forgot to whom she spoke, or the simple fact that he couldn’t
possibly understand her words.
“Chauvinistic? I’m not familiar with that term. Does it have
anything to do with the way you kissed me earlier?” He slid
his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
His fresh male scent tickled Mica’s nostrils, and she forgot
what she wanted. His eyes mesmerized her, his breath caressed
her, and his lips teased her senses. He kissed her, right there at
the bottom of the stairs where anyone could walk in and see
them. She didn’t care, and apparently neither did Logan. He
increased the pressure until she yielded her mouth, her tongue
dueling with his.
“You’ve got to stop doing that,” she gasped, searching her
brain for a logical thought when he finally let her come up for
air.
“Why?”
It wasn’t the question he asked, but rather the heat of his
hands and the passion in his eyes that backed Mica up a step.
Why, indeed, she thought, taking in his dark, bedroom eyes,
jet-black hair, and wicked smile. At that moment, she couldn’t
for the life of her come up with a reason to stop kissing him.
She hadn’t been this confused over a male since eighth grade.
The fact of the matter was, he scared her. Or rather, her reaction
to him scared her.
Think, she scolded herself. Find some neutral ground. As
she stared at him, she realized nothing could be considered
neutral about this man. He exuded sensuality, and she doubted
he even realized it.
“My key.” Finally, she remembered what had thrown her
into a panic in the first place. She raised her brows in question.
Logan took her hand and led her along the hall to a set of
double doors, which were opened instantly by the butler. Mica
flushed, not recalling if the man had been standing there when
she kissed Logan. The austere look on his face gave nothing
away.
“We’ll eat now, Simon.” The butler nodded and disappeared
through another door Mica assumed led to the kitchen. Logan
seated her in a high-backed chair, then moved to the sideboard
to dish up their breakfast. Thinking how pleasant it was to
have someone wait on her, Mica felt she could get used to this.
Then again, she didn’t believe in fairy tales or knights in
shining armor. This could only be a brief mystical interlude in
her sane, orderly life. That brought to mind her missing key.
“Logan, I really need my things.” Mica knew she would
never relax until she held the key in her hand again. No matter
what she felt for the handsome man leaning over her with a
plate full of hot, savory food, she could never stay in his world.
She wanted the security of knowing she had an escape route.
Logan dug in his pocket and extracted a length of black
velvet cord, which he hung around her neck. When Mica
glanced down, she saw that her key dangled from the end of
the thin ribbon. He answered her unasked question as he filled
his own plate with food. “You did not have a reticule with you,
nor any type of bag. When Mattie collected your clothes to
have them laundered, your key fell out of a pocket. I assume it
is the key to Sea Crest?” He came to sit beside her at the large
table.
“Yes. I’m sorry I panicked, but it’s the only key I have.”
“It’s just a simple key and could probably be replaced in
town if need be. Regardless of what builders state about
security, I doubt there are that many different combinations of
keys around, and one may suit as well as another.” He shrugged
off the matter, delving into his breakfast.
Mica had the feeling she couldn’t replace this particular
key.
As they ate breakfast, she studied the large dining room,
searching for something familiar now that she knew the
connection with Sea Crest. Nothing appeared the same—not
the paintings on the wall or the table at which they sat. While
it could easily seat fifty people, Mica was glad Logan had
chosen to sit next to her.
then sat back, replete. Breakfast had always been her favorite
meal. The fresh eggs, sausage and potatoes had filled her
completely, though she didn’t even want to think of the
cholesterol level of the food she’d consumed. Instead, she took
the time to study the man eating with gusto beside her.
Even in repose at the table, he held himself with an air of
confidence Mica didn’t see in many men. Perhaps the weight
of responsibility had matured him, or perhaps it was just the
way people grew up in this era. Along with his self-assuredness,
Logan was a handsome man.
Where handsome men of the twenty-first century played
on their looks and almost flaunted their bodies, Logan didn’t
appear to be aware of his effect on the opposite sex, specifically
her. He was just Logan—a good-looking, well-muscled
gentleman who could kiss as though he had taken lessons from
the devil himself.
“Have you had your fill?” He had caught her staring, and
she wondered if he realized the innuendo of his words.
She couldn’t resist teasing him. As he rose from his chair,
she allowed her gaze to slide up and down his frame before
saying, “For now.” Her smile brought an answering grin to his
face.
“Let me know when you’re hungry again. As a gentleman,
I consider it my sincere obligation to appease any appetites
you may develop.” He executed a graceful bow before he moved
to slide her chair out from the table.
“You’re good, I’ll grant you that,” she taunted as she moved
out of his reach.
“Just how good, my lovely lady, you have yet to discover.”
Five
“Come. I must see the extent of damage from last night’s
fire.” Logan pulled Mica toward the front door as he spoke.
The huge double doors loomed before her like the open
jaws of some hideous monster, ready to gobble her up and spit
her back out where she belonged. She jerked her hand from
Logan’s, clutching the key that hung around her neck.
“What’s wrong?” Logan turned to her, and she knew he
couldn’t understand her hesitation.
She stared at the doors, wishing she could see through to
the other side. Would she stay in this time if she walked through
a door other than the one with the key? She had no idea of the
rules governing this unearthly game she played and would just
as soon stay inside, where she knew for a certainty she existed.
What if she just disappeared, or got caught somewhere
between this century and her own? What if she could never go
back to her own world?
“Michaela? Oh, I see. You have no shoes on.” Logan
unwittingly gave her the answer to her dilemma.
“That’s right.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “I couldn’t
possibly go outside and walk around without shoes.”
“I
t didn’t appear to bother you last night when you rushed
headlong out the doors to the beach.” Logan tilted his head to
the side, one brow arched in question.
It suddenly dawned on her exactly what Logan had said. If
she had gone outside last night and remained on this side, why
couldn’t she do so in the daytime?
“All right, I’ll go.” Mica conceded to his wishes, placing
one hand securely in his, the other hand clutching the key. She
held her breath as she walked through the double doors to the
sparkling sunshine of a summer morning.
She didn’t disappear into a puff of smoke or get yanked
back into the house by some invisible hand. Instead, she
immediately fell in love. She had always been partial to her
aunt’s island, but the modern, semi-civilized state of Sea Crest
and its neighboring resort homes were a sad parody on its
original unblemished state. As Mica stood on the top step of
the mansion, inhaling the clean, salt-tinged air, she gazed around
her in wonder.
Lush foliage covered much of the area she could see right
in front of the house. A wild abundance of colorful flowers
greeted her. Unable to name the profusion of varieties, she could
only wish this wild, natural garden had not been lost over the
years.
The ocean roared off to her right and the entire island
appeared to be wide open. There were no street sounds, no
telephone poles and wires, and no electric lights on the corners.
She loved it!
A circular driveway, covered with crushed shells, bent
gracefully away from the house and disappeared beyond a grove
of trees. Directly in front of her stood a small carriage pulled
by two pretty bay horses that were patiently nudging the groom
who held their lead harness.
“We’ll take the curricle,” Logan announced, pulling her
down the steps and then lifting her high onto the seat before
she could formulate a thought. “Once we have you properly
attired, we’ll ride.” As he climbed in beside her and flicked the
reins to set the horses in motion, he turned to her and grinned.
“There’s nothing quite like a sunrise ride along the ocean sands.
The rising tide licks at the horses’ hocks, and the spray stings
your cheeks.”
Mica was so caught up in the picture he painted, lost to the
wonder of Logan’s Indigo Bay. She felt as though a missing
part of her had been found.
Settling back, she was content to enjoy the island in a way
she could never have believed possible. As she absorbed
Logan’s words, she thought how wonderful everything he
described sounded. His voice held such pride of ownership,
she became curious.
“Why have you been away? I can tell from your voice you
love this land.” She glanced his way to find his eyes sparkling
and the light breeze tousling his hair. “Your eyes light up, and
you look like a little boy playing with his favorite Christmas
toy. Why would you want to do anything else, or be anywhere
else, besides here?”
“Michaela Marie, I do not expect you to understand. My
family and my responsibilities are just that—mine. As a woman,
I wouldn’t presume to burden—”
“Whoa, right there! Let’s get one thing straight, Logan
Rutledge. I am not some wishy-washy miss who can’t stand
the heat or a little hardship. I can think past what to wear or
how many courses to have for dinner. I happen to have a fine
head for business. In fact, I not only have a law—”
He was laughing. She punched him in the arm, but he kept
laughing, dropping the reins to cradle his stomach in hysterics.
She sat dumbfounded as the carriage slowed to a stop, the horses
bending their heads to munch grass that grew between the wheel
ruts in the road.
“You are priceless,” Logan gasped as he grabbed her by
the shoulders to draw her near. So near, their lips touched.
Instant heat engulfed Mica, and she wondered how he did
that. She didn’t waste energy worrying about it, but instead
enjoyed his kiss, returning his passion with her own. She slid
her hands up his shoulders to curl her fingers in the hair that
lay on his shirt collar.
Hungrily, her tongue touched his, savoring the heady male
taste of him. She strained towards him, wanting more than he
offered, but shy about how to proceed. After all, how did one
go about seducing a gentleman who apparently put women on
pedestals?
Logan was finding it extremely difficult to keep his hands
still at Michaela’s waist. As she strained towards him, he could
feel the soft flesh of her breasts against his chest, and he
swallowed convulsively.
He had no idea why she affected him the way she did.
He’d had his share of dalliances while in school up North, but
never once would he have considered any of them serious. Now,
based on only a few days’ acquaintance, this woman had totally
captivated him. He wanted to protect her, wait on her and
shower her with gifts, revere her with all the honor and respect
due her gender.
At the very same time, he longed to ravish her and share
the delights of passion with her. He sensed in her a deep
sensuality that triggered an identical response from his own
body. He almost feared releasing his passion, for he realized if
she in the least returned his feelings, he would never let her go.
While that seemed a logical objective for him to pursue,
he had an innate sense of foreboding where she was concerned.
Something held her apart from him, even as she eagerly
responded to his kisses. He felt he should court her slowly and
try to have patience, even when his body insisted otherwise.
“I thought I told you to quit doing that,” Michaela
whispered against his lips when he released them. The passion
still sparkling in her sky blue eyes belied her words.
“I don’t recall you saying that. I’m sure I would have
remembered such devastating words.” Ignoring his body’s cries
for satisfaction, he removed his hands from her waist and sat
back against the curricle’s leather seat. He cleared his throat.
“Well.” He could think of nothing to say, and he couldn’t
gather the horses’ reins until he could move his hands from his
thighs without them shaking like some schoolboy’s.
“Show me your island, Logan Rutledge.” Her soft reminder
of his promise straightened his spine and renewed his
confidence. There would be time to continue his seduction, he
thought, gathering the reins and clicking the horses into a trot
once more. He would make certain there was time.
***
They passed through the grove of trees that lined the
driveway, and the island opened up to a sea of green. Mica
began to see what made Indigo Bay Plantation so unique to the
area.
“Most of the island north of the house is planted in indigo,”
Logan stated, steering the small carriage along
a dirt path. “As
you have probably noticed, I have a small household staff.
Almost everyone employed on the island works in the field or
processing sheds. I find I can take care of my own needs fairly
well, but I must have people out here.” He glanced her way
before adding, “I hope you’ll not find it too inconvenient to
tend to your own personal needs?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve been looking after myself
for a long time now.” Mica wondered how shocked he would
be if he realized she not only cooked and cleaned, but also
worked and lived on her own. She knew for a certainty those
traits were not on a nineteenth century woman’s resume—at
least not on a “lady’s” resume.
Logan pointed to the fields of green plants, some growing
as tall as four feet, and all covered with small, red flowers.
“We plant several fields of indigo. This section is separated
from the north fields by the processing vats and dye sheds. We
harvested the first cutting in June and have finished the
processing. The season’s final cutting will occur in just a month,
from the first to middle part of September.”
Mica didn’t want to think about September when she would
have to return to her own work. Instead, she concentrated on
Logan’s voice, which attested to the pride he took in the land—
his land.
“The flowers look like little butterflies,” she said, marveling
at the blooming plants which spread before her for acres.
“That’s why they are poetically called ‘butterfly flowers.’”
His soft, Southern drawl, combined with a devastating smile,
caused a different kind of butterfly to flutter in Mica’s stomach.
She clinched sweaty palms together in her lap to keep from
reaching up and touching his gently curved lips.
She glanced around, still unable to comprehend this place
as the same one she had visited as a child. Nothing reminded
her of the island she knew. If she intended to stay awhile, she
wanted to learn all she could about indigo and the way of life
that had been created here. “Where did the fire start last night?”
Logan’s brow furrowed in consternation. “In the
northernmost fields, which is where we’re heading. I still can’t
understand how a fire started among green plants. Hopefully