Sea of Christmas Miracles (6 page)

For the first time Felicity noticed her son’s
companion. “My goodness. What happened? No,” she contradicted
herself. “Don’t tell me now. You should clean up first. And get
warm.”

“That would be nice.” Thomas smiled. “Mother,
this is Margaret Howe Lewis,” he hesitated only a moment. “A friend
of mine. Maggie, this is my mother and my sister, Merry. Master
John here is one of her numerous offspring.”

Margaret barely had enough time to
acknowledge the introductions before she was hugged to Felicity’s
ample breast. “Oh, you poor dear. Come upstairs and we’ll see what
we can find for you to change into. I don’t see any luggage.” She
glanced around her quickly.

“Lost in the accident, Mother.”

“Well, I know how that is.”

Thomas began following his mother and
Margaret up one of the two curved staircases that led to the door,
only to have Merry lay her hand on his arm. John had run off to
tell his siblings of Uncle Thomas’s arrival, so they were
momentarily alone. Thomas found himself being scrutinized by his
sister’s knowing blue eyes.

“You brought a friend,” she said, with a
small quirk of her brow. “You realize from the moment Mother
spotted her, she began planning your wedding.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve brought friends to
Royal Oak before and—”

“Never
brought
, brother dear. You had
one charming... lady follow you here. What was her name?”

“Her name isn’t important.” It was Millicent
Prowder and she’d assumed that because he visited her often in
Charleston he’d welcome her here with his family. He’d set her
straight and that had ended that.

“Regardless, you must admit this is unusual.
Mother and Father were convinced you weren’t coming home for
Christmas, and then for you to show up looking like this.” She
touched his torn shirt. “And with a woman, who though she seems
very nice, just isn’t your type.”

“How do you know what my type is?” Merry
always thought she knew him so well. And it irked him now more than
ever. He knew she thought he enjoyed the company of women like
Louise, whom he’d had the misfortune of being with when he ran into
Merry in Charleston. Of course he hesitated to tell her he suddenly
preferred a kidnapping suffragette. So he didn’t say anything and
Merry only laughed and taking his arm, began to climb the
stairs.

“Well, whatever the reason you’re here, I’m
glad.” She smiled up at him fondly. “We shall call this our own
little Christmas miracle.”

Thomas stopped abruptly and looked down at
his sister. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Sorry,” she
said patting his arm. “I know you don’t believe in miracles.”

Which just went to show again that Merry
didn’t know him as well as she thought.

Thomas stood in the library staring out the
window, absently watching a chickadee that sat on a magnolia branch
enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. He’d bathed and changed into
clothes kept for him in his room. He already toured the house,
enjoying the festive decorations Merry and his mother had put up,
the pine and oranges, holly and ivy. He “oohed” and “aahed” when
his nieces and nephews pulled him into the parlor to see the grand
cedar with its candles and garland of popcorn. And he’d answered
all his mother and father’s questions, well almost all, while they
fed him a hearty stew and canned pears.

But he still couldn’t understand what
happened to him.

The voice. He hadn’t imagined it. Thomas was
almost positive. Someone... or something, had helped him save
Margaret and himself. But who? His glance strayed to the portrait
above the mantel. The swashbuckling pirate seemed to return his
stare. Thomas swallowed and looked away. What he was thinking was
ridiculous.

Perhaps he should concentrate on trying to
figure out why he’d brought Margaret here? Merry was right about
one thing. His mother thought he and Margaret were the love match
of the century. Well, probably not the century, because that would
cover her and his father, and Merry and Andrew. But he and Margaret
were destined for “happily ever after,” at least in his mother’s
eyes.

Thomas leaned against the paneled wall. He
knew she’d think that. And he brought Margaret anyway. Someone who
hated him enough to kidnap him at gunpoint... even if the gun
wasn’t loaded.

By all rights he should be in Charleston,
turning Miss Margaret Howe Lewis over to the police and apologizing
to Sander Rhett about missing his holiday gathering. A logical man
knew insulting Rhett was not the way to make a deal with him.

And Thomas was a logical man. At least he had
been until Margaret kidnapped him. Now he was hearing voices and
doing illogical things... and thinking about her all the time.

She hadn’t come down to dinner and it was
only his mother’s calming voice that kept him from taking the
stairs two at a time to find out why. So he sat and ate and talked
with his father about the phosphate mines and the rice crop. And as
soon as he left the table he sent word for Margaret to meet him in
the library.

He was still waiting.

Thomas stalked to the fireplace and stared up
at the portrait of Jack Blackstone again and wondered if the story
about his kidnapping his wife was true.

Margaret tapped on the paneled door. Without
waiting for his acknowledgment she took a deep breath and twisted
the knob. He turned to face her when she entered, and she steeled
herself again. While in her room she thought she could see him
without thinking about how handsome he was or how his dimples
flirted with his cheeks when he grinned, or how one lock of dark
hair kept spilling onto his forehead. But she couldn’t, even though
she knew none of that was important... not really.

Well, she’d just have to force all of that
from her mind, along with the fact that he saved her life, that he
wasn’t near the ogre she’d made him out to be, or that his family
was very nice. What mattered was the children at the orphanage. And
she had to put their welfare first.

“I’m leaving,” she said before he could open
his mouth. “I realize I’m your...” She shrugged. “Prisoner. But I
can’t stay here.”

He suppressed his surprise quickly. “Do you
mind telling me why? It appears to me you’re being treated rather
well, considering the circumstances.” She was wearing one of his
sister’s gowns, high necked and slightly bustled. It fit too
loosely. Still, Thomas thought she looked beautiful.

“Your family has been wonderful.” Her gaze
caught his and held, her eyes squinting slightly. “And I owe you
for saving my life, and am grateful. However—”

“You’re having a difficult time seeing,
aren’t you?” He’d noticed all day the way her brows knitted in a
slight frown.

“Yes, but—”

“Try these.” Thomas moved to the desk and
held out a pair of spectacles. “They belong to my father. He said
you could use them.”

“That’s very kind, but...” Margaret took the
wire-rimmed spectacles because he stood there holding them out to
her. She tried them on... and quickly took them off. “They make
things more blurred,” she said, handing them back. Then she turned
toward the door.

“Wait a minute.” Thomas was there before her,
his hand flattened against the wood. He could smell her, and he
only had to step closer to feel her body against his. “You seem to
forget, Maggie, you kidnapped me, and now you’re
my
prisoner. You
can’t
just leave.”

Margaret shut her eyes, trying to ignore his
nearness. “If it’s turning me in to the authorities that concerns
you, I promise to do that myself... day after tomorrow. And I’ll
return your sister’s gown then also.”

“I don’t give a damn about Merry’s clothes.”
Thomas surrendered to his desires and moved forward, pressing her
between his body and the door. His fingers tangled with the wispy
curls that trailed down her neck. “Tell me why you have to go.”

“It’s... it’s my children.”

“Your children?” Surprise had him backing up
enough for her to turn and face him. She had children? It had never
occurred to him that she might have children... be married.

She couldn’t think with him this close to
her. But she had to explain. Someone had to tell the children that
the orphanage and school was going to close, and she knew it was
her responsibility. Margaret took a deep breath, forcing from her
mind the masculine scent of him. “They aren’t really mine, except
that I take care of them and teach them.” She stepped out from his
loose embrace and Thomas let her go.

“They’re at the Freed Negroes’ Orphanage and
Boarding School and I need to talk with them... explain things,
before I return to Charleston.”

“What sort of things?” She was confusing him,
or maybe it was just that all he wanted to do was take her in his
arms and beg her to stay.

“That I’ll have to close the school.”
Margaret could almost believe he had no idea what she was talking
about... despite the letters she sent him. “Because you’re
foreclosing,” she explained.

“What? There must be some mistake. I don’t
own the Freed Negroes’ Orphanage and Boarding School. As a matter
of fact, I’ve never heard of it.”

Margaret said nothing and Thomas closed the
space between them, taking her shoulders in his hands and turning
her to face him. “Wait a minute. Is this why you kidnapped me?”

“I had thought to convince you that you
shouldn’t foreclose on the property.”

“By kidnapping me?” Thomas sounded
incredulous.

“Actually by showing you the children and the
school and making you understand...” Margaret shrugged from his
grasp. “But I ruined it.” She sobbed and quickly scrubbed at her
cheeks, wiping away the tears that had escaped her lashes. When she
faced him again her expression was composed, though her eyes were
serious. “I seem unable to handle such things as gentle
persuasion.”

Thomas shook his head. “I still don’t
understand. The Freed Negroes’ School...?”

“It’s on Morgan Creek.”

“The old King property?”

Margaret lifted her chin and nodded.

He bought the note from the bank when the
owner fell behind on his payments. When Thomas decided to build a
textile mill, he determined that the King plantation would be the
perfect place. Several months ago he sent a notice to inform the
owners that he was calling the note due. They had to pay off the
loan, a considerable sum, or vacate. He would have felt sympathy
for the owner’s plight except... “The note I called in was held by
a carpetbagger.” He could still remember his parents talking about
the plague of Northerners who came south after the war. They bought
up every bit of land they could, preying on the misfortunes of the
defeated and cash-poor Southerners.

Margaret stiffened her spine. “My uncle
bought the property after the war. Two years ago he died, leaving
the place to me. My parents... well, I love them dearly, but they
never understood why I believed in women’s suffrage. And because of
my views I’d been terminated from my teaching position in Boston.
So I came south... and started the school.”

When she finished her explanation, Thomas
stood staring at her. Then his hands came up, bracketing her face.
She seemed surprised when he lowered his head, but she didn’t back
away.

Kissing him was even better than the images
that had been floating through her head. She grasped his forearms
and gave herself up to the magic of his mouth. When he pulled her
closer, she went willingly, eagerly. Opening her lips and nearly
swooning from the enormity of the feelings she had for him. She
moaned when he separated them enough to study her face.

“Tell me, Maggie.” he said as his thumbs
caressed her cheeks. “Do you believe in miracles?”

“Well, I—”

“How about a voice from nowhere and happily
ever afters?”

Margaret couldn’t answer for laughing when he
grabbed her about the waist and twirled her around the room. “You
will, Maggie mine. You will.”