Page 144 of Esperance

She’d always avoided the large parties at the castle, and dancing had never been a lesson she needed. It put her closer to people, which put her in an overwhelmingly large crowd with far too many emotions to handle comfortably. But with Carver as her partner, she had to admit dancing wasn’t so bad.

They danced for a couple of songs, until a deep voice asked, “May I steal a dance?”

Ivan stood beside them. Even with his blue and gold mask, it was obviously him. No one else had hair that blond, or eyes that icy—or a strong Sibeten accent.

Carver’s grip on Amryn tightened, but she was already nodding. “Of course.”

She could feel Carver’s worry, as well as his edge of annoyance and a hint of possession.

She shot him a look that said,We’re supposed to act naturally.

His look clearly said,I don’t care.

She sent him a smile as she retreated a step. “Could you get me a glass of wine?”

Carver’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Of course.” His attention slid to Ivan as he told Amryn, “I’ll have it ready for you after this dance.”

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.” Then she took Ivan’s offered hand, and he pulled her into a dance.

He was not as talented as Carver, but he still moved smoothly as he led her through the steps.

“Your leg must be feeling better,” she said.

“It’s healed very well, actually.” He looked down at her, and their eyes locked. “The physician believes the cut wasn’t as deep as I thought it was. He said I would have bled out if the damage had been that severe.”

Her throat felt a little dry under his scrutiny. Saints save her from blue-eyed men who looked too closely at things. “I’m glad it wasn’t as bad as it looked,” she said.

“Yenn,” he agreed, still looking at her far too intently. “It was miraculous.”

Suspicion, curiosity—it floated from him, making her heart race.

“Thank you,” he told her suddenly.

Her stomach hollowed. “For what?”

“For helping me. For stopping the bleeding.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“I disagree.”

“I fainted.”

“I know.” His head listed to the side. “You saved my life. I owe you for that,il mishka.”

She had no idea what he’d just called her, but his tone was gentle. Almost reverent. Her cheeks warmed. “You really don’t owe me anything.”

He ignored that. “I will repay this debt whenever you have need—no matter what you need.”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say; he was clearly determined to offer.

He dipped his chin.

The song ended, and they stepped apart. She offered him a curtsy and he bowed, a fist held against his forehead. When he straightened, his eyes drifted past her. “It would seem your husband does not like to share.”

She twisted to see Carver standing on the edge of the dance floor, two wineglasses in hand and his gaze trained on them.

Saints only knew why that heated every part of her.