Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt

by Indigo Bay (lit)

  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