Mikhail leaned against the side of the railing. “Remember when we talked about publishing your journal?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s a publisher in New York City who keeps asking me to write a book about Alaska. I’d like to send him a letter about publishing your journal and maybe include a sample of your writing and sketches. Is that okay?”
“Yes, but...” She licked her lips. He’d talked about helping her get her journal published the first time he’d seen it, but he hadn’t mentioned it since, and she assumed he’d forgotten about the offer. “Would you really do that for me?”
“Of course. There’s also a cartographer I communicate with back in Washington, DC. He’s trying to map the entirety of Alaska, and I know he’ll want to see your maps. I’ll write him as well.”
Another flock of hummingbirds took flight in her stomach. “I’m not sure my maps will be much good. They’re not exact. I didn’t measure distances like a cartographer would or take painstaking notes. I just wrote down the things that made the biggest impression on me.”
“What you have will still be helpful.” He nudged her arm with his elbow. “God’s given you so many talents. Promise you won’t bury them once you get back home.”
Talents. She drew in a shaky breath. She didn’t feel talented when it came to cartography, nor did she have any official training. Father and Heath had always treated her maps and the other parts of her journals as a waste of time. And she’d always assumed Richard and his publisher were merely patronizing her when she asked if a couple of her maps could be included in the field guides she’d already published.
But was Mikhail right? Could her maps be beneficial if she got them into the hands of the right person?
She sunk her teeth into the side of her lip. “I suppose I could try giving my maps to your cartographer friend to see what he thinks. But did Father tell you his plans for me once we return home? He’s hoping the next secretary of the interior will be a widower, or a bachelor.”
Mikhail grew motionless beside her, his jaw set in a firm line. “Dr. Ottingford informed me.”
“I don’t want to marry the next man my father picks, secretary of the interior or not.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him such a thing. It wasn’t as though he had any say over her life, or that she’d ever talk to him again once she left Sitka.
“Then don’t. Go home and publish your book. You’ll make enough money to live on, I’m sure of it. And remember to send me a copy of the previous publishing contracts you signed for Evelina to review. I’m guessing you’ll have even more money coming to you now that Richard’s no longer alive.”
And that was why she’d told him about her father’s plans. Because even though she and Mikhail Amos hadn’t known each other long, she could trust him to find a way to support her.
He nudged her again with his elbow that rested on the railing. “If your book gets published and people like it, maybe you can come back and join me on another expedition, then write another book.”
“You’d take me on another expedition?” She jerked her head up to meet his eyes. “Even with everything that happened?”
He ran his eyes down her, his throat working. She couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking, but the moment stretched between them, long and languid while the ship swayed beneath their feet.
“Yes, I mean it,” he finally said. Then he took a step closer, the boards of the deck creaking with his weight.
The breeze chose that moment to kick up, lifting her hair until it tangled around her face.
She reached up to tuck the errant strands behind her ear, but Mikhail’s hand came up first, his fingers brushing hers before anchoring her hair behind her ear.
Except he didn’t pull his hand away once her hair was pinned in place. He kept it there, on the tender spot behind her ear, until the feel of his fingertips caused her skin to grow warm.
Then he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.
She shouldn’t let the kiss happen. She knew that as surely as she knew the stars would fade with dawn. And yet, the moment his mouth touched hers, every last thought fled her mind, the world narrowing until there was no ship or crew or expedition. There was only the two of them.
He deepened the kiss, his movements unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Which was odd, because they didn’t have any time left together. They’d arrive in Sitka before dinner tomorrow, maybe even before lunch, and then... then...
Then he would write a publisher for her. That’s as far as their relationship would go. She didn’t even know if he’d come down to the dock and say good-bye when she left Sitka. At one point he’d talked about her meeting his sisters, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about that recently either.
Mikhail moved one of his hands up to cup the side of her face, then slid it down to cradle the nape of her neck. His thumb brushed against her jawline, and it was suddenly just too much. She couldn’t be on the deck with him, couldn’t be kissing a man she was never going to see again.
She wrenched herself away, her heart pounding against her chest.
Mikhail stared at her for a moment, as though trying to make sense of what had just happened. But she knew what he’d say the moment he came back to his senses.
The same thing he’d said last time.
So she spoke first, repeating his words right back to him. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have done that.”
