Bering hated the idea of waking her, but he didn’t want her to miss the show. He dropped to one knee before the sofa. He couldn’t resist pressing his lips softly against her brow first. Then he stroked the soft skin of her cheek with his knuckles. “Em? Emily?” he whispered close to her ear. “Wake up.”

Emily sighed and opened her eyes. “Bering?” She murmured his name and blinked a couple of times. Then she sat up quickly. “What…”

“Hey,” he said. “You fell asleep.”

She ran her hands over her hair tucking pieces behind her ears as she did so. “Oh…now I’m embarrassed. I never do this.”

“Why would you be embarrassed? Naps are good for you.”

“If you’re three years old,” she countered. She stretched and looked around languidly. Then she gasped and stood. She walked toward the window. The night was black but stars and shafts of glowing colors were lighting the sky.

“Northern lights,” she whispered the words, clearly awestruck by the glistening, swirling colors sweeping and dancing across the sky and seemingly right in through the cabin’s window.

“I thought you should get a good look from up here on the mountain while you are in Alaska.”

A breathless “Wow” escaped her lips.

“I know we aren’t supposed to discuss this today and I know I’m the one who called for this cease-fire, but this is just one of the many, many reasons why I love it here.”

“Bering, if this is your idea of sneaking in a little campaigning, I’m okay with it,” she joked softly. “I’ve never seen anything so incredible in my entire life.”

They watched silently for a long time. Bering wanted to take her hand, to touch her, to kiss her. He wanted…her. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to get a hold of his emotions. It was too late. He was owned, he realized, with both resignation and despair. He was owned by Emily Hollings, a city girl who worked for his arch enemy. Was there some possible way they could make this work?