Chapter 4|Alexander.

The expression on his face told her he was all too ready to hear what she had to say.

Isabelle averted her gaze from the scrutiny of his, she brushed a stray hair from her forehead and let her eyes focus on the windowsill.

His expression ranged from anxiety to obvious worry, then hope. Hope which she had no idea as to whether or not her words will be of help or not. Probably the latter.

With ease and a calm only she possessed, she told him about everything from how she found him on the ground to the day he awoke. He sat dumbfounded at his ignorance towards all that happened.

Not having a single thought or memory had already began to grate on his nerves.

He wanted to punch his hands in the air or do something that will excise the anxiety in him. After racking through his brain with the effort of recalling his name to no avail he gave up.

A strangled groan emanates from his throat in anguish, Isabelle's eyes shut impulsively at the sound and she advices him to rest his mind for the night. For nothing will trouble an anxious mind than more anxious thoughts.

With no other option but to agree he turns his head on the pillow and let his eyes shut close.

Neither was he asleep nor was he giving away the fact that he wasn't. Isabelle spent half of the night by his side, taking in his every inhale and exhale without knowing that he was as aware of her as she was of him.

A tear escaped from her eyes and found solace on the skin of his arm, his strong muscled arm. Deep in her soul she was feeling an achingly hard and painful sense of loss for his memory loss.

However, the feel of her stray tear on his skin did nothing but cause a scorching pain on his chest, deep in his heart to the point that her name slipped from his lips subconsciously.

Isabelle wiped the tears with the back of her left hand and moved away from his side. She stopped by the kitchen counter and splashed cold water on her face before turning around and making her way back to her sleeping pallet.

The sound of wind whooshing through the windows did nothing to calm the tempest that was brewing in her soul. Isabelle had the urge to do something about the man's situation.

She felt a sinking feeling deep in her bones that there was a reason why he was left for the dead at such a close proximity to her.

Was it someone who knew her? Her past? Or was someone watching her moves in the woods?

A sharp inhale escaped her throat as she let her eyes roam over the windows. Within the blink of an eye she was up and by the door. With steady fingers she pulled unto the latch and closed it tighter.

Her eyes moved to his sleeping form on the ground and without second thoughts Isabelle sent a prayer to the Lord for protection.

Three days later, she decides to give him a name. It was too tiring to keep referring to him as "you", after pondering on the name that fits him best for days Isabelle settles for Alexander which is a name fit only for a strong man as he. A name that stood for a "defender" of men, a name befitting for only the strongest of men.

"I hope you don't mind." She voiced out, taking a seat beside him on the terrace of their cottage.

It was easier to refer to the cottage as theirs because too many days has been spent with only them as the occupants of the house and not only she.

"I don't mind what exactly?" he asks, his voice reverberating and making strange things bloom and blossom in her chest.

Isabelle sighed and moved her eyes away from his trapping gaze.

There was a sort of compelling emotion that always passed between them whenever eye contact was made, Isabelle was afraid of complicating their relationship and from as far as she could remember she's always been shy of men. It was a feeling she had for she couldn't remember if there were men from her life from what she couldn't remember but she had a gut feeling that there was.

"How do you feel?"

"As strong as an ox." He replied with a snort. "An ox whom has no idea.."

"Shhh," Isabelle stopped him mid sentence, "One day that Ox will relive these days, our days here and laugh at how he once thought he would never regain his memories."

He lowered his head wanting to believe her words but was finding them much hard to believe.

"One day you will too. You'll look back and smile." He offered her a brief smirk and turned his head.

"I decided to give you a name, it wouldn't do for me to have one while you don't. I'm tired of not referring to you as anyone."

"What name fits? I trust your judgement."

"The defender of men, Alexander." Her soft voice whispered. The winds took her words from her lips to his ears making a shudder run through his whole form.

The tremor that passed through him did not escape her. Isabelle furrowed her brows at his reaction.

An earth shattering sound, a shriek as loud as an eagle's cry explode in his head and pierced through his heart, it went down in a rush of emotional downpour. He felt dizzy, his head heavy and his body weak.

All these went through him at the mere sound of her voice referring to him as "Alexander."

He gets on his feet only to sway. Isabelle helps him into the cottage ignoring the usual tingling sensation she felt whenever they made body contact.

Together they sit on a lone couch by the hearth where she asks of what went wrong.

He explains what he felt and with a frown on her face she promises him that it'll be gone. After a while, the tension subsides and the air cools off with stories of how she lived in the cottage, how she fared alone until his sudden arrival.

They agree that he be referred to as Alex, according to him Alexander sounded too formal and made him feel quite older.

"You are old." She shrugs.

Alex turns to her with a playful look, "I am not."

"Yes you are, you look way over thirty."

"Not way over thirty. I feel twenty eight more like." He runs a hand through his hair.

"Becareful how you move that hand, it got hit real bad. You might feel twenty eight and actually be thirty five."

"Damn. No. What are you? Twenty nine?"

Isabelle laughs at his hyperbole choice. This one's a sore loser. She thought to herself.

"Nope. I know my age, I'm twenty years old." She grinned after the announcement. "A very young lady."

"If I'm thirty five then you my Belle will be Thirty." He smirked.

Her smile faded at his words "My Belle." but with a quickness she did not know she possessed returned her smile without selling herself off and showing him her reaction.

She was affected by her name on his lips, especially after adding "my" to it.

"When did I become Belle again?" She nonchalantly asked.

"Since you named me Alex, I guess that gives me a right to call you as I please yeah? Isabelle sounds too formal but I like it. Belle fits you too well, it's more accurate for your size." He let his gaze wash over her body as he said that.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" She told herself she wasn't fishing for compliments but she knew better.

"You're more on the petite side, Belle is perfect for it and you're beautiful just like the name connotes."

A wide blush spread all the way from her cheeks to her chest. Isabelle shifted from his sight willing the blush to free her of its clutches. Her freckles had a tendency to appear more vividly when she blushed and it did not escape his eyes.

Alex saw the crimson that swept through her cheeks, trailed down her neck and hid from within the high neckline of her dress. He felt a sudden urge to know if her skin lighted like a bulb the same way her cheeks did. He swallowed back the rush of desire he felt stirring at his loins willing it to disappear. It wouldn't do good to be aroused by the sight of her mere blush.

"Let me get us something to eat, are you hungry?" She asked, giving him her back.

"I'm not hungry." He whispered, in his head he added, "Not for food Belle. Not for food."

She returned with a glass of water in hand and handed it over to him.

He collected it thinking of how she would flee if she had an inkling as to what was going on in his thoughts.