The Wolf's Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(2)

Duty done. All he wanted was a hot bath, a supple wench, and new boots so his feet could get some respite. After all, without his horse he had resorted to trudging through the melting snow like some common criminal.

The inn was only a few more steps. Already he could taste the warm bread on his tongue, the ale pouring down his throat, the soft willing woman beneath him—

And then something struck him.

Not a thought, though it may have been equally shocking to have logical thought after being so famished.

No. It was something smaller.

But sharp.

And then another one hit.

"What the devil?" Who in the blazes was pelting him with rocks! His eyes adjusted to the glaring landscape as the sun peeked through the branches of the trees.

Nothing.

There was no one within his vicinity.

So, this was what it was like to go mad? Truthfully, he'd known that one day his past would catch up with him. After all, one could only lie and manipulate so many times in the name of His Majesty before he forgot the truth of his existence.

Resigned to his fate, he continued his walk toward the inn.

A rock sailed into the side of his face.

He hadn't expected madness to hurt this much. Nor for it to be as realistic as the blood currently trickling down his cheek.

He muttered a curse and took another look around him. All he saw was melting snow, dingy buildings, a woman digging up…

Wait. His eyes went back to the woman. A smile curved his lips as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to where she was digging. Bum in the air, and curse words escaping her mouth quite like a sailor at war. He smugly waited.

Finally, as rocks and dirt continued to soar, she stopped and kicked the ground.

"Looking for something?" Your mind perhaps — you've lost it?

The woman ceased her incessant digging and paused only momentarily to glare at him. To be fair, he deserved that and far worse, considering his eyes were naturally trained on her bum as it was in the air at that precise moment.

Blushing profusely, the girl put her hands on her hips, dirt clumps making her dress all the more blemished, and sighed. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Hunter repeated. "Well, that all depends, I guess. You see, it's been a while since I've answered such an open-ended question, but considering my lack of food or drink, I think I shall start with the biggest desire." He cleared his throat. "You see that inn over there? I want to find myself smothered beneath a buxom lady, preferably while inebriated with whiskey, and perhaps if I am being particularly selfish, I want to eat bread, lots and lots of warm bread. But firstly, what I want, nay what I desire, is that you stop pelting me with rocks."

"The only lady residing at the inn will not only smother you within an inch of your life, but dribble meat on your person while doing so, but by all means, experience it for yourself." She smiled sweetly, managed a curtsy, and continued her digging.

Another rock hit his boot. The chit spoke in perfect German, which should have been frightening, considering it had been a great while since Hunter had spoken the language. He cleared his throat again and tried, "Perhaps if you tell me what you're digging for? I can be of service and be on my way."

"Or you can just be on your way now," she said through gritted teeth.

"Allow me this small boon. After all, now my curiosity is piqued." As well as my lust, his brain added as he was again given quite a nice view of her feminine curves.

"My pistol." Her hands dug deeper into the earth. "I buried it last night, and now I cannot find it!"

Several thoughts went through Hunter's head at that moment, the first and most obvious being what the devil she was doing with a pistol? The second, why, if she needed the pistol so desperately, was she set on burying it?

"Did it die? Was it in need of a proper burial then? It seems you buried it at least a foot down. How can the poor thing breathe with that much earth hovering above it?"

She stopped. "If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

Well, that was rude. "Perhaps."

"I'm going to rescue my sister. She's trapped in that dratted castle by the Beast, and I need my pistol in order to retrieve her!"

"So why the devil did you bury it?" Hunter ignored the information, thinking it nothing but an exaggeration. The only woman Dominique had been successful in capturing was Isabelle, and she was by no means trapped, nor was she German. Obviously this raven-haired beauty was a touch mad.

"I couldn't very well conceal it, not when all my belongings were stolen, and it cannot fit in my corset. As you can well see, considering you've been staring at my body like a dog in heat for the past five minutes!"

Blast, she was beautiful when provoked. Her soft white skin had a touch of pink on her cheeks that perfectly matched her cherry red lips.

"Am I to understand that you are here, in this place, trying to find your pistol, so you can shoot the Beast and rescue your sister?"

"Yes, I believe that is what I just said."

"Well, this day has just gotten brighter. I say!" Hunter clapped his hands in amusement. "Allow me to accompany you to the castle. I would love nothing more than to see the look on the Beast's face while he stares down the barrel of a pistol. Been meaning to challenge the fellow to a duel for years now!" Hunter couldn't believe his good luck. He had needed something to amuse him after such a long journey. Perhaps he could keep her, as a sort of... pet. He smiled at the thought.