“Yes.” Mikhail pointed to one of the men standing on the beach. “That’s the man who wanted to marry you.”
He seemed so different now, holding a blanket rather than a gun and smiling as he spoke to an older woman. “Did you tell the chief about the bargain? Is he upset about it?”
“Elders run the clan here, and they’re quite happy with how the negotiation turned out. The Russians were always willing to make trades to keep peace when needed. But the Americans frown more and more on the old way of doing things, and the elders were concerned about how the government might have responded had the hunting party taken you captive.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Mikhail looked at her, his golden eyes searching her face.
For a moment, she thought he might take another step closer. That he might lower his head and kiss her again, never mind that anyone who looked their direction would be able to see them. But he took a step back instead.
“I didn’t do much, just fostered a deal the same as any other guide would. Best make sure all of your things are packed. We’ll leave soon.” Then he turned and walked away.
They boarded the ship less than an hour later, and she was shown to a cabin with polished wood and warm bedding and a mattress that was far softer than the ground she’d spent months sleeping on.
She ran her hand along the wood beside the small, circular window. Mikhail could probably captain this ship if he wanted to, or at least spend his summers in a large, sprawling house filled with comforts.
But he gave all that up each year so he could guide expeditions with the goal of keeping everyone alive.
Oh, she’d spent two weeks with him in the wilderness. How had she not realized just how honorable of a man he was?
A knock sounded at the door. She opened it to find a sailor with a washtub. She hadn’t asked for a bath, but she could guess who had ordered one on her behalf.
But even after she’d washed and gone to Captain White’s cabin for dinner—where her father and brother and Dr. Ottingford were staying—and feasted on far better fare than she’d had the entire time she’d been in the wilderness, she couldn’t make herself sleep.
It wasn’t that the ship rocked too much. Quite the opposite. It glided seamlessly through the water, but that only made things worse.
Did everything about Mikhail Amos have to be perfect? Even the ship his family owned?
She threw off her covers and huffed, then tromped to the opposite side of the cabin and slid her trousers back on. She tucked her shirt into them before opening the cabin door. The instant she stepped outside, the scent of salt and sea greeted her, so very different from the cold mountain air and spruce. The moon was out overhead, not quite full, but still large enough to cast a silvery beam on the water. She watched the light dance across the waves, then raised her head to look at the moon itself. Stars floated overhead too. Not as many as she’d be able to see with a new moon, but still more than she could view in Washington, DC.
“Bryony?”
She turned to find Mikhail stepping out of the wheelhouse, which shared a wall with the front of her cabin.
He came toward her, the sound of his muklucks quiet on the deck. “What are you doing out here? Is something wrong with your cabin?”
“No, the cabin is perfect.” Too perfect, actually. But how was she supposed to explain that was her problem?
“Is dinner not sitting well in your stomach?”
“No, dinner was delicious too.”
Mikhail chuckled, then shook his head, one of those rare smiles flashing across his face. “Not too many people call Scully’s cooking delicious. If that doesn’t say just how poorly I fed you, I don’t know what does.”
“You didn’t feed us poorly. We had meat every night.”
“But not gravy or corn bread cooked in an oven that controls the temperature.”
“You did well, Mikhail.”
“Then what’s keeping you awake?” He took another step closer, the wind from the ocean toying with his loose hair. “After sleeping on a bedroll for months upon months, I assumed you’d fall asleep the second your head hit the pillow. Is the mattress uncomfortable?”
She swallowed, then turned her gaze to the mountains, their black humps shrouded in shadows beneath the moonlight. “I’m going to miss this place.”
He was silent for so long that she found herself turning to face him again. It was a mistake, especially with the way the breeze kept toying with his hair. Did he realize how handsome he was standing there, with the lantern light from the side of the wheelhouse playing across the dips and planes of his face and warmth shining from his golden gaze? Or how his hair caught the faintest glimmers of moonlight?
Her heart gave a small, traitorous flutter, and she turned her gaze back to the mountains. “I don’t know why I’m going to miss Alaska. I shouldn’t. We almost got trapped in that valley for winter, and if we hadn’t gotten out before the snow came...” Her throat grew tight and she swallowed. “I should probably hate this place after everything that’s happened. I should want to go home and never see it again, but instead I don’t want to leave.”
