Twenty One

Matthew held her hand where she lay prostrate on the hard board that supported her back and neck.  She was tied down and the bruises were much more obvious now and he wondered if they would be able to save her.  He was afraid she would die before he had had a chance to tell her what he had intended to tell her at the river.  The fact that she was still unconscious could not be a good sign.

Gently he kissed her hand.  He did not want to lose her now.  Why had she fled from him like that?  She had seemed willing enough when he had kissed her.  Had he read her signals wrong?  He had not even done more than just enjoy the feel of her skin and the taste of her kiss; what had driven her to run away?

Was all this his fault?  It had to be!  She would never ride like that, unless something had upset her badly.  He looked at the slither of rock that was still protruding from her back; stained with her blood.  There had