Special Smashwords Edition
The Tunsey Men: Giselle
By
Wendy Stone
Special Smashwords Edition
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Published by
Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
Tunsey Men-3-Giselle Wendy Stone, Copyright 2009, 2011
ISBN 978-1-61235-220-6
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: Giselle
By
Wendy Stone
Safford Tunsey is a man who is cynical and sarcastic. Until the day he runs into the violet eyed beauty, Giselle, who sticks her nose up in the air and won't give him the time of day. Can she show him how to love while he shows her how to be a woman?
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The Tunsey Men 1: Lisette
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 Tunsley 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.
The Tunsey Men 2: Victoria
Mallory Tunsey is having a rotten week. Abused, then attacked and shot at by a dark haired hellion who dresses like a boy, he’s spurred into retaliation.
And so is she. Victoria Arrington dislikes not being treated as an equal to men. But under the rough exterior and ragged clothes is a beauty well worth the fight. Can he win her love and keep his skin?
The Tunsey Men: Giselle
By
Wendy Stone
Chapter One
Outside the newlyweds’ closed door, a host of wedding guests stood, drunkenly shooshing each other and giggling madly. In their hands, they held pots and pans, wooden spoons and bells, anything they’d been able to find that would make noise and interrupt the festivities happening inside the room.
At the back of this group, Safford stood. He’d had little to drink, spending his night pouting and nursing his cheek where a bright red handprint had been for at least a half an hour before disappearing. He’d barely approached Giselle when she’d gasped, her hand flashing out, striking him hard before she turned and flounced away, her companion hot on her trail.
Now she stood barely in front of him, her face flushed with drink, her giggles hidden behind her raised hand. Her companion was nowhere in sight and Saff planned on taking advantage of it. The other guests moved forward as he snuck closer behind her, waiting until the first of the revelers started banging on their pots before he slid his hand around her waist, lifting her, and taking her into the room behind them. The door closed as the noise level grew, camouflaging the breathless squeal she gave as she realized she had been taken. He dropped her to the floor, turning to lock the door behind them before facing her again.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying drunkenly to get up from the floor. “You can’t do this.”
“I’ve done it.” He stepped forward, reaching down to help her up, only to have the bowl of a spoon rapped against his hand. “Ouch!” he growled. “What’d you do that for?”
“Don’t touch me!” she snapped, trying once more to get her feet under her. Instead they slipped out, exposing a goodly amount of curvy legs encased in thin stockings. “Oh!”
He reached for her again, this time managing to wrest the spoon from her lax grip, then lifted her around the waist and stood her on her feet. She took a stumbling step forward, burped and then giggled, lifting her hand to her mouth. Safford couldn’t help grinning. She was adorable like this, her hair straggling from its pins, her eyes heavy and half closed, a tittering little giggle escaping her. He reached for her again, this time drawing her up against him, his mouth coming down upon hers.
Her lips were soft and moist and had opened in shocked exclamation that allowed his tongue to slip past and explore her mouth. He moaned at her taste, a bit of the wine she’d consumed, a bit of the dinner and something heady and ripe, the flavor of her passion.
She fought him at first, though in her state, she wasn’t very effectual. Her hands pushed at his chest, sliding up and over his shoulders to tug at his hair. Then she was twining her fingers through his hair, holding him to her, her lips responding to his own.
Giselle gasped as he lifted his mouth, her lavender eyes staring up at him. “Why do you make me feel like this?” she moaned. “You are a nobody.”
“A nobody?” he growled, furious that she thought as she did. “I am the man you’ll be marrying.”
He watched with stunned eyes as she began to giggle, her laughter growing wilder with each second that passed. “I…I’d n-never m-marry you,” she stammered around bouts of chuckles. “Y-you’re n-nothing.”
Safford dropped his arms from around her, watching as she stumbled then fell to the ground, tears on her cheeks from her laughter. Fury burned through him, hot and intense, and in that moment, he made a decision that would change his life forever.
Reaching into the wardrobe, he yanked out a cloak, pulling it over his wedding finery. He tore the comforter from the bed, laying it upon the floor and pushing Giselle on top of it. He rolled her up in it, her voice muffled to the point of barely being hearable in the material. Then he lifted her over his shoulder, stepping out to see that the noisemakers had continued on down the hall, heading back towards the party and the drinks. Turning the other way, he headed towards the kitchen, slipping out through the now deserted room and out to the stables. He dropped Giselle in a mound of hay, happy when she didn’t move, and saddled his horse, throwing her blanket draped form across the front of it.
Within minutes, he was mounted and galloping out the front gates, waving at the guard who smiled and called a greeting. He rode down the village road until he was out of sight of the castle then took to the woods, determined to make his destination before anyone noticed they were both missing.
* * * *
Saff yawned, stretching as his horse moved under him, anxious to be in his stall. “Easy, son,” he said softly, seeing the black’s ears twitch as he spoke. “I’ll have her off of you soon and then we can both get some sleep.”
He threw his leg over the bundle in front of him, dropping to the ground with a nimble grace. Turning, he lifted his wrapped lady over his shoulder, hearing a grudging mumble as she made her displeasure known. “Hush lass, if you weren’t so snooty, this wouldn’t have been necessary. ‘Tis your own fault and you’ve no one else to blame.” He opened the door to the cottage, happy to see that everything was just as they left it, though somewhat of a mess.
“Well, it will just be something that you can clean up. Cleaning will be good for your soul, lass. My ma always said that hard work never killed anyone.” He carted her up to the loft, passing by Gifford’s bed and tossing her down on top of his. For a moment he thought of leaving her as she was, trussed up tight inside the comforter, but then common sense and a touch of decency forced him to unwrap her.
Her skirt had come up somehow during the ride, leaving those long legs bare but for the thin silk stockings. Safford had a hard time ignoring the look of those sweet thighs and shapely calves. He slid the back of his hand along the creamy smoothness of her leg as he yanked down her skirt, covering her decently. “I hope to hell you come around soon, wench, else wise this could be a long stay.” Turning, he slid down the ladder, going outside to care for his horse, setting him loose in the small paddock.
He gave the animal an extra measure of oats, putting up his saddle and then went back into the cottage. Dawn would be rising soon and then the fun would begin. He rubbed his hands together, slipping out of the confounded dandified clothes he’d had to wear to his brother Mall’s wedding, tossing them over the back of a chair. Clad in only his drawers, he climbed the loft ladder one more time.
Giselle hadn’t moved; her hair, that long curly mass that tempted his hands to dig into the midst of it, still lay in a tangled mess over her face. Her arms were still above her head. She snored softly, snorting as he crawled into his bed next to her, pulling her still clothed body close and breathing in her scent.
With a chuckle, he kissed her cheek. “I can’t wait to see your face when you wake up,” he mumbled to her, snuggling into the softness of the mattress and closing his eyes. Moments later, he was asleep.
* * * *
“Who are you? What am I doing here!”
Saff grumbled as the blanket was snatched off of him and he was forced rudely out of his bed to land sprawled on the floor. “Hey!” he shouted, rolling over to glare up at the woman who looked down at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I demand to know who you are and where I am!” Giselle yelled right back, though she did back away from the edge of the bed.
“You ain’t got no right demanding anything anymore, woman!” Safford growled, slowly rising to his feet and letting his hands rest on his lean hips. “You’re in my world now and I am in charge.”
“What!”
The look on her face was almost priceless and if it weren’t so important that he take control right away, he might have burst out laughing. But as it was, he couldn’t let her see any sign of weakness on his part, and laughter was a definite weakness. “You heard me,” he growled, reaching out and grabbing a hold of her hand to drag her out of bed as well.
She screeched as he tugged on her hand, over balancing and falling onto the floor, unable to catch herself. She landed on her arse, squealing as if someone had stuck her with a knife, before she struggled up and tried to get loose of his hold on her. “Let me go!” she shouted. “Do you have any idea who my father is?”
“I don’t care who he is,” Saff said, quite reasonably. “He ain’t here. It’s just you and me.” He tugged her closer, his eyes moving over her, noting the tangled mat of hair, the wide slightly puffy lavender colored eyes, the flush to her cheeks. “You don’t seem any worse for wear.”
“What did you do to me?” she asked, a horrified expression upon her face. “Did you, no, it would be too horrible to think. Did you…use me?” she ended in a whisper as if to state the words aloud would make them all too true.
Saff burst out laughing. “Use you? Lass, when and if I ever use you, you won’t have cause to ask if the deed’s been done. You’ll know it’s been done.” He took the hand he’d snagged and drew her closer, rubbing her soft fingers over the bulge in the crotch of his drawers. “This does tend to leave an impression with the ladies.”
“Oh, stop,” she cried, snatching her hand back as far as he would allow. “Don’t do that.”
“Is that another order I hear coming from that pretty mouth?” he sighed. “I guess we need to get something straight between us.” He snickered as he saw her eyes drop down to his crotch. “No, not that, at least not yet. I’m talking about what you’re doing here. See, the way I see things, you and I got off on the wrong foot. You took one look at me and thought I was beneath you. I mean to make you see that you ain’t got no right to be judging people that way.”
“I don’t even know who you are,” she cried, her eyes going wide as she realized just how serious Saff actually was. “I got invited to the wedding of Lady Victoria to that…miner… Oh,” she said, her mouth dropping and her face going pale. “You…you’re that…”
“Yes, I am,” he said reasonably enough. “Now, do you get it?”
“What do you want?”
“First of all, breakfast. After that, we need to get some work done around this place. Them folks that took off with Lisette left it a mess.” He released her wrist, pretending not to notice when she held it in her other hand, rubbing at it as if to remove the feel of his touch. “That pretty frock of yours is bound to get messy so you might want to change it. You can borrow one of Mama’s old dresses.”
“You’re mother lives here with you?” Giselle said hopefully.
“Oh no, she died about six years back. It’s just the two of us here.” He went to the trunk at the end of the bed, pulling out a clean shirt and pants and shrugging them on. Then he reached for her again, his eyes narrowing as she pulled away from him, trying desperately to avoid his touch.
“Please, enough is enough. This isn’t funny. I want to go home.” Her voice was strained and he could see a tear starting in the deep purple of her eyes.
“This isn’t meant to be funny, Giselle. There’s nothing funny about folks who look down their noses at other folks because they was raised different.” He reached again for her arm, getting a hold this time and pulling her forward. “I’m hungry. I gotta believe that you are too, unless all that drink you had last night at the wedding got to you.”
“N-no,” she stammered, following him almost obediently. “I’m hungry.”
“Good,” he said, smiling down at her as if she’d done something wonderful. “I hope you can cook.”
“Me? Don’t you have someone to do that for you?”
“Yeah, you.” He chuckled at the look of disbelief on her face. “You telling me you’ve never cooked before?”
“My father is a baron. We have someone who does that for us.”
“Someone? Don’t you even know his name?” Safford gazed down at her, watching as she pushed her hair back from her eyes, hooking it behind the delicate curve of her ear.
“I…I think his name is Jerald, no…Jeremy.” She frowned, the soft curve of her brows furrowing. “I don’t know. My father hired him. My mother discusses menus with him, not me.”
“So, what do you do if you get hungry?” he asked, playing with the fingers of the hand he held.
“My maid, Catherine, fetches me a tray,” she said. “It is the way it’s done. I didn’t decide to have it that way.” Her tone grew belligerent and she tried again to pull her hand from his grip.
“Well, I guess it’s never too late to learn,” he said. “Come on. I’ll help you today, but tomorrow, you’re going to have to be ready to do this on your own.”
“Tomorrow! How long do you mean to keep me in this…this hovel?” she asked, outrage prevalent in her tone. “You…you can’t keep me here. The scandal would ruin me.” She stomped her foot hard on the wooden planks of the loft.
She was such an irascible minx, adorable in her little fit of anger that Safford almost forgot what he’d brought her here for…almost. He smiled down at her then cupped his hand over her cheek and sighed. “Well the sooner you learn what you need to know, the sooner that we can get back to the castle, if you want to go then, that is.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to go,” she growled, no longer hiding the fact that she was looking for some way out.”
“Because you love me. God girl, ain’t you been listening at all?” He yanked her forward, pulling her to the ladder as her mouth fell open in shock. Heading down the ladder, he glanced up as she just stared down at him. “Close your mouth and get down here, else I’m going to be thinking that you’re staying up in that bedroom for a reason other than sleeping. I’d be more than happy to come and fulfill your needs,” he added as she still just gaped at him.
That knocked her out of her shock and she grabbed the top of the ladder, turning quickly to put her foot in the top rung. Unfortunately, in her hurry to scurry down the ladder, she didn’t hold her gown to her. It caught in the side bar of the ladder, knocking her off balance. With a shriek, she pin wheeled her arms, feeling herself falling backwards.
Safford watched as in almost slow motion, she fell off the ladder. He opened his arms, giving a small “oof” as she landed against him, knocking him off balance so that he took a couple steps backwards. Fortunately, a chair had been pushed over there in Lisette’s battle against the guards who’d taken her and he dropped into it with a grunt.
Giselle’s arms had wrapped around his neck, her body landed almost perfectly in his arms. Glancing down at her, he saw that she had her eyes closed tightly, her face scrunched up as if waiting for disaster. He held back a laugh, but his smile was wide as she slowly opened them, staring up into the face of the man who held her.
“You’re welcome,” he said, dipping his head and finding her lips with his.
* * * *
It couldn’t get any worse. Giselle stared at the man who held her hand with some care, playing with her fingers as if he were a beau coming to sweep her off her feet, not the man who had kidnapped her so brazenly. For the life of her, she couldn’t even remember how he’d kidnapped her. She’d been racking her brain trying to remember since she realized the predicament she was in.
The last thing she really remembered was dancing at Lady Victoria’s wedding to that…miner. It had been an amusing wedding, especially with Veronica trying to pull a switch and take her sister’s place at the altar. Then Andrew had become tedious, constantly proclaiming his own love for her and his wishes that they marry. If he weren’t a noble, she’d have told him off them.
That had caused her to drink more than was usual for her at these affairs. Quite a bit more, if she remembered correctly. Now this…bumpkin was demanding that she cook for him? Ha! Hardly.
“Why wouldn’t I want to go?” she asked him, amazed at his vanity. Of course she would want to leave this place. It was dusty, dirty even and there were no servants to take care of her needs. But then his words penetrated her musing, causing her to gape at him, certain that she had misunderstood.
“Close your mouth and get down here, else I’m going to be thinking that you’re staying up in that bedroom for a reason other than sleeping. I’d be more than happy to come and fulfill your needs.”
Oh no, never. She’d rather die than have him touch her again. She hurried to put her foot on the ladder, never noticing her gown catching on the side pole until it threw her off balance and she felt herself falling. With a shriek, she tried to catch her balance, pin wheeling her arms furiously. Falling backwards, she waited for the pain to begin, closing her eyes tightly for if there was one thing that terrified Giselle, it was pain.
She barely felt his arms come around her, or felt him abruptly sit down as he overbalanced and landed in the chair. She just kept waiting for the pain to start. When it didn’t, she opened her eyes slowly, staring up at him in trepidation.
“You’re welcome,” he said suddenly and then his face filled her vision, his lips coming down to capture her own.
Whether it was shock, gratitude or some other emotion that kept her still for him, she didn’t know. But with the first touch of his lips, she felt her body burst into flames. He was gentle, his mouth caressing hers, brushing against her, barely taking the kiss further than friendly. But Giselle didn’t want friendly. She wanted hard and hot. She wanted teeth and tongue, lips and hands. And she wanted them now.
She groaned as the explosion of heat in her center drove her to dig her hands into his hair, yanking him down closer. Her mouth opened, her tongue slipping over his lips, hearing his surprised gasp as she demanded entrance. He gave it, and she tasted the heat of his passion, the darkness of lust.
Her heart felt nigh to bursting, her lungs burning as she forgot how to breathe. All she wanted was to take the kiss on and on, further into the mysteries of passion and the pleasure that it held. She could feel his hands roaming over her, tugging on the bodice of her gown until she heard a ripping sound as the seam gave and the bodice fell free, exposing her chemise covered breasts to his hands.
She arched as he covered one plump mound, his fingers finding and pinching the taut tip. A cry escaped her lips, lost in their kiss as his mouth devoured hers.
Then suddenly she was free. Her eyes blinked open and she stared at him in confusion. She stood upon her own feet, amazed at the sudden distance between them, her bodice still gaping open. “What…”
“Who taught you to kiss like that?” he growled from his place across the room from her.
“T-taught…N-no one,” she said finally, the passion still befuddling her mind.
“No woman kisses like that without being taught,” he said, conviction in his voice. “Who was it? That pansy-arsed frou-frou that you were with last night? No, he weren’t enough of a man to teach you to kiss like that. Who was it, Giselle?” he asked angrily.
“What business is it of yours?” she asked, her own anger chasing away the fog that his kisses had put her in. She’d never tell him that until that day in the tailor’s shop, she’d never kissed anyone.
“I’m marrying you, that’s what business is it of mine,” he growled, stalking closer, his rage making him less wary of her. “I have the right to know who my fiancée has been kissing.”
“I’m not marrying you,” she declared, her nose in the air. “So your wishes and demands become a moot point.”
“Moot schmoot,” he snarled. “You are marrying me. Before I let you leave here, you’re going to tell me that you love me!” He grabbed her arms, dragging her back into his embrace, his brown eyes fierce and hard as they glared down at her, dropping to her lips. Then his mouth was on hers again, but this time, his kiss was hard, punishing, hurting her until she cried out.
“Dammit woman!” he growled, pushing her away again. “I ain’t never hurt a female, nor hit one, but you’re pushing me.”
“Then let me go,” she cried, her arms coming up to rub at the red marks on her arms from his hands. “Just tell me which way to go, I won’t tell anyone who took me. I…I’ll say I went for a walk to clear my head and got lost.”
“No.”
Giselle felt that no as if it was a death knell. With a sob she felt her knees give out, slowly dropping to the floor, her arms coming around her body as if she needed to hold herself together. Tears dripped from her eyes, falling down her cheeks, staining her gown.
With a sigh of disgust, Safford turned away from her, going to the fireplace to begin the task of starting a fire.
She lost track of him then, too upset to care what he did, wanting only to disappear into the floor and then find this whole thing had been one nasty nightmare. But it wasn’t and she didn’t disappear. Finally her tears dried up and she couldn’t help but watch him as he set about fixing their breakfast, walking around her with barely a glance her way.
* * * *
Gifford groaned as Lisette rose over him, her slender thighs parting over his hips, her wet warmth sinking down on his hard cock with wonderful ease. Her hands came to rest upon his chest, steadying herself as she began to move. “That’s it, love. Slow and steady,” he growled, his hands going to her hips to grind her against him.
He heard her gasp and watched as her head fell back, her long, lovely red hair teasing his thighs with a delicate caress. She was exquisite in the early morning light, the sun setting her slender body to glow, making her skin seem translucent, her hair a fiery halo surrounding her. He couldn’t get enough of watching her, for she seemed some pagan goddess come to make him her willing sacrifice.
Lisette rode him, generously giving of herself while taking her own pleasure with a shy greed that made his heart pound in his chest, his breathing labored, his cock throbbing in the sweet folds of her sex. “Touch yourself, love. Play with your breasts,” he urged.
She did, her eyes opening to stare down at him. She plucked at her nipples, twisting and pinching before squeezing her breasts in her hands. Then she grabbed his, drawing them up her body, covering her breasts with the roughness of his palms, closing her eyes on a look of exquisite bliss as he squeezed them delicately.
Her moans turned to whimpers then to cries stopped only when she leaned down, flattening her body over his chest to find his mouth. Gifford took the hint, holding her hips and lifting her to roll her under him, feeling her slender thighs wrap around his waist, her arms around his neck.
He thrust into her hard, loving the way she took his length and held him so tightly, as if her body had been meant for his and his alone. He pulled back until only the tip of his cock was inside of her, holding himself there despite her squirming and pleas. “Open your eyes,” he growled, waiting until she did. “Tell me you love me, Lisette. I want to hear it.”
“I…I love you, Gifford,” she cried, feeling him slamming into her, taking them both over the edge and into the madness of ecstasy.
Afterward, he held her against him, stroking his fingers through her hair as she murmured sleepily. She started in his arms when a loud knocking came upon the door to their room, Giff reaching down to draw the covers back up their bodies before calling out for entry.
“What is it?”
King Maxim, himself, came through the door, his eyes worried.
“Father?” Lisette said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What is it?”
“Your brother is missing,” Maxim said, staring over at Gifford.
“Mallory should be with his new bride,” Giff said, sitting up.
“No, not Mallory, Safford. His horse is gone.”
“He probably just went for a morning ride, sire.”
“You don’t understand,” Maxim said, running his hands through his hair distractedly. “Your brother is gone and so is the Lady Giselle.”
“Bugger it,” Giff growled, throwing back the covers and grabbing for his pants. He thrust his legs into them, yanking them over his lean hips. “Safford has more sense than to do something so incredibly stupid as to kidnap a member of the court.”
“Are you sure?” Lisette asked, pulling her wrapper on under the cover of the linens. “He seemed pretty upset last eve after she slapped him.”
“Giselle slapped Safford!” Maxim shouted.
“There must be a logical explanation for this, Sire. Be assured, we shall find it and Safford. Perhaps he and Giselle just went for a ride together this morn to work out their differences.” But even as Gifford said it, he didn’t believe it.
“Should we wake Mallory?” Lisette mused, slipping out of her side of the bed and tightening the belt on her robe. She went to her father, patting his arm. “It will work out, Father. Gifford will find Safford, he wouldn’t have gone far.”
“Let’s let Mall enjoy his newly wedded status until we can be assured that the two of them haven’t holed up somewhere in the castle first. Have you sent servants to search everywhere?” Giff asked.
“Yes, everywhere but the moat and the privies. They are both gone and so is his horse. I did this as soon as Andrew came to me. He hadn’t seen her and couldn’t find her.” Maxim sat down in one of the chairs by the fire, staring into the flames.
“Andrew?” Giff asked.
“Lord St. John, Giselle’s escort of last evening. They were supposed to leave quite early this morning as he has a previous commitment that couldn’t be cancelled. I had to let him leave after he reported her missing.”
“Don’t worry, we shall get to the bottom of this, Sire.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Maxim rose from the chair and headed toward the door. “Your brother will have a lot to answer for if he has done something rash.”
Lisette waited until her father left, cocking her head to the side. “A Tunsey man doing something rash? Heaven forbid,” she smirked.
“You don’t seem worried,” Giff said, coming up to wrap his arms around her slender waist and draw her to him.
“Well, I might say the same for you. You know where he is, don’t you?”
“I have an idea,” Giff said. “I’m betting you have the same idea.”
“Perhaps that’s why we make such sense as a couple,” Lisette said, a smile upon her lovely face. “We think alike.”
“So, wife, who thinks like me, what should we do about this mess Safford has gotten us involved in?”
“Well,” Lisette said slowly, snuggling up against his big body. “We could misdirect a search, give Safford time enough to win his lady and have a good laugh at his expense,” she mused.
“We could do that, couldn’t we?” Gifford grinned, lifting her in his arms and twirling her around.
“Her parents will be worried though, Giff. We will have to think of something to tell them.”
“You let me worry about that,” he pointed out, dropping a kiss upon her full lips. “You worry about how to keep me happy.”
“I thought I’d done that already today,” she said, a furrow marring her smooth brow. “I didn’t?”
“Hmm, maybe my memory is faulty.”
“Then perhaps I should refresh it, husband. I would hate to be termed a failure as a wife.” She stepped back and out of his arms, her nimble fingers loosing the belt at her waist, before she shrugged out of her robe.
Giff’s eyes roamed over her naked body with pleasure and he grinned as she took his hand, leading him back to their bed. “Come, husband. I will not have you complaining about me. Safford will have to wait his turn.”
Chapter Two
Trees parted before him easily, making the access trail into his camp as wide as a main roadway. They closed ranks behind him, brush rolling back into place, hiding even the sight of tracks his horse’s hooves made. As he rode into camp, the woman he carried before him stirred in his arms, her eyes opening wide at the scene before her.
“Where are we?” she asked, accusation in her tone as she turned to glare back at the man who’d walked into the dungeon, carting her away under the guards’ noses.
Jasper laughed. “For a captive you do a lot of demanding,” he noted, letting his hand travel over the side of her arm, his fingers rubbing her delicate flesh gently. “Perhaps you wouldn’t be so mouthy if you knew what happened to the last woman who tried to tell me what to do?”
“What, the Queen?” Veronica smirked. “That old hag? She was ancient and weak, neither of which I am. I do not fear you, Jasper.”
“You know of me?” he asked, surprised. He truly had thought that the Tunsey men would hold his presence secret, not wanting a panic amongst the people of King Maxim’s reign.
“Of course.”
“But how do you know of me?” he asked, the hand that held her to him moving from her waist to her slender thigh where it was splayed to make way for the beast beneath them.
“I am a woman, sir. As such, I can either be left in the dark or I can find my own way of knowing what men would rather keep me uninformed of.” She smiled, a mysterious and secretive tilt of her lips, her blue eyes growing dark as she glanced behind at him. “I have heard much of you and of what powers you possess.”
“So then you know of how I came by my powers?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“Rumors and this and that, but nothing definite, sir. I do know that you are not a man to trifle with unduly.” She rubbed her head against Jasper’s shoulder, letting her own hand fall upon his on her thigh. “I do wonder what you plan to do with me.”
“You are a beautiful woman, Veronica. What do you think I want of you?” He chuckled, his fingers tightening on her thigh, fisting her gown so that it rose over her legs.
“Then you know also that I am a virgin,” she said, her eyes growing heavy as she felt his fingers on her leg. “I cannot believe that you cannot find any woman you fancy and have her come willingly to your bed. A man of powers such as yours would find most women anxious to join with you, to exploit those powers for her own uses.”
“I find you refreshing,” he said after a moment of staring down at her in amazement. “You speak your mind, something not too many of your ilk care to do. Yes, I could have whatever wench nabs my attention. Your situation called to me, the fact that your twin is married to one of them made you even more attractive. But if you do not wish to join with me, I could return you to the dungeon cell that I took you from.”
“Nay, my lord, let us not act in haste,” she said, turning further in the saddle. “Perhaps there is someplace a little less exposed that we might discuss a mutual benefit our joining might present.”
“Perhaps,” he said, dipping his head, his lips finding hers. He kept the kiss brief, a mere tasting of passions, a test of her response, before lifting his head and guiding his horse to a small cottage kept hidden by the trees.
Swinging down, he reached up and wrapped his large hands around Veronica’s tiny waist, lifting her easily from the saddle. He let her slid down his body, holding her closely so she could feel the proof of his desire. Her gasp spoke volumes, as did the sly look that came upon her face. “You’re a plotter, are you not Lady Veronica? I can see it in your eyes, beautiful as they may be. A man would be a fool to trust you too far. I am not a fool,” he warned.
“So noted,” she said softly, smiling when he swept her up in his arms, carrying her quickly over the small porch and into the cottage, her laughter trailing behind her as the door closed.
* * * *
Safford stared in mild amusement at the sight of Giselle, her body swathed in one of his huge shirts over the gown she’d worn, sitting upon the filthy floor, a stubborn look upon her face. “You have to sweep the dirt away before you scrub the floor. You cannot tell me you’ve never used a broom.”
“I’ve never used a broom,” she said, almost parroting him. Her eyes were ringed with shadows, her hair was a lank, stringy mess tied haphazardly at her nape, chunks falling loose to hang around her face. “I’ve never scrubbed a floor. I don’t know how to fix a fire or cook or clean. I can sew a fine stitch and any needlework pattern you wish and I know how to run a loom, what thread and weft is necessary for a proper weave and to get the best out of each weaver.” She sighed, staring at her hands that were a mass of broken nails and stains.
“You are near to useless,” he growled. “‘Tis a good thing that you’re beautiful, for no man would wish for you to cook his meals and mend his shirts, tend his home and birth his children.” He threw his hands up in the air, walking to the door to stare out at the beautiful day.
It wasn’t her fault, he tried to tell himself. The parents made the child, whether it be for bad or good. They were responsible for the learning and no one thought to teach her everyday chores that were a necessity. Why, he didn’t know nor care. He just knew she’d made pretty much a mess of everything she’d put her hands upon.
He still felt the burn of the pan that she’d dropped upon his hand when he’d set her the easy task of heating water for washing the dishes. He sighed, running his hand through his hair once more. “Come,” he said, turning and holding his hand out to her. “We shall begin the garden that Lisette wanted for summer vegetables.”
“Garden? I know nothing of plants and seeds. Why don’t you just give up this cause for it is definitely lost? Send me home, I will admit to be helpless and worthy of naught.” She rose to her feet, moving forward though avoiding his hand. “I will say that I thought to take a walk when I was tipsy from drink and became lost. No one will think to blame you. You can even say that you found me, saving me from dying of exposure in the woods.”
Saff turned, staring down into her earnest face. “My momma once told me that there were no lost causes, just lost people. She’d say you were one of the lost ones. Now what kind of man would I be if I didn’t try to help you learn?”
Giselle’s scream of anger startled him; the fit she threw next had his eyes opening in amazement. She walked across the still wet and filthy floor, kicking out at the bucket of water that sat upon it. It splashed, falling over to drain water across the floor, the brush flying out of the pail and striking the wall with a loud splat. Then she strode further into the room, searching for anything else to slake her frustrations upon. A loud screech came from between her lips as her slippered foot slipped upon the water, sending her flying up in the air, coming down upon her bottom in the dirty water.
Safford tried, he gave it every effort he had, but one look into her furious and surprised face had him choking with the effort to hold back the bray of laughter that wanted to erupt. After that, there was no hope for it, he bent over, holding on to his knees, huge spats of laughter coming from his mouth. It didn’t help that she glared at him for every time he turned and looked at her, he only laughed harder.
Giselle sat upon the wet floor, awash in misery. Her head hurt, her back was sore from trying to scrub the dirt from the wooden floor. Her bottom was sore from landing so hard. Her gown was ruined, the water soaking through her skirts and into the bloomers she wore under them, sending a chill through her.
She tried to hold back the frustrated tears, but they refused to cooperate, slipping from her eyes and trailing over her flushed cheeks. His laughter didn’t help, making her feel more miserable until she wished she would just sink into the ground and die.
“Oh, love,” Saff managed to get out. “It’s not all that bad. Come, cheer up. Perhaps some lunch will straighten you out.”
“Perhaps this bucket over your head will straighten you out,” she muttered, trying to wipe her face with her wet hands and streaking more dirt over her cheeks. She glared at the hands that he held out to her, ignoring his offer of help as she rose on her own power, yanking at her skirt to survey the damage. “It is ruined,” she groaned unhappily.
“You probably have dozens more at home just like it,” Saff teased. “What’s one gown?”
“I have nothing here,” she snarled, trying to wring as much of the water as she could out of the gown.
“Lisette pulled my mother’s old gowns out and was wearing them, I’m sure there must be something you might use.” He gestured toward the door in the back of the cottage’s main room.
She was gone for more time than he’d thought necessary and he was just about to follow her when the door slowly opened. Giselle came into the room, her hand covering the neckline of the gown she wore, her face bearing a tell tale blush.
“What is the problem?” he said, staring at her as she stood uncertainly.
“I cannot reach the buttons,” she said, lifting her head suddenly and glaring at him.
“Turn around, I’ll do them for you.” He waved at her, in a hurry to begin the work necessary to start the garden.
Giselle moved slowly to do as he said, baring the long line of her back to him between the undone buttons. She stood waiting for him to begin, finally turning her head to glare back at him. “What is wrong?” she snapped, seeing him transfixed.
“N-nothing,” he stammered, reaching out slowly for the first button, his eyes locked on the soft skin of her back. The back of his fingers brushed against her skin, sliding across the smooth flesh with a warmth that made her gasp.
“Uh, I c-can get them,” she said, trying to move away.
“No,” he said quickly, maybe too quickly. He fastened the tiny buttons up the back of her gown slowly, ignoring the way she was fidgeting, his hand tingling every time he touched her skin. All too soon for him, the buttons were done, and he pulled the length of her inky black hair over her shoulder, smoothing it down her back with hands that shook.
“Done,” he whispered, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair, twining it through his fingers.
“T-thank you,” she managed to utter.
Safford waited for her to move away, but she seemed as spell bound as he, allowing him to run his fingers through her hair, pulling out the worst of the tangles until finally his hands rested against her shoulders, pulling her back against his body.
He was hard from being so close to her, from breathing in her scent, from touching the softness of her skin, from playing with her hair, his cock pressing against the skirt of her borrowed gown. He could feel her soft curves through the well-worn fabric, letting him know that all she wore was the gown, no under-things cushioned the curves of her bottom. A low, throaty groan rumbled from his chest, vibrating through her.
Saff forced himself to back away, lifting his hands slowly. He wanted so badly to turn her around and take her in his arms. His hands twitched with need and he fisted them. “Come,” he said, clearing his raspy throat. “We should get started at the garden plot before it gets much later.
For once, she didn’t argue. Instead she hurried toward the door as if anxious to get away from him. Saff couldn’t help but smile, for he knew how she felt. Taking her out to the small stable, he showed her where they kept their tools, handing her a hoe and a pair of gloves.
Then they went out to being the work on the area that his sister-in-law Lisette had decided upon earlier for her garden, when Lisette had first come to the Tunsey home.
* * * *
Mall had his arm wrapped over Tory’s shoulders, his head bent as he listened to her chatter. A blissful smile was upon his lips and his eyes were alight with happiness. He glanced up as they walked into the hall, seeing Gifford and Lisette eating with King Maxim. They went to join the three.
“Where’s Saff?” he asked, sitting and pulling Tory down upon his lap.
“We aren’t quite sure,” Giff said slowly, glancing around at those gathered for the meal. “He isn’t in the castle and neither is the Lady Giselle.”
“You are joking, right? You don’t think Saff would… He couldn’t.” Mall sat back in the chair, his arms wrapped securely around Tory. “He was acting rather strange last night.”
“Safford always acts strange,” Giff growled.
“Yes, well this was strange even for him.”
There was a commotion at the door to the bailey and one of King Maxim’s men rushed through, hurrying to the dais and bowing before Maxim. “Sire, Lady Veronica has disappeared from the dungeon.”