But it was difficult to avoid chatting forever. He seemed almost anxious to talk today, as though inconsequential chatter could drown out the loud throbbing of her heart, the vibrant humming between the two of them. As if speaking could negate what hung in the air unspoken.
As he chatted away about the wine they had had the day before at the picnic, she registered that this was yet another hobby of his. She would have to start writing all of it down. Even the most insignificant detail might be important if they were to discover his true identity.
"You're awfully pensive," he commented after a while.
"I'm sorry. I'm still a bit tired, and-"
"I was completely at fault this morning, Sarah, for which I truly apologize. I should never-"
"Then let's not speak of it," she said shyly.
"But we have to, don't you see? There are a handful of selfish reasons why I did what I did, Sarah, and an equal number of hopefully virtuous, decent and sensible ones for why I stopped."
"Fine."
"I don't want you to feel rejected."
"I said it was fine."
"Or think that you did anything--"
"Alexander, that's enough!" she ordered raggedly.
He tugged on the rope connecting them, forcing her to rein in her horse or risk injuring them all.
"Damn it, Sarah, will you please listen! None of this was your fault, and I'm buggered if I'll let you take the blame upon yourself. Or think that you're anything less than the most desirable woman I've ever met in my life."
"That you can remember!" she sniped.
"Fine," he snapped back. "I deserve that, well and truly. Which is why I stopped this morning, Sarah. The truth is that I don't know who I am. I have no idea if I'm single or married. I'd like to think I would be able to recall something as important as that, but it's all a blank. As are any other women in my life apart from the vaguest senses of temporary solace long ago. Long before I was ever injured, in case you were wondering. So believe me when I say that so far as I know, you are the only woman in my new post war life. The only woman I've ever kissed, caressed. Longed for."
"Oh, Alexander--"
He shook his head. "But that isn't your problem, it's mine. I don't want you to get into bed with me because you feel sorry for me. I feel sorry enough for myself."
"It isn't like that!" she admitted, throwing all caution to the winds. "I feel for you, Alexander. I've never-"
He sighed. "I do feel something for you, truly. But beyond the pleasure of kissing you, I'm not sure at this point what else I can give you, my dear. I'm damaged, crippled, blind. I'm, well, I'm not the man I once was. I may never be that man again. It isn't fair to you to just build your hopes up only to tear them down.
"I'm sorry, Sarah. I wish it could be different, but I have no control over my circumstances. I have no past, and no future either. I refuse to lead you into any further sin, any potential heartache if what we should discover about me is, well, terrible.
"Even if it isn't, I'm not the man to make you happy, Sarah. To give a woman as joyous and loving as you all you deserve. So once again, I'm sorry. Please, never blame yourself. If you want to be angry or curse someone for being a fool, then choose me."
"Oh, my dear Alexander, I understand."
"No, you don't," he gritted out, "and I hope to God you never do. But I thank you for trying to. And for being so kind to me. It's more than I deserve."
"Don't be silly. You deserve to be helped, cared for--"
He shook his head again, his mouth set in a line of firm refusal. "Not when I can give nothing in return."
Sarah protested, "The garden, the cooking yesterday, that isn't nothing--"
He laughed bitterly and shook his head. "No, I suppose not," he said in a mocking tone which confused her completely.
She stared at him for a time, but he remained silent, his face shut against her like an iron castle gate.
Well, if she couldn't breach his defenses, she might be able to get around them. "Are you ready to ride in a full circle?" she asked quietly, managing to keep her tone neutral.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug of resignation. "I've come this far. Why not."
They rode for another half-hour, until she suggested they ought to go indoors. "Or else you'll be saddle sore for the rest of the week, and that would never do."
They returned to the house and washed and changed. While the air had not exactly been cleared between them, at least they weren't both feeling in such complete turmoil as they had been before the ride.