a cruel joke!” Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t
care. She had trusted him, kissed him, and look what it had
gotten her.
“Michaela! What’s wrong with you? Why do you keep
running away from me?”
She could see the confusion sketched in his scowling
features, feel his concern when his whiskey-colored gaze met
hers. His voice bordered on panic. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted
to hurt her, but he had still been party to the joke.
“You blew it, Logan!” She shouted her outrage at his
betrayal. “I may have let you sucker me into a few kisses, but
you went too far tonight.” At his look of further confusion, she
continued to yell. “George Bush is President, and there is no
way your dad could have fought in a war that took place over
a...”
His look of astonishment made her stop. She gazed beyond
him to the sandy stretch of beach. There were no clusters of
bright-colored beach umbrellas stuck in the sand, ready to be
rented the following morning. For as far as she could see, there
was not one piece of litter scattered anywhere on the pristine
sand.
She turned tear-filled eyes back to Logan, who had
remained at her side even as she ranted and pounded on him
with her fists. His eyes were full of sympathy, as though he
understood her loss, even if he didn’t realize what caused it.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Where am I?”
With hands once again gentle, Logan turned her away from
the ocean. He wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her
back against his chest. He fanned the other one out in front of
them to encompass the entire island.
“Look before you. All that you see is Indigo Bay—my
plantation—my island. It has been worked by my father, and
his father before him.” With a work-callused hand, he brushed
her hair back from her face. She blinked several times before
her eyes cleared enough to see what Logan saw.
She gasped. There were no lights up and down the length
of shoreline, no privacy fences stretching to the edge of the
sand to ensure each owner’s territorial rights. Only the soft
glow from several illuminated windows in one enormous house
broke the darkness. She listened intently. Where was the traffic
noise, so constant even from across the bay? Where was the
odd odor so often prevalent because of the clogged bay and
stagnant waters?
She shivered, and Logan’s arms came around her to ward
off the chill. But he couldn’t remove the deep-down cold that
had nothing to do with the breeze blowing into shore. This
time, she didn’t fight his hold, because he seemed the only
solid thing in a world suddenly gone topsy-turvy.
She tipped her head back until it rested on his shoulder.
She recalled other things that hadn’t made sense from the
beginning—things her mind had blanked out because of her
fascination with Logan. Antiques that looked new. Mint
condition law books that were, in fact, new. A house that had
no air-conditioning and no electricity. And most important of
all, a man who had the manners and gallantry of a gentleman
from the antebellum South.
How could this have happened to her? She turned her head
to rub her cheek against the soft linen of Logan’s shirt,
convinced that if she was having some crazy dream, at least he
had been a nice part of that craziness.
Still, before she woke herself up, she had to ask, “Logan,
when did Millard Fillmore become President?” His arms
tightened around her shoulders as though he were afraid his
answer would send her away from him again. “Please. It’s
important.” She felt his sigh against her neck, his breath warm
and real.
“Zachary Taylor was elected two years ago. When he died
this past July, Vice-president Fillmore became the new
President.”
“What year, Logan?” Mica tightened her grip on his arms
to anchor herself for the rest of his response. Even so, nothing
could prepare her for the instant vertigo she experienced, nor
the sudden black void that opened up and swallowed her at his
answer.
“1850.”
Four
Soft voices woke Mica. She felt a gentle hand brush hair
off her forehead. The touch stirred such pleasant feelings inside
her, she refrained from opening her eyes for fear it would stop.
When she could delay the inevitable no longer, she opened
her eyes and focused her gaze on Logan, his face etched with
concern. He noticed her open eyes, but he didn’t stop the
wonderful caresses along her forehead and down the side of
her neck. If anything, he increased the pressure of his hand as
it stoked the front of her shoulders and down one arm. She
sighed in contentment and allowed her eyes to drift closed again.
“Michaela? Don’t try to sleep again, at least not yet. The
doctor said when you woke, we were to keep you awake for
awhile.” As his warm breath grazed her cheek, she felt his
hand tremble and heard the worry in his voice.
“You were worried about me?” She shifted her gaze to his
glittering brown eyes. She had been self-sufficient for too long.
She had always done the worrying, and she doubted anyone
except her mother ever worried about her.
“Of course I am. Did you think I wouldn’t be? You fainted
on the beach. After I brought you back to the house, I
immediately sent for the doctor. He, by the way, wondered if I
had fetched a mermaid from the sea.”
His smile, tender yet teasing, caused Mica to flush with
heat. A heat that spread like warm sunshine down her neck,
across her breasts and belly to pool very low in her anatomy.
To cover the blush she knew stained her cheeks, she glanced
around the room. “This is your room.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It was the first bed I came
to.” His smile grew wider. “I’ve wanted you in my bed from
the first, though I would have preferred it under different
circumstances.”
His head lowered towards her, and though Mica realized
he meant to kiss her, she felt no panic. She knew he was a
gentleman—a gentleman from 1850! That thought came
crashing in on her, squeezing her chest and creating a pain at
the base of her skull.
“Ahem. Here is the tea you requested.” A woman’s voice
from the doorway interrupted her panicked thoughts, but
increased Mica’s headache. Logan placed another pillow behind
her, then took the tea tray from a petite gray-haired woman
with a cheery smile.
“Thank you, Mattie. Oh, Michaela Marie, this is Matilda
Brown, my housekeeper, but we call her Mattie. I feel I should
introduce you—since you’re not her cousin.” A tease had
entered his voice, but Mica felt only a cold, black helplessness
swirl around her.
“I know that.”
He frowned at her tone, and Mica regretted her surly answer.
&
nbsp; The blackness closed in on her, and Mica welcomed it to avoid
making up lies. Or worse yet, trying to make Logan understand
the truth. Just when the blackness would have swallowed her
completely, Logan’s soft voice beckoned her back.
“Michaela Marie, don’t run away from me again. Nothing
can be so bad that you must hide away.”
“You don’t know any such thing.” She refused to leave the
soothing blackness behind her closed eyes, but she couldn’t
deny him some kind of an answer.
“You are right. I don’t.” He chuckled, but his next words
were quite serious. “I will not ask you for answers, Michaela.
I can only hope that, in time, you’ll become comfortable enough
to share yourself with me without my asking.”
“Time?” Mica’s eyes popped open. Her gaze flickered to
the lamp on the bedside table that cast wavering shadows
against the pale walls. “What time is it?” She tried to rise from
the bed, but Logan pushed her back down.
“It is still the middle of the night, and you are not going
anywhere.” At her look of panic, he softened his tone. “If I
have to stay here all night, you’ll lie there and rest.”
“But you don’t understand. I can’t stay,” she whimpered.
She had no idea what would happen if she remained on his
side of Sea Crest. Would the key work the next time she tried
to return home?
Logan studied her for a long moment, and Mica felt
uncomfortable beneath his stare. At last he let out a sigh as he
took one of her hands between his two warm ones.
He spoke softly, his voice comforting even as he said, “I
said I wouldn’t question you, but I fear I must ask one after
all.”
Mica held her breath. She knew she couldn’t lie, and the
chances of again evading the truth were slim.
“Do you trust me?”
“What?” she asked, blinking in surprise.
“Do you trust me?”
She lifted her gaze to his. His dark brown eyes drew her.
In their depths she saw warmth and caring. She didn’t know
enough about this man to fill a thimble, but her heart gave her
the answer to his question.
“Yes, I believe I do.”
His audible sigh made her realize he hadn’t been as sure of
himself as she had thought, and that endeared him to her all the
more.
“Then trust me to know what’s good for you, and that
includes staying here with me.” At her immediate sound of
protest, he gently put a finger to her lips. “Wait. I will make no
demands on you. Let me show you my island. Let me share its
beauty and its secrets with you. Learn who I am. I promise
you’ll not regret it.”
Mica could never recall an offer quite like his. She gazed
at him. He wore an earnest, little-boy expression, and she felt
honored that her answer could mean so much to anyone.
She briefly thought of her parents and the argument they
had before she left—the control they wished to exert over her
life. Her mother had also mentioned Richard would be paying
her a visit and she really didn’t want to see him.
Then Professor Bigley’s words echoed in her mind, asking
if she feared a little adventure. She allowed herself a smile at
that, for she doubted the Professor quite had this in mind. Logan
returned her smile, and she thought, Why not?
If she were very careful, he would never know where she
came from, and when the time came, she could leave and have
no regrets. She fumbled along the side of her skirt until she felt
the hard metal key in her pocket. The solid weight of it gave
her the confidence to stay, because she knew she could not
deny him, or herself, the chance he offered.
“I have no clothes.” Her protest lacked conviction.
“I’ll send someone over to Sea Crest to fetch what you
need.”
“No!” She realized her error when surprise etched his
features, then a brow arched in question. She faltered as she
tried to think of a plausible excuse.
“It wouldn’t be...my staying here wouldn’t be proper, would
it?” She could only hope he accepted that.
“Ah, you’re right about that. Hmm...”
“I’ll write a note, asking for some things to be delivered
to…” she paused, not knowing if the same towns existed in
this time as in her own.
“Cameron. To the Belleview Hotel,” Logan said,
completing her sentence.
Oh gracious! Aunt Theo’s hospital used to be that hotel.
Well, at least the town existed, which would make it less likely
she would make grievous mistakes in geography.
Of course, her note could never be sent, so she’d have to
come up with some other way to obtain clothes. She sank back
on the pillow, the headache she had tried to ignore blocking
her ability to think anymore.
Logan lightly touched her forehead with warm fingers,
brushing the hair from her eyes as he graced her with a smile.
“Rest now, and we’ll talk more later.”
He rose from the edge of the bed, and panic assailed Mica.
“Don’t leave me!”
No matter what her decision to stay in this unknown world,
she felt safe only because of Logan’s real and solid presence.
He was a force she hadn’t reckoned with, but now depended
on.
leave you, Michaela Marie, but you have to rest.” At the look
of panic she knew remained in place, he sighed and resumed
his seat on the side of the bed. “All right, I’ll stay until you
sleep.”
She reached out and linked her fingers with his. As she
drifted off to sleep, wrapped in a feeling of security and warmth,
she had the impression her very own guardian angel kept watch
over her.
***
Logan had never felt this way before. As he sat beside her,
their fingers entwined, all his gentlemanly instincts rushed
forward and squeezed around his heart. He wanted to protect
her from whatever fears she had and solve all her problems.
He longed to be her escort around town and show her off, and
yet a selfish inner voice told him to keep her entirely to himself.
She had the look of a sophisticate, and he calculated she
had to be past the age of twenty to have inherited her aunt’s
estate. Besides, most young women weren’t allowed to travel
unattended. Even so, she appeared very young and vulnerable
lying there in his large bed.
He pondered the mystery surrounding her sudden
appearance. Even if he overlooked that, it fell beyond his realm
of experience to understand why a look from her could cause
his heart to pound and his blood to rush. And her kisses—
never had such quicksilver heat consumed him.
He glanced out into the dark night, but within seconds his
gaze again rested on the sleeping beauty. She had been
frightened that he would leave her and confused about her
surroundings. Those feelings made h
im want to keep her safe
and protected. Every man wanted to feel like a knight in shining
armor, he thought, grinning to himself.
He gently brushed a thumb across her lips, parted slightly
in sleep, and felt her warm breath against his skin. Heat coiled
deep inside, and his hand trembled as he stroked her smooth
cheek.
He thanked the good Lord who saw fit to send him his
own damsel in distress. He only hoped he had the patience not
to push her too fast, for he didn’t want her to run away again.
He thought to move her to a separate room, for his physical
arousal created an ache he knew could be appeased if he crawled
into bed with her. Damn, it would be hard not to seduce this
luscious, dark-haired beauty who had trusted him enough to
fall peacefully asleep in his bed.
Trust. Because of that honorable word, Logan spent a
restless night in the chair beside Michaela.
He jerked awkwardly when Simon shook his shoulder early
the next morning. Stretching the kinks from his lower back, he
only half listened as the butler informed him Neil waited in the
downstairs study. While he cursed the untimely interruption,
the situation between him and his wayward stepbrother needed
to be settled. Logan did not want to it put off.
He gently tucked the covers over Michaela Marie,
chuckling to himself, for he could not remember a time where
he had offered a woman his bed without him being in it. He
would ask Mattie to ready another room for Michaela to use
during her visit. If the time became right to make love to her,
the distance between bedroom doors would be of little
consequence.
Having cheered himself with those thoughts and a splash
of cold water to his face, he walked out the door to take care of
the business at hand.
“Have Lana bring some coffee as soon as possible,” he
instructed Simon as the butler opened the door of the study for
him. The click of the closing door resounded in the silence as
Logan faced Neil.
“Good morning.” His brother did not acknowledge the
greeting, but kept his head bent over some papers on Logan’s
desk. Logan shook his head in despair. Neil just would not let
go and kept trying to find some piece—
“I didn’t burn your goddamned field, Logan, yet you’ve