But that was a mistake, because turning to face him only reminded her of how close they were sitting. Only made her aware of the subtle heat radiating from the strip of his shirt that was visible beneath his open coat. Only made her aware of the scents of water and wind and something deep and masculine wafting from his skin.
He reached up to brush another lock of hair, using his opposite hand to work at a particularly large knot from beneath. The movement caused his knuckles to brush against her neck, and hummingbirds exploded in her stomach, warring with each other for which one could beat its wings the fastest.
She dropped her gaze to her lap, but it didn’t stop her from noticing every last thing about Mikhail. How the low rasp of his breathing mingled with the quiet scratch of the brush’s bristles. How the wind stirred a lock of his honey brown hair until it brushed against her cheek. The tickling sensation sent goose bumps down her arms.
Her lips parted, suddenly dry, and when her eyes darted back up, they found his.
Mikhail’s hand stilled, the brush hovering just above her shoulder. Then he set it down and reached out with his other hand. His fingers were gentle as he tilted her face toward his. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Her voice was barely audible above the rushing of the river.
“Like you want me to...” He gave his head a small shake, his eyes still pinned to hers, and leaned in.
The moment his lips brushed hers, every last thought fled her mind. There was only the warmth of his hand as it slid from her hair down her back, the soft pressure of his lips as they lingered against hers.
His scent surrounded her again, that hint of earth and musk and man pushing away the smells of air and water and snow. She tried to kiss him back, though she didn’t have the first clue what she was doing. In fact, she wasn’t even sure where to put her hands. She eventually settled for wrapping her arms around his neck. It had the effect of bringing their bodies closer, causing his chest to press against hers, and making it seem as though the warmth of his body could somehow seep through layers of coats and shirts and underthings until it reached her very skin.
She tilted her head, her fingers tightening on his coat, and let herself melt into the kiss, all thoughts of tangled hair and icy rivers and potential fiancés forgotten. She could stay like this forever, safe and warm in his arms, surrounded by a man who saw her as a person with hopes and dreams of her own, as a person with special talents and abilities.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, he broke the kiss and pulled back. His breath mingled with hers as they hovered there, close enough that she could feel the faint warmth of his exhale against her lips. His golden eyes searched hers for a moment, as though trying to make sense of what had just happened.
A faint crease marred his brow, and he swallowed, his thumb lingering for one final brush across her cheek before he dropped his hand. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Bryony blinked, sucking the air back into her oxygen-starved lungs. “Why not?”
“Just don’t cut your hair,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “It’s far too beautiful to cut.”
Then he rose to his feet, leaving her sitting there on the log—with the memory of his kiss still burning on her lips.
25
Juneau, Alaska; That Night
Alexei leaned forward in his chair, the old wooden seat creaking under his weight. The rich aroma of borscht wafted from the bowl in front of him. His sister Evelina had topped the red broth with a sprig of dried dill, and it looked so pretty he hadn’t yet been able to take a bite.
He’d arrived in Juneau about an hour ago. That’s how long it had taken Evelina to send their youngest brother to fetch Kate and Nathan for dinner. Now the lot of them were gathered around the table in the kitchen above the Juneau trading post, where Evelina and Jonas lived with their two half siblings, Inessa and Ilya.
Inessa had just turned sixteen, and Ilya was thirteen. Before Alexei knew it, he’d be watching the half-Aleut, half-Russian siblings he’d raised for a good portion of their lives head off to make a place for themselves in the world.
But for now, they were all together, the aroma of borscht and freshly baked rolls filling the room. He knew people sometimes thought their family was odd, especially since Evelina was a lawyer and Kate was a doctor, but if those people could see the Amoses at a time like this, they’d find that their family was completely normal.
Except for the fact they spent far too little time together now that half of them were married. That didn’t feel normal at all, but it made him want to cherish every moment together that they had left.
“I got a letter from Yuri this afternoon.” Evelina paused where she sat across the table from him, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “He said Mikhail still hasn’t returned.”
“He hasn’t?” He’d been hoping to find Mikhail already in Sitka when he finally got home. “Mikhail made it sound as though he’d be back in less than two weeks, but he’s been gone over a month.”
“It’s actually been almost eight weeks.” Kate took a roll from the platter in the center of the table and cut it open, her actions a bit more aggressive than necessary. “He left Petersburg the second of October, remember.”
Had it really been that long? Alexei frowned, his appetite fading as he stared down at the deep-red soup made of beets, potatoes, and cabbage. He should be devouring it. Borscht was something of a delicacy in Russia. And yet he couldn’t force himself to touch it, given the fact that Mikhail wasn’t back yet.
“He didn’t even act worried when he left.” Kate slathered butter onto her roll with quick, sharp strokes. “But I’m certainly worried. Snow’s already falling in the mountains. What if he’s caught in an impassable valley with no way out?”
“Mikhail knows better than to get himself stuck in some stupid valley,” Ilya muttered from the other end of the table, his voice filled with the unshakable confidence of a thirteen-year-old. “Besides, if something goes wrong, it’ll be the scientists’ fault. Some men got no business going into the wild.”
“We don’t know that anything bad has happened.” Evelina kept her voice calm and reasonable as she took another spoonful of soup. But Evelina was always calm and reasonable, always the rational one. “Maybe it took him longer than expected to find the scientists, but he’s probably found them by now, and they’re on their way out. I mean, for all we know, they could have reached Wrangell last night, and we’re worrying for nothing.”
“You can go on telling yourself there’s nothing to fret about,” Kate said, “But I’m still worried.”
