The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  Sarah gave a light laugh. "You wouldn't be by yourself, silly. I would go with you."

  His face took on that closed off expression she had begun to dread. "I couldn't possibly ask it of you."

  "You didn't ask. I offered." She giggled with a light-heartedness she had not felt for a long time. "It will not be so sinful to enjoy Bath if I'm helping someone in need."

  "But your parish duties," he protested mildly, though she could see he had been tempted by her offer.

  "I'll do more than my fair share whilst I'm here. We couldn't really go for a few weeks yet anyway, Alexander. I want to get you built up a bit more before you embark on another journey. You're still so thin, and need your rest. And there are things you need to be able to do for yourself which you'll be much better off learning to do here in the country than in a big city."

  He looked surprised. "What, for example?"

  "When's the last time you were on a horse?"

  His face closed up even more tightly. "Never."

  "I'm sure you must have done in the past."

  "I may well have, but I have no memory of it, and a blind man-"

  "Can use the exercise just as much as anyone else," she said firmly. "You'll enjoy it, I promise. You know I would never let you come to any harm."

  "I don't know who's more off their head, you or me," he snorted in derision, looking almost furious. It was bad enough seeming so feeble in front of this marvelous woman, without courting disaster deliberately as well.

  She grasped his muscular upper arm and shook him. "Don't ever say that! You're blind and have lost your memory, but you're not mad! And neither am I. You want to get your life back? You will. One day at a time, one hurdle at a time. Gentlemen ride. You are a gentleman. Therefore, you ride."

  He sighed. "All right. I'll try. Anything to make you happy."

  "Don't do it for me," Sarah said with a shake of her head. "Do it for yourself."

  "All right, I shall be delighted and ecstatic to break my neck trying to ride a horse," he gritted out sarcastically.

  She shook his arm again. "Now, now, none of those negative thoughts. One hurdle at a time. You need to trust me. I have to trust you. You said you'd try to do the same for me."

  "You're absolutely correct," Alexander conceded after a time. "It's just that I hate being so dependent upon you. Blundering about like some nincompoop. But it's all about trust. I trust you, therefore I shall ride." He smiled. "I think we've invented a new form of Cartesian dualism."

  She stared at him. "And were some of your fellow soldiers philosophers as well?"

  "One of the monks was."

  "I see. Interesting."

  "Why?"

  She took a sip of water, then observed, "You seem to have a excellent intelligence and understanding, and a very good memory, despite what's happened to you."

  "Thank you. I know you're only trying to make me feel better, but-"

  "I mean it. You're obviously from a good family and are intelligent. Just because you can't remember doesn't mean that you can't learn. You told me yourself that you can speak four languages."

  "But I can't see, and can't write them."

  She looked up from her plate. "But you can write?"

  "Yes, of course," he said with a haughty lift of his chin.

  "And you used to be able to read?"

  He nodded. "I have a remembrance of printed words on a page, a newspaper, yes."

  "And numbers?"

  He nodded again. "Aye."

  "Nine multiplied by five?"

  "Forty-five."

  "What color is a daffodil?"

  "Yellow. Narcissi are pale yellow with gold in the center."

  "Interesting, the things you recall. Practical things, but not the essentials about yourself. It suggests that something, even you yourself, are stopping you from remembering."

  He shrugged, obviously uneasy at the turn the conversation had taken. "Whatever is causing it is unimportant. The plain fact is I can't remember. And I hate being so dependent upon you for everything."

  She ignored his last sentence, intent upon her fact-finding mission. "But you recollect other things. Was all of this knowledge in your head when you came to, or has it come about gradually?"

  "Gradually. I couldn't even speak when I first awakened."

  Her hazel eyes widened. "Oh my. But it is evident that you recall things which you had to have known before your injuries. You couldn't possibly know what a flower looked like now, could you? You can't see. It was in your head before, and has come to the surface."

  "So?" he asked, not sure where her thoughts were leading, and feeling more and more cornered by the moment. He hated being in the dark, lost. But even more terrifying was the prospect of discovering the meaning of the horrendous visions he had seen in his sleep.

  "So it's possible that your identity will come back too, Alexander. It will rise up from below as well, when the time is right. Those nightmares you have, even the headaches, may be part of the process."

  He put his hand upon hers. "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I'm warning you not to get your hopes up," he said, his tone edgy, almost a growl of warning. "I may not ever find my past."

  She squeezed his fingers, and stroked the back of his hand soothingly, tracing the veins almost absentmindedly. "I have no hopes, Alexander, except that you'll get that which you desire. I'm happy enough with you as you are at the moment. I'm not saying it will be easy for you, but it matters not a jot to me if I never know who you were. I know who you are now, and that's all that matters."

  Alexander sighed. "I would like to believe that. But it seems too wonderful to be true. And the past has a way of coming back to haunt us."

  "You've been given a second chance at life. You've obviously been to Hell and back. Perhaps your memory is the price you have to pay for it."

  She stroked his cheek, and he kissed her hand warmly, with the lightest pressure of his tongue on the back of it which set her ashivering, her nipple peaking almost painfully under all her layers of clothing.

  "Perhaps you wouldn't be able to live a normal life if you could remember," she whispered, shaking with desire.

  He stood up abruptly, relinquishing her hand before he did something so unspeakable he ruined any chance of retaining her friendship. "All these possibilities are making my head spin, Sarah. Why don't we go for that walk you promised me?"

  She jumped up and stared at him from her side of the table. Every nerve in her body ached to step closer to him, to put her arms around him. He had been more than demonstrative.

  She stepped back instead. She simply couldn't allow herself to be so bold with the man she wanted more than anything, but knew virtually nothing about.

  Chapter Seven

  Sarah considered Alexander's suggestion that they go for a walk, and at length agreed.

  "I have a basket of things to take to the school, and a few calls to pay. Are you up to walking a half a mile each way, do you think?"

  "I'll do my best."

  "Do you really wish to walk, or should we take the gig?"

  "Walk, please. I don't want to stiffen, not after that wonderful bath this morning."

  "Very good. I shall get my cloak and a coat for you, and we'll head to Brimley."

  She fetched her things and helped him on with his outer garments, reveling in the contact with his broad shoulders and chest.

  He was so huge, it would be all too easy for him to simply grab her, overwhelm her, but he was so gallant, he did not take advantage of her nearness, much as she found herself wishing he might. Just one kiss from that wonderfully sensual mouth would be worth it, she was sure.

  But he merely stood with his hands at his sides until she proclaimed them both ready.

  He took the basket from her hand and looped it over his arm. "How shall we manage going down the road?"

  "I shall take your arm as all ladies do, and lead you. No one will need to know you are blind if you don't wish them to."


  "Won't they wonder about me?"

  "There's no reason to," she assured him. "You're my cousin Alexander. My brother has just been married. It's only natural for relations to come visit for such an occasion."

  "Did your sisters come down?"

  "No, but they have many children, and Jonathan and his wife were going to visit them anyway, so there seemed little point in them journeying so far, and at such great inconvenience to themselves."

  "I see. All right, but I won't lie if I'm asked directly," he said in a firm tone.

  "No, of course not. I wouldn't expect you to. I'm not ashamed of anything I've done."

  "Still, people might take it amiss," he remarked.

  "What?"

  "Living with me unchaperoned."

  "I don't care. I'm old enough, and independent. I can live the way I like," she said bravely, though she suffered a few inner pangs for her brother even more than for herself. A vicar's family was supposed to be above reproach. But was she really doing anything so wrong? She was simply helping a disabled man.

  "Opinionated, aren't you?" he said with a grin.

  "I just don't believe that every woman, left to her own devices, will make bad choices or fall prey to a marauding male."

  He laughed heartily at that. "A good word, marauding."

  "You don't strike me as the type."

  "Thank you, I think," he replied, patting her hand.

  She laughed. "No need to sound insulted. I simply meant that you seem to respect women. I have met men who do, and men who don't. You're definitely in the former category, so I feel safe with you."

  "I don't know, Sarah. If you keep stuffing me with food like a Christmas turkey, I shall most definitely be fit to maraud. Or at least be fit to chase you," he teased.

  She giggled happily and hugged his arm to her. "I think I'll take my chances. You look a great deal better than you did yesterday, after only a couple of good meals. I'd better get started on those new clothes for you soon. You won't be able to fit into Jonathan's much longer at this rate. You're obviously so much more muscular when you're at a normal weight."

  Alexander was pleased with the way she seemed so aware of his body, but remained silent, not wanting to say anything which would betray his manly interest in her.

  It would be only natural to be attracted to a female he was living in such close proximity to. She had a wonderful character and was a joy to be with. But there was no point in being too hasty. She was happy to have him stay with her whilst he got back on his feet. He hated being so dependent upon her, but it also gave him plenty of time to get to know her better, make certain of her character.

  Fall in love...

  He felt almost suffocated by the thought. It was like stepping off a cliff into a deep, dark void.

  But with Sarah's arm in his, suddenly the prospect did not seem so frightening. She seemed to buoy him up with her little hand whenever he needed her help. He might well fall in love with her, but he was sure she would lift him to the loftiest heights.

  The question was, could he do the same for her? His body wasn't exactly capable of rising to any challenges at the moment, though he had been hoping ever since he had started walking again that he might also regain the use of all parts of his anatomy, not least of which would be his eyes.

  But even in the bright sunlight he could feel beating down on his face, there wasn't a hint of shadow, or the outline of a tree or wall. All was black. He tried not to let the gloom penetrate his soul, and asked her for a description of the countryside they were walking through as they progressed.

  "Oh, it's lovely country, lushly green and rolling."

  "I can hear cattle, and sheep. Smell them too."

  "Oh, yes," she confirmed, and began to describe them in detail to keep him entertained. She had seen his grim looks, had sensed him withdrawing into himself, and was determined to chivvy him along lest he grow despondent.

  She led him down the road to the schoolhouse and dropped off the basket. She introduced Alexander to the new schoolteacher Mr. Baxter, and they spoke about Jonathan's wedding for a brief time before heading on to the Millers' house.

  Mrs. Miller was a kind soul with a vast number of children and a very ill husband. She was out working in the garden, but it was heavy labor for such a small woman.

  "What are you digging?" Alexander asked, hearing the sound of the shovel in the soil.

  "A potato drill."

  He stripped off his coat and jacket and took the implement from her.

  "But Alexander-" Sarah began to protest.

  "Go inside and have a little visit with Mrs. Miller, Sarah, dear. I'll be finished shortly."

  The women both tried to talk him out of it, but to no avail. Sarah worried about him out in the sun by himself on such uneven ground, and also hoped he would not dig up any of the existing crops. When Sarah could stand the suspense no longer and peeked out, she saw a perfectly even and straight trench.

  "You didn't have to do that, you know," she remarked quietly.

  "What?"

  "Help, for one thing. But also try to prove that you could do it."

  Alexander shrugged. "I did it all the time at the monastery. I get a feel for the space. It's almost like I can see it."

  "So you see, there are a lot of useful things you can do in the outdoors, then. Well, we have a garden at home we can let you have full charge of," she offered.

  "Just so long as you distinguish between the seed packets for me, I'll do all I can," he volunteered eagerly.

  "And what are you like with flowers?" she asked.

  "Very good, apparently. I know many different breeds of roses just by their smell. Don't ask me how, I don't know."

  Sarah considered this new piece of information in silence. He could have been a gardener, of course, but his hands told another tale. A gentleman of leisure with a keen interest in horticulture. She knew rose enthusiasts often clubbed together.

  "And what are your impressions of fox hunts?" she asked after a time.

  He paused in his digging, frowning at the odd question. "Red coats, called hunting pink, and hounds baying. Lots of noise and fresh air, lots of parties and people being blooded after their first kill." He made a face.

  "Barbaric practice. Nice pieces of horse flesh, though. Hunting, shooting, fishing, fine. Nothing better than a trout roasted right next to the stream in which it has been caught. Good friends, fine conversation, and someone brought a couple of bottles of excellent wine and tobacco, cigars."

  She began to probe what was obviously a distant memory. "Hmm. How many of you are there?"

  He thought for a moment. "About five or six."

  "Where are you?"

  "At home, on my lands."

  "Where? What part of England?"

  He shook his head and gave up after a few minutes. "No, nothing. That's it."

  "Still, it was a great deal. It confirms a lot of what I had already guessed about you. Between the roses and the lack of interest in hunting, I think we might eventually be able to find some people who know you."

  He finished digging the potato drill and stepped up to her, drawing her close. He whispered into her hair, "Thank you. I've had more clues in the past day than I have in the past two years."

  She stroked his cheek tenderly. "I'm glad to help, Alexander. But tell me if you think I'm pushing you too hard."

  "No, not too hard. But one part of me is still fearful that I may find out something about myself that neither of us will like."

  "Like what?" Sarah dared to ask. That fear was a very real one for her too, though she wouldn't have admitted it to him for the world.

  He hugged her briefly, then released her and stepped back. "For example, that I'm already married. And not only married and thus committed to a stranger, but even worse, that that stranger might be someone I despise and couldn't love."

  "Wealthy people don't often marry for love. You ought to know that," she said gently, despite the choking feeling which had gripped
her.

  "On the other hand, you could be lucky and have an adoring wife and family somewhere who will be only to glad to have you back."

  The prospect made her stomach churn, but she swallowed hard and tried to tell herself she would be only too pleased for him if that were true.

  "It could be other things as well. That I'm a terrible landlord, for example, or a cruel father."