He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “And you think I can save her.”
“I know you can. You’re the only one powerful enough to stand up to him. The only one on earth willing to battle with Vladimir Xendzov. Because you hate him the most.” She took a deep breath. “Please,” she whispered. “You can take my land. I don’t care. But if you don’t save Bree, I don’t know how I’ll live with myself.”
Kasimir stared at her for a long moment.
“Here.” He reached for the heavy backpack on her shoulder. “Let me take that.”
“You don’t need to—”
“You’re swaying on your feet,” he said softly. “You look as if you haven’t slept in days. No wonder. Flying to Seattle and back...”
Without her bag weighing her down, she felt so light she almost felt dizzy. “I told you I went to Seattle?”
He froze, then relaxed as he looked back at her. “Of course you did,” he said smoothly. “How else would I know?”
Yes, indeed, how would he? After almost no sleep for two days, she was starting to get confused. Rubbing her cheek with her shoulder, she confessed, “I am a little tired. And thirsty.”
“Come with me. I’ll get you a drink.”
“Why are you being nice to me?” she blurted out, not moving.
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”
“It always seems that the more handsome a man is, the more of a jerk he is. And you are very, very...”
Their eyes locked, and her throat cut off. Her cheeks burned as she muttered, “Never mind.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Whatever your sister might have told you about me, I’m not the devil. But I am being remiss in my manners. Let’s get you that drink.”
Carrying her backpack over his shoulder, he turned down the hallway. Josie watched him go, her eyes tracing the muscular shape of his back beneath his jacket and chiseled rear end.
Then she shook her head, irritated with herself. Why did she have to blurt out every single thought in her head? Why couldn’t she just show discipline and quiet restraint, like Bree? Why did she have to be such a goofball all the time, the kind of girl who’d start conversations with random strangers on any topic from orchids to cookie recipes, then give them her bus money?
This time wasn’t my fault, she thought mutinously, following him down the hall. He was far too handsome. No woman could possibly manage sensible thinking beneath the laser-like focus of those blue eyes!
Kasimir led her to a high-ceilinged room lined with leather-bound books on one side, and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city on the other. Tossing her backpack on a long table of polished inlaid wood, he walked over to the wet bar on the other side of the library. “What will you have?”
“Tap water, please,” she said faintly.
He frowned back at her. “I have sparkling mineral water. Or I could order coffee...”
“Just water. With ice, if you want to be fancy.”
He returned with a glass.
“Thanks,” she said. She glugged down the icy, delicious water.
He watched her. “You’re an unusual girl, Josie Dalton.”
Unusual didn’t sound good. She wiped her mouth. “I am?” she echoed uncertainly, lowering the glass.
“It’s refreshing to be with a woman who makes absolutely no effort to impress me.”
She snorted. “Trying to impress you would be a waste of time. I know a man like you would never be interested in a girl like me—not genuinely interested,” she mumbled.
He looked down at her, his blue eyes breathtaking.
“You’re selling yourself short,” he said softly, and Josie felt it again—that strange flash of heat.
She swallowed. “You’re being nice, but I know there’s no point in pretending to be something I’m not.” She sighed. “Even if I sometimes wish I could.”
“Unusual. And honest.” Turning, he went to the wet bar and poured himself a short glass of amber-colored liquid. He returned, then took a slow, thoughtful sip.
“All right. I’ll get your sister back for you,” he said abruptly.
“You will!” If there was something strange about his tone, Josie was too weak with relief to notice. “When?”
“After we’re wed. Our marriage will last until the land in Alaska is legally transferred to me.” He looked straight into her eyes. “And I’ll bring her to you, and set you both free. Is that what you want?”
Isn’t that what she’d just said? “Yes,” she cried.
Setting down his drink on the polished wooden table, he held out his hand. “Deal.”
Slowly, she reached out her hand. She felt the hot, calloused hollow of his palm, felt his strong fingers interlace with hers. A tremble raced through her. Swallowing, she lifted her gaze to his handsome face, to those electric-blue eyes, and it was like staring straight at the sun.
“I hope it won’t be too painful for you,” she stammered, “being married to me.”
His hand tightened over hers. “As you’ll be my only wife, ever,” he said softly, “I think I’ll enjoy you a great deal.”
“Your only wife ever?” Her brow furrowed. “That seems a little pessimistic of you. I mean—” she licked her lips awkwardly “—I’m sure you’ll meet someone someday...”
Kasimir gave a low, humorless laugh.
“Josie, my sweet innocent one—” he looked at her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes “—you are the answer to my every prayer.”
* * *
Prince Kasimir Xendzov hadn’t started the feud ten years ago with his brother.
As a child, he’d idolized Vladimir. He’d been proud of his older brother, of his loving parents, of his family, of his home. Their great-grandfather had been one of the last great princes of Russia, before he’d died fighting for the White Army in Siberia, after sending his beloved wife and baby son to safety in Alaskan exile. Since then, for four generations, the Xendzovs had lived in self-sufficient poverty on an Alaskan homestead far from civilization. To Kasimir, it had been an enchanted winter kingdom.
But his older brother had hated the isolation and uncertainty—growing their own vegetables, canning them for winter, hunting rabbits for meat. He’d hated the lack of electricity and indoor plumbing. As Kasimir had played, battling with sticks as swords and jousting against the pine trees, Vladimir had buried his nose in business books and impatiently waited for their twice-a-year visits to Fairbanks. “Someday, I’ll have a better life,” he’d vowed, cursing as he scraped ice off the inside window of their shared room. “I’ll buy clothes instead of making them. I’ll drive a Ferrari. I’ll fly around the world and eat at fine restaurants.”
Kasimir, two years younger, had listened breathlessly. “Really, Volodya?” But though he’d idolized his older brother, he hadn’t understood Vladimir’s restlessness. Kasimir loved their home. He liked going hunting with their father and listening to him read books in Russian by the wood-burning stove at night. He liked chopping wood for their mother, feeling the roughness of an ax handle in his hand, and having the satisfaction of seeing the pile of wood climb steadily against the side of the log cabin. To him, the wild Alaskan forest wasn’t isolating. It was freeing.
Home. Family. Loyalty. Those were the things Kasimir cared about.
Right after their father died unexpectedly, Vladimir got news he’d been accepted to the best mining college in St. Petersburg, Russia. Their widowed mother had wept with joy, for it had been their father’s dream. But with no money for tuition, Vladimir had put off school and gone to work at a northern mine to save money.
Two years later, Kasimir had applied to the same college for one reason: he felt someone had to watch his brother’s back. He didn’t expect that he’d have the money to leave Alaska for many years, so he’d been surprised tuition money for them both was suddenly found.
It was only later he’d discovered Vladimir had convinced their mother to sell their family’s last precious asset, a jeweled necklace hundreds of years old that had once belonged to their great-grandmother, to a collector.
He’d felt betrayed, but he’d tried to forgive. He’d told himself that Vladimir had done it for their good.
Right after college, Kasimir had wanted to return to Alaska to take care of their mother, who’d become ill. Vladimir convinced him that they should start their own business instead, a mining business. “It’s the only way we’ll be sure to always have money to take care of her.” Instead, when the banks wouldn’t loan them enough money, Vladimir had convinced their mother to sell the six hundred and thirty-eight acres that had been in the Xendzov family for four generations—ever since Princess Xenia Petrovna Xendzova had arrived on Alaskan shores as a heartbroken exile, with a baby in her arms.