Free A Solitary Heart by Amanda Carpenter Page A

hair as she asked in a sleep- blurred voice, 'What
    are you doing here?'
    'We felt that somebody should stay to keep an eye on you in case you
    needed anything, and, as I'm not a Monty Python fan, I volunteered,'
    he replied, rising smoothly to his feet. He had forsaken his denim
    shorts for a pair of equally faded jeans and grey sweat-shirt with the
    sleeves ripped off. His casual good looks and masculine presence
    were such an exactly perfect product of wish-fulfilment that the weak
    tears flooded back again and glittered brilliantly in her green eyes.
    'What's the matter—feeling achy?'
    The gentleness in the question was just what she had not needed. She
    turned away from him in embarrassed confusion as the tears spilled
    over, nodding mutely.
    He walked around the edge of the sofa and put a careful arm around
    her. 'Come on. Let's get you some medication.'
    She allowed herself to be led back through the hall, flinching and
    wiping her damp cheeks when he flicked on the light, but he never so
    much as glanced at her as he went to run cold water into a tall glass
    and shook out a couple of pills into his palm.
    He offered them to her and she took them with a grimace, drinking
    thirstily until the water was gone. Then she exclaimed with disgust, 'I
    hate taking those things, they make me so dopey!'
    His grin was keen and white as he took away the glass and set it in
    the sink. 'I know what you mean. Once I had whiplash from a car
    accident and took some, but I only ended up doing more injury to
    myself by walking into walls. Still, they'll help you sleep for the first
    couple of nights. Your bruises are coming up lovely, aren't they?'
    She glanced down in even deeper embarrassment at the rainbow of
    colours mottling her bare arms. Some odd impulse made her say
    slowly, 'They look worse than they really are. I bruise very easily,
    and never remember afterwards how I managed to do it.'
    The silence in the kitchen was very deep. Sian kept her face half
    averted, downbent. When Matt spoke, his voice was wry.
    'Forgiveness, Sian?'
    A violent tremor rippled through her. She waited until it passed. 'I
    don't know.'
    'Your delicate skin -' He ran a light finger up her arm, then said
    abruptly, 'Why don't you come into the living-room with me until
    those muscle relaxants start to work, or are you already sleepy?'
    She shook her head. 'I couldn't sleep yet.'
    'All right,' he said easily, and opened up the refrigerator door. 'Want
    another cold drink? I'm having a beer, but I'm afraid that's out for
    you. What about orange juice?'
    'Yes, please.' She watched him pour it, then asked somewhat
    awkwardly, 'How are you—any lasting effects from this afternoon?'
    His mouth whitened as it drew tight and deepened the lines beside it.
    He let her precede him back towards the living-room. 'Not unless you
    count the aftermath of shock. I thought only near-death experiences
    were supposed to make one's life flash before one's eyes, but when I
    saw that kid start to tumble, and you lunged forward to grab him and
    it looked as if you were going to fall as well, all kinds of "should
    have beens" and "might have beens" flashed in front of me.'
    'I didn't have anything like that,' said Sian with a frown as she curled
    stiffly on to the couch and he settled beside her. 'All I remember
    seeing after I fell back and hit my head was stars.'
    'Yes, well,' he said, looking at her with an odd, grim expression that
    eased as he gave her the juice and opened his beer. 'You did a very
    courageous thing today, and at least we all survived to talk about it.'
    Sian tilted back her head and drank, then afterwards regarded Matt's
    profile contemplatively. He was certainly unstinting in praising her
    for her courage, but in all honesty she had not really considered
    herself to be in any personal danger; when she had grabbed on to
    Barry's wrist, she had done so instinctively, without thought to the
    consequences such an action might possibly have for