The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(47)

"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.



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.