The Wolf's Pursuit (9 page)

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."

"I don't."

"But…"

"I'm no longer recognized by that side of the
family."

"But surely there is a mistake! They are your
family, blood related and—"

Hunter shook his head. "Not blood related. My
family line was snuffed out the minute my father and brother died.
Eastbrook is my cousin by marriage."

Gwen felt her stomach drop to her slippers.
"You rogue! You're married!"

Hunter chose that moment to turn around and
glare. "Not that it's any of your business, but no I'm no longer
married."

"So you are divorced."

Hunter cursed. "This conversation is
finished." Cursing, he pulled her flush against his body and kissed
her lips. The kiss was forceful and aggressive, then he pulled a
tendril of hair from her coiffure allowing it to fall to her
shoulders. "There. Now return to the ball."

"But I look like I've been out here having an
assignation with a man."

"Precisely," Hunter said in clipped, even
tones. "But only a man will notice the look of a woman in a
lust-filled haze. And the type of men you need to attract will want
to sample some of your goods."

"Lovely," Gwen said dryly.

"Play nice, sweetheart." Hunter winked and
patted her bottom as he slipped past her. The absolute devil! She
lunged for him but he was already down the stairs to the balcony,
leaving her no choice but to sneak back into the ball. Looking and
feeling very much like a whore. Some debut.

Red—

If you murder me in my sleep, does that mean
we shall be sharing a bed? Imagine my surprise that you would be so
forthcoming with your feelings. My dreams await you, sweet.

—
Wolf

Hunter watched as Gwen entered back into the
ballroom. He'd had enough family dramatics to last him a lifetime
tonight. The last thing he wanted to do was go visit Lucy's
grandfather and allow him to lecture Hunter about why her death was
on his head. He'd probably blame Hunter for the fact that someone
was deciphering the codes for the French as well.

He reached for the flask of brandy in his
jacket and took a few swallows. The night was eerily quiet. He took
a few soothing breaths and leaned against the stone wall.

No doubt Gwen was inside, blushing to the
roots of her hair. He hadn't meant to kiss her. Well, actually that
wasn't entirely true. He'd meant to kiss her, just not so
forcefully, nor did he mean for his tongue to accidently slip past
the barrier between her lips and into the honey of her mouth. It
also wasn't planned that his body would flare to life in such an
embarrassing way that he could think of doing nothing except
lifting her skirts against the wall and having his way with
her.

He really did need to find a female
companion, especially when difficult shrews who could be French
spies were making him aroused.

The music trickled out of the ballroom. He
hated balls. What was the point of women and men dancing around
when the end was still the same? Marriage? Death? Sex?

Why not just skip the dancing and go straight
to sex?

Why not skip the marriage and save yourself
from impending depression.

He took another swig of brandy and
groaned.

Clearly, he was getting too old for this. He
wanted to go home and drown his sorrows in whiskey. He wanted to
sit by the fire and pout. Female companionship, again, he needed it
desperately.

Laughter echoed into the night air.

"But Viscount Redding, it isn't proper for us
to be alone! And so soon after meeting!" Gwen giggled.

Hunter rolled his eyes. Any idiot could see
Gwen was not prone to giggling. It was blasted irritating, seeing
Redding put a hand across Gwen's arm as if she was his
possession.

She belonged to no one.

Not even to Hunter.

He ignored the slight pain in his chest; must
be too much drinking out in the cold. Even though his eyes begged
him to look away as Redding caressed Gwen's face. He stayed trained
on the man, ready to pounce at any moment.

"But my lady, you said you had something
important to discuss with me. How could I, in good nature, allow us
to have such a discussion with such impressionable people
around?"

Hunter perked up. Something sounded wrong.
What the devil was Gwen doing? He peeked around the corner. Gwen
was grinning wildly at Redding, making Hunter want to rip the man's
throat out.

Obviously that was the brandy speaking.

Not his need to have her.

Or his desire to bed her.

His breath quickened when she lightly touched
Redding's arm. "They say you are a man of great secrets."

Redding pulled her flush against him. "And
who are they, my dear?"

Gwen leaned in and whispered in his ear.
Hunter strained to hear. Cursing, he listened for something —
anything.

But soon Gwen's laughter filled the air as
Redding kissed her hand and announced his departure. "I will think
on these things, my dear, and thank you for your information. I
find it enchanting." He kissed her hand and walked away, a stupid
grin that Hunter wanted to destroy all over his face.

Gwen's smile fell. She pulled something out
of her reticule and dropped it onto the ground and then briskly
walked toward the side of the house where Hunter was standing.

She was up to something.

Spy or no spy. Partner or no partner. If he
was to find the mole, he needed to snuff out the suspects. Starting
with Gwen. He only hoped she would forgive him for what he had to
do.

****

Gwen had done several things in her lifetime
that she found disgusting. Flirting with a man should have been
easy, but when that particular man sneered at her all the while
leering at her breasts — she wanted to do nothing more than kick
him in the shin, or perhaps his favorite anatomical part? Yes, her
fingers itched for her knife.

She'd only meant to lure him away from the
crowds of people in order to solidify his interest. If she was to
be done with this mission, she needed to make sure the men put
forth an effort to court her, and she would get absolutely nowhere
with Hunter constantly interfering! Goodness. It was her job to
help find the mole. But it was getting increasingly difficult as
she realized that she knew nothing. Redding seemed innocent enough,
and didn't seem the type to betray his country for money he clearly
did not need. But Trehmont seemed to lack the backbone.

Her gaze flickered to the wall where she saw
Hunter attempting to hide. The fool, did he not trust her to do her
job? She pulled a note out of her reticule and let it fall to the
ground. It said something akin to: "Touch me again and I'll murder
you in your sleep."

Which would truly be a nice little love note
for Hunter to read, suspicious man that he was. She had meant to
send it the following day, but now was as good a time as any to
make open threats. Especially considering he was spying on her
rather than doing his job.

Did he expect her to do everything while he
patiently flirted and watched from the sidelines?

With a sigh, she walked back toward the
house. Hunter had apparently disappeared, which was fine by her.
She was getting tired, and hadn't the energy to fight his wit or
his charm.

She stumbled toward the front of the house
and yawned when a loud crunch was heard behind her and then
something struck her head. She fought to keep her eyes open, but
failed as she succumbed to the darkness.

Wolf—

To visit you in a dream would be my worst
nightmare. In fact, as I write this very note, I find myself
shaking with fear. Not because I am afraid of the big bad Wolf, no,
of course not. It is because in your dreams you deem what is
appropriate and naturally I have certain morals against walking
around naked with a salivating wolf gazing upon me, ready to eat my
flesh. Hope you understand. Perhaps the woman from the inn is still
available. After all, she did feed you, and we both know how much
wolves like meat.

—
Red

"It seems the Wolf has taken Red captive,"
the man announced, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. It
had been a long night. To make matters worse, the Wolf was going to
get all the answers he needed within the next few hours, throwing
quite a hitch in their plans.

His partner laughed. "Why, that is more
perfect that I could have planned it!"

He stared at the man he'd called friend for
the past ten years and cursed. "What do you mean? He will discover
her innocence!"

"He will torture her in order to obtain it,
then spend the rest of his days feeling like the guilty sod he is.
He'll lick her wounds for her, he'll pant after her, and again, I
say, it is more perfect than we could have planned."

He chose to say nothing.

"Have you the codes?"

He walked forward and slid them across the
table. "The new codes, as you asked. Will you be planting them this
week?"

A long pause and then, "No, the time is not
yet right. We must wait until every player is either engaged or
eliminated."

"And who will be doing the eliminating?"

"Why, me, of course. After all, I failed so
many years ago. I will not fail again."

****

Hunter felt like an absolute cad. Ten years.
Ten years of being a spy and torturing people for information, and
his blasted hands still shook as he tied the ropes firmly around
Gwen's hands.

He hadn't any choice. That was what he kept
telling himself as he gagged her and put the blindfold on. That was
what he said to himself when he lit the fire and put her chair
dangerously close to it.

And that was what he told himself when he
returned to his abandoned house, the same house he had shared with
Lucy, only to find it dusty and hollow.

Gwen had no idea this ghost of a house
existed, nor that it was his. It would be the perfect hideaway
until their little visit was complete.

One thing was for certain, when she woke up,
she was going to be furious. But he had to test her loyalty. Not
just for him, but for the protection of her family and Montmouth,
even though the man clearly hated him. If Gwen, a part of their
family, truly was a French loyalist, then they were all in grave
danger.

"Wake up," he snapped, kicking the chair.

Gwen moaned, her head dropped, and then she
jerked back and yelled, "Where am I?" Astonishing that she could
form the words against the gag — perhaps he had tied it too
loosely?

"Does it really matter? After all, you are
tied to a chair."

"Get this off." Her head jerked from side to
side. Amazing, how silky her hair was up close. His obsession was
bordering on insanity.

"That I cannot do." He purposefully spoke in
perfect French to keep her from guessing his identity.

"Why?"

"You have something I want." He rolled his
eyes at his choice of words, and then fought the urge to curse
himself as he watched her bosom rise and fall with exertion. And
then an entirely new plan formed in his mind.

Torture. For both of them most likely, but
torture nonetheless. This way he wouldn't have to scar that perfect
skin, or worry about truly frightening her.

He just wasn't sure if he could do it without
exploding on the spot.

"My love," he purred, as his voice dropped
into a seductive whisper. "You are such a fine, fine beauty." He
gently pulled the gag down so she could speak. His gaze lingering
on her lips like a man starved.

"I'm rolling my eyes right now, but you can't
see me," Gwen said boldly.

Minx. "I would love to see your eyes but then
you would know my identity and we cannot have that, my beauty." He
was laying it on thick and arousing himself in the process. Who was
seducing whom?

"Of course we can't," Gwen agreed. "Then it
wouldn't be nearly as fun, hunting you down and killing you."

"Are you a good hunter?"

"The best."

"Hmm." Hunter stood behind her, his hands on
her creamy shoulders, then with slow movements, he slid his hands
down roaming her chest. "I highly doubt that, my sweet."

She froze under his touch, and then the witch
actually relaxed and leaned her head against his arm. "That feels
good."

I know. Believe me, I know.
He dipped
his hands further into the top of her dress and tugged it down.

"Is your plan to seduce me?" Gwen asked.
Hunter was so distracted by her creamy white skin he almost didn't
hear her question.

"But of course. Love always comes before war,
does it not?" He kissed the top of her head. "And I plan on loving
you several times before the evening is done."

"And then?"

"I kill you."

"Oh." Gwen shrugged. "At least I'll be loved
before I die."

Frustrated that she wasn't responding, Hunter
growled and kicked the bottom of the chair, making it skitter
closer to the fire.

She smiled. "A pitiful kick. Are Frenchmen
not stronger than that?"

Hunter hated himself in that moment. Hated
that he was doing this to her, but it was a means to an end.
Cursing, he kissed her and bit her bottom lip, hard enough to draw
blood. Immediately regretting the action, he jerked back.