The Tempest (13 page)

“Infuriating it may very well be. But I will not live openly with you.”

He let out a breath of displeasure. She was everything he desired…and yet, she was the most maddening creature he’d ever known in his life. He could not mute his frustration.

“God’s teeth, woman. You can be so damned impossible at times. You are nearly as hard headed as Marian.”

The accusation slipped out before he could stop it. He knew his error was grave. But he was not prepared for the hard strike of her hand…the look of utter contempt she wore as she turned her back on him. By the time he recovered from the shock, she was already in her shift and reaching for her dress, intent on leaving. He reached out to grip her wrist, trying to pull her back to him. But she yanked her hand away.

“Do not touch me!”

It startled him to hear her say that. But she would not go, because he would not let her leave…not like this. He reached for her again, only to have her take a wild swing at him with her fist. He dodged it, though just barely, and determined not to let her try again, he threw his arms around her as she stumbled from the missed strike. He held her back against his chest, embracing her tightly even as she struggled like mad against his hold. She spat furious words at him.

“Vile fiend! Let go of me!”

He shook his head stubbornly. “No, I will not.”

Despite the strength of his arms around her, she squirmed with surprising force. Her words were full of venom.

“Is that all I am? A poor substitute for your precious Marian? Remove your hands from me this instant!”

“Not until you calm yourself.”

“I will not calm myself when you compare me to that woman!”

He had never heard her speak with such loathing. He wanted to know why she reacted so wildly to Marian’s name…but to mention it at the moment would not be wise, for she still fought against his hold. He wanted her to be quiet and still so they could speak. But most of all, he didn’t want her to flee. Bringing his lips to her ear, he spoke gently and softly.

“Forgive me. ‘Twas not my intention to upset you.”

She was silent, and though she’d stopped squirming, her body was rigid under his hold. He wanted her soft and compliant, and he pressed his cheek against hers, his tone soothing as he whispered several more apologies to her. For many long minutes she would not speak. He turned her in his arms so she was facing him, but she tried to push him away. When he tried to kiss her she turned her face from him, refusing his affection. To see her this way, cold and unloving, was painful in a way he wasn’t certain about. One fact, however, he was quite certain of. He was not going to release her until she gave in, no matter how long he was forced to hold> DBut he didn’t have to wait so long as that. At last she seemed to relax in his arms, and it gave him courage to speak, though he was careful to use a gentle tone.

“Why do you despise her so?”

Her tone was anything but gentle.

“Marian of Leaford was a selfish deceiver. I saw it at the church that day, when she deserted you for Robin of Locksley. I heard it when she helped Robin Hood bring the sick and injured to our door. I remember the hateful words she used when speaking of you. And I care not what her reasons were for her duplicity. If she did not love you, she should not have carried on with you as she did.”

He was shocked by her bold words, and the way she spoke them with such passion. No one had ever been angry on his behalf, and certainly not where it had concerned Marian. He had always been sure that Marian was universally loved and revered. To hear her spoken of with such spite…and to hear himself as the subject of pity…was bewildering. He grasped for understanding.

“Why are you so angered by her deception?”
It was a long moment before she answered.

“Because she gave up true love. She gave up someone who would have given her the world. Instead, she ran back to a man who once deserted her to satisfy his high ambitions. A man who has hardly mourned her after her death. For her blind ignorance, her coldness and cruelty, I can find no pity in my heart.”

There was some part of her reply that was lacking. His memory flashed back to that night in the barn, when she had stopped herself from finishing her statement.
I do not want to lose you
, she had said. But something told him there was more…something deeper that she was not telling him. He lifted her face to his, making her look at him.

“Why does her deception anger you, Cassia? Tell me truly.”

Looking into her eyes, he saw a raw honesty that he’d never witnessed in anyone before…and what she said nearly stole his breath.

“Because I love you, Guy of Gisborne. I always have, and I always will.”

Somehow, he had known those would be her words. And yet to hear them was so shocking, it left him incapable of a reply.

“Cassia, I…” He fought for what to say, but she reached up to bring a finger to his lips, urging him to be silent.

“Do not speak. I do not pretend to hope for a grand offer of marriage, or a great declaration of love. At this moment, if physical love is all you are capable of expressing, than I shall be content with it.”

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.

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.