Mikhail shoved the filing cabinet drawer closed, then briefly flitted through the other drawers, but even with the way the words moved in front of him, it didn’t take long to figure out the correspondence and records in there were several years old.
He moved to the shelf on the wall directly behind Alexei’s desk, but he still came up empty.
Where could Alexei have put those letters? Could they still be in his brother’s desk?
He stalked across the room and yanked open the first drawer. It was filled with letters and papers that had yet to be sorted.
He flipped through the first few, but the words on these papers were even more determined to swim and jiggle and dance across the page, making them impossible to read.
He pressed his eyes shut, then drew in a breath. Calm. He could never read when he was worked up. He had to stay calm and logical.
And logically speaking, he needed to make sure Bryony’s journal got published.
There would be business between them and nothing else. Next summer, if Bryony went on that expedition to Yosemite Valley, she’d fill another journal with her sketches and notes, and he’d ensure that one got published too, and the next journal from wherever she went the summer after that.
It was the perfect plan, and it was what she needed from him most.
So why did his heart ache at the thought of it?
“What are you doing searching my desk?”
Mikhail jolted, then turned to find Alexei standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest.
“Where are those letters from that New York publisher?” Mikhail peered down at the papers in the drawer. He’d turned it into an even bigger mess while searching. “The one who wants me to write a book about Alaska?”
Alexei started forward. “They’re somewhere in that drawer, all three of them.”
Mikhail picked up several envelopes and tried to focus on the return name and address, but his brain still refused to cooperate. “Where? I don’t see them.”
Alexei rounded the side of the desk and peered into the drawer, then frowned and picked up two letters. “Well, these two are right in front of your face, and it looks like the third one is in your hand.”
Mikhail swallowed, then snatched the two letters from his brother’s hand and formed the other three he was holding into a pile.
Alexei leaned a hip against the side of the desk, studying him. “The rest of the family is still at the house, wondering where you went.”
Mikhail winced. “Sorry. I, ah... I got distracted.”
“Why are you even looking for these letters? You told me you would never write a book.”
“Things change.”
“Does that mean you decided to write a book about your rescue?”
He scowled. “Of course not. This is for Bryony.”
“Bryony.” Alexei’s mouth flashed a rare grin. “The woman you want Kate to meet? I assume she’s the redhead I saw on theAurora. You were stranded with her?”
Mikhail crossed his arms over his chest. “We weren’t stranded. The stranding happened before I found them.”
“I see.”
He stepped away from the desk. “I need to call on Bryony and get a few pages of her journal to copy in case the publisher wants a sample.”
“Now?” The smile dropped from Alexei’s face. “When you haven’t seen your family for months?”
Mikhail froze. “I’m being an oaf, aren’t I?”
“Not to Bryony, it appears.”
