The Tempest by Charlotte Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page A

his heart was beginning to understand the hopelessness of following her. And he was losing will to continue.
    In his waking hours, he found himself thinking more and more about his little nurse.
    He had taken to sleeping during the day and sitting up most of the night, preferring her company to her father’s. Robert was quiet, just like his daughter, but his manner was much different. While Cassia seemed rather content in what she was doing…even giving him an occasional smile… Robert showed little hospitality. While he was always thorough in his care, it was clear he was not comfortable with the presence of his patient.
    Guy cared not what the old man thought of him. And to avoid those cold looks, he rested in the daylight hours and stayed awake most of the night when Cassia came into the room.
    Each night, usually around dark, she came in and brought him something to eat. She would check his ankle with her fingers, testing the soundness of the bone. It hurt like hell, of course. But of late, he found himself gritting his teeth and biting his tongue, rather than shouting at her. Perhaps it was the touch of her hands that eased his temper. At first, he’d been in too much agony and angry despair to take note of it. But in time, his aches and pains had started to ease. The wound on his head hardly bothered him now, although it itched like mad. Cassia assured him it was a sign of improvement, and her words were proven when one morning, her father removed the stitching that had bound the skin. Now, only a long scab remained, and soon that would fade into a simple scar. And as for his foot, he found that it hurt a little less with each day…thanks to the distraction of Cassia’s touch.
    He began looking forward to her rituals of care. And watching her now, he felt the need for her attention.
    “I want ice for my foot.”
    He saw her pause in her work, looking up at him. He knew his command was gruff. And for a moment, he did not think anything of it. But then, he saw something in her look that made him realize his own harshness. He knew he should have tempertone of voice. And so he added, almost reluctantly…
    “If you please.”
    Her expression softened then, and she left the room to get the ice for him.
    Whenever she tested his foot, she was always as gentle as she could be, and she was quick to re-apply the ice and the linen wrapping. She did so upon her return, and the cold was a great relief to his pain.
    But it was the feeling of her fingers against his skin that he found most soothing…and, in a strange way, thrilling. Her hands were so warm, so soft. Each time she brushed her fingers against him, he felt a charge shoot up his knee, through his leg…and more often of late, the feeling spread to his groin. But he wasn’t embarrassed by it. Hell, he was only human. And she was quite lovely to look at, even if she was only a lowly peasant.
    What would it be like to have those little hands of hers moving up his leg? Touching his knee, grazing his thigh. Then wandering higher…
    “Is something wrong?”
    She’d been watching him, it seemed. And to the sudden interruption of his thoughts, he shook his head and groaned.
    “I am in pain.”
    If you only knew what kind, you would probably run from the room in a fright.
    He nearly smirked at his own wicked thoughts…but a moment later he felt a different kind of reflex, when her nail accidentally brushed the sole of his foot. His leg jerked, and he gave a little cry of surprise…to which she gave him a curious look. And then she grinned as she realized what she’d done.
    “Sir Guy of Gisborne has ticklish feet? Well my my, the little surprises that life brings.”
    He felt his face flush with shame. Not since he was a little boy had anyone tickled his feet, or for that matter, even known of the embarrassing ailment. He tried to withdraw his foot from her reach, but she smirked as she reached out and stroked his sole again. Giving another little shout of protest,