His voice sounded wrong. Thin. And the emotions she’d sensed before he’d shut her out were sheer torment.
She eased into the small room. Carver hadn’t bothered to light a lamp, so the space was shadowed. Ambient light from the night sky drifted through the latticedwindow that sat high on the wall, revealing Carver standing at the washstand, his hands in the basin of water. His shoulders were hunched and his head bent.
When she closed the door behind her, Carver glanced over, his expression unreadable in the shadows. “Amryn . . .”
She used the starlight to guide her to his side. She glanced into the water, noting the pinkish hue. Her stomach squirmed, but compassion rose when she saw how tightly his hands were fisted.
She slipped around him and lifted a neatly folded cloth. Without a word, she began cleaning his clenched hands.
He tensed when she first touched him. She knew he was about to pull away or tell her she didn’t have to do this—but he didn’t. He watched as she silently washed the bloodstains off his skin, his strained muscles gradually relaxing. At her silent prompting, he extended his fingers, and she cleaned each one gently and methodically, including the silver ring on his forefinger. When that was done, she brushed the wet cloth over his open palms.
Their breaths mingled in a silence that was only interrupted by the soft trickle of water and the quiet rasp of the cloth. She didn’t thank him for saving her life. She knew he didn’t want gratitude for what he’d done tonight. What he needed right now was her care and understanding, and that’s what she tried to give him as she gently washed the callused hands that had saved her life yet again.
When his hands were clean—every groove, and under every fingernail—she set aside the sodden cloth and lifted a clean towel.
He offered no resistance as she guided him to face her, turning him away from the bloodied water. Using the same gentle meticulousness she’d used to wash his hands, she now carefully dried them, keeping each motion soft and slow. Only when she was finished, the towel set aside, did she look up at his face.
He was watching her intently, his emotions still tightly sealed behind that impenetrable wall he somehow managed to build.
With the tips of her fingers, she traced a reddened mark on his temple.
He winced, a flash of pain cutting briefly through his shield.
“Do you need a physician?” she asked, her voice low.
He shook his head, the skin around his eyes tightening. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Without breaking eye contact, she took his clean hands in hers. “You saved my life, Carver.”
His fingers twitched in her hold. “I didn’t hear them.I—”
“It was the middle of the night,” she broke in gently. “You were asleep. We both were. And they were silent.”
“You heard them.”
“I think it was the bloodstone. I felt a flare of warning, and it woke me.”
A muscle in his cheek jumped. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to kill him. He was dying already, and I . . . You were in pain . . .”
“I know. I understand.”
“It hurt you.” Anguish filled his soft whisper. “Ihurt you. I’m sorry . . .”
She let go of one hand so she could rest her palm against his stubbled cheek. He stilled under her touch, though his expression remained tortured. “I’m safe, Carver,” she reminded him. “Because of you. We’re both safe.”
“You’re all right?” he asked, and she realized those were the words he needed to hear.
“Yes. I’m all right.”
His eyes squeezed shut, his head ducking. The movement forced her hand to shift, and she resettled her palm against the side of his neck, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse. Her fingertips strayed into his dark hair, trying to soothe him with her touch.
Her heart broke for him. For the sorrow he felt in taking lives. She knew he didn’t regret defending her, but he hadn’t wanted to kill those men.
She leaned in, even as she applied pressure to the back of his neck, forcing his head down until their foreheads were pressed together. Her eyes fell closed and she prayed he’d truly hear her as she said, “I’m not going to thank you, because I know you don’t want that right now. But I’m grateful for you, Carver. So utterly grateful that you’re the one I married in Esperance. I will always be grateful that you are mine.”
His breath hitched. Suddenly, his arms banded around her, dragging her body against his. He squeezed her so tightly, breathing was a struggle.
But she held him just as fiercely, letting him bury his face against the curve of her neck and simply hold her.
