Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt

by Indigo Bay (lit)

  edge of the field, rubbing his hand up the still green stalk. He

  lifted his hand to his nose, then swore in such colorful language

  Mica blushed.

  “Lamp oil. This field did not burn by accident.” As Logan

  rubbed his hand clean with his handkerchief, his eyes scanned

  the area for other signs of deliberate arson.

  Mica watched his face, wary of his reaction. She didn’t

  know him well enough to be able to predict how he would

  react to deliberate sabotage, and she was reluctant to stand in

  the way of his anger. While she waited for his reaction, she

  noticed the frown lines around his usually gentle mouth, and

  the dark shadows under his eyes.

  She looked beyond his immediate outrage and realized how

  tired he must be. He had been up half the night fighting a fire

  only to come home and have to chase her down the beach.

  Then he sat up with her for the remainder of the night while

  she slept peacefully.

  “Come, let’s go home. There doesn’t appear to be anything

  more you can do here.” She spoke softly, offering her hand in

  comfort.

  He caught her hand, his fingers warm as they wrapped

  around hers. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that I didn’t need

  a further financial setback. Damn! Someone ruined half the

  crop. Lives depended on that harvest.”

  “I thought the crop had already been harvested.”

  “Only the first cutting. It’s necessary to get two good

  cuttings a season to make it through a year.” His shoulders

  sagged, and she wished she could help him shirk the weight of

  responsibility for just a little while. He gave her a wan smile.

  “There is naught I can do about it now. I’m afraid your first

  day has not proven very entertaining, nor myself a very gracious

  host.”

  “Nonsense. I have learned a great deal about this island

  you call Indigo Bay.” She added to herself, And a great deal

  about you, Logan Rutledge. The sensitive, caring man who

  led her back to the carriage was almost too perfect, and Mica

  hoped the dream would not end anytime soon.

  ***

  Mica found the next week at Indigo Bay both enjoyable

  and frustrating. Logan had questioned the proprietor of the

  Belleview Hotel about her clothes, and since they hadn’t arrived,

  he took the liberty of purchasing some gowns for her. She

  couldn’t take exception to his forwardness since she had nothing

  else to wear. He hadn’t questioned it when she said she had

  given Lana the message to take to the hotel.

  It proved difficult for her to adjust to the layers of clothes

  required to dress, and she finally decided that one petticoat

  under any skirt would just have to suffice. She flat out refused

  to wear a corset. Even with those adjustments, she had to change

  her manner of walking so her skirts didn’t bunch between her

  legs.

  She began to enjoy her leisurely baths instead of a quick

  shower. She had to get used to a copper cistern holding heated

  water that sat at one end of the tub, while the pump for cold

  water was at the other end. The servants were responsible for

  keeping the holding tank full, along with lighting the small

  fire below to heat the water.

  Mica had found no problems with this system until the

  day she tried to take a bath earlier than her normal time. She

  found the well water cold enough to turn her toes blue. While

  she had been trying to do away with schedules in her life, it

  appeared some things still required them.

  Meals at Indigo Bay were pure pleasure. Not only did Annie

  cook scrumptious food, but Logan always joined her in the

  evening. Since her mother had always believed in dressing for

  dinner—and using all the forks, spoons and good crystal she

  could possibly get at one place setting—Mica felt quite

  comfortable, knowing her manners would hold up under

  scrutiny.

  Time seemed the hardest obstacle to overcome. She would

  rise early, as she always had, but Logan would already be out

  in the fields or at the processing sheds. She didn’t want to eat

  alone in the large dining room, so she would have breakfast in

  the kitchen as Annie worked.

  Every day Lana fluttered about her, stating how unladylike

  it was for her to dirty her hands in the kitchen with the help.

  She had tried several times to press her point home by bringing

  Mica’s breakfast to her room. Mica would always stay one

  step ahead, meeting her at the top of the stairs and carrying the

  tray right back to the kitchen to enjoy it with company.

  However, eating in the kitchen and taking long walks on

  the beach didn’t set aside her restlessness. As a lawyer, she

  maintained a busy schedule, and she felt useless here. One night

  at dinner, she tried to explain her feelings to Logan, but he

  refused to listen.

  “You are not to work—it is not your place.”

  “To hell with my place. I need something to do.” She

  scowled when he just smiled at her.

  “What can you do, then?”

  “I can...” Mica paused. What could she do? Though capable

  of cleaning and cooking, she couldn’t take Lana’s or Annie’s

  jobs away from them. Mica felt inadequate when she realized

  all her education couldn’t make her a competent person in this

  time.

  “Can you test indigo? Or perhaps weave thread into cloth?

  Can you whip the fermented indigo froth for hours at a time

  until it is ready to settle?” Logan questioned.

  “Of course not.” She felt tears sting the inside of her eyelids

  and bit her bottom lip to stop its trembling. Logan rose from

  his chair and came to hers, sliding it away from the table and

  gathering her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. As a lady, your place is

  not in the fields working, and I shouldn’t have suggested it

  was.”

  “But...”

  He touched a finger to her lips to silence her protest. “I

  guess I will just have to find a way to keep you busy, won’t I?”

  The next days passed in a whirlwind of activity, and Mica

  fell exhausted into bed each night, even though she never left

  the island. Logan had responsibilities he attended to every

  morning, but each afternoon, he took her exploring to a different

  part of the island. One day they rode in the buggy to the cliffs,

  just to stand and watch the waves crash against the rocks. She

  had laughed and danced around him as the ocean spray

  dampened their clothes and sat like angel mist upon their hair.

  While she had not forgotten her former life, she preferred

  not to dwell on it, or the number of days slipping away.

  Unfortunately, it came back to her with crashing force the day

  Logan invited her to ride, and took her to the stables which

  were located to the south of the house. Upon rounding the corner

  on the path from the manor, she noticed the skeletal structure

  of an addition on the south side. She froze, her heart skipping

  s
everal beats as she mentally visualized Sea Crest and its

  relation to Logan’s Indigo Bay.

  “Are you planning an addition to Sea...Indigo Bay?” She

  unconsciously touched the key dangling from her neck.

  Logan scowled at the structure. “Seaton had plans to expand

  the main house, sinking his money into that instead of the land.

  He died before it could be finished.” His voice held no remorse.

  Mica’s voice shook as she questioned him. “How does it

  stand in relation to the inside?”

  Logan pointed to the second story, which had few

  supporting studs and no floor. “There is a door. Do you see

  it?” At her nod, he continued. “The door at the end of the second

  floor hall would have led into this section. I don’t even know

  where the key is at this moment, nor do I care. Perhaps some

  day, when I have righted all the wrongs done by my stepfather,

  I will complete the addition.”

  Mica heard hurt and betrayal in his voice, and again she

  realized how much he valued the land over material possessions.

  Honor and tradition bound him to the land, and she longed for

  a way to help him keep what was his.

  A chill ran down her spine as she took one last look at the

  structure—to the Sea Crest that hadn’t even been built on this

  day, yet somehow magically lay beyond that door. She hurried

  to catch up with Logan, determined to leave her fears behind

  with the ghostlike framework.

  They rode that day down to the beach, racing their horses

  along the waves and playing among the tide like wayward

  children. She soon forgot her apprehensions as Logan

  smothered her with salt-tinged kisses every time she allowed

  him to catch her. As the sun set on the other side of the island,

  the last rays of daylight played off the rolling waves, creating

  a cascade of color. Logan twined his fingers with hers as they

  walked the horses back towards the stable. Mica wondered

  why every day couldn’t be the paradise she had found here.

  ***

  The next day, Mica sat on the verandah and stared out over

  the gardens, awed by what she had just discovered. Inside her,

  she had become aware of a new sense of self. She had found

  she was no longer impatient and could relax and take things as

  they came. Suddenly, she understood what a joy life could be

  without schedules and timetables to run her day.

  She recognized and accepted the fact that her contentment

  rested for the most part on Logan’s presence. She had found

  him very demonstrative—a hand on her elbow, a touch to her

  cheek. Even his eyes seemed to caress her when she’d look up

  to find his gaze on her. For someone used to independence and

  holding feminist viewpoints, she found Logan occupying more

  and more of her thoughts—and all of her dreams.

  It had been so easy to fall into his world, accepting his

  attention and reveling in the wonderful sensations he caused

  inside her. He had done nothing more than kiss her, sometimes

  with intense passion, and sometimes with an equally erotic

  gentleness. Yet each night as he walked her to her bedroom

  door, bestowing a final kiss upon her cheek or brow, she longed

  for more—much more. She thought, perhaps, the time had come

  to return to Sea Crest and regain her perspective.

  Silently, Logan observed Michaela from the door leading

  to the verandah. At times he felt guilty, as though he kept her

  prisoner on the island. They hadn’t heard anything from her

  people at Sea Crest, nor had her clothes arrived. But instead of

  seeking word, he had played ignorant and continued to enjoy

  her company.

  Everything about her fascinated him—from the way she

  tucked her hair behind her ear, to her laugh, to her avid interest

  in the work done on the island. She was quite unconventional

  in both language and manner, as now, when she had her feet

  propped on the seat of her chair, her knees tucked under her

  chin. All the qualities he desired in a woman sat before him

  packaged in one intriguing bundle.

  She had a willingness to work and could carry on a lively

  discussion. She didn’t appear to care about material possessions

  or fashion at all, for he often caught her without her shoes and

  stockings, and he knew from holding her that she wore no

  corset. The simple fact that she did not covet those things made

  him wish he could shower her with gifts to let her know he

  thought her wonderful. He had not known her very long, but

  Logan wondered if he had succumbed to love. Just the

  thought sent blood pounding through his veins. She made him

  feel alive and capable of doing anything. How he longed to

  take her in his arms and carry their passion beyond the kisses

  they had shared.

  Sometimes, though, when she thought he didn’t see, her

  face took on a dreamy quality, like she was a million miles

  away. He searched her face now and found her staring into

  space. Her distraction frightened him, for he didn’t know how

  to reach her.

  What if he woke up one morning and found her gone again?

  Six

  “You should be dressing.” Logan spoke from the shadows,

  shaking Mica from her daydreams. “We don’t want to be late

  for your official debut into Cameron society.”

  He strolled toward her, and for a moment, she dismissed

  what he said in favor of soaking in his image. Dressed in a

  dove gray cutaway coat, white shirt and cravat, and snug black

  trousers that showed the very outline of his muscular legs, he

  presented the picture of a perfect Southern gentleman. His dark

  hair was tied back with a satin ribbon, and Mica wondered if

  there could possibly be a more handsome man. His devilish

  grin told her he knew it, too.

  She had to clear her throat in order to speak. “You didn’t

  tell me we were going out. We aren’t going to hear Miss Sophie

  Wainwright sing, are we?”

  He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I would

  not subject you to that.”

  “I can’t possibly take a bath, do my hair—”

  “Lana has your bath ready. If you hurry, we won’t be more

  than fashionably late.”

  Excited at the prospect of meeting other people from this

  time, Mica shot up from the chair and scurried towards the

  door, Logan’s laughter ringing in her ears.

  She felt a twinge of guilt as Lana helped her slip a midnight

  blue silk dress over the several petticoats required for its bell

  shape. When her own clothes hadn’t shown up at the hotel,

  Logan had come home with his arms piled high with boxes.

  They had contained dresses, shoes, petticoats and everything

  else necessary to dress her in style. She had protested, knowing

  he could ill afford to spend money on her, but he had insisted.

  Since few of his mother’s clothes fit her, she had relented.

  Now, she was glad she had, because she felt like a fairy

  princess attending a ball. Her dress, draped off the shoulders

  with two ruffles of silk tha
t created short sleeves, had a snug

  bodice and a pinched waist that made Mica feel dainty and

  feminine.

  Though her hair was unusually short according to Lana,

  the maid had helped her pin it up in a simple twist. What wisps

  escaped their handiwork curled softly about her face and nape.

  As Logan escorted her down the steps to the buggy, he

  complimented her on her attire, her hair, even the way her skin

  glowed. But all the while his eyes didn’t strayed far from her

  cleavage.

  Finally, she kissed him to shut him up. Then he threatened

  not to take her out at all, but keep her prisoner and ravish her

  until the sun set one hundred days from now. Though he spoke

  in a joking manner, Mica decided it wouldn’t take much for

  her to take him up on his suggestion.

  As they crossed the causeway linking Indigo Bay with the

  mainland, he spoke in a neutral tone, and she decided she would

  have to settle for a night on the town instead of a night of

  passion.

  “I would beg your indulgence tonight and ask that you not

  mention the fire nor the damage it did to my crops,” he said.

  She turned to him in surprise. “Why? Don’t you discuss

  business with your friends?”

  He smiled in the moonlight. “We speak only of success,

  not of failure.”

  “In other words, you brag.” It appeared the male species

  had not evolved much in the last hundred-plus years.

  “You are correct.” He leaned over and quickly kissed her

  cheek. “Tonight I will be the toast of the party and have much

  to brag about, for I will have on my arm the loveliest woman in

  the county.”

  “Only one county?” She couldn’t help teasing him, though

  she blushed at his compliment.

  “Several counties, then.” He laughed and clicked to the

  horses, speeding up their arrival at the party and agitating the

  butterflies that had taken up residence in Mica’s stomach.

  Curiosity made her want to meet Logan’s friends, but she

  was deathly afraid they wouldn’t accept her, or she would

  embarrass him in some way. Seeming to read her thoughts, he

  patted her clenched hands as they arrived in front of a huge

  mansion set back from the road and surrounded by a lush lawn.

  “You will be a smash. I promise. Just follow my lead and

  be yourself.” He jumped down, tied the horses to the hitching