The Wolf's Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(27)

"Yes, I'm sure," Hunter said dryly.

"What has gotten into you?" Dominique snapped.

"Forgive him," Gwen intervened. "After all, Hunter had a rough night. Not many men escape my presence unscathed."

There was too much truth to that statement.

"And we cannot all be as clever as wolves when it comes to escape, now, can we, Hunter?"

Isabelle looked at Gwen curiously. Dominique did the same. Hunter wanted to laugh. The girl had no idea that both of his dear friends knew of his current involvement with the War Office, as well as his plans this Season. She was doing nothing more than causing them to be suspicious of her.

So he added more. "But of course, if a woman in a red cloak was to lead me down the path, I would have no choice but to follow her out, in hopes that she wouldn't lead me astray."

"Red is the color of treason."

"No, my dear." Hunter grinned. "It is the color of lust."

Her eyes narrowed.

Dominique lifted his eyes heavenward.

But Hunter kept his eyes trained on Gwen. A challenge had just been given. He was not about to run away from a tiny woman. No matter how much of a punch she possessed. No, he was going to hunt her, he was going to chase her, and make her wish she had never awakened the Wolf in the first place.

With a cheerful smile, he lifted the coffee to his lips and chuckled. He had plans to make.





Chapter Eleven





Wolf—

Imaginations are a funny thing. For this moment, I am imagining you being shot with my favorite pistol. Do tell, how many duels have you had to fight because of your lack of self-control? After all, wolves are rarely known for their restraint, and I believe I've experienced that firsthand.

—Red





Gwen donned her afternoon gown and sat demurely on the sofa. Isabelle had begged to join her during her first day receiving callers. The three sisters sat in relative silence as they waited for the first gentleman to arrive. According to Rosalind, flowers had been delivered all morning. They now littered the blue salon, making her eyes water.

Weren't flowers supposed to make a woman swoon? Or perhaps smile? It did nothing except fill her with disgust. None of these men knew her, knew who she really was, or the things she had put herself through for the wellbeing of her family.

She sighed and took a sip of hot tea.

Goode, their butler, walked in and cleared his throat. "My lady, you have callers. The Earl of Trehmont and Viscount Redding."

Lovely.

"Gentlemen." Rosalind rose and greeted both men. In Gwen's eyes, Rosalind was by far the most graceful woman she had ever encountered. She was also strong, unyielding. Isabelle was similar. With golden brown hair and bright blue eyes, she was every man's fantasy. Whereas Gwen, well, Gwen was nothing. At least she felt like nothing when she sat next to her sisters.

The only time she had ever felt beautiful had been when Hunter kissed her upon their first meeting. And look where that had led her, down a dark path of lust-filled gazes and promises of seduction.

Redding was the first to speak up. "I do hope you've received my flowers, my lady. And may I say how lovely you look this afternoon?"

You may not. Gwen felt her nostrils flare. "Yes, and thank you. How kind of you to say so."

Trehmont flinched next to Redding. "Lady Gwendolyn, are you possibly available for an afternoon ride through the park tomorrow?"

No. I'd rather allow Hunter to trap me against a chair again. "Of course." She forced her face to break into a smile. "That would be wonderful."

Isabelle elbowed her sister. Perhaps she was doing it a bit brown. She grimaced.

"Are you in pain?" Trehmont blurted.

If only he knew that his very presence made her feel ill. His hair was slicked back with gobs of something — she had never seen such material in a man's hair. His jacket a bit too tight, and his smile lecherous. If he tried to kiss her, she was going to murder him.

"The Royal Duke of Haverstone," Goode announced, as Hunter bounded into the room. With a flourish, he sat near Gwen and snatched a biscuit from the nearby table.

Never had she been so thankful for the Wolf to appear.

"Blast, but these are wonderful biscuits. Tell me." Hunter ignored the men and turned to Gwen. "Does your cook possess some sort of magic or does she merely add a bit of your sweetness to the delicacy?" He licked his lips and took another bite.

Rosalind coughed. Gwen had to bite her lip to keep from grinning from ear to ear. The fool.

"Ahem." Trehmont stumbled over his words. "I was just announcing to my valet this morning of your beauty, my lady."

"Valet." Hunter laughed. "Didn't know you still possessed the blunt to employ one, Trehmont."

Gwen's mouth dropped open as she tried to think quickly of what to say to diffuse the situation. She looked between the two men.

Trehmont's face turned a purplish shade of red before he squirmed in his seat. "I'm happy to announce I've come into a bit of a more comfortable situation. Surely enough to provide for a beautiful young lady."

"Is that so?" Redding suddenly perked up, seeming quite interested in this sudden change of information. "And how, may I ask, has your situation improved?"