She rushed to him and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I promise I didn’t. I don’t know how they can do this to you. I just...”
He rested his head atop hers. It was all he could do considering how his hands were cuffed behind his back, but she sank into the feel of him anyway, warm and solid. Then she pressed her eyes shut, wishing the moment could stretch on forever.
“It’s not your fault.” His voice rumbled through his chest. “This has nothing to do with your family and everything to do with the Caldwells and their vendetta against us. The whole town knows it.”
She tilted her face up to his, and those familiar, lovely, mesmerizing golden eyes stared down at her. There were so many things she could say. That it was unfair and wrong and horrible. That she’d do whatever it took to get him out, even if it meant giving interviews every day for a year. That she was furious with her family. That she somehow felt responsible. But the only words that came out were, “I love you, Mikhail Amos.”
He grew still beneath her, and for a fraction of a second, she thought he might say it back. His eyes softened, and he stared at her with such tenderness that she knew feelings were swirling inside him. But all he said was, “You shouldn’t have said such a thing, angel. You don’t need more heartache.”
“I don’t regret it,” she whispered back. “I know our lives are headed in two different directions, but I still love you anyway, and you’ll never be able to make me regret it.”
He responded by leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then he raised his gaze to the man in the dark coat, the one whom he’d been talking with on the ship after they docked. He must be one of Mikhail’s brothers, but he looked every bit as powerful as the Caldwells. “Take her back to our house and keep her there until this all gets sorted.”
“Oh no. I don’t want to be an imposition. I have a bit of money in my pocket. I can find a boarding house or?—”
“Nonsense.” Evelina sidled up to her, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’d love to have you at our place. Besides, this is Alaska. It’s filled with prospectors and outlaws, and there aren’t any boarding houses that are safe for a young, unmarried woman such as yourself to stay in.”
“She’s right, lass,” the middle-aged guard said. “If you don’t want to go back to the Caldwells, you best go to the Amoses. They’ll take good care of you.”
She looked around the room, taking in the kind eyes of every person there. Well, every person except Mikhail’s older brother. His eyes were too dark to give any of his thoughts away.
Finally she looked at the taller guard with brown hair, the one who had slipped away at some point and gotten Mikhail from his cell, finding a way to let her see him without breaking any rules. “Thank you.”
“Any time, Miss Wetherby,” the guard nodded.
She looked back up at Mikhail, then pressed onto her tiptoes and kissed the underside of his jaw. “Good-bye, Mikhail.”
“Good-bye, angel.” He rested his cheek on top of her head for a moment, then raised his head and sent her a small lopsided smile while Evelina tugged her up the stairs.
35
Thanksgiving Day
Of all the ways she’d imagined meeting Mikhail’s family, walking into their house without him at nearly midnight to find herself instantly surrounded by six other people—all of whom had refused to go to bed until Alexei and Evelina returned—hadn’t been it.
There were so many names to remember. Three of Mikhail’s siblings were married: Sacha, Evelina, and Kate. And they all had spouses with names that needed remembering. Then there was Alexei. Tall and dark and serious, he was impossible to forget, though he didn’t make her nearly as uncomfortable as Preston Caldwell or the governor. And finally there was Yuri, the youngest of his full-blooded siblings, who, at midnight, seemed to have the energy of a seven-year-old boy rather than a twenty-two-year-old man.
He’d wrapped her in a giant hug the moment she entered, then asked what she planned to do to cheer Mikhail up, since he’d been moping about the house ever since he returned from the wilderness. They made her tea and brought out cookies and peppered her with questions about the expedition and what she did back in Washington, DC.
Finally they’d shown her to a small room with a handmade quilt and plain wooden trim around the window and door. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as anything at the Caldwell mansion, or even at her father’s house, but the Amos family home was filled with so much love and warmth, she’d rather spend a thousand nights in the small room than one night anywhere else.
But even though she lay her head down on the cool pillow and pulled the warm quilt up over her shoulders, she couldn’t sleep, not knowing that Mikhail was spending the night in a cold, hard jail cell.
Not knowing that her family was perfectly fine with putting him there.
So she tossed and turned, hovering in and out of fitful dreams until dawn painted the sky and mountains in vibrant hues of pink and purple. Then she slid out of bed, took off the nightgown that Maggie had let her borrow, slipped into her dress from the day before, and padded down the stairs.
She’d expected to find the first floor of the house empty, but when she pushed through the swinging double doors of the kitchen to make herself some tea, she found Evelina sitting at the table with papers sprawled in front of her and a kettle of hot water on the table.
The other woman looked up, a kind smile spreading across her face. “You’re up early. Was everything in the room to your liking?”
“It was perfect, thank you. Very comfortable. I had trouble sleeping, but it’s entirely my fault, I’m afraid.”
“Ah. I had trouble sleeping too. I’m tempted to blame it on the baby, but I have a feeling the same thing that kept you up kept me up as well.” Evelina jabbed a thumb at the hutch over her shoulder. “Grab yourself a cup, then sit and have some tea. I know I told you that we’d talk tomorrow, but since just the two of us are up, can I ask some of my questions now?”
“Questions about the expedition?” She moved to get one of the teacups from the hutch. It was painted a bright blue, but a white circle sat on each side with pink flowers in the center. She assumed the pattern was Russian, though she knew so very little about Russian culture. “I’m happy to tell you anything that might help Mikhail.”
Evelina sent her another one of those smiles, warm enough to melt butter on a cold winter day. “Well, then, why don’t you start at the very beginning?”
