Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt

by Indigo Bay (lit)

  kiss the nape of her neck. Possessed by an urgent physical

  need to carry her off to his bed and love her passionately, he

  forced himself to be content savoring the smooth, fresh taste

  of her skin.

  From the time his mother had died, he had withdrawn into

  himself, trying not to need others. He cared for his people and

  the land, the only thing he could call his own, but he took pains

  to keep his own needs deeply buried. Since Michaela had come

  into his life, however, he found his needs taking precedence

  over his other responsibilities.

  He wanted to claim her for his own. She had an inner

  strength that would allow her to stand beside him instead of

  depending on him as did so many others. That didn’t insult his

  sense of manhood, for his soul searched for a mate to

  compliment his own passion and strengths.

  At present, however, he felt shy and unsure how to proceed

  with their relationship. He sat down beside her on the bench,

  speaking to her as she played. “I don’t recognize that melody.

  Is it Chopin or Beethoven?”

  “No—Kenny G.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with his work.”

  “He’s contemporary.” Michaela gifted him with a smile.

  “Welcome home, Logan.”

  Her words melted his heart. He wrapped an arm around

  her. Replacing her fingers with his on the keyboard, he began

  the melody he had heard her play.

  She turned startled blue eyes to him, her breath a sweet

  whisper against his cheek. “How can you do that?”

  He shrugged, bringing his arms closer together, which

  shifted Michaela closer to his chest. He kept his hands on the

  keyboard even though he would have rather caressed her.

  “It’s a gift, I’m afraid. My mother insisted on lessons, but

  I hated them. I found, though, if I played without fault for my

  instructor, I could be done that much faster and be allowed to

  ride my pony. So I concentrated very hard, or thought I did, but

  apparently it didn’t take much effort on my part.”

  “You are truly gifted. Did your instructor push you to play

  professionally?”

  “Oh, yes, as did Mother. But my professor was...

  effeminate, you might say.” Logan glanced down at her and

  batted his eyelashes. Her responding laughter created a melody

  of its own in his mind.

  “Even at eleven years of age, I wanted to be considered a

  man, not a child. I became deathly afraid if I continued to play,

  I would turn into another Mr. Weathersby. So I quit. I faked

  sprains to my wrists and fingers, colds and coughs, until Mother

  finally decided it wasn’t worth paying a music instructor and a

  resident doctor.”

  A murmur of agreement was all he heard from Michaela,

  but she snuggled closer to his chest. He forced his fingers to

  remain on the keys, changing the melody to one as happy and

  carefree as he felt at the moment.

  “Entertaining people is all well and good,” he continued,

  “but only the rich can afford to attend a concert or the opera. I

  needed to feel more useful than that. I needed to make a

  contribution.”

  “I feel the same way.”

  Her remark gave him one more reason to love her. He

  responded musically as his fingers caressed and cajoled to bring

  forth a melody with softness like the wistful beauty in his arms

  before blending the sounds into a strong and commanding

  finish.

  He tried to tell her how he felt with the music he played,

  his heart pounding in time with the beat. When she swayed in

  rhythm against him, he forgot the music and let his body tell

  her what he needed. He turned her in his arms, his lips crushing

  hers in a kiss of hunger and need—caring and passion.

  She answered his request by opening her mouth, her tongue

  dancing with his to a melody that throbbed through his very

  blood, reaching in to capture his soul.

  Unlike the first time he had encountered her in the music

  room, tonight Michaela didn’t protest when Logan waltzed her

  to the door then swept her into his arms and carried her to bed.

  He felt he couldn’t get close enough to her.

  All day long he had felt a restlessness, like a storm was

  brewing, but it focused inwardly rather than on the land around

  him. Something untoward was about to happen, and Logan

  had the irrational fear that he might lose Michaela in the process.

  Eight

  Logan didn’t leave her bed that night as he had before.

  Instead, his magical hands continued the rapture he had started

  in the music room, carrying her time and again to a majestic

  crescendo of love.

  But now, as dawn nudged aside the night, Mica

  unexpectedly shivered. She curled closer to Logan’s warmth,

  her bare back snug against his hard chest. She had done it

  royally this time—tumbled headlong into a situation from which

  she could see no way out.

  She turned to study Logan’s profile, softened in sleep. How

  had she thought to turn her feelings for him on and off like a

  switch? She could never stop caring for this passionate man. A

  smile curved her lips. Passionate didn’t begin to describe the

  exotic pleasures he had showered on her last night.

  She had thought to come back and help him without

  becoming more entangled, but now she knew she had lied to

  herself. She hadn’t come back for Logan’s sake, but for her

  own. With every waking breath, her need for him grew. And

  yet it proved an impossible situation.

  He sighed and reached for her in his sleep, his warm hand

  gentle on her breast.

  “Oh, Logan,” she whispered, “I only wanted to help, and

  now look what I’ve done.” She kissed his brow and savored

  the tender emotions that welled up inside her. In her mind’s

  eye, however, she could already see the inevitable. Before she

  created more trouble for herself, she needed to complete the

  mission she had come here to accomplish.

  “Logan?” She caressed his bare shoulder. “Logan?”

  He turned slightly. “Michaela.” He mumbled her name,

  his breath warm on her skin, and Mica’s heart twisted.

  “Did your Aunt Margaret and her husband live here at

  Indigo Bay?”

  “For a while.” His answer came out muffled, for he had

  snuggled closer and his hot lips nibbled incredibly erotic

  patterns on the side of her breast.

  Determined to keep her mind on the task at hand, she took

  a breath, but that only pressed her closer to his lips. “Did she

  know your brother? Do you think she realized how much Neil

  wanted your plantation?”

  Instead of answering, he nuzzled her, then his tongue traced

  sizzling circles around her nipple.

  “Oh-h-h,” she moaned, then groaned when he withdrew

  his mouth.

  Seconds later, his lips moved down her belly, planting

  butterfly-light kisses against her sensitive skin. Mica had

  forgotten what she had asked by the time he answered her.

  “N
eil is headstrong, but he’ll come around. Why all the

  questions?” He pursued an unerring path back up her stomach,

  nipping her skin then licking with his hot tongue. His

  movements remained unhurried, his voice sleepy, but Mica

  knew he realized exactly what his tender forays were doing to

  her.

  She squirmed beneath his assault, determined to finish

  before her body betrayed her and succumbed to his expert

  lovemaking. “Just...just one more...question.” She squeezed

  her knees together in a weak attempt to stop his hand that slid

  from her knee closer to the aching core of her body.

  She tried to recall the Barkers’ journal entry in order to

  make some connection with Logan and Indigo Bay. “Gold. Is

  there reason for someone to believe gold is buried on the

  island?”

  “Ah-ha!” His head came up so quickly Mica’s heart skipped

  a beat. He rocked back on his heels beside her, planting his

  hands on his hips. His actions drew her gaze to his hips, and

  sent heat spiraling through her fast enough to set the bed on

  fire. While passion throbbed through her veins, he now seemed

  completely unaware of his effect on her.

  “Here I thought my other fine qualities were what drew

  you, and all this time you’re a fortune hunter.” He attempted a

  frown as he spoke, but his dark eyes twinkled.

  Though he no longer touched her, his gaze seared her body,

  making love to her with eyes turned dark with desire. He licked

  his lips as his gaze lingered on her breasts before sliding down

  her body to the juncture of her legs leading to her feminine

  core.

  Mica watched his hands clench and relax on his thighs,

  and she marveled at his control. Why didn’t he touch her? She

  tried to capture his gaze—to beg him with her eyes for what

  her body craved, but he kept his gaze averted as he spoke.

  His voice, husky with need, aroused her even more. “My

  father told me pirates never ventured to islands this close to

  the mainland. Even so, when I was a boy I looked for buried

  treasure. Now I realize how foolish that was.”

  Her voice quivered in response. “Why would a boy’s dream

  be foolish?”

  “Because I realize my treasure awaited me as an adult.”

  His gaze drifted up her body to capture hers. Finally, he reached

  out, his callused fingers sliding up her oversensitive skin.

  Instead of releasing her tension, his touch only increased the

  sweet agony her body experienced.

  “No amount of gold or jewels can equal what I have right

  in front of me. There is nothing on this Earth of greater value

  to me than what we share.” He entwined his fingers with hers

  to pull her into his embrace. “Now, come here. Nothing else

  matters except you and me.”

  Mica shut her mind to everything except his hot touch on

  her skin. As his hands tenderly cradled her body, she relished

  the feeling of being cherished. But being cherished didn’t mean

  he thought her fragile, and their lovemaking swiftly escalated

  into a ferocious tumble. He captured her lips in a torturous

  kiss, appeasing some of her need, yet leaving her hungry for

  more.

  Her nails scratched across his muscle-ridged back as she

  rubbed her breasts against his chest. Her nipples were tight

  and puckered, aching for his touch. As though he read her

  thoughts, he released her mouth as he laid her back on the bed,

  but before she could complain, he lightly nipped the tip of one

  breast before capturing it fully in his hot, wet mouth.

  Mica cried his name out loud, enthralled with the sight

  and musky male scent of him, enraptured by his taste as she

  nibbled on his shoulder. His hot male length against her hip

  inflamed her senses, and she opened her legs in welcome.

  Skyrockets roared in her ears, and fireworks flashed behind

  her closed eyes as he entered her with one tumultuous plunge.

  “More. Give me all of you.” He rasped the urgent command

  even as he lifted her hips to drive deeper, plundering her very

  soul. Relinquishing her entire being to his safekeeping, she

  wrapped her legs around him, raising her hips to meet his.

  “Yes!” The word ripped from him as he thrust deeper, then

  stopped, their bodies fused intimately together. She felt him

  swell and throb within her, and for the first time in her life she

  knew what completeness meant.

  Logan didn’t give her time to analyze her thoughts. The

  tempo his body set soon caused sweet ecstasy to spread through

  her like wildfire. She tightened her legs, drawing him inward,

  arching to meet his thrusts, willing him to take her with him

  over the precipice.

  “Look at me!” The words hammered through her with each

  thrust of his hips. His face spoke of his passion. His chiseled

  features were covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, his

  black hair in disarray.

  His eyes, darkened almost to black, captured her attention.

  In them she saw the reflection of her deepest thoughts. I love

  you, Thomas Logan Rutledge.

  “Heaven help me,” she moaned as he sank deep within her

  then stopped. The throb of his release triggered hers, sending

  them both spiraling through a vortex of electrifying sensation.

  ***

  Though reluctant, Logan left Mica’s room, promising to

  return for her later in the day. He insisted she stay in bed and

  rest while he saw to the final preparations for the first shipment

  of indigo to market.

  “The auction will be held in Charleston, and we must have

  the crop ready. With the first of September so near, I can’t

  leave anything to chance.” He kissed her cheek and hurried

  off, unaware of the turmoil his words had caused.

  September! She promised her father she’d go back to work

  after Labor Day. How could she possibly return to work when

  things were still so unsettled here, and especially since her

  heart-wrenching discovery while making love to Logan? She

  was in love with him!

  Determined to push aside her emotions in the interest of

  helping Logan, Mica pulled on a wrapper and grabbed her bag

  from the armoire. She really wished she had more than just a

  few letters with which to convince him his stepbrother meant

  trouble.

  As she pawed through her belongings, setting aside the

  bundle of letters, she began to doubt what had been on her

  mind at the time she packed. Her peasant-type cotton skirts

  and blouses where there, as were her silk teddy and slip, but

  where were her hairbrush, her bras and stockings? All that

  remained of her sandals was a handful of leather straps, and

  she couldn’t find any of her cosmetics. She plopped down on

  the bed and stared at the strange assortment of items.

  Rules—everything in life had rules, even if they weren’t

  always understood or followed. Mica remembered Uncle Gene

  telling her that once. Apparently even time travel had rules,

  and Mica could only guess at them as she surveyed th
e remains

  of her belongings. She plucked at the ribbon tying together her

  aunt’s letters. If there were one more mystery tied to this

  adventure she had created, she would go mad.

  “Miss Michaela?” Mattie stuck her head through the

  doorway, drawing Mica’s attention away from her musings.

  “Good morning, Mattie. What can I do for you?”

  “I was just wondering, Miss, if you would care to go to

  town with me and the Mister. It’s time to restock the pantry,

  and the fish is always best if you get there early.”

  “I would love to come with you. Just give me a few minutes

  to dress.” A change of scenery might be just what she needed

  to get her thoughts in perspective.

  The morning flew by as Simon and Mattie pointed out

  various sites while they traveled by buggy through the small

  town of Cameron. Mica was amazed at what had survived

  through the years. Not only the Belleview Hotel, but two

  churches and the market area remained very close to the

  structures of her own era.

  On the pretense of seeing if her clothes had arrived at the

  hotel, Mica separated from the Browns when she saw a

  boutique. At first she hesitated. She didn’t have any money,

  but she decided to take a chance that some things never changed.

  “Charge it?” She questioned the clerk once she had picked

  out a few dresses and a small valise.

  “Of course. To whom shall we send the bill?”

  Mica exited the shop quite pleased with herself. When she

  spied the Browns, she informed Simon her bag had arrived.

  After eating a light lunch, they stopped by the hotel before

  they returned to the plantation.

  Logan had left her a note indicating he would be tied up

  the rest of the day at the processing sheds. Mica thought about

  walking out to see him, but concluded if he were busy, now

  was not the time to interrupt him. She could wait until dinner.

  As she prepared for her bath, she toyed with the ribbon on

  the letters lying on her desk. How could she broach the subject

  of the information they contained? How could she express her

  concern for Logan without letting him know exactly where

  she had gotten the information?

  Should she even bring up any relationship between their

  aunts? After all, she had already decided that in itself didn’t

  spell danger for him.