Chapter 33
Portland, Oregon; the Next Morning
“We didn’t need to book a hotel room. We’re only going to be in Portland for part of a day.” Rosalind shifted closer to Yuri as the elevator began climbing to the fifth floor of the Merchant Hotel, where he had just paid for a room.
The elevator was one of the new hydraulic kinds, complete with an iron gate the attendant had drawn closed before starting their ascent.
Ornate brass fixtures gleamed along the paneled walls, and a leather-covered bench curved against the back wall.
A polished dial above the gate marked their progress by floor, and the attendant controlled the movement with a lever, occasionally adjusting pressure as the elevator gave a slight groan with each passing level.
She’d ridden in an elevator such as this a few times in Washington, DC, but she hadn’t been there in four years. She wasn’t sure which unnerved her more: how quiet the ascent was or the sensation of rising off the ground without any visible stairs.
Or maybe she was most unnerved by the fact they were in the elevator at all, heading to a room they were only going to use for eight hours in the middle of the day.
The train east was scheduled to leave just after dinner that night, but it was just past ten o’clock in the morning.
The first thing Yuri had done after making sure their private car would be ready for the evening train was to hire a coach and take her straight to the fancy new hotel that had recently opened in Portland.
She hated the thought of him paying so much money just so she could be comfortable for half a day.
She could have wandered the streets of Portland instead.
Yes, her ribs still pained her, but maybe a short time out of bed would do her good.
It wasn’t like she needed to stand and walk the whole time.
They could have shared a long lunch and then had an early supper before the train left.
Then she would have needed to spend only a few hours on her feet.
She tugged on Yuri’s sleeve and leaned close enough that the elevator attendant wouldn’t hear their argument. “It’s not too late for you to get your money back for the room.”
Yuri just shook his head. “I have enough money to pay for a hotel room.”
“Yes, but you don’t need to. I’m fine, see? I’m standing completely by myself.”
“And how badly do your ribs hurt?”
She winced. Quite a bit since leaving the ship. All of the moving from the ship to the carriage to the hotel was taking its toll, but Yuri didn’t need to know that. “They’re fine. They’re still bound from when we left Sitka two days ago.”
“Exactly. We need to rewrap the bindings somewhere private that doesn’t involve a rocking ship or moving train. I also just might happen to want my wife to rest for a few hours on a bed that’s not moving too. You can’t convince me you slept well last night after your nightmare.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing. You can argue all you want, but I’m not going to change my mind.”
The elevator creaked to a halt, and the attendant slid the gate open and unlatched the outer door, revealing a carpeted hallway lined with crown molding and tall windows.
Yuri extended his arm and she took it, but he led her only a short distance before stopping in front of a heavy wooden door and inserting a key into the lock.
The room was just as well appointed as the hallway and lobby downstairs.
A velvet chaise sat angled near a window framed by brocade curtains, and an intricately carved walnut bed stood in the center of the north-facing wall, dressed in crisp white linens and a satin coverlet.
A marble-topped washstand gleamed in one corner, and beside it was a small writing desk and padded chair.
Her eyes moved back to the bed, and she let out a small whimper. Maybe Yuri was right. Maybe spending the day here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
“I want to take your bandage off and let your ribs rest for a few hours, like Nathan said.” Yuri had moved farther into the room and had already set their suitcase on the stand beside the dresser. “You’re supposed to practice breathing too, remember?”
Breathing. Right. She pressed a hand to her ribs.
They were painful even now, but not nearly as painful as they would be with the bindings off.
Nathan had been right about them helping with the pain.
Before Kate had bound her ribs for a final time, Nathan had forced her to take a few deep breaths.
Yuri hadn’t been in the room, so he didn’t understand how excruciating the pain had been.
Still, if taking those deep breaths would prevent her from getting pneumonia, she would do it.
Yuri took a few items out of his suitcase and set them on the polished dresser.
“I’ll step into the hall while you change out of your dress, and then I’ll come back to help with the bandage. After that, you can lie down under the covers, and I can leave again as long as you’re not in too much pain.”
She didn’t want him to leave, pain or not.
They might not be in Seattle—where most people probably assumed they’d be headed after leaving Sitka—but they were close enough for her to be nervous, especially without knowing where her uncle was or if her father had been released from jail.
In fact, she didn’t think she’d stop being nervous until she left Washington, DC, for the hiding place Yuri had promised to take her, somewhere her father would never find her.
Yuri headed for the door, his back stiff and his steps quick. Was he mad at her? For what? Objecting to the hotel room? She’d already changed her mind about that.
He’d reached the door and was in the process of opening it before she told him to wait.
He paused and turned to her, the door open a couple of inches.
“I . . . ah . . .” She licked her lips. “I can’t get out of the dress by myself. Do you mind helping with that too.”
He should have known as much. He’d helped her into the dress that morning before she’d left the ship and out of it after they’d boarded in Sitka.
But for most of the trip, she’d worn only her nightdress, yet another thing Kate and Nathan had told her to do.
She hadn’t left the captain’s cabin on the ship once, but she’d likely need to wear a dress on the train, even with their private car.
“Right. I’m sorry.” He turned and rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just want to give you privacy, but I suppose that’s not always possible.”
“It’s the reason we’re married, remember? Because it wasn’t going to be possible for you to tend to my needs and me to have privacy on this trip.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Right. Of course.” He marched back into the room, his gait still stiff.
She turned and presented her back to him, standing right there in the middle of the room. Her hands trembled slightly as she gathered her hair to one side, and she had the sudden urge to look at anything and anyone other than her husband.
Which was ridiculous. He’d helped her button her dress that morning.
But he hadn’t helped her step into it. She’d been able to take off her nightgown and pull her dress over her head by herself. It was just the buttons at the back that she couldn’t manage.
Yuri came up behind her, and she almost swore she could feel the heat from his chest radiating into her back, never mind that they weren’t even touching. Then his fingers brushed the base of her neck. It was all she could do not to flinch.
It’s just a dress. A dress and a fake marriage that will only last for a few weeks.
He doesn’t want me forever. He’s only helping me now because he knows there’s no one else I can ask.
He’s the one who asked for an annulment, the one who refused the idea of a real marriage with me in under a second.
She repeated the words in her head, trying to remind herself of her situation.
She couldn’t afford to get caught up in any fancy ideas of a future with Yuri.
Everything he’d done so far—including holding her last night after her nightmare—had all been done out of kindness, nothing more.
Yuri might well be the kindest person on the Pacific Ocean, but that didn’t mean he had feelings for her like she had for him.
He worked in silence behind her, his movements careful and slow. The first button slipped free. Then the next.
She closed her eyes. Maybe it was a blessing she couldn’t see his face.
His breath brushed the back of her neck as he undid more buttons, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t even clear his throat. Just kept going, one button at a time, until the bodice loosened and sagged around her shoulders.
She gripped the front of the fabric to keep it in place. “You can turn your back now. I’ll get the rest.”
“And then what? You’ll have me turn around and see what removing the dress has revealed so I can unwrap the bandage? Just let me help with the whole thing. You shouldn’t have to fight with your dress while I’m standing right here.”
How did he know she’d fought with it earlier?
Never mind. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was right. It would be much easier to let him finish helping, and the end result would be no different. In a few minutes he’d see her with her bindings undone, wearing nothing but her bloomers and chemise.
Heat filled her chest, then rushed up to her cheeks.
“So do you want me to help? You can do it yourself if that’s truly what you want.”
“You can help,” she whispered.
He moved around in front of her. She kept her eyes on the carved detailing of the washstand behind him, refusing to meet his gaze as she loosened her fingers from the front of her gown.
He eased the sleeves from her arms, and the bodice dropped away, falling halfway down her hips, where the flair in her petticoat caught it.
The action revealed her bindings down to her waist. Normally she’d be wearing a corset, but her bindings disappeared beneath the waist of her petticoat instead.