The Tempest by Charlotte Hawkins Read Free Book Online

in to relieve her weary father, she purposely sat in the corner with her needlework and didn’t look at the scowling man sitting up in the bed. For some time, she let the quiet linger. If neither of them spoke all night long, it wouldn’t have troubled her in the least. But it wasn’t long before Gisborne seemed to grow tired of the stillness.
    “Why do you sit in stone silence? Do you not have some witch’s brew to force down my throat? Or is there another drowning in the cards for me?”
    She punched the needle in and drew it out, ignoring him. This was a test of wills that she was determined to win. If he could not speak to her with a civil tongue, she was determined not to speak to him at all. After all she and her father had done for this man, the least he could do was to treat them with a speck of decency.
    “What is your name?”
    The question was spoken in a rough manner…and yet, it was a question she hadn’t expected.
    Why does he care what my name is? Why should I give it to him? font>
    And yet, there was a part of her that wanted to answer. Despite his bad temper, his ungratefulness, and his cruelty, there was something about Guy of Gisborne that fascinated her, even now. Hadn’t he always been this way? Dark and brooding…moody and unpredictable as weather. Perhaps it was his voice, so deep and as smooth as velvet, that prompted her to pause in her stitching. And she answered him.
    “Cassia, my lord. My name is Cassia.”
    He said nothing to the revelation of her name. Turning his head slightly, he gave a little snort, as if her name annoyed him. She sighed, shaking her head, and went back to her stitching. Then he spoke again, a surprising note of want in his tone.
    “My foot hurts…and so does my head.”
He wasn’t so sharp, so demanding as he’d been before. She sensed that he was in pain and sought relief, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask for it directly. But at least he wasn’t shouting, or throwing things. His manner, while not exactly kind, was at least tolerable. Setting aside her needlework, she rose to her feet.
    “I shall fetch you some ice for your foot. And so long as you promise not to knock the cup from my hand, I will bring you your tea.”
    His answer was an unintelligible grumble. Her mouth turned up just slightly, and she left to bring him what he asked for.

Chapter 5
     

    Guy watched her as she scrubbed the floor. He was not sure why he cared to observe her, doing the same mundane tasks that she did nearly every day. Perhaps it was mere boredom that led him to study her. After lying about now for more than a month, the idleness was nearly driving him mad. He was sure that was what drew him to observe.
    But there was also the knowledge that under that quiet demeanor of hers, there was a little spitfire. She had him intrigued, recalling the way she’d boldly handled him on more than one occasion. He wondered about her, wishing to ask her questions, to learn something more of her. And yet, he could not bring himself to converse directly with her, unless it was to make demands.
    He’d spent most of these last days in sullen silence, thinking about a number of different things. As he so often had, he thought of Marian. She had been in his dreams every night for so long, and always the scene had been the same. He would see her…an apparition, one who always remained just out of his reach, no matter how far or fast he pursued her. When he cried out for her, she never gave him an answer. She would look over her shoulder for a moment, and then flee from him again. But her expression seemed to speak for her, as if to tell him…
    This is your punishment, Guy of Gisborne. In dreams, just as in life, I will always be beyond your reach.
    But of late, the dreams had begun to change. He would see her, and call her name. He would pursue her, as he always did. But part of the way in his chase he would slow, and then stop, just watching as she fled. After all this time, it seemed