“I was going to say irritating,” Montmouth ground out as he reached for a glass of champagne. “Just be careful not to seduce any women who are married and you will do just fine.”
“Why, Monmouth! Are you of all people giving me sane advice? Is it because you care for my welfare? Must admit, my tastes haven’t ever swung in that direction, you silly man, but I thank you for your concern.”
“I do not care a whit for you.”
“Surprising.” Hunter gulped the rest of his wine and placed the empty glass on a passing tray, then grabbed another. “And here I thought we were to be going shooting and riding tomorrow, all the while laughing into the sunset. I’m so disappointed.”
“Clearly.” Montmouth grunted. “Just be careful. This is the duchess’s first ball of the Season and she is nervous.”
“Then perhaps her husband should go about easing her nerves.” Hunter grinned wolfishly, and when Montmouth made no move in her direction, Hunter added, “Or perhaps her tastes are running more on the wild side tonight, hmm?”
Montmouth’s arm shot out to stop Hunter. “One week.”
“Pardon?” Hunter shrugged out of the duke’s hold.
Montmouth slapped him forcefully on the back. “One week before you fight your first duel.”
“Are we taking bets then?” Dominique walked up and grinned.
“Absolutely.” Montmouth shook Dominique’s hand while Hunter rolled his eyes and ignored their bidding. “Shall we put it in the books at White’s?”
Hunter snorted and gave them both bored looks. “May as well line your pockets at my expense, though it saddens me to tell you nobody will challenge me to a duel.”
Dominique cursed. “He’s right.”
“Why the devil not?” Montmouth seemed terribly disappointed that Hunter would go on living another day.
“Because they would lose.” Hunter shrugged, his eyes still trained on the staircase where Gwen was to be descending. Where the blazes was she?
“How can you be so certain?” Montmouth really wasn’t letting this go. Perhaps when this was all over with Hunter could fake his own death so the duke could sleep peacefully at night.
“Is that your way of asking for a demonstration?” Hunter’s voice was light but his glare was penetrating.
Montmouth took a step back, his eyes never leaving Hunter’s. “There is something wrong with you.”
At that, Hunter threw his head back and laughed bitterly. “Believe me, I know.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. She was here, but where the blazes was she? He ran a shaky hand through his hair and exhaled. The smell of rose water filled the air. His breath caught, as he clenched his fists and felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Surprise,” a sultry voice said behind him. For a minute he felt his mask, his façade fade away as he entertained the thought of being with her, and only her at the ball.
If things were different. If she truly were looking for a husband, would she dare look in his direction?
“Lady Gwendolyn.” Hunter turned around with every intention of giving her a curt bow and asking for a dance.
Good intentions died the minute he set eyes on her person.
“I thought I told you to change?”
“Yes, well, as you so lovingly pointed out, I’m hard of hearing. Besides, I still listened.”
“Yes, if listening means going behind my back and doing something just as scandalous.”
“It’s a cape.”
“It’s red.”
“My, my, my, what very big eyes you have to notice such a bright color, Wolf.”
Hunter gripped her elbow and pulled her toward the dance floor, shouting to Montmouth, “Permission to waltz with the fair lady?”
“Absolutely not!” Montmouth ground out.
Dominique elbowed him. Montmouth cursed and finally gave a nod.
“Lovely.” Hunter placed his hands on Gwendolyn’s body, nearly swearing as he did so. “I have half a mind to punish you.”
Gwen glared. “And I have half a mind to slap you across the face.”
“Pray tell, what is stopping you?” Hunter crooned into her ear.
“I do not wish to touch you.”
“Have you taken to lying now that you’re a spy?”
Gwen tensed in his arms. “Are you that confident in your looks, your grace?”
“Not at all,” Hunter answered honestly, pulling her closer than what was considered appropriate. “I was speaking of my skills in the bedroom, of course.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Hunter chuckled warmly, his lips nearly touching her ear. “Would you like to?”
Gwen jerked back, her face flushed. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“As are you.” He assessed her coldly; she squirmed in his arms. “The way I see it, every person in this room is straining to hear our conversation. Alas, we are speaking in hushed tones, so they cannot know what we speak of. But care to guess what they do know?”
“Not really.” She clenched her teeth. “But I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”
“Good girl.” Hunter chuckled and pulled her body more tightly to his. “At this very moment, the ladies are commenting on your blush, the way it covers your cheeks and dips ever so naughtily down your neck into the deep canvas of your breasts.” Hunter hoped what he was doing would work, because if it didn’t, he was going to have to excuse himself and jump into the Thames in order to cool his arousal.
Gwen gasped.
“The men, however, are another matter entirely. You see, men notice the blush. That much is true. It tells them that against popular gossip, you are in fact quite innocent. And the way your eyes blaze tells them the rest.”
“My eyes?”
“Yes.”
The dance was nearing an end. Hunter guided their steps to where she would be most visible by the ton.
“I don’t understand. What do my eyes have to do with anything?”
“They show your spirit. Your fire, but my dear, they speak one language I fear every man in this room is just begging to use with you.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
He leaned in, gripping her body so she could not run off, and whispered into her ear. “Sex. You look like sex.”
Gwen jerked away from him, nearly tumbling to her bottom, righted her skirts, and slapped him across the face.
People gasped.
Women began to gossip, and as expected, a few women, ones he was sure had just given the girl the cut direct not a week before, were huddling around her and telling her to stay away from his evils.
Hunter rubbed his cheek and walked by a few gentlemen.
One stopped him. “I say, what did you do to make the lady so offended?”
“The lady did not care for my advances,” Hunter admitted, appearing to look quite put out as he shook his head and cursed. “I thought she was tainted, but it appears the joke has been on all us young men. To think, she wants to marry! And it has been proven, though you did not hear this from me, that the lady herself is untouched.”
“Untouched,” another man whispered.
And much like wildfire, or a storm, or perhaps a giant explosion taking place in the room, it was spread that Gwen was entering into the marriage mart, and she was completely pure.
Hunter walked off to a darkened corner and exhaled.
“Well done,” Wilkins said behind him.
Hunter did not turn around. Instead he nodded his head just once and went in search of Gwen. By now she would be exhausted, and he needed to watch her every move. The game had been laid out, the pieces moved.
Chapter Five
Wolf—
The only thing you’ll be eating is your words and perhaps any crumbs of humility I decide to throw your way! You are a deceitful, horrible person! If I find myself in your arms again before the week is out I will pull a pistol on your most useful and favorite anatomical part!
– Red
; The man was either a genius or purely insane. Men came in throngs from the ballroom’s distant corners, each of them expressing sudden interest in taking her for a ride in the park or asking her opinion about some new poetry written by Byron. Another asked her if she was free to marry as soon as the end of the week!
At least now she was able to concentrate on her targets.
Wilkins had sent her a note stating that the following three men were suspected of treason.
Lord Trehmont, Sir Hollins, and Lord Redding.
Men who, by all appearances, valued propriety above all else.
But she knew their secrets.
Trehmont was in debt up to his ears, and to some powerful people within the fallen French aristocracy. Meaning they were finally calling out all the debt. But was he desperate enough to betray his country? Or murder someone because of it?
Hollins was a young idiot who had more money than sense. His desire was to buy himself a better title, but nobody seemed to be willing to give him the time of day. It was rumored he also enjoyed sexual escapades that were enough to make any debutante, or woman for that matter, cringe. She could see him killing someone. In fact, she could see him doing a lot of terrible things in order to gain power.
And finally Redding. Unfortunately, she knew nothing about him. Only that he was devastatingly handsome and rumored to have grotesque scars from the war. Though one couldn’t see the scars by looking at him.
He still walked with a slight limp, but that didn’t keep females from chasing after him. The poor man often resorted to hiding. He was akin to the last antelope at a dinner party for lions.
With a sigh, Gwen squared her shoulders and batted her lashes at the men surrounding her, each of them in her mind a suspect.
She ignored most of the conversation, allowing them to fuss about her and compliment her dress. The smile felt frozen across her face as each and every one of the men, around ten of them, continued to pay her false compliments, all the while leering at her breasts and panting after her.
Gwen wasn’t vain enough to think it was her looks that gained her acceptance, but the fact that the great Wolf had declared her pure and she had slapped away his advances. Men.
After being asked if she was receiving callers in the afternoon, to which she replied yes, she decided to remove herself from the situation.
“Gentlemen, it is dreadfully hot, is it not?” With a flourish, she pulled out her fan and began dramatically fanning her face.
“Well then.” Trehmont cleared his throat and stood directly in front of her. “It seems all the lady needs is a brisk walk into the cool night air with a willing gentleman.” He reached for her free hand, but was slapped away by another intruder.
“Terribly sorry, Trehmont, but it seems the lady has already promised to take the air with me.” Hunter’s voice was like silk compared to the rest of the men’s.
“As the lady wishes.” Trehmont grimaced, showing his vast irritation. Gwen thought it a kindness that she would talk to him at all, considering the circumstances. It would be a trial to even speak with the man longer than a few minutes, let alone let him touch her person.
She shivered at the thought as Hunter led her toward the outskirts of the ballroom.
“Trembling beneath my touch, my sweet?”
Gwen rolled her eyes but kept her smile firmly in place as they passed curious onlookers. “Yes, it seems you’ve caught me, Hunter. Your touch turns me to liquid, your kiss makes my knees weak, please, let us marry and be done with this whole charade.”
Hunter sighed. “I leave you for five minutes and the dove turns into a shrew.”
“Are you always this poetic?”
Hunter clenched her arm tighter as he led her toward the doors to the balcony. “Always.”
Gwen smirked and stole a sideways glance at the man. His golden eyes were trained on the door, his perfect devil-may-care smile in place, but he was rigid with tension.
She cleared her throat. “You should have given me more time with the gentlemen. I need to be in their confidence if I am to find out their secrets.”
Hunter snorted and finally looked at her. “Believe me, they were within seconds of blurting every blasted secret in the known universe.” Why did he sound so irritated?
“You need to let me do my job.”
He smirked. “And you, my dear, need to allow me to do mine.” He pushed through the door and led her out into the cool night air. “Besides, it is our job to leave them a little trail of bread crumbs.” His eyes gazed at her face and then lower. “Very attractive little crumbs.”
“Bread crumbs?” Gwen repeated, ignoring the shiver his look gave her. He was her partner. Perhaps if she kept chanting that over and over again, she would forget his kiss. And the way his golden eyes caressed her skin.
“Why, yes.” Hunter released her arm and pulled out a cheroot. “Give a squirrel a basket full of nuts and it will gorge itself or worse yet, covet the nuts and no longer search for more.”
“Nuts? Now you’re comparing men to nuts?”
Hunter scoffed as he took a long draw of the cheroot. “Absolutely not. I’m comparing men to squirrels.”
“Oh.”
“You, my dear, are the nut.”
“Oh?” Gwen had to clench her hands behind her back to keep from lunging after the man.
“Why, yes.” Hunter blew out another puff of smoke and grinned. Blast, how she hated that grin. She looked away as he continued to speak, his chest puffed out much like a peacock when mating. “When men or animals, for that matter, are in pursuit, they are easily bored and distracted. We need to make this game a challenge.”
“So now I’m part of a game.” Gwen looked up at Hunter just as he threw down his cheroot and turned his full male arrogance upon her. Shocking that God didn’t feel the need to strike the man down for his petulance.
“All women are. I’m just making it more interesting for the male sex, and easier on you.”
Gwen pasted a sweet smile on her face and walked toward Hunter, stopping when she was inches away from his devilishly handsome lips. “So, is it my sex that causes you to offer this extra help? Or your kind heart?”
“Your sex.” He nodded.
“Because you have no heart,” she concluded.
“There’s that.” He leaned in and sniffed her hair. Why the devil was he sniffing her? “But there is also the distinct truth about women that men find impossible to resist.”
“And what’s that?” Gwen breathed in the scent of his breath, a mixture of port and smoke, so alluring she almost closed her eyes.
“The chase, my dear. All men, all animals, all hunters need the chase. And sweetheart, we are in the hunt of our lives.”
“And you?” she challenged, placing a hand on his firm shoulder. “Your very name assumes the title hunter.”
He swallowed and took a step back as her arm fell to her side. “Never mistake me for the hunter, when I very well could be the wolf.” He nodded and offered his arm. “That is the first rule of spying, Gwen. We are all wolves in sheep’s clothing. Every last one of us could be guilty of treason. It is our job to find the wolves without killing the sheep.”
His eyes pierced hers, looking directly through her almost as if he suspected her of being a wolf. Which was utterly ridiculous.
The gravity of the situation rested quite heavily on her shoulders as she whispered, “And what if we kill some sheep in the process?”
“If you’re as good as you say you are, Red, that won’t happen.”
Chapter Six
Red—
How is it that you are familiar with… how did you word it? Oh yes, my favorite anatomical part. Pray tell, are we discussing my hands?
—Wolf
Gwen studied Hunter’s face. A heaviness seemed to descend upon him. “Have you lost many sheep?”
Hunter swallowed and looked down. “Some.”
“I’m sorry.” Gwen reached out to touch his arm, but he jerked away and laugh
ed.
“Don’t be. It is all part of the work we do. Besides, sheep are stupid. They are among God’s silliest creatures.” Hunter gave her a silly grin and shrugged. “Perhaps it is why we are compared to them in the Bible. All sheep go astray.”
Gwen opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a male voice.
“I was wondering when you would make your sorry presence known.”
Hunter rolled his eyes and turned to the man. “Lord Eastbrook, how lovely to see you after all these years.”
“Nine.” The man pointed at Hunter. “Nine blasted years, friend.”
“Do not call me friend,” Hunter snapped.
Eastbrook shook his head. “What has happened to you? Do you not realize you have a responsibility to this family?”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “Spare me the lecture, cousin. It’s my business and mine alone why I’ve returned.”
“He wants to see you. He has something for you.”
Hunter cursed fluently and leaned over the balcony. Gwen wasn’t sure if she should leave or stand there like a fool.
“Eastbrook.” The man stepped out of the shadows and held out his hand to her. “I know it isn’t at all proper to introduce myself without proper introductions being made. I know your brother-in-law quite well.”
“And that makes you harmless?” Gwen lifted an eyebrow in question.
Eastbrook smirked. “Absolutely not. Forgive the intrusion.” His golden hair shimmered in the moonlight. He truly was quite handsome, but looked nothing like Hunter. “Tomorrow, cousin. He would like to see you tomorrow.”
With one final glance at Gwen, Eastbrook gave a quick bow, meeting her gaze for a brief second and then he turned on his heel and left.
“Well, it’s been an eventful evening. I do hope I’m not ruined for standing out on the balcony with two devilishly handsome men,” Gwen lamented, trying to pull Hunter from his paralyzed state as his body seemed to be frozen in one spot.
“He is not handsome.”
Gwen laughed. “After all that was said, you choose that particular sentiment to respond to? I didn’t know you had a cousin.”
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