Free The Tempest by Charlotte Hawkins

they both sipped their drinks. But after several minutes of lingering quiet, she began to feel his eyes upon her again. A warm flush came to her cheeks. It was impossible not to feel utterly exposed under the intensity of his gaze.
    But how many other woman had he looked at in that same way?
    She thought back to all the times she had watched him from afar, admiring his every move. He was beautiful to her still, even now. His hair had grown a little since it had been cut, and though it was in need of a wash, it was wonderfully alluring the way his dark locks curled in places. Then there were those eyes of his. Those stormy grey eyes which held a power that defied description. At one time, she would have given anything to have those eyes look at her as they were now, with that smoldering intensity. Heaven help her, a part of her wanted to go to him right at that moment, to throw her arms around him and press her mouth to his.
    How many nights had she dreamed of being in his arms? It mattered not that he was a notorious villain. What she saw when she looked at him, even now, was what she had always seen. A lonely and bitter man, one nearly broken by the blows of life.
    But despite all the overwhelming love she felt for him, and despite the fact that he was the most sensuously appealing man she’d ever known…Lord, how he could set her entire being on fire, and with only a look…she knew in her heart that it was all for naught.
    It was true, there was goodness in him, as she’d always suspected. She’d caught little glimpses of it, especially in recent weeks. But was it enough to give him her trust? If she gave him what he wanted…what, in truth, she wanted just as badly…would he discard her as he’d discarded so many other women? He might have had the potential for goodness, but that did not mean he was capable of acting on it. He’d proven that many times over.
    Being there beside him, feeling the sensual tension so heavy between them, she could hardly breathe. Needing fresh air, wanting to gather her senses, she rose to her feet. She did not look at him directly, but she could see from the corner of her eye how his expression had changed slightly. His brow was raised in curiosity, his eye looking her up and down.
    “Where are you going?” he asked.
    She gave a little cough, to clear her throat and reclaim her voice.
    “It will soon be dawn, my lord. I must see to chores before my father wakes. Perhaps it is wise that you return to your bed and rest.”
    She turned away from him. Then she felt a sudden and sharp tug of her hand, and before she could react she was falling backwards. In a moment more she was looking up into his eyes. His nose was but a fraction away from touching hers. And his arms were holding her tightly, pressing her firmly against his muscular chest.
    “You should warm my bed. It would be a better cure than any witch’s brew you could concoct.” His lips were nearly touching hers, the heat from his body intoxicating. She felt her body aching in places…aches of a kind she hadn’t felt in so long. And they were crying out for fulfillment.
    “Did your husband satisfy you, Cassia? Was he capable of giving a woman like you what you truly need?”
    At the mention of her husband, something suddenly went cold within her. What was she doing? Just minutes ago, she had reminded herself how he was with women…how he used and forgot them without regard. If she let this moment linger, she knew she would only become another casualty. Giving his body a hard shove, she pushed him away and came to stand before him, defiant and angry.
    “I am not a whore, Guy of Gisborne. If that is all you seek, you will not find it with me.”
    Snatching up her cloak, she stormed towards the door. Just before she went out, she turned to him, eyes narrowed. He was staring into the fire, but she knew he was listening.
    “Drag yourself back to Nottingham and find a willing wench to serve your needs. And after you are done