Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt Read online

  old Southern family, you know, and we do have our traditions

  to uphold.”

  “I understand. As long as you’re here,” Mica saw the smile

  fade from the woman’s face and rushed to reassure her, “I fully

  intend for you to continue in your current position—you and

  all the staff. You may tell them as much. I wouldn’t dream of

  changing anything about Sea Crest.”

  Apparent relief brought the smile back to the woman’s face.

  “I know you’re busy,” Mica continued, “but would you

  have time to show me around? I haven’t visited in a while, and

  then I spent most of my time here with Aunt Theo. I want to

  familiarize myself with the rest of the inn.”

  “It would be my pleasure to show off Sea Crest to its new

  owner, but would the morning be soon enough? We have guests

  arriving and leaving today.”

  “Of course. Tomorrow will be fine.” Mica nodded

  agreement, and Anna left to prepare for the new arrivals.

  Mica unpacked her things and stored the bags under the

  bed before opening the doors to the patio and gardens. She

  bent to pinch dead leaves from a rosebush and realized the

  plants and flowers weren’t in the best of health. Weeds choked

  out some of the verbena, and unwanted ivy tangled among the

  azaleas.

  Her aunt had refused to hire a gardener, insisting she could

  take better care of her babies than anyone else. Because the

  gardens remained private and not readily accessible to the inn,

  it appeared no one had thought to do anything with them since

  her aunt’s death. Mica made a mental note to remedy that

  situation.

  She sank down on one of the stone benches which

  surrounded the fountain and stared at the granite Cupid standing

  in the center of a small pool. She cocked her head to the side

  and smiled. This Cupid had no little bow and arrows, as the

  original concept of Cupid should have.

  She recalled a story her aunt used to tell. At the time, Mica

  had thought it so romantic. Generations ago, the owner of Sea

  Crest had fallen in love with a mysterious lady and had

  commissioned a statue of Cupid in Charleston. When delivered,

  the workmen accidentally tipped it over on the stones, snapping

  off the hand that held the bow and arrows. The man had been

  very angry, but the lady had told him she loved him truly and

  would not let him have the statue replaced with a new one.

  Mica could still hear her aunt’s voice at the end of the story.

  “The man then told his beloved it made no difference that

  Cupid had no bow and arrows, for his heart had already been

  captured by the most wonderful woman in the world, and his

  love would be hers throughout all time.” Her aunt would sigh,

  then add, “Michaela Marie, someday you’ll find just such a

  man, and Sea Crest will be safe in your hands.”

  Mica now frowned at Cupid. “You and my aunt must have

  crossed signals when it came to me. I sure haven’t met any

  man as handsome, endearing, and romantic as Aunt Theo

  always said were in her time.”

  Feeling foolish talking to a stone statue, Mica left the garden

  to wander through the rest of the inn. As a child visiting her

  aunt, she had loved to hear stories about Sea Crest. In the early

  1800’s, a plantation with acres of crops and flowering gardens

  covered the entire island. During the War Between the States,

  the manor housed soldiers, then the family turned it into a

  boarding house to make ends meet. Eventually, the land around

  the manor house was sold to pay taxes.

  Over the years other beach houses were built, but the island

  still retained much of its primitive atmosphere. She couldn’t

  recall when the house had been converted to a bed & breakfast,

  but it still stood above the rest of the homes in elegance.

  She strolled down a short hallway that opened into the

  community living room where guests could enjoy television, a

  game of chess, or just relax. She smiled, for this room also

  reflected Aunt Theo’s personality. Yellow washed the walls in

  cheery brightness. Floral pictures hung on any available wall

  space, and fragile porcelain bouquets sat atop the mantle. Like

  the rest of the inn, however, the room contained furnishings

  from the 1800’s. Even the television and lights were somewhat

  disguised in period decoration.

  Mica ran her hand over the banister’s natural wood as she

  passed the stairs. A small reception table sat in the shadow of

  the curved stairway. Although the regulations governing bed

  & breakfast inns stipulated a maximum of five guest bedrooms,

  the dining room she entered could easily seat fifty. The smooth,

  polished sideboard offered guests a buffet-style breakfast. A

  huge chandelier had been converted to electricity, but lent the

  room a nostalgic air. After the turn of the twentieth century,

  the kitchen had been built onto the back of the house, whereas

  before it had been a separate structure.

  Mica glanced out the back door to find a light rain falling

  that would prevent her from walking on the beach. She

  shrugged. Long days and nights loomed before her to indulge

  in that delight, so she returned to her apartment to relax for the

  evening.

  ***

  Mica jerked awake, her neck kinked from where her head

  had been cranked lopsided on the couch. The noisy static from

  the television indicated it was well past midnight. She rubbed

  her neck as she stood and picked up her plate and cup from the

  coffee table. What had awakened her? Usually if she fell asleep

  in front of the TV, she slept like the dead until morning.

  Halfway to the kitchen, she froze. Loud male voices floated

  in through the open French doors. While Mica couldn’t discern

  what they said, she could hear the anger. She grabbed a

  flashlight from the kitchen drawer and cautiously slid the screen

  door open and stepped onto the patio flanking the garden.

  She frowned as she held her breath to listen. The yellow

  circle of light waved back and forth as she searched the garden

  for intruders. The voices, though not as loud, were still

  disturbing in their intensity. Where on earth did they come from?

  She tilted her head. Now, it sounded as though the voices

  came from the inn’s second floor. Mica’s exasperation rose as

  she stomped back into her apartment. She would not allow

  anyone to disturb the other guests, and if they couldn’t keep

  the noise down, she would escort them out the door immediately.

  The flashlight fell to the couch as she grabbed the wrapper

  that matched her silk pajamas, tying the belt as she walked

  briskly down the hall and up the stairs. She had no trouble

  finding her way since lights were kept on all night.

  She softened her steps as she moved down the hall, listening

  all the while to the voices. The yelling became loudest when

  she reached a door at the opposite end of the hall from the

  stairway. She pushed aside any guilt for eavesdropping as she
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  put her ear to the heavy wood. Strange, though the voices

  appeared to come from here, the key remained on her side of

  the door, which indicated no guests occupied the room.

  Determined to stop the argument as the volume grew, Mica

  reached down to turn the key and open the door. A tingle shot

  up her arm, crossed her shoulders and settled in her chest to

  constrict her breathing. Sounds much like the surf at high tide

  pounded in her ears and her vision blurred for an instant. She

  jerked her hand from the doorknob as the door swung open to

  reveal not a room but a long corridor.

  Nervous at the thought of invading another person’s

  privacy, but eager to end the commotion, Mica stepped through

  the door. Humid air surrounded her as a warm breeze swept

  down the hall. She thought perhaps this section had been shut

  off for repairs, since apparently the air conditioner didn’t work.

  The hallway appeared to have a design similar to the rest of

  the inn. Plush carpet tickled her bare feet, and the hall contained

  dim lights of the same style. Most of the doors along the corridor

  were closed, and no light filtered beneath them.

  She stepped through the first door she found ajar, expecting

  to confront the unruly people and ask them to keep it down,

  but she found the room empty. She forgot her reason for coming

  upstairs as the glamour of a bygone era wrapped her in warmth

  and welcome. Burnished oak furniture and book-lined shelves

  filled the room.

  The only illumination came from an antique oil lamp on

  the desk, and she reached behind her for a light switch. Not

  immediately finding one, she moved across the room and turned

  up the lamp’s wick, frowning. Anna should not use such a

  dangerous source of light in this corridor. Although lending an

  historical air to the room, if a lamp should tip over—Mica

  shuddered at the thought.

  The books on the far wall captured her attention. When

  she moved to examine them, she released a soft, slow whistle.

  One of Aunt Theo’s ancestors had spared no expense in

  recreating the past, she thought as she pulled a heavy volume

  from the shelf. She caressed the leather-bound tome as she

  read the title, embossed on the rib in gold leaf.

  In her surprise, she nearly dropped the book as she quickly

  glanced up at the other volumes. Law books—all of them —in

  mint condition even though the ribs stated they were South

  Carolina Law Statutes for 1840! She would definitely have to

  ask Anna Harris about this section of the inn.

  ***

  The downstairs clock struck twelve as T. Logan Rutledge

  stood silent and undetected at the doorway to his study. It would

  appear his housekeeper’s newfangled idea of carpet in the

  hallway served more purpose than ordinary comfort for his

  plantation home. The plush covering must have muffled his

  footsteps as he returned to his study.

  Arguing with his stepbrother, Neil, all the way out the front

  door, he had not been quiet as he stormed back upstairs. Now,

  he must deal with another intruder in his home. His anger still

  simmered, and he opened his mouth to castigate her, but for

  some reason the raven-haired beauty’s womanly curves softened

  his anger and turned his blood warm.

  For just an instant, he wondered if this could be another of

  Neil’s tricks. No, his stepbrother had the habit of foreshadowing

  his hand, and Logan never had trouble reading his mind.

  He heard a soft whistle then a gasp as the woman pulled a

  book from the shelf. Thinking she was another of his

  housekeeper’s myriad assortment of cousins and nieces, he felt

  sure she gasped from the weight of the book, since most of the

  lower class could not read. Before he could reprimand her for

  wandering above stairs, she moved towards the desk light and

  he caught a glimpse of long, trim legs through the silk of her

  wrapper. Was he mistaken, or were those trousers she wore

  beneath the calf-length jacket?

  Captivated, he watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind

  one ear. Odd, but he could never recall seeing such a statement

  in contradictions. Here stood a beautiful woman, but with hair

  as short as a man’s and wearing trousers. Still, she was a

  fetching piece, and he thought perhaps he’d take advantage of

  her presence.

  “Excuse me?” He said, coughing discreetly.

  The woman screeched at his simple words and whirled to

  face him, the book clasped against her bosom. Logan’s breath

  caught when she came full into his view, her blue eyes wide

  and her dark brows lifted in an expression of surprise.

  She stood before him wrapped in peach silk, her black

  hair swirling about her face, and her eyes huge. With the light

  now behind her, he could see most of the rest of her slim figure

  beneath the thin covering she wore. What he saw enticed him

  to gamble that she had not been sent by his conniving

  stepbrother, but had ventured from below stairs to visit the

  master of Indigo Bay.

  He stepped further into the room and poured himself a

  brandy from the glass decanter behind his desk. She didn’t say

  a word. When he gestured to her with the glass, she shook her

  head and clutched his law book closer to her breasts. He gave

  a hearty sigh.

  “Are you another of Mattie’s cousins, or a niece, perhaps?”

  “Mattie?” She managed to squeak out the one word.

  “Ah-ha, so you are. I thought as much. Most times, though,

  her relatives are too timid to show themselves above stairs.

  You are different.” He downed the last of the brandy, set his

  glass back on the cart, and walked over to stand in front of her.

  She was tall for a female, for she tilted her head only slightly

  to look him in the eye. She smelled of fresh air and sunshine,

  and his fingers itched to touch her sun-kissed skin. Never had

  a woman so quickly captivated him. Under normal

  circumstances, he kept a very tight rein on his emotions, but

  she drew him closer with her sky-blue eyes and pouting lips.

  Were her lips as soft and hot as they appeared? His mind

  rushed headlong over a waterfall of emotions, and he had yet

  to know her name, much less kiss her.

  And he did want to kiss her. More than once. Why shouldn’t

  he? After all, why else had she come to his study dressed so

  seductively if she were not some promiscuous miss out for an

  adventure?

  “I will relieve you of your burden.” He gently removed the

  book from her clasp. “In the future, please do not take the

  liberty of removing these books unless you’re dusting the room.

  They’re far too precious to me, and besides, they have no

  pictures to glance upon.”

  “Law books?”

  Ah, they were making progress, for she uttered two words

  that time, and apparently was smarter than most, for she could

  read. He reached past her to put the book back on the shelf,

  and his chest came into contact with hers. Instant
fire scorched

  him even as he heard her suck in her breath.

  She stared at him. Sooty lashes blinked rapidly as though

  she was trying to clear her vision. The heat of her already burned

  into him, and he felt the urgent need to kiss her pink lips that

  even now trembled so close to his. He lowered his head toward

  hers.

  Mica’s heart refused to slow down as the stranger moved

  close to her. Even though she knew he meant to kiss her, she

  felt more curious than threatened. Tall and dark, he wore a

  white shirt with billowing sleeves and snug black pants that

  disappeared into the tops of knee high black boots. She noticed

  he had his dark hair clubbed back, though bits curled around

  his angular face. Mica caught a hint of humor in his gaze, along

  with something far more dangerous.

  Instinct shouted this was his domain, and she tried to regain

  her composure and come up with a reason for being in his

  room. However, her composure slipped drastically when he

  took the book from her and replaced it on the shelf.

  And touched her in doing so.

  Mica gasped when their bodies came into contact. The hard

  muscle beneath the soft linen of his shirt caused her breasts to

  ache in reaction to his touch. Heat branded her, and her heart

  thudded a dangerous beat. She knew she should ask him to

  back up because he was a virtual stranger. Handsome, but still

  unknown.

  Nothing could have prepared her for the seductive power

  of his brown eyes—dark, penetrating eyes capable of reading

  her most intimate thoughts. Tiny worry lines crinkled at their

  corners, and she felt an unbidden desire to touch him and soothe

  the frown from his face. His gaze captured hers. Black brows

  rose in question.

  Yes, her mind screamed, regardless of the question.

  Overwhelmed by the pure sensuality of the man, she didn’t

  move a fraction as he lowered his lips to hers. Just before his

  eyes closed, she caught a glimpse of passion in their dark

  depths.

  His kiss dissolved any defenses she may have constructed,

  and she groaned as his arms circled her to pull her closer. She

  couldn’t remember ever being kissed this way. His lips, firm

  and warm, touched her with gentle persuasion, yet she could

  sense the underlying passion. His mouth traveled from her lips