Read Online A Solitary Heart by Amanda Carpenter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Carpenter
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before I
let you fall. You'll just swing around, that's all. I promise.'
Her weak tears slipped along his neck. 'But I've hurt my shoulder. I
don't think I can manage the climb down.'
'I'll be right behind you the whole way, with one arm around your
waist,' Matt said steadily. The rigidity of his arm was severely
restricting her breathing. 'Please, Sian. Trust me.'
Her eyes closed, and she did as he asked, the tension in first one leg,
then the other, loosening in submission to either death or safety. Her
body swung around and the world righted, and she groaned, a shaken
animal sound, at the terror and the pain of it. The muscles in Matt's
arm bunched hard as granite at her back; she connected with the
length of his body.
He had one leg hooked around a branch, the other outstretched to a
stronger one below, and he held her perfectly steady with just the one
arm—at what cost of strength, she couldn't guess—until her feet had
found the same branch and she could stand for herself.
Then, for long moments, he just crushed her to him, burying his face
into her hair. 'I'll give you this much, young lady,' he said tautly from
the back of his throat, 'you do know how to frighten the wits out of a
man.'
She huddled, shaking, between the barrier of his chest and the tree
trunk. 'Is he safe?'
'Safe and sound and howling his eyes out, the little beast,' said Matt
grimly. 'Sian, my love, delightful as it is to hold you in my arms, I
think could do a much better job of it on the ground. Is this your way
of sweeping me off my feet?'
She leaned her forehead on one hand. 'It was entirely unplanned, I
assure you.'
'Your poor, lovely back—you're scraped all over. Have you the
strength to hold on with one hand?' he asked. 'Good, then I want you
to move as I move, and you can let go when I have my arm around
your waist like this. All right?'
'All right.'
Pressed against her back, he bent to plant a swift kiss behind her ear.
'Good girl.'
The trip down to safety was a nightmare, made bearable only by
Matt's steady chest pressed against her back. Afterwards Sian could
never recall much of what happened; she just blindly put her hand
and feet where he told her to, and trusted him to do the rest.
Then came the blessed moment when he helped her ease into a sitting
position on the lowest, thickest branch before leaping gracefully to
the ground. Sian leaned against the tree-trunk, scarcely able to
believe that they had made it down alive.
There seemed to be quite a crowd around them, but such was her
reduced state that the only person she had eyes for was Matt. Her
huge, glazed eyes rested on him, numbly patient, until he
straightened and turned back to her, the predator's gaze alien with
relief and some vast undefineable emotion.
He held open his arms and said gently, 'Last stop, sweetheart.'
She went down into them as if she were coming home.
Sian woke with a start in darkness, and for a disorientated moment
couldn't remember where she was or how she had come to be there.
Then, recognising the shape and feel of her own bed and the familiar
outlines of her dresser in the moonlight that spilled in from half-shut
curtains, she relaxed and hugged a pillow to her chest.
The pillow was soft and had a faint, clean, spicy smell to it that was
strange and yet comfortingly familiar as well. She turned her face
into it, inhaling deeply. She ached, all over, from the back of her
knees along the length of her raw back and stiff, sore shoulder, and
the throbbing lump at the back of her head.
Now she recalled the little boy stuck in the tree, though the image
was shot through with the recollection of fear and pain, and through
it all, stronger than anything, threaded the memory of Matt's strong
body.
After he had helped her down from the tree, he had immediately
swung her overstressed body into his arms and carried her away
through a babbling confusion of thanks and well-wishing from the
mother
let you fall. You'll just swing around, that's all. I promise.'
Her weak tears slipped along his neck. 'But I've hurt my shoulder. I
don't think I can manage the climb down.'
'I'll be right behind you the whole way, with one arm around your
waist,' Matt said steadily. The rigidity of his arm was severely
restricting her breathing. 'Please, Sian. Trust me.'
Her eyes closed, and she did as he asked, the tension in first one leg,
then the other, loosening in submission to either death or safety. Her
body swung around and the world righted, and she groaned, a shaken
animal sound, at the terror and the pain of it. The muscles in Matt's
arm bunched hard as granite at her back; she connected with the
length of his body.
He had one leg hooked around a branch, the other outstretched to a
stronger one below, and he held her perfectly steady with just the one
arm—at what cost of strength, she couldn't guess—until her feet had
found the same branch and she could stand for herself.
Then, for long moments, he just crushed her to him, burying his face
into her hair. 'I'll give you this much, young lady,' he said tautly from
the back of his throat, 'you do know how to frighten the wits out of a
man.'
She huddled, shaking, between the barrier of his chest and the tree
trunk. 'Is he safe?'
'Safe and sound and howling his eyes out, the little beast,' said Matt
grimly. 'Sian, my love, delightful as it is to hold you in my arms, I
think could do a much better job of it on the ground. Is this your way
of sweeping me off my feet?'
She leaned her forehead on one hand. 'It was entirely unplanned, I
assure you.'
'Your poor, lovely back—you're scraped all over. Have you the
strength to hold on with one hand?' he asked. 'Good, then I want you
to move as I move, and you can let go when I have my arm around
your waist like this. All right?'
'All right.'
Pressed against her back, he bent to plant a swift kiss behind her ear.
'Good girl.'
The trip down to safety was a nightmare, made bearable only by
Matt's steady chest pressed against her back. Afterwards Sian could
never recall much of what happened; she just blindly put her hand
and feet where he told her to, and trusted him to do the rest.
Then came the blessed moment when he helped her ease into a sitting
position on the lowest, thickest branch before leaping gracefully to
the ground. Sian leaned against the tree-trunk, scarcely able to
believe that they had made it down alive.
There seemed to be quite a crowd around them, but such was her
reduced state that the only person she had eyes for was Matt. Her
huge, glazed eyes rested on him, numbly patient, until he
straightened and turned back to her, the predator's gaze alien with
relief and some vast undefineable emotion.
He held open his arms and said gently, 'Last stop, sweetheart.'
She went down into them as if she were coming home.
Sian woke with a start in darkness, and for a disorientated moment
couldn't remember where she was or how she had come to be there.
Then, recognising the shape and feel of her own bed and the familiar
outlines of her dresser in the moonlight that spilled in from half-shut
curtains, she relaxed and hugged a pillow to her chest.
The pillow was soft and had a faint, clean, spicy smell to it that was
strange and yet comfortingly familiar as well. She turned her face
into it, inhaling deeply. She ached, all over, from the back of her
knees along the length of her raw back and stiff, sore shoulder, and
the throbbing lump at the back of her head.
Now she recalled the little boy stuck in the tree, though the image
was shot through with the recollection of fear and pain, and through
it all, stronger than anything, threaded the memory of Matt's strong
body.
After he had helped her down from the tree, he had immediately
swung her overstressed body into his arms and carried her away
through a babbling confusion of thanks and well-wishing from the
mother
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