Free The Tempest by Charlotte Hawkins Page B

week that followed, Cassia began to wonder if she’d made a mistake in giving her patient a pair of crutches.
    Now that he had some independence, Guy was not content to be idle. Refusing to wear the long nightdress he referred to as a “wretched garment,” he now wore his own clothes again…and he took advantage of his mobility. He hardly remained in his room, except to sleep. His preferred choice of location seemed to be a chair near the front room fireplace, where he often just sat and observed. And quite often, even when her father was in the same room, she felt Guy staring at her with a certain look. A dark, lustful look. And no matter how she tried to ignore him, he seemed intent on making her uneasy.
    Most troublesome of all was the change in his mood. He was not as dark as before. His scowling became less frequent, usually reserved for his moments of pain. Now he seemed almost relaxed, as if he were making himself at home. Even when making demands, which he still did frequently, he no longer bellowed in rage. Instead, he said what he wanted and sat back with an air of expectancy. Robert wasn’t sure what to make of his strange behavior. But after several days of silently tolerating his new way of being, Cassia felt she must speak to him of it.
    “Do not become so comfortable, Sir Guy. It will not be long before you are able to return to your own life. And when you do, then we shall gladly return to ours.”
    Even as she said it, trying to be stern, there was something about her own words that troubled her. One thing was certain. When Guy left…and as she’d said, it wouldn’t be long now…they would have their lives back.
    But things would never be the same again. And the thought of it became more painful as that time began to draw near.
     
     
    *****
     
    A scuffle on the floor behind him made Guy scowl, for he knew it wasn’t Cassia, who had stepped outside to send to something.
    It was her father, who seemed to become more surly towards him with each passing day. Robert wanted him away, and wasn’t shy about expressing his wishes, even if it wasn’t said in so many words. The few words he did say were brief and to the point, spoken at times with a bit of a harsh overtone. And though he’d ignored it at first, Guy was beginning to grow a bit tired of the old man’s disrespectful attitude. Robert DeWarren, after all, was only a commoner. He watched as the old man brought in a plate of bread and cheese. As he pulled a small table near Guy’s chair, placing the tray of food on it, Guy could see the man’s slight scowl of displeasure. But being in an almost agreeable mood, thanks to pleasurable thoughts about Cassia, Guy disregarded the air of contempt. Glancing at Robert, he let out a deep breath, speaking silently to himself.
    You and your daughter brought me here. Now you must contend with me whether it pleases you or not.
    “I want a cup of wine. Fetch me some.”
    Robert looked up, his eyes darting in confusion at the sudden demand. “I am sorry, my lord Gisborne. We have no more wine to speak of.”
    Guy snorted in displeasure. Then a thought came to him…a perfect way to remove Robert not only from his presence for a time, but from the house altogether. With that bit of distraction removed for a while, Cassia would have to stay nearby, should he need anything…and the thought of that made him quite pleased. But he kept his tone sharp in speaking to Robert, who had turned to leave.
    “Where are my things? The ones you took from me when you brought me here?”
    “In a trunk, my lord. For safekeeping.”
    “Fetch me the purse that was on my belt. Unless you have stolen it and pocketed the contents.”
    Robert looked nervous, as if expecting to be accused of treachery whatever his response should be. Still he answered.
    “No, Sir Guy, it was not touched.”
    “Then go and get it, and make haste.”
    Robert nodded slightly, leaving the room. When he returned, he held the velvet bag out to Guy,