The Tempest: A Guy of Gisborne Story Page 20

  Chapter 19

  Two months later

  Late August

  He wandered aimlessly along the bustling streets of Marseilles. The chatter of villagers and merchants as they bargained, the noise of fisherman, the laughter of children as they ran through the streets…they were all pleasant sounds when compared to the sounds of misery in Nottingham. But he paid it all little attention.

  His eyes were frightening to those who would look at him. In his gaze was a desperation and turmoil that made people keep their distance. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, he knew he must have looked like a madman of sorts as he walked along, as if in a trance. His hair was nearly to his shoulders and unkempt. It had been days since he’d bothered to shave, and his jaw was covered with the shadow of a beard. He was sure that people wondered at his odd appearance and behavior, particularly when he suddenly snatched the arm of a brown-haired young woman that passed by him. She cried out in fear, cowering at the sight of this tall dark man who accosted her. But as he looked at her face, his expression moved from frenzy to deep sadness, and he released his hold, speaking gently.

  “Forgive me, my lady. I thought you were someone else.”

  She stared at him for a long moment before hurrying off…and he turned away, moving on along the street.

  He’d been in Marseilles for nearly two weeks. The journey here had been long, taxing, and unbearably lonely. Having spent the last of his own funds on the passage from Portsmouth, he’d taken to stealing money from the purses of wealthy travelers, and it was just enough to keep him fed and provide lodging at an inn. Upon arrival he’d immediately started his search, inquiring with whoever might be a source of information.

  But with each inquiry he found no leads regarding a woman by the name of “Cassia.” He offered her married name to those he inquired with, but with no luck. His only other hope was that someone might be familiar with her maiden name of “DeWarren.” He was shocked, almost elated, when he saw recognition in the face of the innkeeper he gave the name to…but he was crushed with disappointment to hear that the only DeWarren the man knew of was a Baron Stephen DeWarren, who lived with his wife and children in a home at the coast. They were of no relation, he knew that…Cassia was a peasant, so what connection would she possibly have with a man of nobility?

  Over several days time, however, the name of the Baron was constantly in his mind.

  Stephen. There was something familiar about it, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off…thinking it to be only his mind grasping at straws…the name would simply not let him be.

  It was on his mind one afternoon as he wandered back towards the inn. And he decided that he had to investigate the possibility of a relation, no matter how miniscule the odds were. If nothing else, he needed to satisfy his nagging curiosity. Mounting his horse, he rode towards the seashore, with a strange little light of hope daring to flicker in his heart.

  *****

  For some time he traveled along a road beside the sea, and soon a grand manor house came into view. He was almost afraid to approach it, certain that the owner would look upon this wreck of a once proud knight and have him arrested for trespassing. But if they had the smallest speck of information that would help him find Cassia, he would brave arrest and even assault.

  As he was turning his horse towards the drive, he heard the sound of merry voices coming from the beach just below. Simply out of curiosity, he moved a few steps forward and looked down, where he spied a young couple and their children playing in the sand. The young woman, long blond hair streaming in the breeze, sat at the edge of the water with a babe whom she was holding by the hands. The man was wading knee deep in the surf with a small boy, who squealed in delight as his father dipped him halfway in the water and then picked him up again. It was a pretty picture…one that he almost envied, thinking of Cassia and how they’d been robbed of their chance at such happiness.

  But he could not dwell on that at the moment. These people were obviously someone of importance, dressed as they were. Though the man wore only breeches and a loose linen shirt, and the woman wore a light summer dress, their clothes were still very fine. And only people of means could take time to frolic as they were doing. Hoping they would be of help…and hoping they were willing to give it…he dismounted, slowly making his way down to where they were.

  They didn’t seem to notice him at first, and he wondered how he might speak to them without looking like a hopeless fool. But his thoughts on that were cut short when the lady glanced over at him and gave a small shriek of fear. In a moment the man with the boy moved fast, handing the child off to his mother and snatching up a sword that rested nearby. He stood before his family, weapon at the ready…but Guy held up his hands to show he was unarmed.

  “Forgive me, I mean no harm. I am looking for…”

  “You are Guy of Gisborne.”

  Guy blinked, wondering how this stranger could possibly know him. He had no connections here, and surely his dark reputation had not travelled so far from England. He opened his mouth to speak, but the man gave him no chance.

  “Rosalyn, please take the children back to the manor. I shall follow you shortly.”

  The lady nodded, gathering her children and departing quickly. The man watched them go…and then turned back to examine Guy.

  “Has the devil risen from his grave? Or am I just imagining the sight of your malevolent presence?”

  Guy shook his head. “No, I am quite flesh and blood, I assure you. And I tell you that I do not wish to cause trouble.”

  The other man sneered. “That is quite a laughable statement, coming from the man who followed the Sheriff of Nottingham like a dog for so many years, harassing and torturing the innocent, including women and children.”

  A sudden spark of anticipation lit Guy’s eyes. If thisman knew him, if he knew of Briwere and Nottingham, then there was a chance he knew something of Cassia…and suddenly a burst of memory came to him, of a long ago conversation between Robert DeWarren and his daughter.

  I lost your brother Stephen to the pilgrimage. I will not lose my only daughter as well.

  It could not be possible that this man and her brother were one in the same. But his desperate heart dared to hope. And he had to know.

  “Are you Baron DeWarren? Stephen DeWarren?”

  “What matter is it to you?” He arched a suspicious eyebrow at Guy, who almost pleaded with his next question.

  “Do you have a sister named Cassia?”

  A look of loathing crossed Stephen’s face. “You dare to speak of her, after all you have made her suffer?”

  Guy felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. He thought he might weep with relief, and falling to his knees, his breath came hard and fast.

  “I must see her. I have been traveling for months, trying to find her.”

  Stephen thrust his blade under Guy’s chin, his eyes narrowed.

  “That is hardly reason to let you know where she is. How do I know you will not do her harm in some way?”

  Guy swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice anguished.

  “I would never willingly let harm come to her. I love her as my own flesh, and I will do anything to be with her again. Please, let me see her.”

  Slowly, Stephen lowered his sword. Though the light of mistrust was still in his eyes, he took a step back, allowing Guy to stand.

  “Come to the manor. We will speak first…before I decide whether or not to trust you.”

  He turned and walked away, up the slight incline leading away from the beach. Guy turned in the opposite direction to retrieve his horse…and quickly rode to the manor, his heart full of hope for the first time in months.

  *****

  Riding upon the property, his first instinct was to look for her. He could not help himself. He hoped to see her walking nearby, perhaps among the wide expanse of green lawn or in the nearby fields. When his eye did not find her there, he found himself looking up at the windows, hoping to see
her face.

  Where was she?

  She was near…he could almost sense it. It was all he could do to keep from jumping down to the ground, running like mad through the front doors and calling out her name. What kept him from it was Stephen, who was walking along the stones in front of the manor, his arms crossed as he waited for Guy’s approach. He looked very much like a wary guard dog, disciplined enough to maintain his temper…but prepared to unleash hell should the occasion call for it.

  A groom came rushing forward at the sight of a visitor, and though he hesitated at the dark presence of the stranger, Stephen gestured for him to take the horse…and then he turned his attention to Guy.

  “Let us go inside and speak plainly to one another.”

  Guy nodded, following along behind through the great arched doorway, into the great room. He saw an enormous set of stairs leading to the second story, and he wondered…

  Was she in one of those upper rooms?

  His heart beat fast at the thought, making him long to rush up the steps two at a time, tearing through the halls and into each room until he found her. Only the sound of Stephen’s rough command kept him from following the impulse.

  “Come, Gisborne. Do not stand about like a bit of furniture. You will not find her wandering by, if that is your hope.” He sighed. “I fear she keeps very much to herself, almost always remaining in her room. It has been rare to see her outside of it.”

  Concerned, Guy moved quickly to join Stephen in the adjoining dining hall. His breath was coming fast, his nerves close to their breaking point as he watched Stephen pace before the fire.

  “You have said she suffers. Is she ill?”

  A maid came near, pouring a goblet of wine and handing it to Stephen, who answered in a gruff tone.

  “No. Her suffering is of the heart. She loves you, Gisborne. She has grieved deeply for you since we left England. Until today, it was assumed that you were killed in the destruction of Nottingham Castle.”

  Guy advanced quickly, his strides determined and angry. “Then let me see her and tell her the truth!”

  “It is not so simple as that!” shouted Stephen. “How do I know you will honor her as you should? How can I be certain you will not ruin her as you ruined Lady Marian?”

  Guy found it difficult to control his temper at such an insult. It was all he could do to keep from lashing out with his fists…but he clenched his hands tightly, keeping them at his sides.

  “What happened with Marian was a mistake…a horrible crime I shall live with until my last hour of life. On the day of judgment I shall pay the price for not doing more to save her. But Cassia is everything to me. I love her more than I have ever loved anyone, and I would gladly give my life for her.”

  The two men studied each other, and Stephen’s eyes remained suspicious. When he lifted his hand and rang a bell to summon another servant, Guy felt certain he was about to be dismissed.

  If they try to remove me, I will fight them each and every one, he thought wildly. When a maid appeared, he prepared himself to do battle. He watched as Stephen slowly turned his eyes to the servant>

  “Fetch Lady Cassia. Tell her she has a visitor.”

  “The Lady Cassia has gone walking, my Lord.”

  Stephen looked at her, troubled.

  “Walking? Where?”

  “My lord, she did not say.”

  A fearful look came over Stephen’s face. “Find her,” he demanded. “Gather all the servants and conduct a search.”

  At the tone of Stephen’s response, Guy’s blood ran cold. He watched as the Baron headed off towards the Great Room, and he followed fast behind him.

  “Conduct a search? What for? What concern is there over a simple walk?”

  “Cassia never goes for a walk. She has not set foot outside this house since I brought her here.”

  “Where do we begin?” Guy demanded.

  “Search the shore, Gisborne. I will go to the village, and the servants will search the house and the grounds. Just hope that she has gone for a bit of fresh air…and nothing more.”

  *****

  He’d been riding along for some time, but had seen no one. Down below, where the grassy bank of land dropped off and led to the beach, the waves were gently rushing in and out. Other than the ocean and the gulls screaming overhead, there were no other signs of life, and part of him said to leave here to look elsewhere. But another part of him…a stronger kind of sense…told him to go on. Then, just as he was about to turn back, he spotted something.

  Footprints in the sand.

  For one moment he sank with relief, knowing he must be on the right path.

  Leaving his horse behind on the bank, he walked down the sandy slope that led to the shore. He cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out for her…and he heard no response.

  They had to be her footprints, as strongly as his instincts were telling him so. Looking ahead, he could see how the beach ended in the distance, changing from soft sands along the water to a rising green slope, which eventually led to a narrow ledge of rock that jutted out over the cove. Following the footprints, he saw how they suddenly ended at the bottom of the embankment…and slowly raising his head, he spotted a little figure standing high above on the rocky ledge. Her short dark hair ruffled in the wind. Her long blue dress billowed out behind her. No one in their right mind would be in so dangerous a place as she was...unless they intended something tragic. He could see her poised just at the rock precipice...poised as if ready to leap. A strangled cry escaped him.

  “Casia!”

  He rushed up the slope. It was a slippery, rugged climb, but not an impossible one…and he hoped against hope that he would reach her in time.

  *****

  Standing at the edge, looking down at the waves below, she could see the rocks jutting up at the bottom of the cove. They would bring an instant end…and a new beginning, if she chose. With one step further, she would be submitted to that life to come, and this old world would pass away. She wanted it to…for what was this world without the man she loved?

  At first she’d struggled against the idea of his death. All along the journey from England, she’d hoped and prayed that he would suddenly appear…that he’d somehow survived the destruction of the castle, and would come for her. At the manor she’d found herself staring out the window each day, looking for that imposing dark horse with its dark rider, galloping forth to claim what belonged to him. But each day had passed and he had not come. At last she realized there was no hope…and no amount of love and attention from her newfound family would set it right.

  Rosalyn was warm and gracious, welcoming her instantly and trying her best to make her feel wanted. She sat with her for hours, usually with her children in tow. Little Katherine was a quiet and sweet baby, and young Stuart was one of the few reasons she found to smile. At nearly three years old, he was a bundle of energy that kept his mother and the servants quite on their toes. He had a particular habit that Cassia couldn’t help but be amused by. When his mother scolded him, he would put his little hands on her face and whisper…

  Mama, I must tell you. I do not like that.

  Rosalyn always succumbed to his sweetness, and left the real discipline up to others, usually to his nurse, but even she was not always immune to his charms.

  When she wasn't entertaining Cassia with the children, Rosalyn often talked of the places they could visit if they chose, and quite often she would bring small gifts. She even called in a seamstress and had a whole wardrobe of ornate clothing tailored. Cassia graciously accepted the gifts, and stood for the fittings, not wanting to hurt her sister-in-laws feelings…but in truth she cared little for the grandeur of her new life. Because of Stephen’s status she was now a woman of rank, but titles meant next to nothing. All she could think of was the short time she’d shared with Guy…how those few days they’d had together, at the lake and at the cottage, had been some of the happiest moments she’d ever known. Now those days were long gone, just as
he was…and there was nothing left in this life that could ease the pain of his loss.

  Now, standing at the edge of the ridge, she was prepared to let her misery end. She let her foot slide forward…and heard a strange voice carried on the wind. She turned her head to listen.

  It was a deep, familiar tone that called her name. She knew that sound…knew it as well as she knew her own voice. And yet she refused at fir believe it. Her head was playing tricks on her…her memories of his long gone presence still reverberating in her anguished mind. She turned back to face the wind. And then she heard her name again, this time louder, clearer…and drawing closer. She took a step back from the edge, her eyes searching for the source of the sound. And then she saw the dark figure rushing towards her, just like a storm cloud coming forth.

  A tempest on the horizon.

  She found herself managing only a few shaky steps forward before she was swept from her feet. Powerful arms wrapped themselves around her. The solid wall of a chest crushed against hers, stealing the breath from her lungs…and an anguished voice spoke in her ear.

  “Cassia, Cassia!"

  For several moments it was all he said. Stiff with shock and confusion, she leaned back in his arms, her hands searching his beloved face, feeling the rough texture of his unshaven jaw line. Was he real, or some desperate figment of his imagination? She searched his beautiful eyes, seeing the shine of tears in them…and a wild, desperate light. He grasped her by both arms, shaking her.

  "What in God's name were you thinking just now?"

  A moment later he was kissing her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. And she suddenly realized it was no dream.

  “Guy! Oh, Guy, is it really you?” She threw her arms around him, clinging tightly to his neck, running her hands through his dark hair…and as if to answer, as if to convince her of his substance, he kissed her again with a long hot press of his mouth on hers. When he broke away for a moment to take in a breath, she clutched his face in her hands and peppered it with small and urgent kisses, wanting to feel every scrap of skin she could touch. He fought her for dominance, rushing his lips hotly over her face and neck. Suddenly he clutched her tightly and pressed his cheek against her breast, his arms locked around her, while her hands held him firmly in place, stroking his hair. His voice was ragged, full of pain.