The Wolf's Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(4)

"Yes." Of course he had. He was a spy, after all.

"Just yesterday I was on the same ship as them."

Hunter leaned even further forward. "And this is significant because?"

"Well, it could be nothing." Gwen craned her head to look at the men and then looked back at Hunter. "But they were speaking French."

"And returning from?"

"London. I heard them saying they had business with the Earl of Trehmont."

Hunter cursed without realizing he was giving himself away. Everyone knew Trehmont was without funds. He'd worked for the War Office nearly as long as Hunter. What would the French want with Trehmont?

He cleared his throat and strained to listen to their conversation.

The men ordered ale and toasted.

Nothing all that strange, except…

They toasted to winning the war. And the Englishmen grinned in agreement. Money was then exchanged. Enraged, Hunter gripped the side of the table and tried to steady his breathing. What the devil was going on?

"Codes," one man said as he slid a scrap of paper across the table to one of the Frenchmen. "I think you will be pleased with what you see."

The man grinned and lifted up the paper. "And our man is in position?"

"He is." The Englishman nodded. "Though his price just doubled."

The Frenchman sneered. "On what grounds?"

The Englishman leaned forward. "The codes are unbreakable. Surely you realize how fortune shines upon you at this very moment?"

"Fine." The Frenchman took a long swig of ale and then chuckled. "It has been a pleasure doing business with your… employer."

Every muscle in Hunter's body tightened. "Listen." He grabbed Gwen's hand. "This is very important. Do you understand?"

She pulled back, but nodded.

"I need you to spend the night with me."

"Pardon?" Her voice carried a bit too loudly for his tastes. The tavern wench apparently overheard, because she seemed extremely disappointed as she put down the bread and ale.

"I need you to truly pretend to be my wife, and we need to stay the night. I need to search their room." It wasn't the most brilliant plan he had come up with, but a man staying on his own was a man watched. If they looked married, then the men wouldn't pay attention to him.

"Because?" Gwen giggled. "What, are you a spy or something? Truly, does the War Office take everyone these days?" Uncontrollable mirth washed over her as she placed her hands on the table and threw her head back and laughed even harder.

He would have been amused.

If the exact line of her throat and sound of her laugh hadn't reminded him of Lucy.

Suddenly angry, he stood up and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her toward the innkeeper. "We need a room for the night." His grip tightened on her arm, but she said nothing.

The innkeeper nodded.

"And please, bring us a light supper along with some more ale to our room. We are on our honeymoon, after all."

He slipped the innkeeper enough money for Gwen to begin to choke.

"My wife." Hunter nodded to Gwen.

The innkeeper shook his head in understanding. "Of course, and your name?"

"Maksylov," Hunter lied, though he knew it was rare for Dominique the Beast to go into the village. The innkeeper wouldn't be able to tell the two of them apart and Dominique practically owned the place, so truly it would matter not. Besides, he'd just given the man enough blunt to stay in business for the remaining year.

The innkeeper grabbed a key and led them up the stairs.

Gwen was quiet.

Until the door shut.

Then all havoc broke loose.

With a cry she stomped on his foot and reached for the door, but he slammed it in place and locked it.

"Who are you?" She pushed him against the door, which truthfully felt quite good, considering he'd been without any sort of female companionship for what felt like years. Perhaps it had only been a few weeks, days even, but she felt good, so soft and delicate.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, then grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss. Only meaning for it to be quick, he was quite surprised when she opened her mouth in response, after little coaxing. Her mouth was hot and tasted of ale, her tongue like velvet as it massaged his.

Who needed whiskey when he had Gwen? With a moan, he loosened his hold on her and reached for her face, needing to drink in more of her.

As his hands touched that perfect ivory skin, he felt the cold blade of a knife against his throat. "I said, who are you?" The steel edged deeper into his skin, blood began to trickle down his neck, but it could have been water for all he cared. Stunned, he could only watch her eyes darken. A haunting look passed between them both.

And he knew.

It was the eyes, for they were the windows to the soul, were they not? Filled with anguish, pain, bitterness, and yes, guilt.

Her very eyes reflected his own, for only two types of people in the world carried such a heaviness within them. Those who have had innocent blood on their hands too many times to count, or those who have loved and lost everything important to them.

He wondered which she was.

With a flick of his wrist, faster than she could respond, Hunter manipulated her hand, causing the knife to clamor to the floor.