post, and returned to the side of the buggy to lift her down. His
hands lingered at her waist, and his gaze held hers captive for
an instant in time. She parted her lips in a gasp as she read the
desire and passion deep in his gaze. Obviously, her gasp seemed
invitation enough, because Logan stole a kiss before he released
her with a sigh.
“It will have to wait until later, for I fear our arrival has
been noted,” Logan said, for someone called his name—a man’s
voice inviting them to join the festivities.
Judith and Gray Cavanaugh, their hosts for the evening,
welcomed Mica with warm smiles. Judith confided that Gray
and Logan had known each other all their lives and had
remained friends even when Logan went north to school.
“And just how did you come across this jewel, Logan?
Your brashness usually doesn’t attract such beauty.” Gray
slapped his friend on the back, and they both laughed goodnaturedly.
“She’s visiting her Aunt Theodora Josephine Ashley, but,
unfortunately, her aunt came down with a chill,” Logan replied.
“Not wanting to spoil her niece’s evening, she insisted I bring
her along.”
Mica opened her mouth to protest, but Logan’s wink
reminded her of his earlier comment—follow my lead.
“Ashley? Any relation to the Ashley’s of Charleston?” Gray
frowned in concentration, and Mica worried she would be found
out.
“Very good, Gray. You’re not as senile as they keep
accusing,” Logan remarked before she could answer. The
gentlemen laughed once again.
As soon as they moved aside to allow new arrivals to greet
their hosts, Mica couldn’t help questioning him. “Why on earth
would you tell them my aunt is indisposed? Is that a polite way
of saying dead?”
Instead of answering right away, Logan tucked her arm in
his and walked her around the fringes of the large room. Ornate
furnishings, beautiful flocked wallpaper, and high ceilings lent
the room an air of elegance not found in modern homes. Not
yet comfortable with the hoop skirts she wore, Mica feared
she would break something, for bric-a-brac sat everywhere—
on pedestals, shelves on the walls, and even the backs of the
sofas contained varying sizes of fragile figurines.
While decorated in what she realized must be the current
trend, she much preferred Indigo Bay’s more simple style, and
the uncluttered look maintained throughout Logan’s home.
Logan’s soft voice near her ear brought her back to the
subject at hand. “Why would I tell them you are visiting an
aunt, instead of announcing you are staying with me
unchaperoned? Somehow, I doubt you are that naive.”
About the 1850’s, I am, she longed to say in answer to his
mocking comment.
“Look around you,” he continued. “There is a great need
in our society to appear proper. Strict rules of etiquette give
them all a feeling of order and control. Some of our generation
still cannot grasp the changes that are occurring, with the new
inventions and all, so they try to hide their insecurities behind
a moral facade.”
“You mean they’re really not so righteous?”
He grinned and whispered. “I can give you names. Or better
yet, you try to guess which ones are a step or two below
sainthood. For every one you miss, you owe me a kiss.”
Ever the dangerous male animal, his breath was hot against
her neck. Mica’s blood heated, and soon her heart pounded
twice as fast as usual. Still, she decided to play his game.
“And what if I guess correctly? What do I win?”
“In that case, I owe you a kiss.” His smile so dazzled her
that it only occurred to her later in the evening that their bet
was one-sided.
The party had been planned as a simple get-together, so
guests were free to mingle and visit instead of sitting to be
entertained by a pianist or singer. Mica laughed at the stories
told her about Logan in his youth. She enjoyed the people she
met—politician John Greenwood and his wife, Elizabeth, the
Applegates, and of course, the Cavanaughs.
Nicholas Westfall, an attorney in Cameron, intrigued her.
She tried repeatedly to engage him in conversation regarding
the law, if only to find out how far statutes had progressed to
this point. Every time she initiated a conversation, however,
he would either change the subject or speak directly to Logan,
as though she were not there.
She came to realize Logan was unique in his regard for
women. He actually conversed with her and he listened closely
to her responses. Most of the men here, from what she could
gather, felt women were frivolous attachments to be used for
social status. How sad for the women, she thought, and how
sad that the men didn’t realize what they were missing.
She finally left the circle of men and wandered about the
room, letting the atmosphere soak into her like the champagne
she drank. As she did, conversations flowed around her. From
the snatches she overheard, she realized her earlier nervousness
had been unnecessary. Socializing in this century varied little
from the twenty-first century country club set. Women gossiped
about children, fashion, decorating and the latest scandal. The
gentlemen’s conversations focused on business, money and
politics. She had to smile, for each was intent on besting the
other’s story.
She leaned down to place her empty glass on a side table
when she had the eerie feeling someone watched her. Her gaze
quickly scanned the room, and she saw him. Standing off by
himself, his handsome features distorted by the sulky droop of
his mouth and his hard green eyes, Neil Seaton glared at her.
They hadn’t been properly introduced, but she recognized him
from the day he’d knocked her off her feet as he’d stormed out
of Logan’s library.
He looked as though he wanted her dead, and she had no
idea why. Perhaps he thought she would interrupt his dealings
with Logan. Hoping she could say something to help mend the
feelings between Logan and his stepbrother, she moved in his
direction, but a hand on her elbow stopped her.
“Ready to eat?” Logan had come to claim her for a late
supper, and when he didn’t mention seeing Neil, she decided
she wouldn’t bring it up.
“Thomas, come sit by us.” The greeting came from Mr.
Applegate, and Mica was surprised when Logan pulled her in
his direction. She could not contain her astonishment when the
man repeated the name and Logan responded.
“Thomas, good to see you back. My condolences on your
mother’s death. Both she and your father were good friends of
ours.”
“I appreciate your concern, William,” Logan answered.
He held a chair out for Mica, and she all but fell into it.
William had apparently misplaced his wife, Susan, and he
hurried off to locate her, giving Mica
the time she needed.
“Who the hell is Thomas?”
“Tsk, such language,” he said with a grin and she blushed.
“My father’s name was Thomas Logan Rutledge, and I’m
named after him. In order to avoid confusion, I asked to be
called Logan. All my friends refer to me as such.” He glanced
in William’s direction. The latter now had a short, plump woman
in tow. “Some of Father’s friends still refer to me as Thomas,
or Thomas Junior.” He wrinkled his nose in apparent distaste.
Mica felt faint. A memory swirled in her head that was too
incredible to believe. Again, as her aunt lay dying, she heard
her –say, “Thomas needs you—go to him. You’re the only one
who can save him. Thomas can make you happy.”
Because of her aunt’s bequest, she had come to Sea Crest
and found Logan, whose name was actually Thomas. Was
Logan the Thomas she’d been referring to?
“Are you all right? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
Logan leaned toward her, his hand touching her knee beneath
the tablecloth.
Mica wanted to laugh at his choice of words, but the arrival
of the Applegates, and the serving of the meal, saved her from
having to make a response. She sat in numbed silence through
most of the courses, telling herself that it had to be a
coincidence.
She managed to answer questions and commented in turn
on the delicious food, though she couldn’t have told anyone
what she ate. She couldn’t initiate a conversation, however,
and wanted nothing more than to get Logan alone and question
him further.
Following the meal, the women retired to the sitting room
while the men smoked their cigars and enjoyed their drinks.
When they joined the ladies again, Judith Cavanaugh organized
several tables of cards. Logan asked Mica if she played, and
when she shook her head, he suggested a walk in the gardens
while the others engaged in the games.
“You were exceedingly quiet during supper, and your color
appears quite pale. Are you sure you feel all right?” Logan
asked, voicing his concern as he strolled beside her.
“May we sit?” Mica asked, pausing beside a stone bench.
At Logan’s nod, she arranged her full skirts so she could be
comfortable. He remained standing, one foot propped on the
bench and his arm across his knee, his gaze intent on her face.
During their meal, Mica had sorted and discarded several
options with regard to his real name. Now, she wondered how
to broach the subject of her aunt without triggering too many
questions in his mind. Perhaps it would be better not to say
anything at all.
“You have a question.” When she glanced up at him, he
said, “Don’t look so surprised. Your beautiful face is very
easy to read.”
His comment caused a flush to creep up her neck. She
shifted her gaze away from his, afraid he would read things
better not known. “It’s just that...my aunt mentioned someone
named Thomas once.”
“Perhaps she meant my father. They would be closer in
age, I would think.” His gaze never left her, but Mica could
tell he reflected on her question. “Now that you have made me
think on it, I do recall Aunt Margaret speaking of a friend of
hers, but the name was only Theo.”
Mica leaned forward. “I called her Theo, though she always
said she preferred Theodora Josephine. May I speak to your
Aunt Margaret?” It didn’t seem possible that two women from
different centuries would have known each other, but Mica
was living proof that strange things did happen at Sea Crest.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. My aunt died several
years ago.”
Mica hung her head in defeat. She didn’t honestly know
what she had hoped for. Perhaps she wanted to find some small
piece of evidence to explain why she had been allowed to come
here.
Logan turned and sat beside her, his arm curving around
her shoulders and pulling her close. “Why would you want to
dig up old ghosts? I can think of better ways to occupy your
time.”
The instant his lips grazed hers, Mica forgot everything
and reveled in the taste of him. The heat from his kiss sizzled
in the already sultry night as her arms circled his neck to pull
him closer.
“Hold me. Touch me.” She didn’t realize she had begged
until she heard him groan low in his throat. He kissed a feverish
path down her throat to where her breasts pushed up against
the fabric of her dress. She ached to have him closer—longed
for nothing to be between them except the heat she felt in his
touch.
She slid her hands down the inside of his coat, searching
for the buttons of his shirt. Her hands trembled trying to undo
the tiny studs even as his own hand slipped into her bodice to
capture her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple to a tight peak.
“Heaven help me, I want you in the worst way,” he rasped
against her ear, and she leaned into his hand.
Unable to work his buttons open, she quit her attempt and
slid her hand down his chest to his waist, then lower to caress
the bulge in his trousers. He jerked, grabbing her wrist and
bringing it to his lips where he planted a heated kiss to her
“Woman, you will have me embarrassing myself in an
instant, if you don’t quit.” Though he said the words, the passion
in his voice and his heated gaze told Mica that he didn’t want
her to quit.
“Take me home, Logan.” A request—a command—and
they both knew it meant much more than a simple ride back to
Indigo Bay.
Logan had wanted Michaela for so long he wasn’t about
to ignore her request. He made their excuses as rapidly as
possible, keeping her in front of him to hide his arousal as they
bid good night to Judith and Gray. The instant he lifted Michaela
into the buggy and climbed in next to her, she picked up where
she had left off by sliding her hand up the inside of his thigh.
His hands trembled as he tried to control the horses and set
them a course for home, but Michaela made it impossible for
him to concentrate.
Holding the reins with one hand, he slid his free hand
around the back of her neck and pulled her close. He turned to
kiss her smiling lips with a hunger he had never felt before.
“You are a she-devil.” Though he longed to do otherwise,
he returned his gaze to the road, steering the horses around the
last curve before they came to the causeway leading to Indigo
Bay. “Now behave yourself, or you will cause me to drive my
horses right off the road and into the water.”
The moon caught a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, and
before he could stop her, she had slipped her hand between the
buttons on his shirt to touch his bare chest. A lightning bolt of
heat sizzled through him, and the pleasure-pain throbbing in
his groin intensified as he
savored her caress.
With more control than he thought he had left, he urged
the horses to a trot, hoping he could last long enough to get
them to the house. He misjudged his control—badly—for when
Michaela leaned over and tickled his ear with her tongue, he
thought he would explode.
“Whoa!” He jerked on the reins, bringing the horses to a
swift stop the instant they crossed the causeway. In one
movement, he jumped clear of the buggy and turned around,
grabbing Michaela by the waist and lifting her clear of the
wheels.
“Logan, what in the world...” Her question hung in the air
between them as his long strides took them away from the road.
He stopped beneath a small stand of trees that fringed the
edge of the bank, their leafy shadows hiding the two of them in
the night. Logan allowed her legs to slide to the ground but
kept his arms around her to pull her against him.
His heart pounded rapidly, and he wondered at his ability
to still speak. “Never in my life have I allowed anyone to control
me. Never—until now.” He tilted her head, his mouth crushing
hers in a hungry kiss. When her lips parted to his questing
tongue, the passion she had ignited swept through him.
Mica felt an urgent ache deep inside and knew only Logan
could appease it—had known long before they almost let
themselves go in the Cavanaugh’s garden. And even while she
recognized the danger of depending on this man for her
happiness—to care for him far more than she logically should—
she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to
him.
“Logan, I want...” His kisses drove her wild, and he
wouldn’t stop long enough for her to speak.
“Shh, my love, don’t waste your breath speaking. Show
me what you want.” As he spoke, he nibbled his way to her
ear, his breath warm and erotic against her skin. He bent his
knees and pulled her with him until they sprawled on the soft
grass, clinging to each other.
Mica jerked his shirt out of his trousers as his hand slid up
her leg beneath her skirt. Her hands were a wild frenzy of
motion as she tore at the shirt’s buttons. His touch left her
trembling, and she couldn’t get close enough to him. She
moaned when his lips left hers to trace a path of fire down her