Knowledge of how to make a man talk.
And even though her own heart was nearly slamming out of her chest, even though her body burned with desire for him to touch her, she wanted to be on equal ground, equal footing. Part of her realized Hunter needed more than a lover — he needed a partner. Someone he could spar with, a person who would challenge him, a wife who would not always do as she was told.
As soon as her skin made contact with his, he let out a long string of curses and closed his eyes. “Gwen.” He swore again. “This is…”
“What?” She kissed his neck; he growled in response.
“This is such perfect torture.”
Muscles flexed and strained as he tried to touch her. She watched as sweat began to form at his temples, and then he leaned his head forward and touched her chest. “I cannot take much more of this, Gwen.”
“The mind is stronger than the body, is it not?”
“No, I say not. Now release me before I die.”
“One cannot die from want.”
“Watch me.” He growled and then kissed her hard across the mouth. His neck strained to push his mouth harder against hers.
Shivering in response, she pulled back, just far enough that his lips could not touch. “How badly do you want me to release you?”
Hunter looked down and then back up. “Do you truly not know the answer to that question?”
With reluctance, she moved away from his lap and began to untie his bonds, as slowly as she was able. When he was free he did not move.
“What are you doing?”
“Counting to five.”
“Why?” Perplexed, she walked around to face him.
“Five seconds. You have exactly five seconds to grab your weapon of choice or hide. But know that I will find you.”
Gwen searched frantically for the knife. Where the devil had she put it!
“One—”
“Hunter, I think—”
“Two—” He sounded almost bored.
Gwen saw a flash of silver and grasped the knife between her hands.
“Five.” He brought his hands in front of him and cracked his knuckles.
“Wait.” Gwen held out the knife in front of her. “You said you were counting to five.”
Hunter’s eyes snapped open. A hungry look rippled across his face as he leaned forward. “Silly Red, didn’t you know? Wolves always lie.” He lunged for her body. She ran through the trees, through the forest to be exact, but Hunter caught her wrist and brought her backside firmly against him.
His rough whisper sent shivers down her spine. “Have you any idea what I am about to do to you?”
She gulped as his rough hands slowly caressed down her arms and then cradled her waist. “I want you, in every way, Gwen.”
“Then take me.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I plan to. Remember, the story is being rewritten.”
“And how does it end?” she whispered as Hunter began to slowly massage her shoulders.
“The Wolf devours Red.”
Hunter lifted her off her feet and cradled her body as he stalked through the trees to the fireplace. He laid her softly across the fur blankets and hovered above her.
“So beautiful,” she whispered as she gently touched his muscled stomach. He closed his eyes and then lowered his body over hers.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
“Why, Hunter, did you just admit to being less beautiful than another creature?” She laughed nervously as his lips descended and began working their way down her stomach.
“Minx,” he whispered as he kissed her navel and then jerked her body up so their chests were touching. “You are more beautiful.” He kissed the side of her neck. “More unique.” His lips nipped her earlobe. “More desirable.” He kissed her eyelids. “Than any woman I have ever come across.” The last part he said looking directly into her eyes. The warm golden glow of his eyes seemed to flare to life just before his mouth crushed hers, his tongue begging entry into her mouth.
She opened herself to him — to everything.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Wolf—
I didn’t know you had such patience, though after last night… I’m yet again proven wrong. Apparently it is not just wolves that beg, but spies, and Hunters as well…
—Red
The woman was killing him. Every touch, every kiss, every caress, nearly drove him mad with want. Mad with passion, with lust, with so many emotions he wasn’t sure what was up or down. What his name was, or why he had been so scared to become one with someone again.
A soul mate was just that, someone who saw into the depths of one’s soul and instead of retreating, held on for dear life.
That was Gwen.
He nestled her tightly into his body and kissed her cheek. A lock of hair had fallen across her face. He brushed it away and sighed.
He was bound to her. Promised to her. His heart felt as if someone had taken it and fused the broken pieces together. The fire blazed behind him, his stomach growled with hunger, but all he wanted to do was watch her sleep. He imagined her belly swelled with his children and pride burst through his body.
Home. Finally he was where he belonged. Next to the woman… he sighed as his hand shakily rubbed her arm. Next to the woman he loved.
****
Hunter awoke to complete darkness. Gwen moaned next to him, and then he heard a door shut. He jolted awake as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Someone was there. At his house.
He quickly searched for one of the discarded candles on the table and lit it. His eyes had yet to adjust as he made his way through the trees and out into the entryway.
Nothing looked amiss, but the door was wide open. He went to shut it and cursed. As he turned, his eyes caught something on the far wall.
He walked closer and lifted the candle. In blood red lettering was one word. Traitor.
Hunter almost dropped the candle. He steadied his breathing and studied the handwriting. It did not appear familiar.
Something was horribly wrong. The only people who even knew of this house or knew he would be here had been Dominique and Montmouth. Then again, he had told Wilkins, considering just a few days previous he had turned in his resignation to the Crown.
He began pacing across the floorboards. Someone must have followed them home last night, which meant they’d either waited for him and Gwen to fall asleep or broken in early this morning.
The clock in the hall chimed six. Well, it seemed his honeymoon was already over. He could not have Gwen in danger. He refused to allow anything to touch her. He quickly went into his study and wrote a note to Dominique and Montmouth, letting them know of what had just taken place. As he finished up, he looked down and saw the packet of codes Wilkins had recently given him.
He lifted the first code to the light and then reached into his desk drawer for the older note, the one Redding had tried to burn, and compared them.
The first part of the note, where it named the location, was in one code, but the word death was in an entirely different one.
The same code as on the supposedly old ciphers. Which meant Wilkins had given him entirely new ones? What the devil would he do that for? Why would Wilkins give him packets of new codes, ones that had yet to be seen by anyone, if…
Suddenly feeling ill, he took a seat as he replayed images of his meetings with Wilkins, his sudden cheerfulness and changed body language, and then finally the last meeting, where he’d given Hunter the ciphers as evidence.
Why give him new evidence?
Unless he was planting it.
He cursed and ran back into the ballroom to wake Gwen.
The minute he walked into the room, it felt different. Call it a sixth sense, or perhaps insanity or paranoia, but when he reached the fur blankets…
She was gone.
And in her place was a note.
In code.
Hunter donned his clothes as fast as possible. Knowing he probably looked a wreck, he
ran out to the stables and saddled his horse, and made for Lainhart’s residence straightaway.
****
A sharp pain inched itself across the back of Gwen’s skull. She opened her eyes in confusion. Blurry images stood before her. After blinking a few times, she was able to make out the first person. Hollins glared at her with cold, lifeless eyes.
“How do you feel?” he asked as he pulled a knife from the inside of his jacket.
Gwen glared and shook her head. A gag had been stuffed inside her mouth, so she wasn’t able to respond.
“Ah, such expressive eyes, don’t you think, Wilkins?”
What?
Gwen’s eyes focused on the other figure across the room. Wilkins sat in a chair, a predatory smile gleaming from his mouth. “She’s always been hard to tame.”
Outraged, Gwen kicked her feet and moved the chair, trying to free herself from the bonds that held her.
Hollins laughed and took a long swig of his drink, then nodded to Wilkins. “How much longer?”
“About an hour.” Wilkins examined his pocket watch and sighed. “He will need to take the code to Lainhart. By the time he figures out where we have her, it may be too late. After all, I’ve been wanting to taste her for over a year. And now that her blood will be on Hunter’s hands, I find myself even more… aroused.”
Gwen screamed against the gag but the sound was muffled.
Wilkins approached her. His clothes were dark and dirty, as if he hadn’t bathed in days. He leaned down, his knees popping as he came to eye level with her. “Stupid woman, thinking she can do a man’s job. Though I have to admit to being impressed. After all, you tamed the Wolf, the man who I thought I had broken.”
Gwen tried to speak again but the gag ate it, so all that came out was another scream.
“Do you love him?”
She stilled.
“Ah, you do! This is even better!” He jumped to his feet and slapped Hollins on the back. “Imagine that! We aim to catch a Wolf and we gain another sad ending to a love story. He shall take his own life the minute he finds out he lost another woman by his own hands. It will be such a tragic tale, don’t you think?” Wilkins’ fingers moved to Gwen’s chest. When she was kidnapped, her dress from the night previous was discarded. The man who abducted her had thrown a much too tight dress in her direction and ordered her to put it on. It resembled something a prostitute would wear. The gown was dangerously low, and of course red, as if mocking what she had done for the Crown for a year.
Hollins smirked and tilted his head to Gwen. He was dressed impeccably in tight pantaloons, boots, and a perfectly fitting jacket, almost as if he were getting ready to go pay a visit to someone important.
Who pulled the strings? Was Wilkins the leader, or was it Hollins? Gwen’s mind worked fast as she tried to put things together.
And then it dawned on her.
There never was a mole.
There never were codes that were being sent back and forth.
The course of the war wasn’t at stake.
She looked up.
“Ah, she figured it out. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” Hollins laughed. “Too late, though, my dear. Just as it was too late for Redding. After all, he was getting too close. He accidently took one of the wrong codes and then approached me about a new code, wondering why he wasn’t aware of it. Threatened to go above us, and finally took it to Wilkins. Poor fellow. Should have let well enough alone.”
Wilkins smirked and patted Hollins on the back. “Now we will wait. The trap is set for the Wolf. He will not be able to escape this.”
“No,” Hollins agreed. “He will finally die as he was supposed to nine years ago.”
Gwen closed her eyes and prayed that Hunter would never find her. She could not live with herself if something happened to him, and she would rather sacrifice her own life than see him lose his.
Chapter Thirty
Red—
For you, I would beg. For you, I would plead. For you, I would sell my soul. If only it meant that I would have you in the warmth of my arms. If only it meant that I could keep you safe from the evil of this world.
—Wolf
Hunter barged into his grandfather’s house and took the steps two at a time. It was early, but he did not care. He’d wake Lainhart up. He’d wake the whole blasted city of London if he had to.
“Grandfather, I—” He pushed through the room and saw Lainhart sitting in his bed, reading by candlelight. His eyes flickered to Hunter’s hand where he clenched the note then back to Hunter’s face, and then he pointed down and shook his head back and forth.
“N-n-o.”
“Someone has taken her.” Hunter paced in front of Lainhart. “They broke into my home not but an hour ago. My wall now bears the mark of Traitor in blood red. And they left this where she was lying down.”
He put the note into Lainhart’s hands and waited.
Lainhart examined the note for some time and then smiled.
Why the devil was he smiling?
He pointed to his chalkboard and wrote the word Easy.
Well, at least Hunter had that going for him.
Lainhart focused hard on the chalkboard and shook his head then pointed to his empty water glass.
“Water?” Hunter looked at the glass. “You need water to work?”
Lainhart pointed his finger up.
Hunter left and within minutes quickly returned, to find that Lainhart had already decoded part of the address.
After several more minutes, while Hunter was sure his heart slowly died with each passing breath, Lainhart held up his chalkboard.
“Impossible.” Hunter shook his head. “No, you see that is impossible.”
Lainhart pointed down and shook his head slowly.
“But…” Hunter examined the numbers and street name again. “This is Wilkins’ house, this is part of the War Office headquarters.”
Lainhart nodded slowly and then moaned. With great effort he opened his mouth and said, “L-lucy K-kill.” He took another deep breath, his face turning red from exertion. “K-k-iller.”
Hunter’s mind reeled back to the original meeting with Lainhart, and then to the packet of information he had been given about all of the men who used to work for Lainhart, including Wilkins.
“Lucy’s killer took Gwen?”
Lainhart gave a curt nod and pointed to the address again.
Hunter’s hands began to shake as he noticed the time. It was a twenty-minute ride, pushing his horse the whole way to Wilkins’ house. What if he couldn’t make it in time before they killed her? What if history would indeed repeat?
He did not even thank his grandfather. He simply ran out of the house and jumped onto his horse. Not caring that he was riding dangerously fast toward the other side of town, but needing to get there before it was too late.
After seventeen minutes of heavy riding, sweat poured from his face. One minute, he had one minute. And then the town clocks began to chime.
“Please, please let me be there in time,” he begged.
The house came into view just as the clocks struck seven. A gunshot went off in the house as he ran up the stairs and burst into the room.
Wilkins and Hollins sat calmly near the fireplace. Gwen was tied to a chair, tears streaming down her face. A gag had been stuffed into her mouth, but she did not seem harmed. He could not bring himself to do anything except stare at her. Was it a figment of his imagination or was she truly alive?
She nodded to him. Anger poured through him as his eyes took in her red dress. A mockery. They were making a mockery of her.
He cursed and turned hate-filled eyes to Wilkins and Hollins.
“Bravo!” Wilkins clapped. “Truly better than watching a play. You should have seen your face the moment you barged in here. I thought the gunshot was a great effect, didn’t you, Hollins?”
Hollins laughed. “Agreed. Now tell us, Hunter, what was your plan? Save the day as always? Become a war hero?”
Hunter’s hand flinched by his side. He clenched his fists to keep from charging the men, especially considering they were both armed. “No, I was simply planning on rescuing the fair maiden.”
“Not so much a maiden anymore, right, my dear?” Wilkins directed this toward Gwen.
An intense fury burned in Hunter’s head, and he stepped toward the men.
Hollins raised his pistol while Wilkins sighed.
“You cannot outsmart us, Hunter. I know your every move,” Wilkins answered. “Though it wasn’t always that way.”
“Pardon?” Hunter sidestepped and walked closer to Gwen, to shield her from the villains.
“Yes. After all, how could I have predicted you would be in the street at the exact moment I tried to murder your brother?”
“Ash?” Hunter felt his stomach drop. “Why the devil would you murder him?”
“He betrayed me. You see, I gave him the opportunity to work for me, to help me in my little smuggling campaign. I aimed to make him rich — he was a second son, after all.”
“And he said no?” Hunter suddenly felt proud of his brother. Though he was still a viscount, he hadn’t inherited what Hunter had, and their father had only provided for one of them.
“Not only did he say no, but he tried to expose me. It did not help matters that you had already made up your mind to quit. The War Office was at its wit’s end to lose one of the best spies our country has ever seen. Their words, not mine.”
“Of course,” Hunter ground out, and clasped his hands behind his back, dropping a dagger out of his sleeve and revealing it only to Gwen, holding it in front of her face, so she could free herself from the gag and take it with her teeth.
“But things always work out the way they are supposed to. After all, your timing was perfect. Your lovely wife got in the way. I thought you were Ash and when I directed the carriage toward you, she crossed the street. You see, I hadn’t expected you back from assignment so soon. It really was so perfect. Ash left the country in grief, never exposing me, for he felt the accident was his fault — and you, you continued to work for the War Office, allowing me to use you as a pawn for the perfect crime.”
Rachel Van Dyken Page 19