And judging from his completely unguarded kiss when he had come to this morning, she had the feeling that Alexander had as well.
Carpe diem, Sarah decided. Seize the day. She would seize it, and the night, for both of them.
Chapter Eleven
When Sarah came out of the bathroom, Jenny was lying in wait for her.
"You look much better now, Miss."
"Have Sally and Jed gone home?"
She nodded. "Yes. I paid them and gave them two baskets of food to take back to their Ma."
"Perfect. Thank you."
"You ought to go lie down. You were up all night, and must be exhausted."
"I'm fine. Was there something else you wanted to ask me?"
Jenny hesitated.
"What is it? What's wrong?" she demanded, worried it might be something to do with Alexander, and the older woman didn't want to upset her.
"It's nothing, really. I wouldn't mention it only--"
"Come on, dear old girl, out with it," Sarah said with a fond smile.
"It's just that it's May Day today. You promised a picnic on the green for the local people."
Sarah thumped her head with the heel of her hand. "Drat. I remember. I just didn't notice that the days had passed so quickly after my brother's wedding. Right then," she said with a glance at the clock, "it's high time we were working on the food, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, Miss," Jenny said with enthusiasm. "Should we get Alexander in from the garden to help?"
She could hear the steady scrape of the shovel outside. "No, leave him for a little while longer, until about eleven. The sun will be getting hot by then, and it will be high time for him to come inside to rest. Though I wish he would now."
"He loves it out there. I can't see it doing him any harm if he says he feels well."
"I suppose," Sarah replied, though her tone was doubtful.
"It's nice to see him so happy."
"Yes, it is, isn't it?" she said with a winsome smile, pushing all of her doubts to one side. He was going to be fine. He just had to be.
Sarah went into the kitchen to knead a mountain of bread dough for the party.
At eleven, she went out to visit Alexander with some cool fresh milk. He had already transformed the garden beyond all recognition in a few short hours. It was rapidly starting to look like one she had seen attached to a Royal residence which she had once visited.
"What do you think?"
"Wonderful."
He turned to her. "And how do I look?"
She stepped closer, soaking in his raw power. "Very well. Very handsome as always."
He stroked her cheek, inadvertently placing a smudge of dirt on her porcelain skin. "I'm sorry if I gave you a scare last night, Sarah. I don't remember what happened. Caleb said you were rather worried."
She laid her hand over his and leaned into the tender caress. "It's not your fault. You couldn't help it. The important thing is you're well now. You mustn't overdo things. One step at a time, remember?"
"So you're telling me to come in and rest?" he asked, a small, sensual smile playing about his finely wrought mouth.
"Sort of." She stepped closer, and dropped her voice to a low, sultry purr. "How do you feel about peeling a mountain of potatoes? Today is May Day, and I promised the villagers a celebration."
He planted the shovel in the ground, and gave a good-natured laugh at the prosaic nature of her invitation. She was really a most beguiling woman. "It sounds like fun. I'll come now."
He found his jacket, and reached out to take her elbow as easily as if he could see her.
She resisted the temptation to throw herself in his arms and weep, and instead simply rubbed the back of his hand in a sensual caress.
"And you?" he asked in a husky whisper of his own which thrilled her down to her toes. "Are you all right, Sarah?"
"Fine. Just a bit tired."
"I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. Friends sit up and look after each other. Let's not mention it again," she said crisply.
She settled him in the kitchen at the table with a vegetable scraper, and sat as close to him as she dared, with their thighs touching under the table, whenever she got the opportunity. It was exquisite torture for them both.
Every nerve ending in her body seemed to scream with awareness of his magnificent physique, his magnetic personality. He seemed to be blissfully unaware of just how much he affected her sensibilities. He simply took the offered implement, rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
Alexander felt so clumsy he was sure would behead himself with the vegetable scraper. Were her legs really touching him by accident? Or was she sending him a silent message of desire?
His certainly couldn't be described as silent. He was sure his was screaming from his every pore. But though his back prickled and his front felt as though it was tied up in knots, he could recall just enough about his past to know that something was wrong.
And in any case it was wrong to want her so, especially after all the things she had done for him. He berated himself for his depravity even as he allowed his knees to rest against her thighs. After all, his hands were full of potatoes. How harmful could the contact be?
By two o'clock they had all the makings of a wonderful feast. Hard-boiled eggs, potato salad, green salad, fresh bread, ham, cold tongue, roast beef, pickled beets, a variety of pies made from their store of preserves, scones, freshly churned butter, crumpets, were all loaded into baskets which she piled into the gig.
Sarah walked the horse along the road, with Alexander holding her hand along the way, their fingers twined intimately. She felt as carefree and happy as a child, and suppressed a shudder at the thought of what could have happened that fine spring morning.
"Are you cold, Sarah?" he asked in surprise, for the sun was beating down mercilessly.
"No, I'm fine."
"But you're shaking."
"I get like that sometimes. Too much coffee, not enough sleep."
He frowned. "I didn't notice you having any, and we've been in kitchen together for hours."
"I had a strong cup before you came back in," she lied.
"Is there something troubling you?" he asked in a low tone.
"Not at all."
"Now I know there must be something wrong," he declared, his tone agitated. "This string of excuses, your short replies. You've never behaved like this before. I want to know what's upset you, Sarah."
"Was it our kiss?" he asked in a low tone when she remained silent.
"No, not at all."
He gauged her tone against what he had learned of her thus far, and at length decided she was telling the truth. Was shy, but not upset.
"So if not that, what?"
"It's nothing."
"If I've done anything to--"
"Alexander, my dear, I've told you. It's nothing."
"I thought we were friends," he said, his face clouding with hurt.
"We are!" she protested.
"Friends don't lie, Sarah. Tell me what's got you upset."
She paused in the road, and reached up to touch his face. "I was worried about you, that's all. You getting taken so ill last night, well, it was a bad shock. And I haven't had any sleep. So if I'm quiet, those are enough reasons, without you looking for more."
He kissed her hand. "All right. But you would tell me if-"
"I will tell you, I promise. Now let's go. We have a Maypole to dance around."
"It sounds like Heaven. There were times in the hospital I was sure I would never dance again."
"Well, you shall dance as much as you like today, Alexander. Nothing but food and fun."
The villagers had gathered out on the large greensward between the two rows of parallel stone cottages which comprised the main part of the small hamlet. The residents of the thatched homes had set up some tables and chairs from the parish hall around the fringes of the clearing, and were now bringing out mountains of food from their kitchens.
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The pole had been planted in the middle of the greens. The multicolored streamers hung from it, fluttering in the light balmy breeze.
"I shall stay close to the tables, and help unpack the baskets, Sarah."
"You could just sit and rest," she offered, hoping he would not wonder at her overly solicitous behavior.
"No, I shall help you as best I can," he said firmly.
She brought the gig close to the tables, and said, "Five steps from the carriage to the first table. If you put everything on that one, we can spread out from there."
Alexander methodically counted his steps back and forth. She tried not to watch as he reached for things from the floor and seat of the gig. She had to admit he was fairly graceful considering he couldn't see a thing.
She decided to stop watching him like an anxious new mother with a toddler taking his first steps. She kept up a stream of chatter with the people who had come to greet her, the better to get them to look at her and not stare at her handsome companion too closely, though he was so striking, that was nearly impossible even for her.
There was no way of avoiding making introductions, for they were a friendly group of people, and delighted to hear she had such a manly cousin. She grasped his elbow and made the introductions. She was surprised that he was able to carry on a natural conversation and remember all their names. He chatted away about the weather and the neighborhood whilst he unpacked the baskets. She had to concede inwardly that if she didn't know he was blind, she would be hard pressed to find any clues to detect the infirmity.
She recalled the doctor's surprise when she had told him that Alexander was blind. He had said he could find no physical reason for it.
Was there a mental reason? she wondered now.
Jonathan had told her stories of men aversely affected in their minds by the war. Like the memory, could the sight too be suppressed? Was he suffering from what the doctors commonly referred to as some form of hysteria? Perhaps dosing him with the caraway and ginger would do him some good?
She would continue with the regimen the doctor had suggested, minus the laudanum. She did not want him to grow dependent upon it, and she would have very little else to give him if he were in serious pain the way he had been last night.
"Sarah, could you come help me with the roast beef?" she heard him request.
"I can't find the knife," he admitted in a low voice when she drew closer.
She searched through several baskets until she found it.
He leaned closer. "Something is worrying you, I can tell," he murmured in her ear.
"It's nothing, Alexander, really."
"How can I trust you when you keep lying to me?" he growled, exasperated.
Sarah bristled. "How dare-"
"I can tell by the tone of your voice, Sarah, so don't even bother trying to fob me off with excuses."
Finally she relented, and took his hand. "All right, all right. I was thinking what the doctor told me last night."
His face fell. "I'm dying, aren't I?" he sighed.
"No! No, you're not. But so far as he could tell, you're not blind. He couldn't find anything wrong with you."
He grabbed her wrist, holding her close to his body. She shivered at his latent power. The grip was not painful, no more than a loop around her limb, but she was certain she couldn't have broken free no matter how hard she tried.
"So you think I'm lying to you, is that it?" he demanded.
"No, no, not at all," she insisted in a firm tone, for indeed the thought had never occurred to her until now. "I was just wondering what on earth could have happened to you that would be so terrible that it would cause you to not want to remember. Not wish to see.
"I don't think you're lying. But Dr. Gold says there's nothing wrong with your eyes. They react to the light, and aren't physically damaged so far as he can tell."
"But I can't see," he insisted.
"I know. But at least now there's hope. We need to find the solution. Jonathan will get my letter, and he will give us some answers. You know him, I'm sure of it. The tattoos, the songs, it all fits. You have far too much in common with the Rakehells not to be known by one of them.
"So since Jonathan has always been the most outgoing of the group, I'm sure he'll be able to help. So until we get a reply to my letter, we have a most important project. We need to get you fit and well for when he comes back, or sends word to us as to who you are, and what he suggests we should do next.
"Now please let go of my arm and stop scowling, or people will start to think we're having a lover's quarrel."
He released her at once, looking appalled at the way he had lost control. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't mean to hurt you-"
"You didn't. I'm fine," she reassured him. "Just finish emptying the baskets. I'll get us some plates and we'll eat."
"I'm so sorry--"
"Don't be. It's fine. No hard feelings," she said in a light, bantering tone.
He still looked pensive and more grim than she had ever seen him. But the sunny day was far too lovely for such bleak thoughts, and he eventually began to thaw once more. At last he gave her a tentative smile.
Soon they were sprawled out on the grass with full plates of food and a glass each of white wine. Alexander only picked at his repast.
Sarah caressed his shoulder tenderly. "I'm sorry you're upset. I didn't want to tell you what the doctor said until later. I didn't want to spoil the festivities. Please, Alexander. It's a gorgeous day, and we're both young and alive. It's all we can hope for, and worth enjoying, is it not?"
He nodded. "You're right. Brooding won't make things any better."
"No, only taking things one step at a time. So if you're finished rolling that egg around your plate, I think we should go dance."
"Are you sure?"
"It is only a hornpipe. How bad can it be?"
"But I might be a terrible dancer."
She laughed. "You're the most graceful man I've ever met, blind or sighted. I don't think I need have any cause for concern."
She was correct. His legs might have been stiff, his back sore, and he greatly out of practice, but being in his arms was like dancing on a cloud. They laughed and joked, and everyone marveled at the change in the normally quiet and shy vicar's sister. They were delighted to see she had fallen in love at last, and to a good 'un, as Jenny said. Pity about what had happened to him in the war, but...
She refrained from giving any specific details, however, and just left them guessing. Caleb warned her not to speak of his infirmity. It was no one's business but Alexander's own, and Sarah's if she chose to fall in love with him.
And while the old chap was a respectable God-fearing man, he did not underestimate the power of young love, and hoped for another family wedding as soon as possible, and a little one on the way. Hopefully in that order.
But he wouldn't be the least surprised if it wasn't, he thought with a small shake of his head as he watched the lovely couple dance and laugh together as though they had known each other all their lives.
He was terribly fond of them both. He just prayed they both knew what they were letting themselves in for, because he was sure their path was not going to be a smooth one.
Chapter Twelve
Sarah and Alexander lingered around the Maypole all day, laughing, teasing, and enjoying the excellent music provided for them by various players from the district. Were it not for what had happened earlier in the morning, Sarah would have said it was the most perfect day of her life.
But in her experience, happiness often came with a price attached. She kept waiting for him to pitch forward and have another episode like the one he'd had the night before. She almost dreaded it when, after they had packed up everything and headed home in the gig, he said he would play the pianoforte before supper.
But nothing dreadful happened. He played some popular country tunes, and when she asked him to play her brother's aria and sing it, he said he could not recall all of it, and moved on to a ro
using rendition of The Blacksmith's Song which had her giggling and blushing.
After they had eaten, and the rooms had been tidied, Caleb and Jenny prepared a light supper and cleaned up the remnants of the May Day feast. Alexander asked Sarah to read to him, and chose The Country Wife by Wycherley.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 14