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
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