The Tunsey Men 3: 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 3: Giselle
By Wendy Stone

Chapter One

       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 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.”