word, he scooped the tra
y from the
floor, placed it in her hands, and turned her toward the kitchen.
“Off you go, Lana.”
“Oh, but sir, the lady. Perhaps I should—”
“I will see to the lady. You just see to not spreading any
gossip, do you hear?” While his voice remained gentle, Mica
could hear the underlying thread of steel. From the expression
on Lana’s face, she knew the girl would obey the master of the
house.
Mica struggled to get to her feet and at the same time not
reveal more leg than she already had. When she saw Logan
staring, she had the distinct impression she shouldn’t have come
downstairs without her own clothes on. With sudden clarity,
she recalled the difference in centuries and could have kicked
herself for not realizing it before. Propriety would be her
downfall, she feared, for her more liberated self might not allow
her to bow to nineteenth century conventions.
She had barely regained her balance when Logan swept
her off her feet and into his arms, striding towards the stairs.
“Put me down. I can walk.” Even as she protested, she
curled her arms around his neck.
“Uh-huh. That’s why I found you sprawled all over my
hallway carpet just moments ago?” He chuckled as she hid her
face against his shoulder in embarrassment.
“I heard voices—angry voices like the other night—and I
came in search of you. I didn’t intend to arrive at the door just
in time to get hit by a human tornado.”
Logan sighed as he stood her on her feet, this time in a
different room from where she had slept. She glanced around
at the feminine furnishings before allowing her gaze to question
him.
“This was my mother’s room. I thought you might be more
comfortable here.” His gaze slid down to her bare legs, and
Mica had the delicious feeling that she made him
uncomfortable.
A devilish desire to tease him came over her. She stood on
one foot, sliding the other slowly up her bare leg, reaching
down as though to scratch her instep. All the while, she watched
Logan, who swallowed convulsively as his gaze followed her
movements.
Lowering her foot to the ground, she widened her stance a
little and slowly stretched. Her hands reached for the sky, which
in turn hiked his shirt up to mid-thigh.
The groan could have come from Logan or her, she really
didn’t know. Instantly, he crushed her against him, his lips
covering hers and his tongue begging entrance.
Between hot, moist kisses, she felt rather than heard him
grumble, “You don’t play fair, lady.”
“I couldn’t come downstairs in my wrinkled clothes, could
I?” She rubbed against his chest with her own, the whisper of
cloth mingling with the sharp intake of his breath.
Mica would in no way consider herself naive, but the instant
rush of passion she experienced in Logan’s kiss unnerved her.
Her entire body tingled as though struck by lightning, and she
felt the distinct, heavy achiness between her legs that, before
Logan, had always come much later in foreplay.
Logan continued to kiss her, his lips finding the incredibly
sensitive places behind her ears, the hollow of her neck, even
her eyelids. She gave her body over to the sensuous pleasure of
his attention. His tongue teased at the corners of her mouth,
and she opened for him.
She had always thought this type of kissing vastly overrated,
but Logan surprised her again. As his tongue swept the edge of
her teeth and teased her own tongue to respond, her knees
buckled.
“Oh, dear God.” She grabbed his shoulders and tipped her
head back, unable to draw a decent breath. “Oh, wow.” She
dropped her head to his chest, sucking in air like a drowning
person.
Still he held her in his seductive grasp. His hands massaged
her back, rubbing up and down her spine, then he cupped her
fanny and pulled her harder against him. No amount of clothes
could have kept her from feeling his arousal, which in turn
heightened her own inflamed state. It took every bit of
willpower she could muster not to curl her legs around his
waist and allow him to make love to her as they stood. At that
insane moment, she wanted him that badly.
She tried to slow her breathing and get herself under control.
She could feel the rapid beat of Logan’s heart—could almost
hear it thunder in the room’s silence. Well, at least the attraction
couldn’t be termed one-sided.
Though she ached to continue, she felt sure women of his
century didn’t seduce the men. The last thing she wanted was
for him to think her a strumpet. She pushed against his shoulders
to gain some distance. While at first reluctant, Logan did
relinquish his embrace, but kept his hands on her hips as she
tried to step away from him.
“If you’re going to tease me, you must be willing to accept
the consequences.” The rebuke, though voiced gently, brought
her head up. She scanned his face and realized he suffered as
much discomfort as she did.
“I’m sorry...I had no intention...I...” Geez, would he always
reduce her to incoherent thoughts? Before she could formulate
a better answer, he released her with a sigh and walked to a
large cabinet set against one wall.
“Do you know, when you get excited you speak in
monosyllables?” The teasing quality had returned to his voice,
and Mica was glad. The sexual tension had been thick, and she
knew if he had kissed her again, she would not have let him
go. At the same moment, the thought crossed her mind that she
wanted more than sex from this man.
His comment helped take her mind off his magnificent
body, at least for the moment. “It’s entirely your fault if I can’t
speak. I don’t know why, but somehow you reduce me to a
blundering idiot. I’m usually quite capable of holding my own
in any conversation. What’s that?”
She had come to stand beside him and peered into what
appeared to be a very large closet. Clothes hung in a neat row
across it, and several pairs of shoes and boots were lined up
along the bottom.
“My mother’s wardrobe. I think it would be best if you
found something to wear until we can retrieve your clothes.”
He turned his sexy grin on her again. “If you stay in my shirt
much longer, I’m dreadfully afraid you won’t be in anything at
all.”
“These are your mother’s clothes? Won’t she mind?”
“Mother died...some time ago.”
Mica’s heart went out to him. Seeing the sadness in his
expression, she guiltily thought she should be nicer to her own
mother the next time she saw her.
“I fear you are somewhat taller than she, but perhaps
something will suffice for the time being.” He turned and
walked away from her before she could say thank you.
At the door to the bedroom, he paused. “I’m sorry Neil ra
n
you down. It was extremely rude of him. Hopefully, you will
have the opportunity to meet him in a better light in the future.”
“It’s not your fault your brother acts like a jackass.” She
gritted her teeth and grimaced at her slip. She had no right
calling anyone names, much less someone she didn’t know.
However, from what she could gather, this stepbrother of
Logan’s couldn’t be counted on to act in a very civilized manner.
Logan chuckled, turning part way around to glance in her
direction. “You really are quite unconventional, aren’t you?”
At her indifferent shrug of a shoulder, he added, “You’re really
quite adorable, too.”
She could only stand with mouth agape as he closed the
door behind him. Adorable? No one had called her that since
she was five years old. Even then, it had only been her Uncle
Gene, who was family, so that really didn’t count.
She donned a simple skirt and blouse, along with some
strange underwear cut much like a split skirt slip. The shoes in
the closet were much smaller than the size nine she wore.
Realizing her shoes were probably still in Logan’s room, she
decided she’d just have to go barefoot.
She glanced around the room but couldn’t locate her clothes
either. Rocking back on her heels, she gasped. If her clothes
and shoes were nowhere in sight, then she no longer possessed
the key!
She stumbled on the long skirt as she scrambled out the
door and down the stairs, calling for Logan. In her fear over
the disposal of her clothes, along with the key, she tripped over
the last step and would have fallen if not for a pair of strong
arms catching her awkward descent.
“What on earth? If the servants had not already been up,
you surely would have awakened them.” Logan held on until
she could get her feet beneath her. His gaze searched her face.
Though Mica felt rather foolish for her behavior, dread
still caught in her throat at the thought of not being able to
return to her own time. “My clothes? What did you do with my
clothes?”
“Clothes? For pity’s sake, is that what this is about? Leave
it to a woman to screech about a simple skirt and shirtwaist.”
“Don’t go chauvinistic on me, mister, just tell me what
you did with my things.” Compelled to locate her key, Mica
Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt Page 9