Special Smashwords Edition
The Tunsey Men:
Lisette
By
Wendy Stone
Special Smashwords Edition
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Published by
Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
The Tunsey Men: Lisette, Copyright 2009-2011
ISBN 978-1-61235-218-3
Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Credits
Editor: Nancy Schumacher
Copy Editor: Taylor Evans
Format Editor: Mae Powers
Cover Artist: A. Bratt
The Tunsey Men:
Lisette
By
Wendy Stone
Princess Lisette, knowing her evil stepmother wants to kill her, flees the castle and runs into the woods. After a terrifying and exhausting night out, she finds a cottage in the woods owned by the Tunsey brothers. They listen to her tale and agree to allow her to stay. They are all appealing but she falls for the oldest, a man named Gifford. When Gifford finds her in trouble, there is nothing he wouldn’t do to save his charming Lisette.
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Also from Wendy Stone at www.melange-books.com.
The Tunsey Men 2, Victoria
The Tunsey Men 3, Giselle
The Tunsey Men:
Lisette
By Wendy Stone
Chapter One
“Find her!”
Lisette heard the sound of her stepmother’s voice echoing harshly in the wide common room of the castle. She crouched lower in her hiding place near the stairs, trying to make her slender form disappear. If she were found… It didn’t bear thinking of the punishment she would be given this time.
“I cannot believe that you let one lone girl escape your sight,” the queen grouched. “I give you so much and ask so little from you.” Lisette heard her sigh dramatically. “One small girl and you can not keep her in check. She could ruin everything! I need her found and then I want her killed.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” the queen’s personal guard answered quickly, used to the ways of this royal lady. “It shall be as you wish.”
“Ah, but you mustn’t do it here. Her father must not hear of this. You must take her out deep into the woods. There you will kill her, bury her body but bring me her hair. I wish to use it to braid into bindings to enchant the king. He will think he killed his daughter and the grief will drive him mad.” She laughed the evil sound sending chills of horror down Lisette’s spine.
She had to flee and quickly. She couldn’t think of letting her father blame himself for her death. He was a good man, though somewhat weak willed which had led him to becoming enchanted by Edwina Hollister’s spell to begin with. He’d brought her home, thinking her the perfect woman to become mother to his teenage daughter.
Instead, she’d made Lisette her slave, forcing her to serve morning, noon and night until her back ached and her hands were red and chapped. She was slapped and kicked, pinched cruelly, the bruises hidden by Edwina’s witchly craft. Her father saw her as she once was, not the abused and too thin girl she had become.
Dressed in rags, a thin shawl her only protection from the elements and heavy wooden clogs upon her feet, she snuck from the castle, finding her way through what had been her mother’s beautiful rose garden, now left to grow wild and choked with weeds. Her heart was in her throat as she found the small iron door in the thick wall that protected the castle, yanking with all her meager strength against the lock until it finally slid back.
She lifted the rusted ring, praying that the door had not grown stuck with corrosion. Pulling, she winced at the loud squeal it made, opening just enough so that she might squeeze her thin body through, pulling it back shut behind her.
She was free! But she could not afford to celebrate her freedom yet, for she was too close to the castle. With a small cry, barely discernable in the noise made by the evening insects, she hurried off, staying close to the wall until she came to where it was closest to the forest. Then she slipped into the woods, unafraid, as thoughts of what she’d left behind her sent her terror spiking more than anything she could face here.
She ran until it grew too dark for her to see one tree from the next and a slight rain began to fall, clouds obscuring the moon. Drawing her ragged shawl closer around her, she sought shelter from the rain under the wide spread branches of a huge tree. There she leaned against its rough bark; her legs curled under her and let her eyes close, too tired to worry about any of the noises coming from the woods around her.
Lisette woke with the first hint of dawn, its pink rays touching on her skin, warming her. Stretching helped to take out the kinks from her unusual sleeping position. Her call of nature was achieved by squatting next to a small bush, her eyes darting furtively around her.
The woods were unfamiliar and she had no idea or which way she’d entered, being turned around in the darkness of the night before. All she could do was pick a direction and hope that it took her further from her stepmother and her cruel ways. Her belly grumbled with hunger and she gave a happy cry when a small berry bush, heaping with the black succulent treat grew close to her path. She ate her fill then took the kerchief off her head, filling it with more of the beautiful berries to eat later. Her fingers grew stained from their juices as did her lips, but she didn’t notice. It was the first time in weeks that she could remember her belly not hurting from hunger.
By the time the sun was at its highest peak, Lisette was once more tired, the abuse she’d suffered draining much of her natural stamina and strength from her. When she came upon a tiny clearing in the woods where a cottage stood, its door standing invitingly open, she couldn’t resist a peak inside.
“Hello?” she called her voice timid and frightened. Who knew how far the power of her stepmother went?
She received no answer and glanced around. Seeing no one, she stepped inside.
The room was a shambles, dirty clothing and dishes everywhere, boots left to drop dried mud on the wooden floors. Food left sitting out was rotting, cheese turning green with mold. Lisette wrinkled her nose at the smell. Why would anyone want to live in this squalor?
Around a small table were three chairs, all left pushed back from the table. A huge pot of congealing oatmeal sat in the center, bowls left with spoon sitting in them. Lisette picked up one bowl, sniffing at its contents before pulling it away from her face. With a sigh, she dumped the bowls in the pot and took the mess over to the big sink on one wall. A hand pump fed icy water into the sink and she emptied out the pot, filling it with water and hanging it over the still burning fire in the fireplace.
Whoever lived here were terrible housekeepers and worse cooks, she decided. If she were to clean and cook for them, perhaps they would let her stay for a while, at least until she had some idea of what she was going to do next.
She spent the next few hours scrubbing and cleaning, washing clothes, mending holes with the small sewing kit she found tucked away on a shelf. A door in the back of the cottage led to a small basement where food hung in the cooler air. She brought up a slab of meat and some vegetables and sat about making a savory stew, mixing up dough for biscuits to go with it.
By the time she was through, the room shone and smelled fresh and clean, clothes fluttered in the breeze on the line outside and the smell of the stew was drifting through the open doorway. Fluffing the last pillow on the three huge beds she’d found up a ladder into a loft, she yawned hugely, laid down for just a moment on the soft bed and instantly fell asleep.
* * * *
“What’s this?” Gifford Tunsey, the oldest of the three Tunsey brothers said as he stared at the smoke coming from the chimney of their cottage. “The fire should have gone out hours ago.”
The three brothers were huge men, with long hair and beards that hid most of their faces. Their bodies were hard from the work they did, their manners coarse, for they had been alone since their mother had died ten years before, leaving Giff in charge of raising his brothers.
“Someone done did our laundry,” Safford Tunsey said, his eyes going to his underthings now on display on the line. “They left my drawers out where everyone could see.”
“What’s that smell?” Mallory Tunsey, the youngest, asked, his nose sniffing appreciatively. “It smells kind of like the stew momma used to make.”
“That is stew!” Gifford grouched. “Someone’s in our house, brothers.”
“What we gonna do about it?” Safford asked, his brows knitting as he thought.
“Eat the stew?” Mallory suggested. “It smells really good, Giff.”
Gifford just glared and pulled Mallory into the house, his eyes going wide as he saw the spotless and gleaming floor, the neat pile of tidily mended clothing, the dishes that were done and put on the shelf in their rightful places. “Who’s done all this?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Safford mused. “It surely looks good though, kinda like when momma was still alive.”
Mallory headed up the ladder, his head peeping over the top to where he could see their beds. “Giff,” he hissed in a whisper loud enough to wake the dead. “Someone’s in my bed.”
“In your bed?” the two brothers down below chorused.
“Well, on my bed. She’s a purty little thing. Can I keep her?” Mallory pulled himself up the next couple of steps, hearing his brothers racing up the ladder behind him. She was beautiful, with her red/gold hair blazing in the beam of sunlight that fell across her face, her skin flawless, creamy, the shadows under her eyes standing out in stark relief.
The rags she wore did little to disguise her slender form or the slight swells of her breasts. Her hips were womanly, curving under the skirt she wore, tapering down into the slimmest of ankles and tiny feet shod in harsh wooden shoes. Even as the three brothers stared at her, her eyes fluttered open, as green as the emeralds they hunted for in their hidden cave of treasures.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, sitting up and putting her hand to her mouth. “I fell asleep.”
“Who are you?” Giff asked, his voice rougher than normal, for the sight of her beauty had brought an ache to his loins.
Lisette cowered back against the headboard, suddenly afraid of the three huge men who hovered over her. “M…my name is L…Lisette,” she managed to whisper.
“Did you make the stew?” Mallory asked, his mind still on his stomach.
“Oh, the food, I hope it isn’t burned.” She clasped her hands to her breasts, not realizing how that emphasized their rounded shape and drew the men’s eyes. “I had hoped to impress you with my cleaning and cooking that you might let me stay for a while,” she finished, looking up with hope in her innocent eyes.
“Mallory, you go down and check that stew, make sure it ain’t burned none. Saf, you go with him.” He looked up as Safford seemed ready to argue. “Mind me now,” he growled. “I am the oldest.”
When they had gone, he reached out his hand, taking the slender fingers of the girl and helping her from the bed. “You aren’t from around here. Me and my brothers know of all the females in the area. You definitely ain’t one of them. Who are you?”
“My name is L…Lisette. I…I walked a long distance last night,” she said quietly, shivering under the stern look in his eyes. “My stepmother wishes me dead,” she said at last, the words coming out in a quick rush. “I have no relatives and no where to find shelter. Will you not let me stay?” She glanced up into his harsh, but handsome face, seeing brown eyes that didn’t seem moved by her plight at all.
When he stayed silent, she began to move around him. “I will leave now. E…Enjoy the stew,” she said with a small sob breaking her words.
“Here now,” Giff grouched. “There’s no reason to take on now. Let’s eat the stew and if it’s any good, then we will talk.” He noticed that she shivered in the cooler evening air and quickly shed his coat, hanging the huge garment around her shoulders. “It’s dirty and it ain’t much to look at but it’s warm,” he said, the gruffness of his voice hiding his emotions.
“Thank you,” Lisette said, her eyes shining as the warmth left from his body instantly made her feel better. It was the first kindness she’d received since her father brought her stepmother home and she found herself wanting to cry. A tear slid down her cheek, another quickly following.
“Here now,” Giff said. “None of that, it’s just a damn jacket.”
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes and gracing him with a smile that had his eyes popping from their sockets. “It’s just, well, you are so kind.”
“Kind? Giff? Girl you must be in worst shape than we thought,” Saff laughed, climbing halfway up to the loft. “The stew’s not burned none and there’s biscuits to go with it, Giff. Hurry up, we’re hungry.”
Giff turned, grabbing the arms of an old rocking chair and handing it down to Saff. It was a small rocker, too small for the men to sit in, but it would be perfect for Lisette. “It was our momma’s,” he said slowly, going down the ladder first and then reaching up for her. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, feeling her delicate hands settle lightly against his shoulders. He held her for a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the slimness of her waist and the way his hands met around it.
“Put her down, Giff and let’s eat.”
He did but not before noting the flush on her cheeks. A flush that hadn’t been there when they’d been in the loft. Did she maybe like the way he felt, too?
They set up the rocker on the free side of the table, the side across from Giff. Bringing down their bowls, she ladled out the stew, adding biscuits to the top and going to the small basement to bring in a pitcher of icy water. She set it down in front of them and went back to get her own.
When she turned, shock stopped her dead. They were eating like barbarians, scooping the food in and picking up anything that fell on the table to shove in their mouths. As she watched, Saff shoveled an entire biscuit in his mouth, belching loudly and letting the crumbs settle in his matted beard. It was horrifying, disgusting, their manners completely lacking.
Going to the table, she set down her bowl and slammed her hands down on the table.
All three men looked up, surprise in their eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” Giff asked.
“What’s wrong with me? Look at yourselves. You’ve got more stew in your beard than in your mouth. Your manners are atrocious and did a single one of you say Grace before you began shoving the food in?” She turned toward Mallory who chuckled as she was yelling at Giff. “And you, did you even wash your hands before you sat down to eat? I just swept this floor and there’s dirt all over it again from your boots. Is this the way you three were raised?”
“No, ma’am,” he mumbled, his head tipping so that she couldn’t see his reddened cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Go take off your boots and wash your hands, then come back to the table and we’ll see if you can eat like a gentleman.” She sat down in the rocking chair, her arms crossed over her chest. “That means all of you.”
“Now wait a minute, little miss. We don’t take kindly to no bossing around in our own house.” Giff sat forward, his eyes boring into the pretty green ones of their guest’s.
“It’s not being bossy if it’s only common courtesy,” Lisette said smartly, for some reason, completely unafraid of his reaction to her words. “I worked hard today cleaning and cooking. It is only respectful to remove your boots and wash your hands.”
Mallory sat back down, quickly followed by Safford. Both had washed under the running water at the hand pump, splashing drops of water everywhere. But their hands were clean and their boots were left by the door where any mud that dropped off could easily be swept outside. They both finished eating quickly, going so far as to take their bowls and spoons to the sink.
Lisette gave Giff a look of askance. “A little washing didn’t hurt your brothers,” she said smartly, lifting her spoon and taking a careful bite of the stew.
“Ahh, women!” he growled, letting his spoon fall into his bowl and getting up to clump over to the door, kicking his boots off and then running the pump and washing off the dirt of the day. He dried his still grubby hands on a towel, leaving muddy handprints before going back to the table. “Better?” he asked sarcastically.
“It’s a start,” Lisette said, smiling softly at him in thanks. She took a delicate bite of a biscuit, watching as he sloshed his through his stew then stuffed it in his mouth.
When he caught her watching, he sat straighter in his chair, slowing the flow of food to his mouth with another irritated growl.
Lisette barely hid her smile behind the small square of material she’d found to use as a napkin, finishing up her supper with no more talk. After the meal, she tidied the kitchen, washing the dishes with an economy of motion that she’d learned in her stepmother’s kitchens. Wiping away the crumbs, she took them to the doorway and shook them off her raggedy apron, smiling as a pair of birds flittered down to pluck them up quickly, ignoring her presence.
They flew off as a shadow fell over her and she turned to see Giff standing close behind her, close enough that she took a step backwards, losing her balance on the small step off the landing. Her arms pin wheeled once and she would have fallen but he reached out, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her into his arms.
“Oh!” she gasped softly, amazed at the hardness of his body against hers. There seemed no give, as if he were all muscle underneath his soiled shirt and pants.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concern making his voice not quite as harsh. His hand came up, brushing a strand of her red hair from her face as he stared down into her green eyes.
For a moment, it was as if time had ceased to exist, silence fell and even the insects seemed to be holding their breaths. Lisette felt a strange heat suffuse her body, a tingle of attraction that made her nipples harden, and press against the raggedy cloth of her dress.
“W…What?” she breathed, the sound of her voice seeming to break the spell that surrounded them. “Oh, yes,” she said softly, pushing back from his arms. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” he said, steadying her as she stood on her own.
The silence between them seemed to lengthen, growing tense as they stared at each other.
“Did…did you want to say something to me?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Me and my brothers been talking and if you’re willing, we’d like you to stay.” He ducked his head as her smile dawned on her beautiful face, growing wider until all he wanted to do was haul her back in his arms. She’d felt so wonderful, soft and feminine and she’d smelt like the wild flowers in the field near their cave.
“I’d really like that,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
“Good, then it’s settled. We decided that tomorrow we’ll build you a bed of your own. But for tonight, you can sleep with me in mine.” Giff turned as he finished speaking, never noticing the look of fear that came to her eyes.
“I…I can’t sleep with you,” she said slowly, her body shaking as fear, harsh and palpable, flooded her. “It isn’t proper.”
“It’s just for tonight,” Giff said, turning back with a quizzical look upon his face. “You don’t…think…You do. No, it’s just sleeping. I’d sleep with one of my brothers but two of us in one bed just don’t work well. Since I’m the oldest, you’ll sleep with me.”
Lisette worried her lower lip with her teeth, a habit she’d had for many years when she was uncertain or afraid. “Just sleeping?” she asked slowly.
“Just sleeping,” he confirmed. “You didn’t bring anything with you besides what’s on your back, did you?”
“No. I…I had to leave in a hurry.”
“Well then, for tonight you can borrow one of my shirts to sleep in. Tomorrow, I’ll dig up momma’s old trunk and you can see what you can do with her old clothes. Should be some material in that trunk too,” he said thoughtfully.
The thought of clean clothes, even if they were second hand, was almost more than she could take. She clasped her hands against her breasts, overwhelmed by the generosity of these huge men. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just keep cooking like you did tonight. That’s thanks enough.” He grasped her arm loosely, steering her back into the cottage. “In the trunk in front of my bed are my extra shirts. Why don’t you go up and get ready for bed. When you’re ready, just call down and we’ll come up.”
She nodded, hurrying to the ladder and scurrying up quickly. The trunk in front of his bed was huge, like everything that had to do with the brothers. She strained to lift the top, finding a passel of shirts just tossed inside. Nothing was folded and she could see that there would be much more mending for her to do just in this one trunk. Lifting out one of his shirts, she held it up to her diminutive frame, marveling that what fit him so well would hang like one of her dresses on her.
Shedding the worn and stained dress and the single petticoat she wore under it, she slid the shirt on over her head, buttoning up the placard with fingers that trembled. The hem reached her knees and she had to roll up the sleeves many times to uncover her hands. Still, it was less than a proper outfit for her to be wearing in the company of men.
She hurried and slid under the heavy comforter of Giff’s bed, calling in a hesitant voice. “I’m in bed.”
Candles were extinguished and the men’s voices grew closer as they climbed the ladder. Mall stopped at the edge of Giff’s bed, his eyes drawn to the tiny beauty huddled under the sheets. “You are very pretty, Miss Lisette.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mallory,” she said primly, holding the covers up to her chin.
Giff came up behind him and slapped him on the back of his head. “Go to bed,” he growled, feeling anger flood him at his brother’s words.
“Je—s-us, Giff, what’d you go and do that for?” Mall rubbed the back of his head. “I was just being friendly.”
“You be friendly tomorrow when she’s fully dressed, until then, get to bed!” he roared.
Safford chuckled as he walked past his brother. “I think Giff got bit by the love bug,” he said when he was too far away for his brother to reach him.
“I’m going to show you who got bit,” Giff growled. “Now the two of you get to bed. Dawn ain’t going to wait.” He blew out the candle he’d brought up with him, leaving them in the dark except for the faint glow of the fire down below.
Lisette heard the rustle of clothing and then the men sighing in their beds, rolling and moving pillows. She could still see the faint outline of Giff as he stood at the end of the bed, his eyes on her face.
“You might want to close your eyes, girl. I ain’t going to sleep in these clothes.”
“Oh,” she gasped, her eyes slamming shut so quickly that it brought a chuckle to the gruff man. She huddled under the covers, hearing him taking off his clothes. Unable to resist, she peaked through her eyelashes, barely stifling another gasp as his shirt slid off his massive shoulders.
His chest was hard, sculptured like the statues that were in her mother’s garden of the Greek Gods. His stomach rippled with strength, his arms bulged as he moved with conservative movements. She watched as his hands went to the waistband of his pants and he slowly unbuttoned the fastening, letting them drop to the floor. Even as he stepped out of them, he was tugging on the soft cotton drawers he wore under them, pulling them off as well.
When he turned, Lisette caught her breath. She was no longer the innocent Princess she’d been before Edwina had moved into the castle, having been exposed to the rougher and crasser class of people that would couple or answer the call of nature within her eyesight. But she’d never seen any man who looked like this.
His thighs were strong and wide, heavily muscled and as big around as her waist. His legs were long and well defined. But what amazed her the most was the sight of his cock, lying against his thigh, it was easily the biggest she’d ever seen.
She felt her face go hot, her breath seemed to strangle in her lungs and her eyes opened wide.
“I thought you weren’t going to look?” he whispered, feeling a stirring in his loins as his eyes met hers.
“I…I’m sorry,” she said quickly, rolling over to lie on her side with her back to him, her red face buried in one of the pillows. She thought she heard him chuckle, but it could have been the heavy beat of her heart pounding inside her head. She closed her eyes, opening them quickly when she felt the mattress move, sinking lower, and causing her body to roll towards him.
“Oh,” she cried, moving back to her side of the bed. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“It’ll be fine,” Giff growled, punching his pillow into submission. “Go to sleep. We get up before the chickens here.”
She tried, she really did. Perhaps it was the long nap in the afternoon or maybe the strangeness of being in bed with a man, but she couldn’t sleep. At first, she laid as still as she could, afraid to take a deep breath in case she disturbed him. Soon the sound of his snores mixed with the grunts and snores of his brothers to create a cacophony of sound.
It should have irritated her. Instead, she found the sound of the three men almost soothing. Lisette couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt safe. Being in the same room with Gifford, Safford and Mallory made her feel that way now. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound, and smiled.
That smile turned to a whispery shriek when Giff rolled in the bed, his hand coming out and landing on her stomach. Then it was as if he homed in on her, moving towards the warmth of her body until he was wrapped around her, pulling her into his arms.
“Giff,” she whispered, poking his hard chest carefully with one finger. She poked him harder when all he did was snort and then buried his face in her hair. “Giff,” she hissed, trying not to wake up Safford and Mallory. “Wake up.”
“Hmm?” he muttered sleepily. He grunted, rolling back to his side of the bed. “Sorry.”
She took a deep breath, strangely missing the way he’d felt against her. Rolling to her side, she kept her back to him and forced her eyes closed. Before long, she slept.
* * * *
Giff woke to the feel of soft warmth against his body, the scent of wildflowers intoxicating his senses and a small hand resting against his chest, the palm rubbing gently against his flat nipple. He stared down, his eyes adjusted to the dark. Lisette.
Sometime during the night, she’d scooted toward him, perhaps attracted to his warmth, but now, for whatever reason, she lay in his arms, her head cradled against the crook of his neck. He could feel her lower half, bared by the twisted shirt that rode up around her waist, pressing against his hip, her thigh lying over his own.
His body responded with a vengeance, his cock hardening in a rush of heated blood, tenting the covers over him. He could feel the slight swell of her breasts pressed against his side and he wanted to turn, to nuzzle that soft flesh with his mouth, take a pert nipple between his lips, taste of her sweetness. A groan tore from him, and his arms tightened as he fought to control the lustful urgings that were swamping him.
His hand seemed to move with a will of its own, sliding from her slender waist down to the soft flesh of her bottom cheeks. Her skin was as soft as silk against his calloused palm and he forced himself to still, afraid that she’d wake and scream at finding herself in this position with him.
Giff glanced down, seeing her exquisite face so close, framed by those beautiful red/gold curls. Her lips were lush, parted with her sleeping breaths, her teeth white and even. Her lashes rested softly against her rosy cheeks, fluttering as she dreamed.
Slowly, trying desperately not to wake her, he pulled away, carefully cradling her head until he could pull a pillow down and put it under her. Then he moved further away, turning until he could watch her face while she slept.
She had a look of refinement about her, the look of a lady. He couldn’t help but sigh, that look meant she was much too good for a peasant such as he. Nothing could happen between the two of them. She would stay here until some wandering Prince saw her, sweeping her up on his white destrier and taking her away with him to his castle to live there happily ever after. Even the thought was depressing. With a muttered growl, he turned away from her, struggling against the desire that still raged in his body, finally falling back to sleep.
* * * *
It was early; even the morning birds had not yet risen, when Lisette woke with a start, feeling more refreshed than she’d felt in months. Her body didn’t ache from constant abuse, she had no new bruises or whip marks and she’d found a new home. She sighed, stretching luxuriously.
Her hips bumped against something in the bed, and she paused, puzzled. Her confusion lasted mere seconds for Giff turned toward her in his sleep, pulling her back so that her body was curled into his, her rounded buttocks cradled against his hips. His hand slipped under the loose fabric of her shirt and he mumbled as his palm slid over the soft curve of her breast, her nipple hardening against his calloused skin.
She whimpered at the sensations that tore through her, strange and terrifyingly intense, echoing in the pit of her stomach and creating a strange ache in her loins. She wriggled against him even as his fingers sought and found the puckered bud, rolling it gently.
“Mm, Lisette,” he murmured, sighing in his sleep as his fingers took liberties that he’d declared forbidden for himself earlier. He played with her delicate nipple then slid his palm down the flat line of her stomach, curving it over her hip and then pressing between her thighs.
“Gifford,” she gasped, whimpering as he sifted through the bright red curls at the apex of her thighs, pushing his fingers against the damp flesh of her slit. It should have shocked her, the familiarities he was taking with her most intimate flesh, but instead, she moved against him, unable to stop herself when the pleasure was so great. Lifting her upper leg, she let it rest against his, opening herself to him in invitation for more.
Giff’s finger was deliciously hard and maddeningly soft at the same time. She felt him slip it through her wetness, gathering it on the tip before using it to circle some small part of her that had her hips jerking and lightning shooting through her. She couldn’t help but rock against him, her breathing coming in short heated pants.
He woke with a start, his fingers buried in the heated dampness that was between her thighs. Her hands were holding onto his wrist as if unsure whether to pull away or hold him to her. She was writhing against him, her bottom rubbing over his hard cock. He wanted so badly to pull her back further, to push into the heat and tightness of her pussy from behind and ride her until they were both too satiated to move.
With a groan of pure need, he slid his finger down further, finding her small opening and pushing gently inside. “You are still a virgin,” he growled, finding the tiny membrane that kept him from her.
“Y…yes, she moaned, turning her face to look at him despite the blush that stole over her cheeks.
His curse was low and heartfelt. He drew away from her, though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, leaving that tight, wet cunny intact. He would have been her first. That thought made his cock jerk and his heart quicken even more.
He rose from the bed, grabbing his drawers and breeches from the floor and pulling them on even though it was still a good hour before he usually arose. “Go back to sleep,” he growled, ignoring the chill in the room and heading down the ladder.
Lisette buried her face in the pillow, groaning at the lingering scent of his body. It was a manly smell of earth and work and a spicy aroma that she couldn’t name. It made her body tremble more until she knew she couldn’t lie abed. Rising, she slid into her old clothing, quickly and quietly making the bed and laying his old shirt across the foot.
Then she hurried down the ladder as well.
He stood in the open doorway, staring up at the sky as it lightened and the stars lost their incredible light in the face of the dawning sun. Giff had hoped that the cold air of morning would cool his ardor, but as he heard her light tread behind him, he knew he was fooling himself. The only thing that would cool his desire for her would be to bury his cock in that tight little cunny and loose himself in her.
But he couldn’t. Lisette hadn’t spoken of her past, but he could see that she was more than he, blue blooded no matter the rags upon her back or the plight that had put them there. She was a lady, and he was a big, rough, uncouth miner.
Lisette went to the fire, stirring up the embers he’d banked the night before and stacking small pieces of wood upon them to get the fire started once more. When she reached for the bigger pieces, she found him there before her.
“Let me,” he growled. “You start the water for coffee.”
She nodded, here eyes searching his face before she turned to do his bidding, unsure of what she’d seen there. He didn’t seem angry. But there had been a look in his eyes, maybe of sadness? She couldn’t be sure.
She pumped water into the huge old kettle, bringing it to the fire to swing it over on one of the two hooks embedded in the stone of the hearth. Then she brought out the huge pot and made ready to fix the oatmeal that seemed to be the staple for breakfast.
“If you had some chickens, I could fix eggs in the morning,” she said suddenly, breaking the quiet between them.
“Who’d care for the silly birds?” he growled. “We don’t have the time.”
“I…I could, if you still want me to stay.”
She glanced his way as she measured out oatmeal and then added in a handful of raisins she had found in the cellar.
“Listen, Lisette…” Giff began, only to shut his mouth as he heard his brothers rustling around in the loft. “Yes, we still want you to stay,” he said instead. “I’ll see about getting you some chickens.”
He went back to the ladder, climbed up to grab his shirt and socks, yelling at Saff and Mall as they were fighting to hurry up. Lisette ducked outside, going to the small privy at the back of the cottage. When she came back in, all three men had slicked back their hair at the pump, washed and were sitting at the table, waiting for breakfast.
She stirred the oatmeal, brought the huge pot of coffee to the table, and then dished out huge servings for the men. They ate quickly, speaking little. When they were finished, Mall stacked the dishes and took them to the sink, before thanking Lisette for breakfast. Hurrying into his boots, he picked up the pickaxe he’d left by the door the night before and waited for his brothers.
Saff finished his coffee, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to Lisette’s pretty cheek. “Thank you, it was much better than Giff’s oatmeal. We can usually use what we don’t eat to caulk the holes in the walls.”
She giggled as he’d meant her to and then he too was out the door.
“Stay close to the house, Lisette. We’ll be home early this afternoon to make you a bed. And I’ll see to your chickens. Momma’s trunk is in the cellar along the back wall, if you want to look through it. That should keep you occupied.” He went to walk by her, only to stop suddenly, grabbing her arms and pulling her close to him. His lips found hers, brushing over them quickly and then he let her go, stomping into his boots and closing the door behind him.
Lisette dropped into her chair, her face flushing. She could still feel the gentleness of his kiss and she waved her hand in front of her face trying to cool it off. “Oh my,” she whispered. Then with a spring in her step, she rose from the chair and started her chores.
Chapter Two
It was a different looking Lisette they came home to that evening. She’d found a pretty dress that only took a bit of altering to fit her slender form. Going through the trunk had given her a new brush and mirror as well as a box of hairpins. She’d taken the time to clean up, brushing her long unruly hair and pinning it into a mass of curls at the top of her head.
Then she got to work, wrapping an apron she’d also found in the trunk around her slender waist and filling the washtub full of hot water. She washed clothing first washing even the rags she’d been wearing, figuring that they could be used for dusting if they were clean. Bringing in the clothing she’d washed yesterday, she hung the freshly laundered wash out in the stiff breeze and warm sun, humming as she worked.
The day was warm and the air around the cottage was fresh with the scent of the woods and the smell of flowers. She skipped around to the back of the cottage, picking a handful of the pretty yellow daisies to put in the small vase she’d found for the table.
For a while, she basked in the rays of the sun, enjoying the freedom of doing as she pleased after having to do her stepmother’s bidding for so very long. Then she went back into the cottage, pleased to be cooking and cleaning because it was what she wanted to do.
The floors gleamed; the table had been scrubbed of years of accumulated dirt and a roast of venison cooked in the small oven set into the wall of the hearth. She’d begun to go to the door, watching for her men to arrive home for the day. Gifford had said they would be home early as they were planning on building her a bed of her own today.
That thought sent a bevy of butterflies to flit in her stomach, reminding her of the night before and the way he’d felt against her, his finger pressing inside of her body making her feel so very strange. Her cheeks heated and a flush stole its way across her face. If he hadn’t stopped, would she have been strong enough to stop him?
Before she could decide upon an answer, she heard deep male voices. For a moment, she thought of hiding, but then she recognized Gifford at the lead of the three men, his shovel held over his shoulder, dirt smudged across his cheeks and loose in his hair. Excitement made her heart race and she wondered not for the first time that day if he’d thought of her at all.
“Lisette?” he called as they entered the clearing.
She went to the door, opening it and standing shyly in the doorway. “You’re home,” she said unnecessarily, blushing when she realized how it had sounded.
“You had no problems today?” he asked, walking up to her, unable to drag his eyes from her.
“No, none.” Her eyes met his and she felt a strange flutter inside.
“Are you two gonna stand there making goo goo eyes at each other all night or can some of us that are hungry come in to eat,” Safford said, knocking Giff in the back with his shoulder.
“Oh,” she said, hurrying to back from the door. “Take off your boots by the door and wash up. Dinner will be ready in a just a few minutes.”
She was so flustered that she went to the oven, reaching for the handle without picking up the heavy mitten, burning her fingers. Her cry of pain was barely uttered before Giff was there, lifting her hand to look at the burn.
“Cold water,” he ordered her, taking her to the pump. “Hold your hand there, Lisette.”
He pumped water over her red fingers, turning to yell at his brothers. “Saff, take that roast outta the oven. Mall, go get some of that salve that momma made and bring me some bandages.” They rushed to do his as he ordered.
“Does it hurt?” he asked her softly.
“No, my pride hurts worse. I know better than to touch the door like that. I…I wasn’t thinking,” she whispered, glancing up at him.
“It was an accident,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He dried her hand tenderly, gentle around the reddened burn. Then he took the salve from Mallory. “It don’t smell too nice but it helps the pain and will make it heal much quicker. My momma was famous for her healing poultices, salves and unguents.” He scooped up a dab of the greasy white paste, smearing it gently on the burn before wrapping her hand with the bandages. “Gotta keep it clean and dry so we’ll be doing the dishes and such for the next few days until you heal up some.”
“Oh no, really, I can do them. I have to earn my keep,” she said, a note of panic in her voice.
“Lisette, we aren’t going to kick you out just cause you can’t do dishes. Calm down,” Gifford smiled, his teeth white against the dark of his beard.