need in me too great to take slowly.”
He unbuttoned his shirt, jerking it from his pants. The warm
rain caressed his skin, but when she stepped close to rub her
breasts against his chest, he knew steam rose in their wake.
“There are no losers. In this, we both win.” Her lips, wet
and hot, touched his. They needed no words, for a flood of
desire shook them even as the thunder shook the heavens.
Michaela’s fingers threaded through his hair as she kissed
him, and Logan sensed her desperation. Wanting to prolong
their passion, but unable to withstand the hunger, he fumbled
with the buttons on his trousers, jerking the wet fabric open.
Bunching Michaela’s skirts up around her waist, he found the
hot, moist center of her, unimpeded by undergarments. One
touch told him she was more than ready. He slid his hands over
her bare buttocks as she kissed a fiery path across his jaw and
down his neck.
“It is your fault I’ve lost my control and forgotten all my
manners, but we will discuss it later.” With total abandon,
leaning against a tree in the rain, Logan lifted her hips to his
and thrust upward.
“Logan,” she cried against his neck, biting him in her
passion. She then arched back, legs clutching his waist as his
hands supported her weight against him. Unleashed passion
consumed him as her body clutched around his. He bent to
capture her slick breast in his mouth, the contact inciting a
frenzied reaction.
“More, please, I beg you,” she cried.
Her hips arching against his punctuated each word as she
created a whirlpool that pulled him deeper and deeper into her
depths. Her eyes widened, her face glorious as passion swept
through her. Her release triggered his own explosive climax.
“Love me, Logan, as though there were no tomorrows.
There’s only now—this fragment of time we’ve been granted.”
In that moment of his deepest need, he couldn’t discern
whether the moisture shimmering in her blue eyes was
raindrops, or tears.
Eleven
Drenched to the bone and exhausted, Mica and Logan
sneaked into the house just as the clock struck midnight. Logan
insisted she dry off and crawl beneath the warm covers. He
promised to return to her later.
“There are business matters I must see to before market
day.” He sat on the edge of her bed, bending to place a gentle
kiss on her lips.
Mica wanted him to stay, and almost begged him. But she
bit back the words. In a few short days, she would be gone,
and Logan would have to conduct business and provide for his
people. She had no right to claim his time, no matter how she
ached to keep him with her throughout the night.
He smiled mischievously. “Though my business intentions
were good prior to dinner, it seems I became slightly distracted.”
“Only slightly?” Mica teased.
His warm lips trailed a breathless path up her cheek to her
ear. “Your wanton behavior will keep my dreams warm through
the coldest night.”
“That’s better,” she replied, willing to let him have the
advantage.
It seemed Logan had other ideas, though, and continued to
test her limits. “The next time we need rain, I would prefer you
dance completely naked, for surely the rain god could be no
less pleased with your luscious form than I. The way the rain
caressed your bare breasts, and the taste of it on your skin—”
Mica clamped a hand over his mouth, but couldn’t conceal
his laughing eyes.
When she removed her hand from his mouth, he said,
“Never fear. In just a short while I shall return to make sure
you’re completely dry.”
Mica couldn’t see him leave through the mist of unshed
tears. The instant the door closed behind him, she burst into
sobs, stuffing the corner of the pillow into her mouth to muffle
the sound. But nothing could stop her heart from breaking.
“Aunt Theo, I will never forgive you.”
Although she cursed her dear aunt soundly, she knew the
Katie’s foolish idea that she might find the man of her dreams
at Sea Crest. Now, within a matter of days, she would have to
give up that dream to pursue her life—her responsibility-filled,
dull life.
***
Much later, as the moon broke the cloud cover to wash
across the bed with silvery light, Logan watched Michaela
sleep. Her pale face, streaked with dried tears, tore at his heart.
A moonbeam glinted off the key that lay on the table beside
the bed. Again he considered insuring she remained by his side,
but he knew the choice must be hers.
He shrugged out of his clothes and slid into bed, pulling
her tight against his heart. If his love couldn’t bind her to him,
he would be lost forever. He didn’t even know how much time
they had left. She had never said, and he feared asking.
It was like stumbling across your own marker in a
graveyard. Your name and birth were clearly written. The only
fact lacking was the date on which you ceased to exist. Logan
was positive his heart and soul would leave with Michaela.
“Trust in the Lord,” his mother had always told him, even
on the heart-wrenching day of his father’s funeral. Somehow,
Logan didn’t think the Almighty had planned on Michaela
Marie finding a breach in His grand scheme of things.
He thought of waking her and making love to her again to
prove she belonged with him. Although he realized she already
knew of his love and returned it wholeheartedly, he feared it
wouldn’t be enough in the end.
The night passed, but Logan didn’t sleep. The moon
disappeared from view and cast the room in total darkness.
Still he held her close, memorizing her face, caressing the silk
texture of her dark hair. He recalled how she’d tuck it behind
her ear, not even aware of the endearing gesture. Though her
eyes were closed, he could visualize their vivid blue twinkling
at him in laughter as she teased him, or turning dark with passion
as she loved him.
“I love you so much,” he whispered against her hair.
“I know,” she answered, her voice sleepy, as she turned in
his arms. Her warm, naked body slid against his with perfection.
“And I will love you until my dying day. My heart will remain
here with you always, even when—”
“Don’t!” Logan refused to allow her to say the hurtful
words out loud. With unerring precision, he molded his lips to
hers.
He worshipped her body, kissing every part of her, bringing
her to a crest of passion. Only when she sobbed his name in
her ecstasy did he enter her, driving deep to mesh their bodies
into one. Hoping to get her with child, if that were the only
way to bind her to him, he climaxed, hot and throbbing and
wanting still more of her.
He collapsed against her, t
ucking his face into the curve of
her neck, nibbling at her skin.
“Dear Lord, what’s to become of us?” Her ragged sob
reached him over the pounding of their hearts.
Rolling to his side, he hugged her close. Though he had no
answer for the fear she voiced, he somehow needed to reassure
her. “Shh, sweet one. It’ll be all right, I promise you.” The
salty taste of her tears left a bitter ache in his heart.
A tentative knock at the door jerked Logan upright. When
he didn’t answer right away, the knocking became insistent.
“Mister Logan, you in there?”
Logan recognized Ezra’s voice and scrambled to pull on
still-damp trousers. Ezra never came into the main house, much
less to interrupt Logan in the middle of the night. He fumbled
for his watch. Dawn was two hours away. Dread washed over
him.
“What is it, Ezra?” he questioned, throwing the door open.
He quickly glanced back at the bed, hoping Michaela was
covered, but at the moment not concerned about the propriety
of his being in her bedroom.
Ezra stood twisting his hat in his hands and shuffling from
one foot to the other. “They done it again, Mister Logan. Bad
this time.”
“Done what—did what?” Logan stomped into his boots as
he spoke.
“It’s bad.” The old black man hung his head in sorrow.
“We had a guard posted, like you said, but Henry found Arthur
with a knot on his noggin’ when he went out to take his place.
Arthur come ‘round, but don’t recall nothing and nobody, it
being dark and all.”
“Ezra, get to the point. What happened?” Logan cared about
Arthur, but since it appeared the man was all right, he needed
to know what new disaster had struck.
“The indigo, Mister Logan. It all been smashed to pieces.”
Ezra almost cried as he spoke the words.
“Oh, God,” Logan moaned, racing down the hall and
forgetting all else in his hurry.
***
Mica squirmed restlessly on the bed as Logan spoke with
Ezra. Unable to get dressed with the door wide open and the
foreman in view, she waited in agitation until Logan raced away.
Now, as she tore through her clothes to locate a skirt and
top, she prayed the damage wasn’t as bad as Ezra had indicated.
Poor Logan! All his hard work—all the loving care he took
with his plantation—only to have someone destroy it.
The entire household was astir by the time Mica flew down
the stairs. Mattie, in nightcap and robe, lit lanterns as her
husband, Simon, struggled to hitch up his suspenders. Lana
and Annie stood nervously twisting their hands.
“Hurry, Simon,” Mica called over her shoulder, grabbing
a lantern as she raced out the door. The instant she stepped
onto the drive, she began to curse. She’d forgotten to put on
shoes. After hopping her way across the crushed shell, she ran
through the grass at the side of the drive.
When she rounded the bend, it became immediately
apparent exactly where disaster had struck. The drying shed
glowed with the light of a dozen lanterns, and dark shadows
were racing back and forth past the windows. From this
distance, she couldn’t see Logan, but knew he’d be right in the
middle of everything.
Mica gasped upon entering the shed. Tray after tray of dye
cakes were upended, the indigo smashed on the floor or lying
crumbled on broken racks. The air, thick with a blue haze,
choked her when she tried to breathe.
Logan’s workers were silent as they worked to set the shed
to rights. Even as they worked, Mica saw their gazes shift
continuously to the man who stood in the middle of it all.
Dear Lord, it’s so unfair, she silently cried as she watched
Logan survey the damage. He’d been so proud of his
accomplishments earlier that night, and now his shoulders
slumped in defeat. Tears filled her eyes as he bent to pick up
one of the larger pieces lying at his feet, only to crumble it in
his fist.
A small cry escaped her when his gaze caught hers across
the room. His eyes, usually so full of laughter and life, now
appeared sunken and hollow with despair. He looked at her,
yet Mica doubted he saw her at all.
She reached a hand out in supplication, but he ignored the
gesture. His face, contorted with tightly controlled rage, was
unfamiliar to her. Mica, fearing for him if he released his anger
on some unsuspecting person, walked slowly towards him. The
others backed away when they caught sight of Logan, but Mica
didn’t fear for herself. If she had learned anything at all in her
time at Indigo Bay, it was that Logan was a gentle man, not
prone to violence. Even to the extent to which this catastrophe
had pushed him, she knew he wouldn’t harm her.
“Damn them to everlasting hell!”
Mica jumped at his bellowed expletive, but she stood her
ground even as he hurled a clump of indigo against a far wall.
The solid thunk seemed enough to break him from his stupor,
and he began storming up and down each aisle.
“Logan, what are you looking for?” She had to get him to
talk. If he didn’t, he would surely explode even more.
“Evidence! Proof! Anything to tell me who wanted so
desperately to destroy me that he would destroy the entire
island!”
He picked up a cake of dye, but apparently found some
flaw for he carelessly tossed it back into the pile on the tray.
Mica followed him as he wandered aimlessly back and forth.
“You can’t find anything in the dark,” Mica protested, even
as she scoured the edge of a tray for fingerprints. She realized
that would do Logan little good since fingerprint identification
had yet to be invented. “There isn’t enough light to see
anything.”
She touched his shoulder, her voice gentle. “Come back to
the house, Logan. It may not look so terrible in the morning.”
He turned on her, eyes flashing fire as he shrugged off her
touch. “That’s easy enough for you to say. You can go back to
your nice, safe life and forget about us. I have to find a way to
put food on the table and clothes on the backs of these people.
I have responsibilities.”
Devastated, Mica’s mouth dropped open as Logan ranted
at her, then spun on his heel and stormed outside. She watched
his rigid back until he became swallowed by the night. He had
responsibilities—like she didn’t know what the word meant!
Mica started to yell out to him, but she held her silence as she
once again surveyed the insurmountable damage.
Logan had every right to be angry—furious, in fact. She
had been an available target for that anger, and she really
couldn’t blame him for lashing out. If a disaster of such
proportions had happened to her, she probably wouldn’t have
been as nice about it.
As she reflected on what he had said, she thought of a way
to help him. She hurried
down the aisle to the door, anxious to
explain her plan.
Mica found Logan leaning against a tree—their tree—his
head bent, his shoulders slumped, and his hands stuffed into
his pockets.
Although he didn’t look up at her approach, he
acknowledged her presence by saying, “I apologize for my
behavior just now. I had no right to take my anger out on you.”
His voice cracked, and Mica realized how hard it was for
him. Not the apology, but the feeling that he somehow had
failed to live up to his obligations.
“Oh, Logan, this is not your fault. No one could have
predicted something like this might happen. We just have to
make it right.” She allowed a small amount of enthusiasm to
enter her voice as her idea took concrete form in her head.
“I’ve come up with a plan.”
At least he raised his head to look at her, and she hurried
on, hoping he wouldn’t take offense at her offer. “I can help. I
have loads of money, and quite a few stocks that can be cashed
in and...” His look stopped her in mid-sentence.
“Loads of money? And how will that help me? We’ve
already discovered that some things don’t travel through time
very well.” He held his hands up in a gesture that encompassed
himself. It was the first time he had actually admitted what had
happened to them.
Before Mica could respond, he added, “Have the notes of
currency not changed over time? If so, they won’t come back
to my time. And even if they did, the dates on your money
alone would make them nonnegotiable.”
Mica sighed. He was right. Even if she could bring
truckloads of money back, his bank would consider it some
kind of hoax.
Logan pushed away from the tree, stuffing his hands once
more into his pockets. He turned away from her, staring back
at the drying shed, where lights still flickered as workers tried
to clean up the mess.
She tucked her arm through his, resting her head on his
shoulder. This time, he didn’t shrug her away, and Mica was
glad she could offer him this comfort, at least.
“This plantation is my life. It’s not just pride in producing
a product for which the world clamors. It’s knowing I can take
care of the people who depend on me.”
“Didn’t you say there would be another harvest?” Mica