Sea of Christmas Miracles (5 page)

But he’d wondered other things, too. What it
would be like to kiss that mouth. To gently suck the full bottom
lip. Thomas shifted toward her, hardly aware of what he was doing
until the feathery whisper of her breath caressed his chin.

When his lips touched hers, Thomas could
swear he heard bells. Damn, he was going to have his physician
check his ears when he returned to Charleston. She tasted like no
other woman, felt like no other woman. His tongue wet the sensitive
seam between her lips and she opened to him like a flower to
rain.

The kiss deepened, and Thomas luxuriated in
her innocence. His arms tightened and beneath the blanket her body
molded to his. Her breast was soft and fit his hand perfectly.
Thomas trailed his lips down her cheek, and across her stubborn
chin. Her skin was smooth, smelled citrusy-sweet and he couldn’t
get enough of tasting her.

Her sigh sent his desire soaring. Thomas
never wanted a woman so much. “Maggie,” he whispered her name as
his fingers found the curved valley of her waist. “Oh, Maggie,” he
murmured as he captured her mouth again.

Her only response was another sigh, this one
even fainter than before. Something about the sound made Thomas
pull back and stare. Her head rested on his arm, her hair a wild
array of curls. Her lips were moist, her eyes closed. And she was
obviously asleep.

Asleep!

He was so hard he hurt, so aroused he could
barely breathe, and she... she had fallen asleep. He wanted to
shake her, to call her name until her eyes opened and she finished
what she started.

Except she didn’t start it. He did. She
probably had never been truly awake. Which made him... what? It was
bad enough that he was trying to make love to a woman who’d
kidnapped him, but to do it while she slept?!

Thomas flopped onto his back, his free arm,
the one she wasn’t using as a pillow, thrown over his eyes. He was
going crazy. There was no other explanation for all the weird
things that had happened to him since Margaret Howe Lewis first
woke him.

“What... what happened?” Margaret sat up with
a start. Her voice was even huskier than usual and her throat was
sore. Thomas Blackstone sat across from her, watching, one leg
bent, his forearm resting on his raised knee.

He stared at her intently. “You fell out of
the boat,” was all he said.

“Oh, my goodness.” Margaret dragged her
fingers back through a tangle of unruly curls and glanced around
the cabin. When she looked back at Thomas his gaze shot up to her
face. “I don’t understand? How did we get here?”

“I found the cabin after we got to
shore.”

“We? Did you fall into the sea also?”

“No.” His response was curt. Thomas
concentrated on keeping his eyes focused on her face. “I jumped in
after you.” Her expression made it clear how surprised she was. But
apparently she believed him, for she didn’t question it. She just
continued to sit, the blanket pooled around her waist, her
beautiful breasts bare. Thomas squirmed, forcing himself to look
away as he pushed to his feet.

He walked to the door without looking back.
“They might not be completely dry, but I think it best you put your
clothes on,” he said before pushing through the door. He knew the
exact moment she realized her state of undress. Her anguished cry
startled a gull perched on an overturned bucket. Thomas just shook
his head, wishing he could keep his body under control.

He walked down to the shore where the
slow-moving river merged with the sea. As a child he used to come
here often to sit and think. He glanced around but his seat for
those soul-searchings, a cypress log, was gone, probably washed out
to sea by a storm like the one last night.

Today the sea, like the sky, was calm and
clear. The air smelled sweet and held just enough chill that Thomas
wished his kidnapper had allowed him to bring a jacket... or that
he had the old hunting shirt that Natee fashioned for him out of
deerskin.

Thomas shook his head and leaned against the
scaled bark of a palmetto. He was standing right here the day he
decided to make the family rich again. He’d come to talk with Natee
after hearing his parents talking about money. It wasn’t a topic
they usually discussed, at least he hadn’t heard them before. But
they seemed very serious, and his mother was crying.

Natee said money and possessions weren’t
important, that the only thing a man needed was the earth and sky,
the ever-flowing sea, and now and again, a good woman. But Natee
was different from anyone else Thomas knew. His father said the old
man was descended from a Cheraw Indian who had befriended Thomas’s
pirate ancestor, Jack Blackstone. Thomas admired and loved the old
man, but he also knew their philosophies and worlds were
different.

Thomas’s father lost nearly everything in the
war. And Thomas had regained it. It was as simple as that. Thomas
spread his legs and stared out toward the horizon.

That’s the way Margaret found him. She
hesitated a moment and took a deep breath. “You could have told
me.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Thomas looked her
up and down, then arched his brow. “Perhaps I preferred not to.” He
enjoyed the peach blush that colored her cheeks.

“I suppose, you... undressed me.”

“There was no one else to do it, and you were
soaked.” He watched as she swallowed and nodded.

“I understand.” Margaret was trying her best
not to let this bother her. After all, she was a progressive
thinker. And there were so many more important things that had
happened, her modesty meant little in the scheme of things. At
least that’s what she tried to tell herself. But the very idea of
this man seeing her, touching her. A vision of lips, hungry and
devouring, of bodies straining, flirted with her mind and Margaret
shook her head to dispel it. But the illusion wouldn’t disappear
entirely. She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. It made her
all warm inside despite the chilled air, and Margaret didn’t think
that’s the way she should be feeling about someone she
despised.

Except she didn’t despise him.

If nothing else, she owed him for her life.
Of course, now that he was free of her kidnapping, she had a strong
sense that she would somehow pay for his plunge into the sea.
Despite that, she knew what she must do. Squaring her shoulders,
Margaret took a tentative step forward. “Thank you,” she said, her
expression serious. “For saving my life.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “You are most
welcome.” Thomas turned back to stare out across the water. “You’d
never know by looking that last night the sea was a foaming
tempest.”

“No you wouldn’t. What do you plan to do with
me?” Margaret saw no reason to prolong finding out.

“Do?” Thomas shrugged. He really hadn’t given
it any thought, though he knew he should. But this place was so
haunted by memories.

“I know what I did was wrong, and am willing
to suffer the consequences.” Perhaps once he’d satisfied his
vengeance on her, Grace could talk to him about the orphanage.
Margaret should probably have had the Negress do it in the first
place. Grace certainly would have come up with a better plan than
kidnapping.

Thomas glanced back over his shoulder.
“That’s very generous of you. Of course you really don’t have much
choice now that you’re not holding that revolver.”

Now it was Margaret who lifted her shoulders
in a shrug. “It wasn’t loaded.”

“What?” He whirled to face her.

“The pistol,” Margaret explained. “You were
never in any danger of being shot.”

“You mean not only did a woman kidnap me, but
she did it with an empty gun?”

“I thought it for the best. Besides, I wish
you wouldn’t keep acting so amazed that I was able to kidnap you...
just because I’m a woman.”

“Sorry.” Thomas’s grin didn’t appear all that
repentant. But you must admit, all else being equal, I do have the
advantage of size and strength. Which is why you’re at my mercy
now.”

Margaret struggled to control her anger. She
wished she didn’t notice that his eyes were the same color as the
sea that formed his backdrop. She had no business noticing his
green eyes. “If you don’t mind, I think we should get started.”

“For where?”

Margaret pursed her lips in exasperation. “To
return to Charleston, of course. That is where you were before I...
kidnapped you.”

“True enough.” Thomas clasped his hands
behind him and leaned back on his heels. “But I’ve been thinking.
Perhaps I don’t wish to return to Charleston right now.” Thomas
surprised himself with his next pronouncement. “We aren’t far from
Royal Oak. And it is Christmas Eve. Or had you forgotten?”

“No, I hadn’t.” Margaret looked away before
he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. She’d planned to give
the children the best Christmas gift of all tonight, the knowledge
that their school would continue to exist. That they’d all have a
place to spend this Christmas and all the Christmases yet to come.
But that was before she botched her last opportunity to change
Thomas Blackstone’s mind.

He shouldn’t care that she looked near tears.
After all, he was used to the feminine ploy of crying prettily to
get their way. Louise had been a master at the game. But for some
reason he didn’t think Margaret Howe Lewis even knew how to play.
He stepped forward before he could stop himself. “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing.” She looked up at him quickly.
“What is to become of me while you make your Christmas visit?”
Perhaps he would allow her to go to the school. It wasn’t far. But
those hopes were shattered when he took her arm, pulling her
alongside him.

“Oh, you shall accompany me. Our roles seem
to have reversed. Until we return to Charleston you may consider
yourself kidnapped.”

At least he didn’t tie her up. As they walked
along the side of a dirt road Margaret decided that was one small
blessing. Thomas Blackstone seemed to be in fine spirits. His pace
was brisk, his step lively. He even whistled a Christmas carol.

Margaret on the other hand was decidedly out
of sorts. She worried about the children at the Freed Negroes’
Orphanage and Boarding School. Christmas would come and they’d have
nothing. Not even the peppermints she purchased with her meager
funds.

When they veered off the main road, Thomas
Blackstone prodded Margaret to hurry along. He was obviously glad
to be nearing home. Margaret peered down the wide oak-lined allee.
Gossamer strands of Spanish moss swayed in the cool breeze. As they
neared the house and Margaret got her first view of the wide, white
veranda, she slowed her step even more. This was not the way this
kidnapping was supposed to unfold.

A toe-headed boy pushing a hoop across the
carpet of grass with a stick was the first to see them. He let out
a squeal that had two women rushing through the door, then launched
himself at Thomas. Margaret stood to the side and watched as her
captor tossed the boy into the air, catching him amid an outburst
of giggles.

“Do it again, Uncle Thomas. Again,” he cried,
until the man complied.

By this time the two ladies had descended the
steps and were rushing their way. The older one, a pretty woman
with red-gold hair shot through with silver, called out his name.
Handing the wriggling boy to the younger woman, Thomas stepped
forward, his arms out.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Felicity
Blackstone said, stepping into her son’s hug.

“I had a change of heart.” Thomas hugged her
tight.

“I’m so glad.” Felicity smiled up at her son,
then her blue eyes opened wide. “My heavens. What happened to you?”
Her fingers lightly brushed the cut on the side of his head. “And
your clothes. You look like a drowned cat.”

“That’s very nearly the truth.” Thomas
disengaged himself from his mother’s embrace. “We had sort of an
accident on the way here.” He reached out and grabbed hold of
Margaret’s hand, pulling her toward him.