Page 17 of Esperance

Amryn stared at him, her expression carefully neutral. Her unique green eyes were truly mesmerizing. They were the oddest eyes he’d ever seen. He wondered if—

“You’re not what I expected,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. The way her pink lips abruptly clamped made him think she hadn’t meant to voice that particular thought.

Carver pushed off from the pillar and walked slowly forward. Amryn tensed, but didn’t draw back from his approach.

Definitely not as skittish as she’d seemed yesterday.

He stopped a few paces away, granting her some space. He wasn’t trying to frighten her, after all. Quite the opposite.

“There’s something you need to know about me,” he told her, his voice low and steady. “I will never touch you against your will.”

She stared at him, and he couldn’t tell if she believed him.

It didn’t matter if she was a rebel or not, he didn’t like the thought that any woman would be afraid of him.

Besides, things would be easier if she could relax around him. She might let her defenses fall. So he smiled. “If I did, my mother would kill me.”

The words surprised a short, somewhat hoarse laugh out of her. “She would?”

“My father would help her.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, however slightly.

He pressed that advantage by taking a couple steps forward and extending a hand.

She eyed it, confused.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Carver.” When she still hesitated, he ducked his head so they were eye-level, his hand still hanging between them. “Don’t you think this will be easier if we attempt to get to know each other?”

Her brow furrowed, but she slipped her small hand into his broader one. Her palm was soft, but there were callouses on her fingertips. He wondered what had made them.

He squeezed her long fingers gently, pushing his curiosity aside for now. “This is the part where you tell me your name,” he mock-whispered.

Her mouth twitched. “Amryn.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amryn.”

Her eyes traced his face. “And you . . . Carver.”

Hearing his name spoken in her low tone and the rolling Ferradin accent made something low in his abdomen clench. It was an unexpected physical reaction, and not altogether pleasant.

He could not afford to be thrown by her.

Amryn’s maid prepared her with a speed Carver had never seen his sisters accomplish, and so it wasn’t long before he and Amryn began their walk to the designated breakfast hall.

She wore an emerald green dress that made her fiery hair all the more vivid. Her curls had been wrestled into a thick braid that trailed down her back. Even though the dress was made of probably the most breathable fabric available in the cold climes of Ferradin, sweat was already beading along Amryn’s brow, and her cheeks were flushed.

“Your body will adapt,” he said.

She glanced over at him as they made their way down a wide stone staircase. “Excuse me?”

“To the climate. The humidity is brutal, but you will adapt over time.”

Amryn snorted. “If I don’t melt first.”

He felt a smile tug into place. “I felt the same in Harvari. But youwillget used to it.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Isn’t Westmont unconscionably hot as well?”