“You really love Alaska, don’t you?” she asked him.
Thor said, “I do.” He turned and smiled at her. “Alaxsxaq—that’s the native word and it means ‘the Great Land.’ The first Russians in the area also referred to it as ‘the great land to the east.’ It is a great land. So much is still natural—back at my family’s property, you can have moose and caribou walk up to the front door. The landscape is magnificent, carved out by the many glaciers. You can come to dozens of different places to see fantastic sea life. You really come to believe in something greater than yourself out here. Russian influence is still heavy, in a beautiful way. You have the gorgeous orthodox churches that are scattered about many cities. Man being man, by the mid eighteen hundreds, hunters and trappers had killed off a lot of the otters and the seals, and Tsar Alexander II saw the country as a liability that just wasn’t offering much profit anymore. The US was about to engage in the Civil War, so congress wasn’t that interested in buying what looked a bit like a frozen wasteland that wasn’t paying off for the Russians anymore. But in 1867, William H. Seward, then secretary of state, gave his all to see that the United States purchased Alaska. ‘Seward’s Folly’ was the term used by many, but the United States went ahead and bought it for about seven million dollars—less than Marc Kimball paid for Black Bear Island. I think it was reckoned that we spent about two cents an acre.” He grinned. “There’s another expression they used for Alaska at the time that I like—‘Uncle Sam’s Attic.’ It’s a great attic. And, in time, it proved to be one of our great assets.”
“Ah, spoken like a native son,” she told him, grinning. “You’d never consider leaving.”
“I have left—and who knows? I could leave again. But I’ll always come back. It will always be my home.” He felt a little twist inside. “It can be a violent state. There are huge distances that are still wild. Sometimes the law is hard to maintain. But we’re also a place many, many people want to visit—pristine, fascinating. It kills me that...”
“That Tate Morley has come here,” she finished for him.
He nodded.
A long strand of her hair blew about in the wind; she went to pull it back. He found himself reaching out to help her.
His fingers grazed over her skin. She didn’t back away; she looked at him, a slight smile on her face, and he realized that it might have been that moment when they both realized something.
That they were both young and healthy and sexual creatures. He been attracted to her since he’d seen her, since he’d actually talked to her, seen her move, the way her eyes lit up when she was angry, glistened when she laughed...
Yes, she really was beautiful and charming and he hadn’t been immune, he’d been sexually attracted in every way.
But was there was something deeper than that?
He liked her, he knew. Really liked her. The fight in her, for one—the great right to the jaw she had given him when she had thought herself in danger. She would never let life pass her by; she would always reach out for what seemed important to her.
“I really wish you were on the Fate,” he said. “Actually, I wish you were a couple thousand miles away, safe at your home in New Orleans.”
She smiled at that. “One thing I’ve learned—there is no place in the world that can be guaranteed safe. And if someone is coming after you, you can’t keep running. You have to stop them, unless you want to run forever.”
The air was so cool and fresh around them. The snow glistened on the mountains. The sea appeared as if it was dotted with a million crystals, and she seemed to be everything beautiful about the world as she stood beside him. He longed to touch her, just bend down and feel her lips with his own. Because there was so much that was good in the world, and she seemed such an incredible and seductive part of that beauty as they stood there.
“Look!” she said suddenly, pointing to the water.
It appeared that a spray of diamonds suddenly burst above the surface of the sea.
He smiled.
“Salmon,” he told her.
“Salmon?” she asked.
“Hey. Alaska is famous for its salmon,” he said. “You see them everywhere in these waters. They jump, and they make the scenery even more magical. And you can see whales breeching. When you’re close enough and they come up, it’s amazing. But, let me warn you—when they send air out their blowholes, it can be nasty. Bad breath in whales!” he said lightly.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“I still love whales!” she told him. There was a breath of excitement in her words. They’d forgotten murder and dismembered bodies for a moment.
He wanted to put an arm around her and hold her close and just look out at the spectacular scenery, the glaciers in the distance reflecting the water and the sky, the ice appearing to be a spectacular shade of blue itself.