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fluids,’ she went on to explain.

      Sabrina nodded, glancing at the label on the bag.

      The nurse gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘He was lucky really. The surgeon who repaired your husband’s face is one of the best plastic surgeons there is—not that we don’t have good doctors here, but Mr Clare is the man. And he was only on the island for the royal wedding, apparently. I wonder how that went. Anyhow, he just turned up here and offered to help out after he heard about what had happened.

      ‘I just thought you should know that your husband had the very best care. I’m sure a doctor will be along to fill you in later but, as you can imagine, we are a bit stretched.’

      ‘Thank you. His hands...?’

      ‘Superficial.’

      Her lowering of tension was fleeting as she asked a moment later, ‘My sister, Chloe, did anyone...?’

      Sabrina read bad news in the girl’s hesitation so she was prepared as much as she could be for bad news when it came.

      ‘That would be Lady Chloe Summerville?’

      Sabrina nodded.

      The girl’s eyes widened. ‘So you’re...?’

      ‘I’d kind of prefer to stay below the radar for now.’

      The nurse responded to the appeal with a nod and a smile. ‘They airlifted your sister to a specialist burns unit on the mainland. I believe your parents went with her...’ The girl laid a buzzer on the bed beside her. ‘You just ring if you want anything, La—Sabrina.’

      Sabrina looked at the buzzer. What she really wanted was to go back to that moment on the staircase when she could have gone, no, should have gone back. But that wasn’t going to happen because the world was not fair. If it were she would be the one living with the consequences of her actions, not Chloe, not Sebastian.

      If she could have swopped places she would have in a heartbeat.

      That’s easy to say, Brina, mocked the voice in her head, when you know you can’t.

      Nurses came in and out during the night to record Sebastian’s observations and when they saw she was awake all they told her was that he was doing fine.

      She lay there counting down the hours on the clock on the wall opposite. It was two in the morning when a dapper man she recognised as the King’s private secretary appeared.

      He didn’t seem to notice Sabrina at first, he was so transfixed by the sight of Sebastian.

      He shook his head and gasped, ‘Lady Sabrina! You here, this is...well, it is simply intolerable to expect either you or His Highness to share a room with anyone at all.’

      ‘It’s fine,’ Sabrina said. ‘They are pushed for space and I’m going home in the morning. But if there is any news of my sister could you let me know?’

      ‘Of course, so sad, and when we were still reeling from this morning’s events. The King is... Well, he wanted to come, but he had an...an event when he heard.’

      ‘Event?’

      ‘A heart event. Not an attack, you understand, but the Queen is at his side and he is comfortable,’ he added as if he were reading out a press release—actually he had probably already done so. ‘They wanted to be here, but it is lucky they are not here to see their son being treated like an ordinary—Of course, if he had not gone out without his security presence... But, no matter, I will set wheels in motion.’

      ‘At least there are no press hiding behind bedpans to take a snap.’

      The man rubbed his chin as he took on board her comments. ‘That is certainly a benefit of anonymity, and the idea of the Prince being treated like any of his subjects would be good for his image, presenting him as a man of the people. Well, perhaps for tonight at least we might leave things as they are.’ He tipped his head towards the bed where Sebastian slept on. ‘Do you know if there will be any scars?’

      ‘I should think so,’ she said evenly and closed her eyes. If she had to hear the man thinking out loud of how to put a positive spin on Sebastian being marked for life she would have to throw something at him.

      She was so tired of people who thought that the truth was a dirty word, people who thought through every syllable they uttered, always choosing appearances above honesty.

      Sometimes the truth was just the truth, no matter how much you manipulated it, and the truth was that two people she cared for deeply were in pain because of her!

      Her eyelids flickered as a series of images ran through her head. Sebastian mocking her, Sebastian aloof, Sebastian kissing her, Sebastian smiling and on and on, always Sebastian.

      Was she in any position to condemn anyone for being economical with the truth?

      Truth?

      Didn’t you have to ask the right question first to hear the answer, the truth?

      When she opened her eyes the King’s private secretary had gone. She looked at the man in the bed beside her own and saw that Sebastian was awake and looking at her, his blue eyes clouded by the drugs in his system. The ache of empathy was so strong that she forgot all about truths and answers.

      ‘Hello,’ she said softly.

      ‘I...’ He paused and moistened his lips. ‘I was looking for Chloe,’ he slurred.

      She felt tears spring to her eyes. ‘You found her.’

      ‘Where is this...?’

      ‘Hospital. You were hurt but you’re going to be all right. The room, it’s funny...’ she said, ignoring the odd aching feeling inside her when she laughed, ‘but they think we’re married.’

      ‘We are married? Yes, I remember now. I was dreaming about it. I kissed you.’ He smiled. ‘I remember now you looked beautiful.’ Still smiling, he closed his eyes and his breathing showed he was asleep.

      Satisfied that he was resting comfortably, she had just drifted off to sleep herself when she was woken.

      The man wheeling the chair told her that he had come to take her to CT before discharge.

      She glanced towards Sebastian, who was still sound asleep.

      ‘I don’t need one.’

      ‘I’m not a doctor, are you?’

      She could have said yes but she didn’t. ‘I could walk.’

      ‘You could, but if you fall over I’m the one who’ll get the boot...so...?’

      She got in, holding the open back of her gown in place to cover her modesty and her behind.

      ‘I’ve seen worse,’ wisecracked her driver. ‘You two the honeymooners? Don’t worry, it won’t take long and he’ll still be here when you get back.’

      * * *

      He was, but not in bed when she walked into the room past the security guards who had been there when she’d left. Her brief flurry of irrational panic subsided when she saw the figure standing in a narrow open door that was a tight squeeze for a broad-shouldered man plus a portable drip stand.

      In her absence the big bulky dressing had been removed. In its place was a narrow, almost transparent strip that showed the full extent of his repaired wound. Sabrina was relieved by what she saw. The man who had operated had clearly been as good as the nurse had claimed. Her professional eye could see beyond the bruising and swelling that made his face unrecognisable, and she knew that the healing process would fade the livid raised red scar to silver.

      The professional in her saw a good job; the woman in her saw not ugliness, but pain and she winced, her empathy shifting uneasily to dismay. What she was feeling went beyond normal empathy. It wasn’t even guilt that she felt; it was more...it was... The name for what she was feeling remained there, just out of reach.

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