"Thank you." He kissed her hand tenderly.
She had him lie back and tucked him in under the covers, for though there was a good fire in the room, there was a brisk breeze blowing outside.
"I hope you don't mind being in here with me, Alexander. I do the accounts and ledgers in this little study. I thought it would be a good room for you to make yourself at home in. You're sitting on a day bed, and there are extra blankets at the foot of it. You can rest or nap as you like. I'll keep you company if you feel up to it. Or you can go up to your room to rest. Please don't be shy, or feel obliged to act like good company if you're tired or want to be alone. It's your choice."
"I'm delighted to be with you, Sarah," he said with perhaps more candor than he should have. "But I know what a busy woman you are. I don't want to be in your way."
"You aren't. I want you to treat this as your own home for as long as you're here. Which at the moment would appear to be indefinitely. Are you sure you're warm enough?" she asked, trying not to fuss over him but seemingly unable to help herself.
"I'm fine. I can feel a good fire."
She looked at him closely. "Forgive my asking, but can you see anything at all, or is it pitch black?"
He considered the question for a time, his handsome face rapt. "It's hard to tell. Sometimes I think I see things, then find I've been dreaming. Other times, for example, when I've had one of my terrible headaches, I see multicolored lights flashing and blinking."
"I see. And have you seen a doctor recently?"
"I saw the Army surgeon who discharged me, signed my papers and so on to ship me back to England."
"What was his opinion?"
"He said I had obviously had a severe blow to the head, and that my memory or my sight could come back. But since it had been so long, two years, he wasn't optimistic."
"There are of course many other doctors, and ones better qualified than he might have been," she said with a thoughtful air. "Not that I'm disparaging him in any way. I'm sure he's seen his fair share of these cases. But it's always good to get another opinion. Besides, even a few months can mean a marked improvement of your condition. We shall get a second, even a third opinion when you're feeling up to it."
"When you say marked improvement, you mean like learning how to walk again last year?"
"Exactly. You were badly injured, bruised. There would have been swelling. When the swelling went down, there was less pressure, and you began to be able to use your legs again," she reasoned.
He nodded. "But what about my being unconscious for so long, and losing my memory?"
"It had to be a very powerful blow to the head. I also recall my brother and his friends speaking of men who were so appalled by what they saw on the battlefield that they could not function. Some ran, some were reduced to incoherent babbling wrecks of their former selves. Other men became more cruel and vicious, were infected with the savagery."
"If you don't mind me asking, how were your brother and his friends affected?" he inquired quietly.
Sarah gazed at his handsome face, so vibrant and yet so haunted, and told him the story of Jonathan's battlefield conversion.
Alexander listened in silence until the end and then asked earnestly, "And were they really dead, do you think?"
"So far as they can recall, they believe they were. Thomas has said since that he could see Jonathan pulling him back by the hand. I believe in miracles. We see them every day. A child being born, a flower blossoming, a rainbow. I'd like to think that God heard Jonathan's prayers."
"And his conversion, so to speak. Do you think it will last? That it's permanent?"
Sarah considered this carefully for a moment. "I believe it was not so much a conversion as an opening of the mind to new possibilities. Or a letting go of a reluctance to travel down a different path. He was always a good man, with strong faith. I think perhaps he felt up until that point that he was not worthy. Was tempted by more worldly concerns and pursuits.
"When Clifford and the Duke survived, he felt he owed God. He had so much to be grateful for as well. He came through three years of brutal warfare with barely a scratch. And he was no coward, hanging back. He was always in this thick of the fighting. They all were. I'm not saying that they wouldn't have been wounded anyway, sooner or later. By all accounts a siege is always a terrible thing. He was in the thick of the fight at both Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz.
"But the fact is that he and his friends were betrayed by a person in a position of trust at Rodrigo. They were told the breach was clear, safe to go through. You heard what happened. They were supposed to have all been killed."
Alexander reached out for her hand and took it. "But to what end?"
She returned the warm pressure of his fingers. "Something to do with money, power, I don't know. We've never fully discovered all their reasons."
He stroked his hand up her arm gently, perilously close to her breast. "So you did find out some of them?"
"Ah, the coffee," she said in relief as Caleb entered.
Her hands trembled like wind-blown leaves as she tried to pour. Her skin was crawling talking about all of this again. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. And Alexander had enough troubles of his own without telling him all about the horrible Herbert Paxton and the Earl of Ferncliffe.
"Can we talk about this some other time? It's too beautiful a day for such gloomy thoughts," she said with a shaky laugh as she approached the divan and handed him a cup.
"You're right. And I am rather tired again," he admitted.
"Please lie back down. Don't be shy. While you rest, I'm going to work on my letter to my brother, letting him know you're here and giving him a description of you. Perhaps something will jog his memory and he will be able to give us some information about your identity."
"Thank you, Sarah. You've been so good to me."
"Don't mention it."
"When I wake up, do you suppose we can go out for a walk? If I rest too much, I tend to stiffen up."
"Fine. It's a lovely day. I shall find a good coat for you to wear. Your old one won't clean up well."
He nodded and put his head down on the pillow wearily.
She finished penning her letter to her brother, and had just sealed it when Alexander groaned loudly and began to thrash about. Startled, she sent the papers on her desk flying in every direction.
Sarah ran to his side to soothe him, grasping him by both shoulders as he writhed.
"No! No!"
It was the same word, over and over again, in the most agonized tone.
"I'm here, Alexander, I'm here. You're all right. You're safe. I've got you," she said, raising her voice to be heard above his shouts. "It's all right. You're here with me in England. It's a lovely spring day, and the war is over. You're all right."
"Sarah?" he asked in confusion a few moments later.
"That's right," she said, both hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
He surged forward and hugged her to his chest. While certainly stunned by the act, she did not struggle, just relaxed into the embrace. She nestled her head against his chest, and could hear his heart pounding rapidly. It was apparent he had been terrified, but by what? Unfortunately, the words he had uttered told her nothing about what he had seen in his nightmare.
When she ventured to ask him, he said he could not recall much. "A walled city, a huge explosion, people fighting and dying."
"Does anyone look or seem familiar?" she asked softly, thinking it had to be Ciudad Rodrigo or Badajoz he was referring to.
He shook his head.
"It's all right, don't try to remember now. Just breathe deeply."
At length he had quieted enough that Sarah lifted her head from his chest, and asked, "Better now?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything I can get you?"
"Some water would be pleasant," he said, his voice sounding scratchy and raw.
She rose to get it for him, and saw Caleb and Jenny hovering anxiously outside the door
.
She blushed at the thought of how long she had been half on top of his long lean body. But there was no reproach in their expressions, only alarmed concern.
"Is he all right?" Jenny whispered.
"Just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about."
"Should we get him anything?" Caleb asked.
"Just some water and maybe a cool wet towel."
Jenny came in a short time later with the glass and a basin. He drank down the water, wiped his perspiring face, and let out a shaky sigh.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout the place down. I must have terrified everyone," Alexander apologized.
"No, not at all. It's fine."
"Would you like some soup, sir? It's split pea and ham."
"That sounds superb, Jenny. Just what I need. Thank you."
Sarah caressed his lean cheek and urged him to rest again, while she went over to the desk to tidy the scattered papers, which Caleb had begun helping to pick up. The letter was no longer there. Good old Caleb, he had obviously already put it in the post. She would be hearing from her brother soon, of that she was sure.
Of course, the newlyweds' travel plans for the next month were a bit vague, but there was a post office on the border outside Carlisle which her brother planned to call at on their way into Scotland. If they did not get the letter at the inn they were stopping at in Shropshire, they would get it when they reached Carlisle.
In any case, there wasn't any urgency, was there? Alexander was in a bad way both physically and mentally. He had been ill for two years, and still had a long way to travel on the road to recovery. He had no idea what circumstances were awaiting him at home, even if he discovered where home was. Why not take care of him here?
All right, she admitted to herself, there were other reasons as well. She had never met anyone so handsome in her life. Moreover, the instant jolt of almost-recognition she had experienced as he had stood in the doorway with the lightning and thunder crashing all around him seemed too strong an impression to brush off lightly.
Plus, she liked the company. He was undemanding as a companion, but held a warm physical appreciation for her. He accepted her and made her feel like a feminine, desirable woman, though not in any predatory way. She had become physically and emotionally closer to him in the space of a day than she had to any other man she'd ever met. She was acutely conscious of him as a man in a way that she had never experienced before.
Even Jonathan's stunningly handsome and virile friends Clifford and Thomas had never provoked such a strong reaction, though they were so good-looking each in their own way, one blond, one dark, that they caused most women to swoon whenever they walked into a room. She had never swooned-until now.
Perhaps it was because their roles had been reversed? In her society, men were expected to be the strong ones, to pursue and woo. With Alexander, he needed her help. He was weak and vulnerable, but oh so alluring.
She found herself looking forward to the next time she saw him, spoke to him, was able to touch him. She did not think it was because she felt sorry for him, either. He was not like some stray puppy or kitten that she had decided to rescue. He was a living, breathing, warm, intelligent man from a good background. A man who made her heart thunder and her knees go weak.
His enigmatic nature was alluring as well. She had a number of clues about his background. For example, he had similar tattoos which, if not exactly the same as her brother's, still indicated that it was a safe guess that he and her brother knew and liked each other.
In that case, she was as sure as she could be of anything that he was a decent man. She would help him get to the bottom of the mystery. In some senses, she didn't think discovering his name was going to make that much difference. He seemed to belong here in some strange way. And if her brother didn't know him after all, she felt sure Jonathan would have some ideas for Alexander's future.
They were not exactly poor. They could help him easily, and she would be delighted to do it. And to share her life with him...
It was an impractical fantasy in a lot of respects. A blind, limping Prince Charming with no clue as to his identity was not exactly the hero she had had in mind in her girlish romantic fantasies. But he was warm and decent, and so solid, so real. So sensual...
The most wonderful thing about Alexander was perhaps that he simply seemed to accept her as she was, not worrying about if she was rich or poor, pretty or ugly, witty or dull.
Jonathan had dreamt of finding a woman who would love him for himself, not his fortune. He and Pamela had endured the hardest of tests of their love, and come shining through. His two closest friends had also won women who had been able to look beyond the surface and see the soul within.
Alexander could not see the surface. He could only try to look into the soul within. When he touched her hand affectionately, she was sure there were many things he could see which ordinary men could not.
She had no idea how long she had been staring into space, but Alexander shifted on the divan, and observed, "Jenny is coming with the soup. I think it might be easier to eat it at the table."
She started up from her chair. "You're right. If you're feeling up to it."
"I am."
"All right. This way."
He stood up and took her arm. She led him down the hall into the dining room and seated him.
"Napkin, spoon, bread, bowl, water glass." Sarah took his hand and placed it on each item. She watched him solicitously while he tucked his napkin in under his chin, and proceeded to eat.
"And some for you as well, Miss?"
"Yes, Jenny, thank you, I believe I will have some."
When he had emptied the bowl, she asked, "Would you like more?"
"Yes, please."
Jenny returned with another full bowl, and Alexander polished it off as well. Whatever had been amiss with him as a result of the dream, at least it had not affected his appetite.
"More soup, or some dessert?" Sarah offered.
"Dessert, please."
They had pears poached in brandy with fresh cream, and coffee while they chatted about inconsequential things for a time, the weather, Jenny's superb cooking, Caleb's general usefulness around their home. She deliberately kept the talk light, not wanting to remind him of the funny turn he had just had.
"I'm glad to see you're feeling so much better," she commented when he had cleaned his plate.
"I do feel better. Good food, hot baths, caring company. It's more than I ever could have hoped." He smiled at her, and rubbed the back of her hand.
"I'm glad you're content. Jonathan believes things always happen for a reason. It may be obscure at the time, but it's nonetheless a good reason. You came to me at just the right time, the right moment in my life. I think it's a sign."
Alexander reached out for her shoulder. "It's kind of you to say so, Sarah. But I can't think that sending you a poor, blind cripple is such a huge boon."
"Oh, but it is. I was feeling sorry for myself, at a loose end now that my friends and family have gone away for the summer. I could have gone with them, but I felt guilty giving in to pleasure. I wanted to help more people. Stop being so self-centered. Then you appeared on my doorstep. It's fate, I tell you."
"I can't imagine you as self-centered, Sarah," he said sincerely.
"Oh, I enjoyed myself very much in Bath this past spring. I will own to having had my head turned a bit by the fine society, lovely gowns and balls and so on. Being in the Duke of Ellesmere's company is a genuine privilege. He is the most genial of hosts, with a wonderful townhouse in the Royal Crescent. I feel sure you will visit it some time. And Bath is a marvel."
Alexander frowned in concentration. "I seem to remember something about hot baths the Romans used to use?"
"That's right," she said, encouraged by how much he could recall of ordinary life generally, even if not his own in particular. "People soak in the waters, and drink them too. The waters are said to cure many diseases."
"Then you're righ
t, it sounds like a place I ought to go some day."
She smiled. "Perhaps sooner than you think. I can write to Thomas' housekeeper and ask her to have the house opened whenever you think you will be fit to travel again."
He shook his head. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly..."
"Why not? They would be only too pleased to help."
He ran his fingers through his thick hair, unwittingly exposing more of his scar.
Sarah felt a lump in her throat as she looked at it. A millimeter more and it would have put his eye out.
"But to travel on my own, to a large city, to find my way around by myself-"
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 10