He sighed and threw his hands wide in a gesture of despair. "I don't know anything any more, Sarah. All I know is I recall what it's supposed to be like between a man and a woman. What we have is not all that it should be. I desire you more than anything I've ever wanted in this lifetime, but it's mostly in my mind, not fully in my body.
"And in any case, I shouldn't even be thinking of you in these terms, not when I'm a guest in your house. After all you've done for me. It's like the worst form of betrayal. What the hell kind of a man am I to repay you thus?"
"Alexander--"
He held out one hand and shook his head. "No, let me finish. You're a respectable woman, a vicar's sister, for Heaven's sake. I can't debauch you. It would be the worst sin imaginable. I have no future to offer you, surely you must see that. Even if I knew I were free, had money, a home of my own, I could never saddle you with a blind cripple for a husband. To deny you children if I can never again, er--"
"But surely--"
"No, Sarah. There's no point in trying to discuss this any further. You know I'm right. I wouldn't even be talking about this now were it not for the fact that you trusted me, and I violated that trust with what I did to you last night. I think I should leave tomorrow."
She stayed him with her hand upon his wrist. "You're upset and confused. But leaving is only going to make things worse for you, cast alone amongst strangers."
"But how can I stay after all that's been said and done? I can't take any of this back. And damn it, Sarah, I want you so badly I wouldn't even wish to."
She squeezed his hand. "Then don't take any of it back. And we can go on as before, truly. Perhaps come to something even stronger, better. I do trust you. I'm flattered, not horrified. And I have never thought of you as a burden or cripple. I think this problem of yours is like your memory. It can't be forced. And it can't all be gone, dead, lost to you, the um, pleasure."
She swallowed hard, thinking of all she had overheard various women say over the years about men. She ventured bravely, "You said you wanted me, so clearly you feel something physically. And there must be other enjoyable aspects to the act of love besides the actual thing itself. Things which can't be so terribly wrong.
"Touching my hand, for example, or my arm, my breast, doing what you did yesterday morning, which I think we both enjoyed. Or my touching you. Surely that must be pleasant," she asked, reaching up to stroke his face. "Surely you must have enjoyed what we did together yesterday morning. And no one was hurt by it."
He seemed to be calmed by her hand upon his cheek, but when she moved to kiss him, he tried to step away.
"No, we mustn't. Not now, at any rate. I can't--"
She hugged him to her. "You'll be all right. It'll be fine."
"But what if I can't ever-"
"Don't say that. And I'm sure, even with my limited experience, that there are other ways to thrill me besides what you are speaking of. All you have to do is touch me, and I nearly faint."
"Really?" he whispered.
"Really. I was on fire yesterday morning, last night. It was sheer bliss, truly."
He still looked doubtful, so she took his hand and placed it on her breast. He tried to pull back, but she held it in place and stepped closer to him.
"That, for example, is wonderful."
He kissed her hard, and cupped her against him, then broke away. "I feel strange. I'm going to bed. By myself," he added, when she took his hand and tried to go with him.
She was left alone in the sitting room feeling like a fool, and not a little wicked at how she had become the aggressor, the person in control. Not just the passive recipient of passion, but the instigator. It was a heady feeling.
But she let him go readily enough. She knew these things could not be rushed, and he was still in a lot of pain with his back. The work on the shearing had taken its toll upon him whether he wanted to admit it or not. There was nothing she could do about the way he felt except be patient, and let him know that she found him desirable no matter what.
For there was no sense in hiding it any longer, trying to lie to herself. And while every single reservation was still a valid one, she feared his despair, and her own nature. If she let him go without exploring more of the joys only he could give, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
It had taken a lot for Alexander to admit what he had to her of all people. That trust was rare and precious. She couldn't force him to confide in her, or indeed do anything else with her. But she could make him feel loved and desirable.
For he most certainly was. Her heart skipped a beat every time he came into the room, or smiled, or took her hand. She understood it all now, a love so powerful it was worth risking everything for. So much so that she could let herself go into his bed, and count the rest of the world as nothing.
She might have regrets the morning after, or several months after if she were not careful, but not every woman got caught out. And she would never marry if not Alexander.
As for her reputation, well, everyone in the district adored him. There were mitigating circumstances...
Sin was sin.
She put her head in her hands hopelessly. She had been sorely tempted, and was failing the test. Yet how ironic. She was resolving to become his lover even as he had told her it was philosophically and physically impossible for him. But unless he was pretending in the same manner that Horner did in the play The Country Wife in order to trick her, he posed no threat to her as Paxton had done Jane.
Alexander wasn't trying to seduce her for his own selfish ends. Quite the contrary. He was trying to give her up.
She wasn't willing to let him. Or to give him up herself.
He was at his wit's end. He needed help. On every level, but most of all on this fundamental one. He already thought little enough of himself as a man without this added burden.
It would be all right. One day at a time, she had told him. One day, and one night.
Sarah checked the house, locked up, and went to bed with a heavy heart. As she said her prayers, she asked God His forgiveness for willingly choosing the path of sin in order to save the man she loved.
She wondered even as she did so if this were the bargain she had made the night he had nearly died. That loving him was not something that could be done by halves, or with reservations. That loving him was never going to be easy, but fraught with trials and tribulations.
Well, here was another problem for the infinitely practical Sarah to solve. She smiled wryly at the thought as she climbed into bed. She was nothing if not good at dealing with problems. She just had to think, recall all she knew second-hand from the clinic for fallen women she helped run.
Alexander might not feel completely manly, according to his definition of the word, but at least he was still alive, and that was all that mattered to her. Love would find a way, of that she was sure. She would find a way for them both.
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning Sarah was up early, but found Alexander already spinning away out in the garden when she came down.
"My, you look like you've been up all night."
"I work well in the dark," he replied, his expression closed and guarded.
"I had noticed."
"Go have your breakfast," he said gruffly.
"Aren't you coming, Alexander?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Bad night?" she asked gently, stroking back a tendril of hair from his forehead.
"Not one of my best, no."
"I'm sorry."
He sighed. "Sarah, go eat breakfast, and forget what I ever said last night."
"I will if you promise not to worry about it so much."
He nodded. "All right, I promise."
Easier said than done, she knew, but now was not the time to argue.
Sarah gave him a peck on the cheek which he did not shrink away from, and returned to the house.
She had breakfast and then went back out into the garden to continue with the carding and sp
inning. It was another glorious day, and as she sat working by his side, her resolution of the night before, and a half a plan, jelled in her mind, took on solid form and essence.
She loved him. It was a magical gift. One she could bestow in return. In whatever way she could.
Alexander did wonders with the spinning wheel, while the other three carded. The four of them worked all day side by side in the fresh air. Alexander was pleasant, but still distracted, his handsome face marred by a grim shadow Sarah wished she could do something to dispel.
Perhaps a conversation with Dr. Gold would help? She would try to go see him in the next couple of days, but it would be a dashed awkward discussion for the unmarried sister of a vicar to have. He would certainly know the man in question to whom she was referring. And would wonder exactly what the two of them had been getting up to in the vicarage.
Or not getting up to, she thought with a sigh, recalling the character of Horner in The Country Wife, who pretended to be impotent so that men would trust them with their wives, and women would want to help 'cure' him.
Surely Alexander wasn't deceiving her in so gross a manner, she reflected again, still recalling uneasily what a plausible rogue Paxton had been.
Or Ferncliffe. Why, Ferncliffe had even paid his addresses to herself and Elizabeth Eltham at Bath. Nearly married Pamela himself. Yet he had been a foul ravisher, and had taken advantage of and finally killed poor Jane.
But no, Alexander wasn't like that. He remembered nothing of his past, but she would stake all she owned that he was a decent, good man. He was far too upset and distressed, too sensitive upon the subject. He was being honest with her, she was sure. He had used the word hopeless, which bothered her more than anything. She simply couldn't allow him to give way to despair, not when he was getting better each and every day.
Perhaps with proper food and rest, and move improvements with his back and mobility, all would be well. Stimulating the flesh, circulation... And Bath was said to cure all manner of ills.
She could think of any number of things they might be able to try. She hadn't worked in the clinic for nothing. And she was a firm believer in the healing power of touch. He would get well. She was determined he would.
But to what end, if he were already married...
She shoved that thought aside. It didn't matter to her. There were plenty of couples who shared intimacy who weren't married. He was the only man she had ever met who could turn her inside out with a simple kiss. She certainly wasn't going to give him up without a fight. Not when they had both come so far. Especially her. The only thing more wrong than falling in love with him would be to turn her back on him when he trusted her. Needed her.
"Are you all right, Sarah?" he asked at one point when Jenny and Caleb had gone inside.
"Fine. Why?"
"You're so quiet."
"I could say the same of you."
"I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."
Sarah laughed abruptly. "You ought to know by now that that's the last emotion I could ever feel about you."
"Sarah--"
"Keep spinning, Alexander. We'll be done in no time. We can talk later."
"Indeed. Talk is all I'm good for."
"Stop that right now," she ordered. "It will do neither of us any good."
Alexander heaved a ragged sigh and worked on, though his back was burning and his fingers felt raw. Anything for the wonderful woman who made him feel so bathed in warmth and tenderness he could weep. Weep for joy, and for all he had lost. All he could never give her. Or indeed any other woman.
Not that he could ever imagine wanting anyone more than he wanted this lovely lady, but she seemed so far out of his reach even though she was sitting right next to him that he found himself asking, "Can I look at you, please?"
"Pardon?" she gasped.
"With my fingers, on your face," he clarified, letting go of his wool and stopping the treadle.
"Yes, I suppose so," she said, hoping her misgivings weren't too obvious.
He was conscious of Jenny and Caleb in the kitchen only a few yards away, but he didn't care. He reached out for her tentatively, and his hand landed squarely on the top of her head. He stroked her soft hair then moved down to her high, delicate forehead, elegant curved brows, fine straight nose. His fingers lingered on her cheekbones, enjoying her petal soft skin with the underlying strength which supported it. It was just like the rest of her, soft but steely when need be.
He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, caressing its fullness, longing to match his mouth to hers. But before he gave into the temptation, he let his fingers glide down to her chin, and her firm jaw.
He tried to make light of the tempest of swirling emotions in his body and mind. "Beautiful, but daunting for most men. They either assume that you are too much of a woman for them, or that you're so splendid you can't possibly be available. So you remain alone. What a pitiful waste."
She lifted the chin he was still lightly clinging to. "Not all men are so easily scared away. But nor have any been welcomed into my world, my home," she said, making a pointed reference to his living there with her. "And my life is not wasted simply because I have no beau. As you can see, my life is a busy one."
"But is it the one you've chosen, or the one your brother gave you?" he challenged.
"I've chosen it," she said defensively. "It's a good one. That is not to say I would not be willing to alter it to suit that of any man who did come into my life. I would like to think I'm adaptable. And I'd be happy to see more of the world. I love Somerset, but I carry it and my family and friends in my heart no matter where I go."
He stepped away from her then, taking the hint, but certainly not willing or able to commit himself when his head swirled with such uncertainties.
"You might well say you were willing to give all this up, but a man who truly loved you might deem it cruel to take you away from the setting which is the perfect foil for you."
"I am no jewel, sir, but a flesh and blood woman. Not meant to be kept in a glass case and simply admired, but appreciated daily, allowed to shine and sparkle."
"And get chipped, marred?"
"Working in the clinic, I have seen that women are capable of withstanding rough handling, dirt and grime, but can still shine for all that."
He stroked his hand down her back. "Ah, yes, but a man who truly cared for you would never allow you to be so besmirched."
"Woman's honor is said to be her jewel, and it's price above rubies. But a woman has free will, choice," she said in a low tone that only Alexander could hear.
"She is not a passive partner, unless of course she is grossly and forcibly taken advantage of you. But where she loves, she is a willing participant in the delights that only a man and woman can share. There is nothing gross or unpleasant about that. Not where there is true respect and esteem."
She swallowed hard, stunned by her own argument. It was all true. But it all hinged on the man being sincere...
Alexander nodded, and sat back down at the spinning wheel. "I shall keep that in mind. Thank you. I see things so much more clearly now. You are as beautiful as I suspected, as Caleb told me. Far too lovely for me to bemire you with my dirty hands."
She gripped one of them, felt the oily slick of the lanolin from the wool. "I'm equally dirty, am I not? It's nothing a little soap and water won't wash away."
"If only it were that simple," he sighed.
"It is. Jesus washed away the sins of the world, after all."
He shook his head and resumed his work. "I just wish I could remember. Or have some inkling that I might one day be more, well, normal."
"You are walking and talking now, two things I am sure the doctors wondered if you would ever do again. Perhaps if you stop worrying, it will all fall into place. Or if it will help, speak with Dr. Gold."
"All right, I shall try not to worry so much. Thank you, my dear."
"Time for dinner," Caleb called a moment later.
Alexander rose
eagerly, and headed off to the bathroom for a wash. All through the meal he seemed calmer, more at ease, and was far more chatty as they resumed their work after the meal.
Sarah sat close to him and touched his arm or shoulder at every opportunity, making Alexander well aware of her feelings. She certainly didn't think of herself as defiled for being with him, wanting him to touch her, kiss her. If only he would put his scruples to one side long enough to allow himself to feel...
He didn't draw away, and in fact she was sure he leaned into her caresses.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 18