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

"You'll take me there, and not hinder me?" the girl asked skeptically, as her brow lifted.

"Absolutely. In fact, I may just take a shot myself. After all, I'm sure he deserves it. For taking… what did you say your sister's name was?"

"Isabelle," she said in perfect English.

Blazes. This was turning out to be the best day of his life! "You don't say?" Hunter grinned, slowly approached the girl, and offered his arm. "And what may I call you, dear lady?"

"Gwen. Apologies for using German. I thought perhaps it best I hid my identity. I've seen far too many French soldiers scattered about."

Smart girl. Now there was an interesting turn of events. Beautiful, smart, and violent. "Right, well, allow me at least a few minutes of respite, a hot meal, and we'll be on our way. Agreed?"

"Fine." She accepted his arm. "But only because I am without a weapon and cannot possibly take the man on myself."

"No, you'd most likely die." Hunter nodded, trying to make himself sound more useful, though he knew Dominique could very well handle a mad female. It was of no matter. Once she saw her sister was healthy and content, he would ask to keep her. Gwen, after all, couldn't very well travel alone without being ruined. The poor thing was probably already compromised, for what girl trudged from England to the continent by herself? One that had no reputation to protect, or not one to speak of. Truly, it was the beginning of a wonderful day.

They walked in silence until they reached the inn. Upon entering, Hunter felt on edge. And it had nothing to do with the girl next to him. She was distracting to a dangerous level, and it took everything within him to peel his eyes away from her as he ordered food and drink.

No, the prickling on the back of his neck had everything to do with the men sitting in the far corner. English gentlemen. He could spot one a mile away; after all, he was one of them, though he'd been spying for the Crown for the past ten years and had yet to re-enter into society since his wife's death.

He shuddered at the thought. He never allowed himself to think of her, not in that way, with her broken body and blood trickling out of her mouth. The faint smile on her lips as her eyes went cold.

Ale, he needed ale.

Out of habit, he put a protective arm around Gwen. They sat in the corner so he could have a better view of the rest of the establishment. It was not common to see any Englishmen in the area so close to the action. If they were here, they were soldiers, and he knew every able-bodied spy.

The tavern wench approached, completely blocking his view, for she was at least twice his size, and not in a flattering way. His eyes skimmed where she loomed over him, which he hoped she wouldn't take as an invitation, and slowly drew up to her face. Merciful heavens, she had a mustache. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

"So the fancy gent likes what he sees, does he?" She winked.

Blast. He'd take the French any day. They'd probably win the war if they had women like this working for them. But his eyes, devil take it, he could not avert his eyes from her face. Almost like she was casting some witch's spell on him. Out of desperation he reached for Gwen's hand.

Gwen giggled. "Sorry, my husband here hasn't slept a wink since we've been married. Just yesterday, if you get my meaning. Would you mind terribly getting us some ale and fresh bread? We'll be taking a rest here at the inn tonight."

The woman flashed one last grin at Hunter before leaving.

He shuddered. "I assure you I've never in my life been without words until now."

Gwen removed her hand from his death grip and sighed. "Well, at least I know you're not a spy. With manners like that, you'd surely get yourself killed. You cannot simply gawk at a woman like that. It isn't done, and now you've shown weakness. Don't trust me to save you. I sure hope you can hold your own with the Beast tomorrow."

If she only knew. "I'll manage, though things may go better if I simply stand behind you."

"Coward."

"Absolutely not, it just provides a better view."

"I'm sorry, rake seems to be the word."

"Thank you," Hunter said warmly, and added, "wife" with a saucy grin.

"I did that only to help you, not because I want any sort of attachment. You should know that if I hadn't done so, that tavern wench would be at this very moment smothering you with—"

"—please, I hope to keep my appetite."

Gwen smiled sweetly and winked.

Blast, where had this woman fallen from? Heaven? Every mannerism bespoke a cunning intelligence he'd never before seen in polite society. Not that he would truly know, since he'd been everywhere but London since… the incident.

He cleared his throat and looked away as a knot lodged itself uncomfortably in his chest.

The doors to the establishment opened up. Two impeccably dressed men walked in, making their way directly for the Englishmen.

Gwen squinted in their direction, then looked back to Hunter. "Strange."

"What?" He tried to play innocent of the whole situation, though it was indeed odd.

"Oh, it's probably nothing."

"Enlighten me, I've been alone without whiskey or horse for a day now. I do so love to be entertained."

Gwen exhaled and leaned in. "See those two men who just walked in?"