“Yes,” she answered, boldly kissing him across the mouth. “I am.” Her tongue, all velvet sweetness, plunged into his mouth and tangled with his.
If he hadn’t been convinced earlier, he was now. For his hands had a mind of their own as they tugged harder on her sleeves. Why wasn’t she naked already? Why hadn’t they sealed their agreement, and where had she learned to…
“Oh, my—” Her legs wrapped around his body as he lifted her against him and deepened the kiss.
“Gwen, I—”
The door flew open.
Montmouth yelled something, most likely a curse or a threat, but Hunter was too focused on Gwen’s mouth.
“Release her or I will shoot you before your wedding day. I believe I have been gracious enough, giving you five minutes.”
Hunter set Gwen down and grinned. “Told you it only took five.”
Montmouth sputtered. “You seduced her, then?”
“No.” Hunter took a step back, needing the distance air would give him. “She seduced me.”
Gwen grinned proudly. “It took me two.”
“Two?” Montmouth repeated. “Two what?”
“Minutes.” Hunter walked by him. “I will see you tomorrow. We have arrangements to make for our… wedding.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Wolf—
Let us be honest with one another for once, shall we? I do not dream. If I allowed myself to dream, I fear I would not think on happy things but on war, blood, killing, and sacrifice. If you desire for me to be honest with you, then you must be ready to hear my confession. If you ever see me dreaming, please, have a care and wake me, for nightmares plague me in my sleep, and it seems the only thing able to scare them away is a living nightmare, in the shape of a wolf.
—Red
Gwen had taken complete leave of her senses! What the devil had she been thinking? She hadn’t. Not one logical thought had crossed her brain while she was in Hunter’s arms.
That was the problem. She either wanted to strangle the man or kiss him senseless. Brilliant way to start a marriage. How long, she wondered, would they last before pistols were drawn?
Yet she swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat — she refused to shame her family further. Lies, so many lies, and all of them because of her, because she chose to keep a part of her life separate from her family. Because she chose to work in order to put food on the table after her father’s murder the year previous.
She straightened her skirts and walked up to her room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.
But Hunter? He had secrets as well, ones he thought he kept well hidden until his mask crumbled, leaving nothing in its place but the shell of a man broken. She wondered what would happen when he could no longer hide anymore. Would he ever love her? Come to care for her? Or would she always be cursed with this aching, this longing in the pit of her stomach for something more?
In a way, it made sense. Her sisters were both gifted with wonderful marriages. Rewarded for the lives they’d lived. While Gwen, well, she was going to marry a man who was more wolf than man. A gentleman who was more likely to have a wife and a mistress on the side, than to be loyal to one woman alone.
She touched her lips. Hunter’s taste was still present. Gwen closed her eyes again.
A knock sounded at the door.
She stepped back and opened it.
“Oh good! No tears.” Rosalind stepped into the room and shut the door firmly behind her. “Tell me you cannot seriously be willing to go into a marriage with a man who is better looking than any man has a right to be? Tell me you would like to cry off. All you need to do is say yes.”
Gwen squinted. Hadn’t her sister been in agreement with her husband?
“I see. No words. You must be in shock. Nod your head if you want to cry off.”
Gwen bit her lip.
“Blink, can you at least blink? Oh heavens, where are the smelling salts! Is it possible to faint with one’s eyes open?”
Gwen blinked several times and shook her head. “Have you lost your mind?”
“You ask me if I’ve lost my mind?”
Gwen nodded.
“Me?” Rosalind pointed at herself and laughed. “This from the woman who is days away from marrying the Duke of Haverstone? The Great Wolf? The same man who left a ball nearly naked nine years ago? They say he can speak over eleven different languages and has a mistress in every country! Even America!”
“Stop.” Gwen couldn’t hold the laughter back any longer. She wiped a tear of mirth away from her eye.
“See! You are crying!” Rosalind pointed an accusing finger her way.
“From laughter, yes.” Gwen reached out and grasped her sister’s hands within her own. “I know what I am doing. I truly do not want to bring shame upon my family. He has kissed me, several times if you must know. I set out to find a husband this Season and I landed a duke. Why would I cry?”
“Because you do not love him.” Leave it to Rosalind to pounce on the one thing that was bothering Gwen.
She released her sister’s hands and straightened to her full height, which still did not match Rosalind’s. “Sister, you are a romantic at heart. Your husband rode into your life on a white horse, literally.”
Rosalind laughed.
“He pounded on the door and said he was going to rescue you and marry you. He danced with you in the meadow, he saved your life.”
Rosalind began to pace, while Gwen continued her speech. “Isabelle was taken by the Beast, and his music spoke so richly to our sister that she was lost in him. She saved him, and in return his love for her is the strongest I’ve ever seen one human have for another.” She took a shuddering breath. “What are the odds that that type of love would happen thrice in this family?”
Rosalind flushed and looked down. “It could happen. He looks at you…”
“Like any man would look at a woman he is attracted to.” Gwen shrugged. “Sister, I know it is difficult for you. But you need to understand, there isn’t always a white horse. There isn’t always a faraway kingdom and a castle. Sometimes there is no one to save. And sometimes, the princess has to marry the mask before there will ever be hope to love the man.”
“The mask?” Rosalind asked. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I imagine Hunter as a little boy lost in the woods. When he first set out on his trip, he had someone to fight for, something he was running toward, and when that thing shattered before his eyes, he became lost. He fell into himself and confused himself, for the monster had destroyed what he loved so dearly. He is both Hunter and Wolf. Beast and man, and he is lost. Therefore, even if he loved me or said he loved me, it would not be the type of love you experience. To ask for his love right now would destroy what shred of humanity he still possesses, and I love him…” Gwen closed her eyes and crossed her arms protectively around her chest. “I love him too much to ask for it.”
Rosalind’s face broke out into a bright smile. “You love him?”
“I am not sure. I mean, does love feel like you want to both kiss and strangle the object of your affection? Does it create so much unrest within your own body that you feel you are losing your mind? Is love so strong that I have a perpetual head and stomachache?”
“I had a headache for three days when I met Stefan.” Rosalind smiled and looked down. “I also had several fantasies of hitting him across the head with his own pistol.”
“I’ve had that one, as well.” Gwen sighed happily. “I am not sure if my love trumps my desire to cause physical harm to his person. Most of the time he drives me so crazy I merely react out of frustration rather than love, but I imagine Hunter does not understand any other way to communicate than fighting and innuendo.”
“He’s a man.” Rosalind shrugged as if that explained everything.
The room fell silent.
Rosalind pulled Gwen into a tight hug. “Sister, it will not be easy, loving a wolf. The minute you get close, they tend to snap. Ju
st remember it is out of defense, for a wolf fears man. Men are always a symbol of death for animals. Therefore you must tread carefully.” Rosalind released her and sighed.
“Have no fear, dear sister. Wolves also love the thrill of the chase, the smell of blood and meat. I imagine my trap will be sufficient for him. And if all else fails, I’ll merely take off my dress and use his own lust against him.”
“Brilliant!” Rosalind clapped her hands. “Now, we only have a few days. Let us get our trousseau together. We shall stop by Isabelle’s. Would you like me to tell her the news, or would you like to announce to your sister and the Beast that you are marrying one of their dearest friends?”
“I nominate Hunter.”
“Good girl.” Rosalind winked.
Chapter Twenty-four
Red—
I too dream of blood. I dream of killing, of lies, of violence and greed. But most of all, I dream of her. Of how I could not reach her in time. Dreams are a cruel thing, for this certain dream gives me hope that one day I will be on time, one day I will save her from death. Yet it always ends the same. I am holding her body in the street, and she is gone.
—Wolf
After leaving Montmouth’s residence, Hunter made his way toward Wilkins’ establishment. If he wasn’t already privy to the information surrounding Redding’s accident, then he needed to be. The last person to see Redding alive was most likely Hollins.
It took a half hour to reach the townhome.
The wind whipped Hunter’s jacket around him as he made his way toward the stairs. He knocked twice.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Still no answer.
Biting back a curse, Hunter walked back to his carriage and made his way toward Dominique’s residence. Now would be probably a better time than most to announce to the man that he was, in fact, marrying his wife’s sister.
Perhaps he should send ahead a note to make sure all weapons were hidden.
Hunter grinned just thinking upon it.
Truly he should be anything but amused at this point.
Someone had shot at him, his dead brother was very much alive, a murderer was on the loose, and Redding was dead.
Yet all his ridiculous brain could think upon was the taste of Gwen’s lips, the way her soft body felt pressed against his.
He told himself to stop grinning. That it was ridiculous and quite rude, considering a man had died today.
But it could not be helped. He looked at the dreary streets of London and for once his mood did not match what he saw. No, the blasted world could be coming to an end, and he would still be in his carriage, smiling.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of Dominique’s townhouse. Hunter cleared his throat and tried to think upon what he needed to do. The minute he pressed his lips together another grin broke out.
It was useless.
Which was why, when Samuel the infuriating Russian butler opened the door, Hunter felt the need to finally get the man’s name right rather than irritate him beyond reason.
“My good man.” He slapped the butler on the back. “Is the Beast at home?”
Samuel groaned and rolled his eyes. Perhaps it was impossible for Hunter to be normal. Perhaps it was because the man was Russian, which immediately made Hunter want to say something annoying. After all, he was conditioned to do so with all Russians. Just ask Dominique.
“In the study.” Samuel pointed and wandered off.
“Thank you,” Hunter yelled at the retreating butler’s back. A grunt was his only response.
Hunter sauntered over to the study and knocked on the door.
No answer.
Was no one at home today?
And then he heard it.
A blunt object was suddenly pushed against the back of his head and the all-too-familiar click of the hammer being pulled back gave him pause.
“Explain,” Dominique said in Russian.
He only spoke in Russian when he was truly upset.
“Has something happened?” Hunter asked in English.
“It is about to,” Dominique ground out. “You have three seconds.”
“Listen—”
“One.”
Hunter tried to turn around, but Dominique pushed him against the wall.
“Two.”
“Fine!” Hunter held up his hands and cursed. “What is it you want? And stop pointing that thing at my head! Devil take it, you are not even giving me a chance to speak!”
“One cannot speak if one is dead.” Dominique cursed in Russian, then pulled the pistol back from Hunter’s head. Though the minute the pressure was relieved, he kicked Hunter in the leg, causing a shooting pain to run from his calf all the way up his spine.
“What the devil is wrong with you?” Hunter flipped around and glared at his friend.
“I should ask you the same.” The pistol was still pointed at Hunter’s body. Brilliant. Perhaps he would get shot twice in one week! One could only hope.
Hunter could not fight back the grin. Truly, it was the worst time in the history of his lack of self-control to actually be unable to restrain himself.
“If you took advantage of her, slept with her, I swear I will shoot you and never look back.” Dominique sneered. Ah, so he was to negotiate with a beast.
Well, he was a wolf, after all.
With a quick movement, he knocked the pistol out of Dominique’s hand. It fell to the floor in a clatter as Hunter punched Dominique in the stomach. Was it his fault his fist slipped and nailed his best friend on the chin?
Cursing, Dominique came at him, fists flying. Within seconds they were on the floor wrestling one another.
“Heavens, what is all that noise?” came Isabelle’s soft voice, and then the woman cursed. “Unhand each other this instant.”
Dominique looked up at his wife. Hunter took advantage and landed a blow to his friend’s jaw. Murderous outrage reflected in Dominique’s face as he thrust his head against Hunter’s, causing his body to slump to the cold hard marble.
“Isabelle? What is all that noise?” Another figure appeared. Though the voice was feminine, Hunter could not be sure if it was another person, or if he was suffering merely from double vision.
“Dominique!” Gwen yelled. “Kindly remove yourself from my future husband!”
“Not until he’s dead.” Dominique cursed and grasped at Hunter’s cravat, winding it tightly into his hand. To breathe was the very devil. To be fair, Hunter hadn’t expected this reaction from Dominique. Now, Montmouth? That was another story entirely.
“I said release him.” Gwen pushed Dominique off of Hunter and glared. “Truly, what has gotten into the both of you? Acting like rebellious children! Whatever happened to talking?”
Hunter pointed at Dominique. “He tried to shoot me.”
“He struck me first!” Dominique argued.
“And my horse is bigger than yours,” Isabelle said dryly. “Now, husband, explain.” She glared daggers at Dominique. Hunter shifted nervously on the floor, suddenly feeling quite lucky that he wasn’t married.
“He ruined her.” If Dominique pointed his finger one more time in Hunter’s direction, he was going to snap it in half.
“Actually…” Gwen winked at Hunter. “It is I who ruined him… for all other women.”
There it was. That blasted grin. Though his face hurt like the devil, it decided to make an appearance again as his eyes greedily took in Gwen and her defense of him.
“And it only took two minutes,” Hunter added helpfully.
“At most.” Gwen sighed.
“What the devil is going on? And Hunter, I swear by all that is holy, if you lie to me, I will end you.” Well, at least the bloke was speaking in English now. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it?
“I’m a spy!” Gwen blurted, just as Hunter opened his mouth to speak. Was she planning on saving him all day or was this just a phase?
“Your grace.” Samuel cleared his throat, taki
ng in both bloodied men sitting on the floor, and shrugged. “This came for you while you were out.”
Hunter winced as he rose to his feet and took the letter. He carefully opened it and cursed.
Redding dead. Meet tonight at 7, The Horse and Hare.
“Dead,” Hunter mumbled and looked directly at Gwen. She paled and nodded her head just once.
“We only have two left. Two men.” He held back the information about Hollins and Wilkins. She did not need to know the specifics. If anything, he wanted to keep her in the dark. He wanted her alive. “It is imperative that we find out who it is, Gwen, especially considering we are to be married.”
Ignoring the gaping mouths around him, Hunter walked over to Gwen and kissed her hand. “We will find him. We have to.”
“But you were shot and…” Gwen shuddered.
Hunter sighed and pulled her into his embrace.
She exhaled softly. “You were afraid of losing me. You thought you had. But what—” Her voice caught. “What if I lose you?”
“Wolves are like cats, love. They have nine lives.”
“—though I imagine he’s outlived all of his,” Dominique interjected. “Now, will someone please explain why you two seem so familiar, and why Gwen felt the need to lie about being a spy in order to save you, Hunter?”
“She didn’t lie.” Hunter released Gwen and turned toward Dominique and Isabelle. “But perhaps this is not the time.”
“It is never a good time for one’s lies to unfold,” Dominique said through clenched teeth.
Isabelle cleared her throat. “Gwen? Why don’t we let Rosalind know we are ready for Bond Street? I imagine she’s finished taking her tea.”
Gwen looked at Hunter and gave him a nod of approval as she walked off with Isabelle, leaving Dominique glaring at Hunter like a madman.
“Oh, do stop glaring. You’ll give yourself a headache.”
“Too late.” Dominique cursed. “Though I blame you, not the glaring.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I imagine this will take whiskey and a whole lot of talking. White’s?”
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