The Tempest: A Guy of Gisborne Story Read online

  He felt her hands slowly reaching up, cupping his face as she brought her lips to his. As he felt her hands moving to his neck, her arms curling around to cling to him, the shock of her words faded away as the fires of passion were reignited. It was incredible to him how her kiss could put his soul at ease…how quickly the rest of the world went away nearly sts in his arms. Soon he was easing her down to the ground once again, only this time, he wanted to linger with her. He was aware that time was slipping away. All too soon, he would have to leave her again, and he wanted to evade the separation for as long as he could. They loved slowly and sweetly, exchanging long lingering kisses and allowing their fingertips to leave no part of one another’s bodies untouched.

  When it was over, he reluctantly dressed and went to retrieve his horse from where he’d left him. He returned to fine her waiting for him, her dress neat and proper, her hair combed and loosely gathered back. She was the picture of purity. Were it not for the telling smile she wore, there would have been no way of knowing that just a short while ago, she was lying naked and trembling in his arms. He reached out his hand to her, and without hesitation she took it in her own, stepping on the toe of his boot to spring up before him in the saddle. She leaned her head against him as they rode, and every now and then he felt the pressure of her cheek against his breast. It was all he could do to keep from turning his horse in the direction of Chenivier and riding away with her, but he knew it was not possible…not just yet.

  He came to a stop a safe distance from the house. Climbing down first, he reached up to help her down, and while he held her at the waist, her hands on his shoulders, he tilted his head up to meet her lips for a kiss. She gave it gladly, her arms around his neck as she slid slowly down to the ground. It was a kiss goodbye. And at the thought of their separation, he felt the return of the ache within himself. Gathering all of his self-discipline, he kept a stoic expression, trying to keep the pain from showing in his face, though he was certain she could read it in his eyes. She looked at him for a long moment. Then she reached into her dress pocket to retrieve something. It turned out to be the silver chain and cross that he’d always seen her wearing, and she put the trinket in his palm, closing his fingers around it.

  “Keep this, Guy…please. If something should ever happen, I want you to look at this and remember me.”

  He shook his head, deeply troubled by her insinuation.

  “Do not say such a thing. To speak prophetically is to bring bad fortune. And I will not let any harm come to you.”

  She lowered her eyes. “There is no certainty in this life. Not even the all-powerful Guy of Gisborne can determine fate, no matter how hard he tries.”

  Her words were unsettling, but they only served to make him more determined.

  “I will not lose you, Cassia. Not to anyone.”

  She pressed the trinket into his palm, holding his hand in both her own.

  “Keep this just the same, and think of me until we are together again.”

  He shook his head. “I need no token to remind me of you.”

  She brought his closed hand to her lips, kissing his fingers. For several moments she clutched his hand to her cheek, and he pressed his lips to her head. He held her in a firm embrace. But all too soon she was leaving his arms, and he watched h.

  Chapter 13

  Guy rolled over in his bed. Saturday had come again, he realized. For a moment he smiled, his entire being flooded with anticipation.

  Until he heard the sound of the rain.

  His smile gradually faded. Rising from the bed, he slowly walked to the window, where he leaned his hands on the casement and looked out upon the gloomy day. The showers were falling in constant sheets, drenching everything. There would be no venturing out in such weather. And he muttered a curse at the heavens for foiling him.

  All week long he’d planned on visiting her again. He’d thought of it all the time, and every now and then the idea had flowed through him with great anticipation, at times threatening to break the dark look he was forcing himself to wear. Briwere was not pleased by the occasional look of pleasantness that sometimes slipped out. Indeed, Guy was sure that Briwere thought it revolting for his lieutenant to find pleasure in anything beyond his duty. He would often grow angry, demanding answers.

  “What are those ridiculous looks, Gisborne? Have you found some hot-blooded harlot to replace Marian?”

  At such derogatory statements, all of the light would vanish from Guy’s expression, and he would become dark of mood once again.

  “It is nothing,” he would snarl. Then he would say no more, and no amount of shouting or threats could force him to divulge. After one particular angry exchange, Briwere cursed him and ordered Guy out of his sight.

  But Guy did not care. He’d been subject to such scorn too many times to count, and he was almost numb to it. For once in his life, he had something to look forward to, and nothing...not even trouble from the Sheriff… could diminish his hope.

  But Mother Nature seemed to think otherwise. Staring out at the grey and miserable weather, he let out a ragged breath.

  If only she were here, this torrent that falls would be a blessing, giving us reason to spend a day in pleasurable occupation.

  But she was not there. And the thought of it made his spirits lower than ever.

  Lord, how I miss her so.

  He found that he was constantly repeating it to himself. And as the thought echoed over and over in his mind, he began to realize it was not just physical intimacy that he longed for. Just her being there…her presence alone, if nothing else…was a comfort he sorely missed.

  He recalled the times during his recovery when he’d been without her…either because her father had been in her place, or because she’d left him alone. In those times, he’d always had a sense of her presence, even when he could not see her. He thought of those first days of his illness, when she would come quietly in and out of the room to see that he had all he required. Growl and shout as he would, she had rarely deserted him in his hour of need.

  Of course, there were moments when she had rebelled against his cruelty in her own little way…and while that made him smile with fondness, thinking of how stubborn a soul there was behind that innocent face, it also brought a sense of guilt upon him. Remorse was not a feeling he was at all familiar with. But when he thought of how he had treated her in those days…how cruel he had been…he wanted to crawl on the floor in shame.

  She was one of heaven’s greatest creations. She deserved to be up on a pedestal. Why such an angel as she would want a lowly, worthless dog like him was beyond his comprehension.

  And yet she loved him.

  It was not just in her words, but in her every movement and look. He could not for the life of him understand it. All he knew was that she filled a deep void in his soul that no one else could, and when they were apart this way he felt lost and helpless. He could not go on this way, being without her for such long stretches of time…and in his desperation, he began to plot a scheme.

  The house in the glen would be finished in less than a fortnight, so the carpenter had said. Between now and then, she could work at Chenivier as a servant, as could her father. She would protest of course, refusing to live in the same house with him. But if he promised to keep himself away, perhaps she would reconsider. He could stay in a room at the castle until the cottage was finished. And Chenivier was only a short ride away. Surely it would not be wrong to visit his own home for a few hours of the day, just to see her and talk to her. Anything would be better than not seeing her at all.

  As soon as the weather improved, he would go and fetch her home.

  This was where she belonged…under his roof, at his side, and soon enough, in his arms again.

  *****

  He knew he would have hell to pay for vanishing from Nottingham without word. But as he rode along towards the DeWarren place, he gave little thought to Briwere or anything else. All he wanted was to see Cassia again, and finally ge
t her away from her woodland seclusion. He would make up an excuse to the Sheriff later. Right now, all he wanted was to get to the house, and he urged his horse to move faster.

  But as he approached the clearing, he could see through the brush that there was a crowd gathered a distance from the house. Closer observation revealed that they were all standing over an earthen mound with a wooden cross imbedded in the center…and Cassia was at the foot of that grave. Her father’s grave, he quickly realized, for he glanced about with the thought that he might see Robert, but it was not to be. Robert DeWarren was dead. How or why, Guy knew not. All he knew was that at this moment, Cassia must have been shaken to her core with grief. And he felt a part of his own heart break for her.

  But his first impulse was not to go to her. He’d never been particularly comfortable with pathos. And besides…mourning and tears were the territory of women. It was the duty of a man to soldier on and to know that death was inevitable. Why weep about it? His instinct told him to go…to leave her in peace so she could grieve in private.

  But as he sat there on his horse, observing, he saw how the small crowd seemed to be on the same wave of thought as he was. One by one they came to Cassia with a touch of the hand or an embrace, and then walked away from her. Soon she was standing alone. When he saw her go down upon her knees with her head bowed, he lost all ability to follow his own command of desertion. He thought of those many times when he had been in such pain, both physically and spiritually. She had not abandoned him, as the rest of the world would have been glad to do. He owed her everything, he realized…and he would not leave her this way.

  Getting down from his horse, he approached with slow and quiet steps. As he neared her, he had a flashback to a similar scene of despair. Once, he had gone to visit Marian and found her weeping for the loss of a dear friend. He had made a feeble attempt to comfort her but she had brushed him off, and in a fit of anger, she had demanded that he leave.

  What if, like Marian, Cassia rejected him when he tried to sooth her? He pushed away the very thought of Marian, not wanting her in his head for another moment. If Cassia refused him, he would hold fast to her until she relented and accepted his consolation. He would be there for her, as she had been there for him.

  He knelt down at her side, his tone low and soft as he said her name. She gave no reply. She did not even look up. But he was not put off by it.

  “I am sorry for this. Robert was a good man. I owed him my life.”

  She continued to sob, and he could not remain passive for another moment. His movement was awkward…uncertain and unsure. But slowly he put his arms around her. And to his relief she did not refuse him. Instead she huddled against him like a scared kitten, pressing her head against his breast as she poured out her sorrow. He stroked her back, talking softly to her.

  “Cassia, I am taking you with me to Chenivier.”

  He felt the shake of her head…the tension that grew in her frame. He knew that a refusal was coming. And he quickly shushed her.

  “I promise I will not remain there. You shall have your peace of mind, I swear it. I shall tell the servants something to silence their curiosity, and you shall have all that you require to ease your pain while you mourn. But I will not leave you here alone.”

  After several moments, he felt her figure soften in his arms. Confident that she would not fight him now, he adjusted his embrace and picked her up from the ground. Carrying her to his waiting horse, he lifted her into the saddle and followed behind her. Securing her in his arms he gave his mount the spur, not looking back as he took her away.

  *****

  Before emerging from the cover of the trees, Guy stopped his horse. It would not do to ride into plain sight with Cassia before him this way. His servants would have to see her as his unwilling captive. Considering the way her eyes were swollen red, her face full of misery, it would not be hard to convince them that she was unhappy. He sighed, wishing there was an easier way than having to put her through this, but they were at an impossible impasse. She wanted to isolate herself…but he needed her close by. This plan he had concocted was the only way there was, and it was best to get through the charade and be done with it. At least she would not have to be paraded through the streets like a true prisoner.

  He had arrived at the back of the house, where there would be less chance of curious eyes watching them. And as for the interested eyes of his staff…they would be silent if they valued their lives.

  Getting down from his horse, he reached up and brought her down to the ground. Gently he reached out to brush the hair back from her face.

  “Do not fear. My staff are loyal, and they will treat you well. But you must play the farce of being a captive. Will you do that?”

  She gave him a small nod. Taking her by the arm, he led her towards the house, half-dragging her to make the appearance more genuine. As they approached, he bellowed for a groom to take his horse. The young man came rushing forward, and at seeing Cassia, a curious look flashed in his eyes. But he did not linger. Quickly he took the horse and led it away, while Guy held Cassia by the arm and led her into the house. Near the door, she gave a half-hearted attempt to pull away, and he spoke harshly to her so the servants would be certain to hear.

  “Try to flee and I shall bind you at the hands and feet. Do you understand me?”

  In the kitchen, the cook and two scullery maids bobbed curtseys when they saw Guy, and they looked strangely at the girl he held beside him. He put on his darkest expression.

  “This girl is a prisoner. She is here under house arrest, and no one is to ask questions about her staying under this roof. If you must answer an inquiry as to her presence, you will say she is a kitchen maid and nothing more. Not even the Sheriff is to know of her. Do I make myself clear?”

  The three women nodded, the fear in their eyes quite evident. He walked quickly, pulling Cassia behind him. At the end of the hall in the servant’s quarters was a small bedroom, and pushing the door open, he brought her inside. When the door was shut and secured, he reached out to gather her in his arms, whispering so only she could hear.

  “You must forgive me for that bit of unpleasantness. I promise you will not have to endure it again.”

  Leading her to the narrow bed, he helped her lie down. Her head had hardly touched the pillow when she started crying again, turning her face away from him.

  Her tears were painful to witness. Did she weep just for the loss of her father, or because he had brought her here without her full consent? He did not know. He only knew that he wanted to crawl into bed with her, to put his arms about her and let her empty her heart of its misery. But that, he could not do…not when the entire household would grow suspicious, wondering why he lingered so long in her chamber. And what if she pushed him away? It was quite possible she would, for he had brought her here against her will, and he knew she might be bitter with him for doing so. Though he longed to stay, he knew it was best that he leave her in peace. He rose from the bed and went to the door, turning at the open archway, taking a moment to look at her.

  “Rest, Cassia. I shall have a meal brought to you soon.”

  Reluctantly he turned and left. As he came down the stairs, he shouted for a maid. The girl came running in, and he curled his lip in an ugly sneer.

  “Get the girl food and see that she has a bath and a change of clothes. I do not want the foul smell of a peasant lingering in my house.”

  The maid nodded. She turned to go, but he reached out and yanked her by the collar, holding her close.

  “You will do well to inform the other staff…utter more about her than I have instructed, and I will cut out all of your deceitful tongues. Is that understood?”

  Her eyes were wide with fear. She seemed almost to the point of tears, but she nodded. He released her, watching as she scurried away to do his bidding. While Cassia was here, she would not have to worry about her safety or her reputation. If he had to personally threaten the lives of everyone in his house, he would
do it to keep his promise.

  *****

  For nearly a week, he saw little of her. When not carrying out Briwere’s orders, he kept to his room at the castle. But at times he found the chamber so quiet and lonely that it became unbearable, and he took to walking the grounds after sundown. His nights were his own again, as he had refused to carry on with the nocturnal terrorizing of villagers. With Cassia so close by, and she being within earshot of servant gossip, he feared of her hearing that he’d engaged in such cruel activities.

  Briwere had been furious at the refusal…but Guy had been in no mood to listen to the temper tantrum. Having had enough verbal abuse for one day, and bitter with longing for Cassia, he had reached out in a blind moment of temper and held Briwere by the neck, pinning him to the wall.

  “I give enough of my time to you during the day. Find someone else to be your night specter, for I am done with it.”

  Briwere had sneered, trying to seem unmoved by the threat, but Guy had seen the fear in his beady little eyes. And the next night, the raids in the darkness ceased all together. They had never served a true purpose anyway, except to frighten villagers into further submission. As far as Guy was concerned, the villagers were cowardly enough as it was, and he was glad not to be subjected to their screams and pleas when they were shaken from their sleep. His own nights would now be more peaceful…if only he had his woman beside him in his bed.

  Only twice that week did he visit his home, and that being a very brief stay. He inquired after his “prisoner”, as the servants knew her to be, and was told that she kept mostly to her room. She ate very little of the food she was served, and spent most of her time sleeping. She hadn’t said a word to anyone thus far, giving only a shake of the head or a nod in response to questions. It seemed she was grieving more intensely than he’d realized, and though he pretended to take no notice in front of the servants, in private it worried him quite badly.