“You didn’t.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t.” The flush on her cheeks deepened as she said, “I woke up on your side of the bed. I’m sorry I pushed into your space.”
“It’s fine.” That was an understatement, of course. He’d been thrilled to wake with her wrapped around him. But her embarrassment was clear, and he didn’t want to make her any more self-conscious by telling her just how much of his space she’d claimed.
She bit her lip, her eyes studying him. He wondered what she was sensing from him. Then her attention flicked to the horizon, where the sun was getting ready to crest the low hills in the distance. The hazy light of the coming dawn softened her features. “I don’t usually wake early enough to see the sunrise,” she murmured.
He had learned quickly that his wife did not favor early mornings. It was another way in which they were opposites; he’d always loved the energy that came with the dawn.
Amryn’s eyes came back to him. “Do you mind if I stay to watch?”
His pulse tripped. But then he realized she was talking about the sunrise—not him. He swallowed quickly. “Of course you can stay.”
She gifted him with a small smile before stepping out onto the balcony. There were a couple of ironwork chairs off to the side, and she curled into one, pulling her knees up to her chest and rearranging the fall of the long robe over her drawn up legs.
Carver forced himself to look away. He twisted, keeping her in his peripheral vision as he faced the coming sunrise and sank back into the stance he’d been holding before she came out—arms held out at his sides with his palms down.
“What are you doing?”
He glanced over at her, still holding the pose. “It’s a meditative exercise.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “You mentioned that before, in Esperance. But it’s not like any form of meditation I’ve ever seen.”
“My grandfather taught it to me. The physical stances help with breath control, and they can help clear your mind and aid in centering yourself.”
Her chin dropped to her knees, her arms tightening around her folded legs. “Does it actually work?”
“Yes. My grandfather always said we need to quiet the battles inside us before we attempt to battle anything around us. I try to do his meditations every morning. They’ve—”Kept me sane.“—helped me through some difficult times,” he said instead.
Carver had no doubt Amryn had noted the fluctuation of his emotions, but all she said was, “I’m glad you’ve found something that helps.” No questions. No prying.
He relaxed marginally, making it easier to shift to the next stance—one arm outstretched, palm up, the other lifted toward the sky as he sank lower. The slight burn in his legs was welcome, though he may have gone a little deeper than usual because he knew Amryn was watching.
“How do you remember all the poses?” she asked.
“Years of practice.” He glanced over at her. “Would you like to try?” He hadn’t meant to blurt out the words, but when her eyes widened, he got an unexpected surge of satisfaction from surprising her.
“That’s all right.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d probably fall over.”
“I wouldn’t let you fall, Amryn.”
The words hung between them, more profound than he’d intended. But he meant them in every way.
Her lips pressed together, and a sense of victory filled him when she rose from the chair.
She met him in the center of the balcony. Her shyness was obvious as she stood before him, and it only made him determined to help her find confidence in this.
He had her face the sunrise, so she wouldn’t miss it, and then he shifted to stand behind her. His hands touched her sides, and her warmth instantly bled into his palms. It reminded him of what it had been like to wake with her in his arms. He tightened his hold on her, clearing his throat before he said, “Breathing is important. Don’t forget to do it while we go through the different stances.”
“I’ve been breathing quite successfully for a few years now,” she quipped.
Ah. There was a hint of his red-haired harpy. Carver grinned. While Amryn could be tentative and soft-spoken, she had a streak of fire and wit that could spark to life without warning.
He gently poked her side. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m trying to teach you important things.”
Though he couldn’t see her eyes, he knew she’d rolled them. “Apologies. Please, teach me all about breathing.”
His lips twitched. “Thank you. Now, as I was saying, breathing is an important part of these exercises. Once you get more familiar with the poses, we’ll work on your breathing technique.”
