The Wolf's Pursuit (7 page)

He cleared his throat and regained his
composure, but just by an inch. "You look beautiful."

"Well, thank you. I thought—"

"However," he interrupted, "you must change
immediately."

"Pardon?"

"Did I speak too quietly? Perhaps I had a bit
of a stutter? Or are you merely hard of hearing? Oh, I know!" He
snapped his fingers and gave her a grin. "Were you so distracted by
my appearance? Yes, I've had many a woman comment on that very
thing. It's the eyes. I like to think of them as golden amber. You
may refer to me as a god if you like. I won't mind." He stepped out
of the shadows and peered down at her. "Regardless of how you
address me, or your reason for not understanding, you still need to
change."

"Absolutely not!" Gwen took a step back, but
he snaked his arm around her and pulled her flush against his
chest.

"I see you are going to be difficult." He
smirked, quite enjoying the way her body felt in his arms. Curse
the ball, he'd rather stay right where he was.

Her eyes narrowed as she pulled her head back
so their foreheads wouldn't touch. "I'm not trying to be anything.
I'm merely offended that you want me to change. I happen to like my
gown."

"You and every other gentleman with a
heartbeat. You cannot simply waltz into the ballroom dressed like a
courtesan."

"But Hunter," she leaned in and whispered, so
near his lips it was painful, "who said anything about waltzing?"
In a flash, she maneuvered her way out of his hold and winked. "I
plan on walking."

"Not like that." He pulled her arm again.
This time she tried pinning him against the wall, but he beat her
to the task, his legs straddling hers in a hold he was certain she
wouldn't get out of. "Men will not take you seriously. You are
supposed to be making a debut. You are husband-hunting, sweet." He
ran his free hand down the side of her face. "And you look nothing
like a dutiful wife."

"What do I look like?"

"A whore."

"Better a whore than a has-been."

Rage took over, pumping through his veins.
"Did you just call me a has-been?"

"Did you just call me a whore?" she
countered.

He loosened his hold on her, but her haughty
eyebrow chose that exact moment to lift, as if announcing to the
world that she had bested him.

"Let me see." His lips came crushing down on
hers. He forced his tongue into her mouth, shamelessly ran his
hands down her naked arms. She pushed him back, her face a mixture
of hurt and anger. "That is why you cannot wear that dress."

"Why?" Her lower lip quivered.

"Because, my dear, a whore would never
respond like you did. It would be a dangerous game to play. And
you, love, would not be the victor."

He brushed his lips against her cheek and
began walking away.

"Hunter." Her voice was hoarse and angry.
"What was so bad about my response?"

He froze in his steps and turned around. "I
don't recall saying it was bad." With a smirk he walked away,
clenching his fists as hard as he could so he would not be tempted
to run back to her. That would put an immediate stop to his
mission.

That dress. Lust screamed at him to do
something about that dress. Blast it all! The woman was going to
get herself killed! Men were not as feeble as she would like to
believe. One look from her, in that dress, and a man would move
mountains for one night with her. Unfortunately, because of her
reputation, they would merely attempt to steal her away into the
dark gardens. The thought made anger anew flush through his system.
He wasn't sure what made him feel so protective of her. He'd never
worked with a woman before. It wasn't as if he'd never seen a woman
either! He'd had his share of… excursions. Granted, none of them
had her breasts or lips, or smile, for that matter. But he had
always thought it easy — a simple transaction and they parted
ways.

With Gwen, he had this insane desire to
protect her. Yet what if he was the one who needed protection? If
she wasn't who she said she was, if her loyalty had been bought? It
was a dangerous game they were playing.

One thing was for certain, he didn't need to
make the girl desirable. After tonight, she'd have every available
gentleman prostrate at her feet. The rub, it seemed, was how he was
going to discover if she was a double agent. And if not, what
influential person was no longer loyal to the Crown?

****

That went well. He waited in the shadows
while the Wolf stomped off in the opposite direction of the girl.
Red put her hands on her hips and scowled after him. Yes, his
partner was very correct in his assumption. The woman would be
quite a tasty morsel for the Wolf. He would feast upon her until he
was weak, both physically and emotionally, and in the end, he would
sacrifice his soul to keep her alive. Even if it meant treason.

****

Confusing, irritating, ridiculous man!
Who
kisses like a god
. "Gwen!" she yelled at herself and closed her
eyes, trying to focus on her mission, focus on her one goal for the
night. But all she could think about was his lips against hers. She
hated that the minute he kissed her, she was lost. Her knees had
gone weak, her breath had mingled so tightly with his that she
wasn't sure if she was even breathing anymore. His touch made her
shiver. The very reason she had for working with the man seemed to
dissipate. She thought in vain that, if she were merely reminded of
his rakish ways and ridiculous smile, her heart and mind would
immediately reject him. He would be a poison to her. Never
faithful, never kind, always teasing. Besides, there was something
about his eyes, some hidden secret, or perhaps it was an agenda. Or
maybe he really was just, plainly, a wolf. A predator.

How was she to ever experience happiness if
she had to compare Hunter's kisses with others? Unfortunately, he
knew just how desirable he was. Which meant she had to work that
much harder to keep him away if she wanted to escape the Season
unscathed.

She looked down at her dress and sighed.
Blast the man, he was right. Though she would never admit it to
him, she'd known it was a bad idea from the start, but her nerves
and determination had gotten hold. Her pride no longer existed. It
had disappeared the day she arrived back in London, only to find
her name scattered about Mrs. Peabody's society papers.

Things had become progressively worse when
she'd gone to a small gathering only to find herself being
whispered about and ignored. A few even gave her the cut direct.
She was labeled as used goods. Never mind that she had only ever
kissed one man. But that one kiss might as well have ruined her,
for ever since that day, she hadn't felt the same.

Cursing Hunter for a good five minutes, using
as many languages as she could think of, she finally ran back
through the servants' entrance and up to her rooms.

"The white one," she directed to her maid.
"I've decided to change into the white gown and I will wear the red
hooded shawl as planned."

"As you wish." Her maid gave her an odd look
but made quick work of undressing her. The red gown had been daring
in color, but the white gown was daring in a completely different
way. For starters it was dangerously low, even for a married woman
to be wearing. The bodice had pearls sewn into the material and a
very tiny slit went up to her knee underneath the first layer,
making it possible if one looked very hard to see part of her
leg.

It was all part of her plan. Look daring, be
daring, and gain secrets. After all, the only way she could imagine
gaining an offer and learning information about those disloyal to
the Crown was to have gentlemen find interest in her.

Before tonight, she could have had the best
personality in the world and they would only offer her
companionship.

After tonight, she was planning on unleashing
everything she had. Hoping, desperately that it would work.

****

Hunter waited a half hour before going
through the front entrance. He pulled a flask out of his pocket,
ran a hand roughly through his hair, and loosened his cravat, just
slightly.

All in all, he hoped his appearance looked as
if he had just finished having the best night of his life and
eagerly sought more companionship. Not the type of entrance he had
hoped to make upon returning to London. But then again, he hadn't
wanted to return. Ever.

When he was announced the room went
silent.

He always did like being the center of
attention. At least then he could ignore that irritating pain in
his heart that told him he was alone.

"I don't believe I've ever had such a warm
welcome. You are, of course, allowed to applaud as you see fit." He
winked in Montmouth's direction. The duke narrowed his eyes. His
wife, however, looked quite amused as she began clapping
wildly.

The rest followed suit, most likely trying to
figure out why the devil they were clapping for a man they'd rather
see hanging by a noose, especially considering how much he offended
their delicate sensibilities.

He gave a little bow to his audience, and
immediately went to Montmouth's side. "A pleasure, as always, your
grace."

"Doing it a little brown, aren't we,
Haverstone?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Hunter tilted his
head and boldly eyed the Duchess of Montmouth. "I was merely trying
to remedy an awkward situation."

"You did lovely." The duchess reached out to
him.

He grasped her hands and pulled her close.
"Do you really think so?"

She gasped as Montmouth pried her hands away
from Hunter's grasp.

The duke cursed but a small smile danced
across his lips. "I think I speak for every married man here: find
yourself a woman and settle down before you find yourself fighting
in a duel."

"But your grace…" Hunter tried to look
horrified. "Those are illegal! I am, after all, a lover, not a
fighter."

The duchess burst out laughing as Hunter was
ushered away by Montmouth at alarming speed.

"Must you always be so—"

"Charming? Dashing?" Hunter filled in,
suddenly enjoying himself now that the pain in his heart had begun
to slightly fade.

"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."