Page 91 of Esperance

His voice—deep and rough—vibrated through her entire body.

Her fingers dug into her arms, and she hoped the bite of pain would distract her body from the fact that Carver was standing right there, overpowering everything with his broad shoulders and intense presence.

“If you need someone to talk to, perhaps you should find Marriset.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want Marriset.”

There was a flutter low in her stomach, and she hated that. “I think you made it very clear that you want her. Frankly, I don’t care.”

One eyebrow quirked. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.”

He took another step forward, and she couldn’t help but feel like cornered prey as he studied her face. “You’re jealous.”

Her spine stiffened. “I am not.”

“You are.” That fact seemed to surprise him. And she absolutely hated his flash of excitement.

She dropped her crossed arms, and stepped forward, not stopping until she’d invaded his space.

He didn’t retreat, but she could feel his sudden tension.

Her smile came out a little sharp. “If you want to make a fool of yourself by panting after Marriset, be my guest. But don’t expect me to care.”

His gaze darkened. “Amryn—”

“No,” she overrode him. “Our marriage has never been real. We both know that. So do whatever you want with Marriset. Just leave me out of it.” She stepped around him, but his hand banded around her wrist.

She twisted back to face him, her pulse pounding. “Let go of me.”

His hold flexed—not bruising, but not releasing. His jaw worked, and his emotions churned as he fought to find words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he finally said.

She stared up at him, her shoulders stiff and her heart aching. “To be hurt, I’d have to care.” She jerked her hand free of his grip and spun on her heel.

This time, he didn’t come after her.

Chapter 24

Carver

Carver stood on the edge of camp,the multicolored tents behind him and the emerald and onyx jungle before him. The sun was falling behind the distant mountains, casting the world in shadow. Behind him, servants chatted and laughed as they tended the cooking fires.

He had no idea where Amryn was.

He had glimpsed her during the day as they made their trek to the base of Zawri, but they’d both been avoiding each other since his failed attempt to apologize in the museum archives a few days ago.

He knew she was angry and hurt. It was obvious in the tensed way she held herself, and he regretted that. But he hadn’t been able to find the words to apologize, and he couldn’t very well explain what he was doing with Marriset.

Especially when he’d found the first piece of evidence that Amryn might be a rebel.

When he’d found her in the archives, she’d been startled. He’d assumed his presence alone was reason enough, but then she’d deliberately shifted to block his view of something on the shelf. So, when she strode away, he forced himself to stay, even though he’d burned to go after her.

“To be hurt, I’d have to care.”

Those words still rang in his ears, even days later. But that hurt had been overshadowed when he’d stepped closer to inspect the shelf.

His throat had run dry.

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