The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(35)

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 right, 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-"



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?"