“You came.” Alexei spoke the words to himself, but Gray must have overheard them, because he shifted his walking stick to his other hand and reached out to clasp Alexei’s shoulder.
“Of course I came. I sent you a telegram saying I would. Didn’t you receive it?”
“I’m sorry, Secretary Gray, but there was no need for you to make the trip all the way from Washington.” Caldwell stepped forward and shook the older man’s hand. “Whatever Amos told you to bring you here, I’m afraid he misrepresented it. Everything is under control.”
Gray’s bushy white eyebrows rose, and he planted the tip of his cane against the carpet with a tap. “That’s interesting information, because I made a point to stop by the village of Klawock on my way up here. Or rather, what was once the villageof Klawock. Imagine my surprise when I found a large cannery under construction instead. Now where is Simon? I need to have a word with him.”
“He’s, uh...” Quimby stuck a finger in his collar and tugged. “He’s not here.”
“Then send someone to get him,” the secretary boomed, banging his cane on the floor again.
Alexei winced. “That’s not what he means. The governor fled Alaska.”
“What? Why?” Gray’s bushy white brows shot up. “Did something happen?”
“Yes,” Alexei answered before Caldwell tried explaining. “He and Preston paid three men to try to burn down our shipyard. They’re both facing arson charges. I don’t know if that’s why he fled, or if it had something to do with him moving the Indian village of Klawock, or something else entirely.”
“Arson, you say?” Secretary Gray’s gaze swept the three of them. “Someone better go back to the beginning and start explaining. I want to know everything, and I strongly suggest you tell me the full story.”
Washington, DC; the Same Day
Yuri watchedRosalind curled on the bed, her blond hair fanning out over the pillow as she slept.
They’d had a busy few days, going from bank to bank to make sure Rosalind’s Finnances were sorted before they left town. But they’d learned all their work had been worth it just after lunch, when they’d gone to Riggs and Company and received confirmation that her nonliquid assets had been transferred.
That meant they could leave for Texas tomorrow. Yuri had brought Rosalind straight back to the hotel and then left her to pack and prepare herself for the trip. Evidently she’d been tired, because she’d somehow managed to remove her shirtwaist and skirt and was now curled on the bed with random items of clothing strewn about the room.
She was so peaceful as she slept, with her long lashes casting shadows across her cheeks and the faintest flush of pink lingering on her skin. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and she had one hand tucked beneath her cheek.
Oh, how was he going to travel five days across the country with her and not have his heart wrenched out of his chest?
After their kiss three days ago, he’d thought he’d handled the situation by telling her they couldn’t kiss—or do anything more than kiss—and then going for a nice long walk, eating dinner at the restaurant across the street, and not returning to the room until he’d known Rosalind would be asleep for the night.
He’d been determined to sleep on the floor so they couldn’t accidentally bump or touch while they were in bed together. But somehow she’d woken while he’d been making up a pallet with extra blankets, and she’d begged him to sleep beside her, promising she wouldn’t try to kiss him again.
So he had. It had been a long, sleepless night, lying there with the heat from her body radiating into him. The next two nights had been equally long and sleepless.
Rosalind hadn’t said anything about the kiss, but for the past two days, it seemed like she’d stood closer to him than necessary, accidentally brushing against him whenever they walked side by side or sat waiting in a lobby or carriage. She’d touched his arm and shoulder so many times he’d lost count. Once, while they waited for the elevator in the hotel lobby, she’d laced her fingers with his. It had just been for a moment, thenshe let go, but the touch had him recalling their kiss and wishing he could feel her body pressed against his again.
Just that morning, she’d adjusted his cravat. It shouldn’t have felt romantic. The cravat had been crooked, and his sisters and brothers had all helped him with crooked cravats numerous times before. But it had almost seemed like Rosalind made a game out of seeing how close she could stand to him and how near she could bring her lips to his before reaching up. Her fingers had grazed the skin of his neck as she’d straightened it too, and not just once.
If her goal over the past three days had been to have him constantly replaying their kiss in his mind, she’d succeeded. It was all he could think about, that and the series of other small touches she was constantly giving him.
And it was all a giant mess. He wasn’t supposed to have these feelings for her, and she certainly wasn’t supposed to be returning them.
He’d known the fake wedding would be hard on him, but he’d been certain it wouldn’t be so hard on Rosalind, that there was no way she’d develop feelings for him. He didn’t have anywhere close to her family’s wealth and influence, and she’d grown up in a world where status was the most important thing a man could offer his wife. He expected her to marry in truth one day, someone who could give her the life she was accustomed to but also treat her with kindness.
So he’d tried to keep everything between them kind and friendly, but not too personal.
But all that had blown apart when she’d initiated their kiss. Oh, he’d been tempted to kiss her a dozen times during their trip from Alaska to Washington, but he hadn’t ever tried it.
He’d focused his efforts on being respectful and gentlemanly when their situation required them to be personal with each other, like helping her undress and wrapping and unwrappingher ribs. He always made sure to keep his eyes on her face, not allowing himself more than a passing glance at her curves or the shape of her body beneath her undergarments. He’d left the room and given her privacy on multiple occasions. He’d done everything he could think of to preserve her dignity and never make her feel unwelcome or ashamed.
And then she’d up and kissed him, which brought him to where he was now, watching her sleep while trying to figure out how he was going to spend five days on a train with her and not kiss her again.
She’d shifted at some point since he’d entered the room, and now her shoulders peeked above the quilt. The edge of her nightdress was pulled down on one side too, revealing a creamy patch of skin.
She’d get cold if she slept like that too long, so he hung his coat on the hook beside the door and headed toward her.
