Read Online The Tempest by Charlotte Hawkins - Free Book Online

unable to change what had long been a habit. Her look was one of hurt…and frustration. Frustration at him, and the idea that she might be tiring of him was something that didn’t sit well with him. He tried to sound softer when he replied, though he couldn’t quite keep the edge off his tone.
    “I call you by your name, so you will call me by mine.”
    Her look was one of curiosity. But it was preferable to that wounded expression of hers…and ten times better than her look of anger. One of her little smiles would have been a great gift at that moment, but he didn’t want to push too hard. It was enough for the moment that she wasn’t throwing him out entirely. After the way he’d handled her just a little while ago, he wouldn’t have blamed her. He watched as she turned her attention back to the hearth. And as he looked at her, he found himself enjoying the light of the fire as it glowed on her hair. Her lithe little body looked so soft, bathed in the glow of firelight.
    What would she do if he went to her right then, pushed her to the floor and had a taste of her? It had been too long since he’d known the sweetness of a woman’s mouth. He hadn’t properly kissed a woman since Marian, and she had never been truly willing. She’d never been soft and yielding when he pressed his lips to hers. He recalled the way she grew tense at the feeling of his hands upon her. He silently cursed himself as he reflected on it. What a fool he had been not to see that her hesitation wasn’t born of girlish naiveté…but of contempt for his touch.
    There had been other women since her, but kitchen maids and serving wenches didn’t spend much of their time with kissing. And suddenly he wondered…
    How sweet would it be to have a woman like Cassia in his bed?
    Watching her, seeing her lean over to stoke the logs in the fire, he felt a fierce wave of heat surge through his blood. Only one thought kept him from going to her…from acting on the impulse to press her down in front of the fire.
    She was a widow .
    The idea that she was no innocent…that she’d once belonged to a husband…still had a great hold on his mind. The woman before him was truly that…a woman. She was not a simple maiden. There was much more to learn about her…and he intended to satisfy his curiosity.
    “What was your husband’s name?”
    She paused in her actions, but did not look at him. “Edwin.”
    “And what of him? What sort of man was he?”
    He knew he had no right to pry, but he was too curious. He wanted to know, and he intended to press for information, even if it made her uncomfortable. He was glad, then, when she answered his question without much hesitation, though she still kept her eyes from him.
    “He was a sword maker. The Middleton family were all fine craftsmen of the blade. My brother was apprentice to Edwin’s father.”
    A sword maker , he thought. Such men of talent were of great value in society, even though they were without rank. He could now see what a great loss it must have been for Cassia. She had not only lost a husband…a chance for a home and family…but with her husband’s death, she had lost her chance for something better in life. To be a merchant’s wife would have been something of value. Not so high a place as a noble, but not so poor a position as she was in now.
    That point of curiosity satisfied, he now found another matter creeping into his thoughts…one of a much more personal nature. As before, he knew he should not ask it. And as before, he did so all the same.
    “Did you love him?”
    She turned to him, wide-eyed with surprise at his question. He looked into those eyes of hers…so dark, so beautiful.
    And so lonely.
    Why had he not seen it before? Maybe he’d been too busy trying to find fault with her. Or perhaps he’d simply refused to let himself see deeper into her soul. But now that he knew this secret she had kept, everything changed all at once. A young, beautiful woman such as