Dr. Ottingford clamped his mouth shut, and Bryony pressed her own lips into a firm line. That was the part she hated most about her father’s work. The research part itself was fine, though not as fascinating as drawing maps and sketching plants. But she had no stomach for all the maneuvering and negotiating and flattery that went along with getting research funding.
Her father was quite good at posturing and flattering, obviously, since he went on an expedition every summer. But he was always aware of what he needed to do to keep the people who controlled the purse strings happy.
Upsetting Richard Caldwell was at the top of the list of “Things to Avoid at All Costs.”
Marrying his daughter off to ensure he stayed on the man’s good side for decades to come was not.
“You’re not listening to me!” Richard’s voice rang out over the wind. “If we don’t turn around this instant and find a place to camp, I’ll?—”
“Be putting your life at greater risk.” Mikhail’s voice filled the trail, strong and hard. “It’s riskier to stay on this mountain during a snowstorm than to continue out of the snow. We’ve still got a couple hours of daylight. I intend to use it to get as far down the mountain as possible, but I’ve had it with your complaining. If you’re tired, let Heath carry the trunk. Otherwise, shut your mouth and act like the explorer who publishes a new field guide every year, not a whiny politician.”
Richard dropped the trunk and raised two fists in front of him. “Do you want to fight me, Amos? Because I’ll gladly?—”
“Oh, just shut up and give me the trunk.” Heath stalked toward him. “I’ll carry it if you’re that tired.”
“It’s not that I’m tired, it’s that I’m?—”
Heath gave a sudden shout, and Bryony watched as he stumbled on the trail, but instead of falling toward the inside of the mountain, he careened toward the side of the cliff.
Bryony let out a cry and raced forward.
Heath teetered on the edge for a fraction of a second, his arms flailing in an attempt to regain his balance. Then the snow on the ledge slid away and he slipped.
“Heath!” Her heart pounded in her ears as she raced toward her brother and grabbed for his arm, but the fabric of his coat slipped through her fingers.
Mikhail was there, faster than lightning. He closed his hand around Heath’s upper arm just as her brother’s feet slid over the edge.
Heath gasped and reached out his free arm, catching her shoulder in a panicked grip.
She dug her heels into the ground and gripped his arm, blood pounding in her ears.
Terror shone in her brother’s eyes, and she tried to tighten her grip, but he was so much heavier than she. How was she supposed to stop him?
“Pull back on the count of three.” Mikhail started to count, and Bryony braced her feet in the snow, digging her heels deeper into the ground so she wouldn’t slide toward the edge when she started to pull.
Then Mikhail said the wordthree. She yanked with all her might, but it wasn’t her strength that pulled Heath back onto solid ground. That was all Mikhail. The man was a walking embodiment of muscle and brawn.
Heath barreled straight into her, knocking her into the snow as he landed on top of her.
The breath whooshed from her lungs with the impact, but she wrapped her arms around him and refused to let go. They both lay like that for a moment. She could hear footsteps in the snow around them and the others talking, but neither she nor Heath moved.
“Are you all right?” she finally whispered, her voice shaky.
“Yes.” Heath’s voice sounded just as unsteady as hers. “Thank you for catching me.”
She tightened her grip and squeezed her eyes shut, but that was a mistake, because the only thing that filled her mind was the image of Heath gripping her shoulder as his legs dangled over the edge of the cliff. “Promise you’ll never do that again.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“Heath, are you all right?” Father said from above them.
Heath groaned, then rolled off her into the snow. “Fine, just catching my breath.”
“What were you thinking getting so close to the edge of that cliff?” Richard’s face was as white as the snow as he approached them. He extended a hand to help Heath up, but it was trembling. “You have to be more careful in the future. For a moment I thought...” Richard scrubbed a hand over his face, then just shook his head. “I thought we were going to lose you.”
Heath wrapped Richard in a hug, then released him so he could go to Father. Just as he was about to hug Dr. Ottingford, a hand encased in a fur mitten appeared in front of her face.
She looked up to find Mikhail hovering over her. He hadn’t even asked Heath if he was all right.
