Chapter 36
Sitka; Three Days Later
“Idon’t care whether you’re the one in charge.” Alexei whirled around and glared at Mortimer Quimby, the territorial secretary of Alaska.
They were in the governor’s office, where, since the moment Simon Caldwell had left, the scrawny little man had set himself to running the territory as if it were one of his ledgers.
“You can’t give the Alaska Commercial Company sole fishing rights to the waters surrounding Prince of Wales Island.” Alexei jabbed a finger at Quimby. “The Tlingit have been fishing that land for centuries.”
“He can and he will,” Preston Caldwell said in a bored tone from where he sat in a chair near the wall of books. “He’s acting governor, and the contract has already been signed.”
Alexei kept his gaze pinned on the territorial secretary, a skinny man who sat in his office from sunup to sundown and had never once been to the island whose fishing rights he was giving away.
“I wouldn’t listen to his advice. He’ll be going to prison soon, and he won’t be able to bribe you anymore. ”
“I won’t be going to prison.” Preston fanned his fingers out in front of him, studying his nails.
For what, Alexei didn’t know. As far as he was concerned, the man appeared far too haughty and indifferent about the legal battle ahead of him.
“Everyone knows my attempted-murder charged is a farce. I’ll never be convicted. ”
Alexei clenched his hands into fists. “A farce? I watched your daughter nearly die on my kitchen table.”
Preston stifled a yawn. “No one will believe your word over mine.”
“They won’t have to.” Alexei stalked closer to where the arrogant man still sat in the richly appointed chair. “Or did you forget that Alaska’s medical director is the one who saved your daughter’s life?”
“It was an accident.” Caldwell brushed an imaginary speck of lint off his suitcoat, still not bothering to look at him. “She fell down the stairs.”
“You kicked her until you broke five ribs, and the fact you’re out of jail for so much as a day makes me sick.”
Caldwell’s head jerked up at that and he stood, eyes flashing. “Be careful, Amos. Unlike the Russians, we don’t have an antiquated judicial system. Americans are innocent until proven guilty.”
“And I have no doubt you’ll be proven guilty,” Alexei growled.
The first thing the judge had done upon returning to Sitka was release Caldwell on bail, just like Jonas had predicted.
No judge wanted to hold a man as powerful as Preston Caldwell in prison for a crime he had yet to be convicted of.
The judge had made Caldwell promise that he wouldn’t leave Sitka, but the man clearly wasn’t worried about his day in court.
Probably because he planned to bribe the district attorney to reduce the charges. Alexei hadn’t officially heard of that happening yet, but he was waiting for it.
He’d long suspected both the Marshal and the district attorney had been in the Caldwell family’s back pocket. Now he could prove it for the lawman, but not for the attorney. Hibbs was listed as a bribe recipient on every single ledger Rosalind had given them about the seal-harvesting numbers.
If the secretary of the interior ever arrived in Sitka, that would be one of the first things Alexei showed him. He was beyond ready to end the corruption that had plagued Alaska for the last four years.
The territorial secretary cleared his throat. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Amos, but we’re not here to discuss the charges against Mr. Caldwell. The agreement I signed—”
“What agreement are you talking about this time?” The office door banged open, and Alexei found himself looking at none other than Jacob Gray, secretary of the interior.
The snowy-haired man stepped inside the office and looked around, his brows pinching before his gaze settled back on Quimby. “Please tell me you’re not trying to give away hunting or fishing rights that could be sold for a reasonable fee.”
“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 village of 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 watched Rosalind 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, then she 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.