Sansa found it hard to fall asleep that night. She wasn't sure why she had allowed Ser Jorah to kiss her like that. When Petyr had tried to kiss her she'd only felt disgust. She had allowed it to happen out of shock the first time and out of fear after that. But when Jorah had kissed her she felt neither of those emotions. Instead it was warm and pleasant and it awakened feelings in her that she had long ago stopped allowing herself to feel. Those sorts of feelings were nothing more than the foolish dreams of a silly little girl. And yet here she was, unable to sleep because she could think of nothing else except her desire to be kissed again. She knew it was a hopeless wish. Ser Jorah had already apologized for the kiss. He hadn't meant it. She was far too young for him. He must have realized that and regretted his actions. He didn't want a silly maiden. He was married to someone else, a woman who didn't want him anymore, but he was married to her nonetheless. She was married to Harry as well. There was no sense in either of them pretending otherwise.
Jarah lay awake a long time. He had never intended this to happen. He had come here to Westeros so that for once in his life he could prove to himself that he was capable of doing his duty without letting his love of a woman or homeland or anything else get in the way. His love for his wife had led him to break the law. His love for his homeland had been what caused him to betray Dany. Now he was becoming distracted from his duty to Sansa by his feelings for her. He was supposed to be bringing Sansa to a place of safety. It was his duty to see to it that Ned Stark's daughter was safely at home in the North where she belonged. If the stories he had heard in the Vale were true, neither of her marriages had been consummated and could be annulled. She could marry again to someone more suited to her as long as he didn't ruin it by deflowering her himself. There was no reason to think she would want an old man like him anyway when she could find someone younger at the end of their journey.
The next day the pair continued their journey as if nothing had happened between them. They slowed the pace of the horses a little. In a few days they would reach the Fingers. From there they would sell the horses and take a ship north for most of the journey. They were able to talk some as they rode. Sansa had always liked stories and songs and Ser Jorah liked telling them. He told her many stories of Essos that she had never heard before. Some of them were old tales and others were more recent ones. He told her about Dany and her life with the Dothraki. When he came to the part about Khal Drogo's death, Sansa cried. It was just a few silent tears but they did not escape his notice.
Sansa liked listening to his stories. Part of her had always believed that the songs and stories were more than just words on dead pages. They were people, brought to life by the love and laughter, blood and tears they left behind. Arya had never understood how a book could make Sansa cry. No one ever had. But the way Ser Jorah told his tales, with emotion in his voice and sometimes tears in his eyes, told her that he understood. Maybe there were no true knights but she knew he wished they existed almost as much as she wished it.
As they spoke that day, as Jorah shared stories of Essos with Sansa he found he was surprised by her attentiveness. He had told many of these tales to Dany and it seemed she was only interested from a strategic perspective. How could this tale make her a better queen? What lessons could be learned about people and ruling them? Should I expect all Dornishmen to be like the ones in the songs? Dany had rarely cared about the story for the sake of the story. Sansa did care. He could see that by her reaction. The people in the songs were almost alive for her as they were for him.
When they stopped to camp for the night Sansa dismounted her horse by herself before he could help her. She didn't want to find herself in his arms again. She wasn't sure she could endure it. Not when he didn't want her like that.
Jorah turned to help Sansa down from her horse only to find that she had already gotten down herself. He felt a stab of disappointment but quickly pushed it aside. This only confirmed it. She didn't want him near her after last night. Perhaps that was for the best. He set to work setting up camp without a word.