The Wolf's Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(42)

"I have no idea to what you are referring." He looked away, a smirk on his lips. "Kindly exit the carriage, I have an appointment."

"Not until you tell me why."

"Why?"

"Why are you like this? What happened to you?"

Hunter cursed and looked down at his hands. "I was late."

Gwen waited for him to elaborate and when he didn't, she was at a loss for how to respond.

"Go." Hunter's voice trembled. "I shall see you tonight."

Confused, Gwen did as he said, but vowed to herself that she would find out what he tried so hard to hide from. Being late? The answer made no sense whatsoever. But then again, Hunter rarely made sense.

Tonight. Tonight she would use everything she'd learned as a spy to find out his secret.

Why was it that when she thought of seducing the Wolf, warmth spread through her body? Perhaps he was a risk worth taking — perhaps with him, she could give that part of herself. For regardless of how he saw himself, to her he was not only a worthy opponent, but the type of man worth fighting for.





Chapter Eighteen





Red—

Wolves are by nature very intelligent creatures. Take for example the fact that they are feared amongst humans and beasts alike! My dear, if as a wolf, I do not cause you to tremble with that same fear, perhaps you will tremble with something else entirely when our partnership is through. One can only hope, and you, my dear, give me great cause to hope.

—Wolf





After his exchange with Gwen, Hunter immediately went to Wilkins' residence. The house looked dead as usual, dead except for the fact that Hollins was exiting in a hurry, a note clenched in his hand.

It would have seemed normal, but it was not the correct day for any sort of code to be transferred; that is, not unless it was an emergency, and they were losing horribly, and Hunter would have been the first to know that.

Leaving his carriage, he followed Hollins down the street. After a few blocks or so, Hollins took a turn and disappeared.

Fantastic.

He searched the area for a while but found nothing. With a curse, he walked back to the house and knocked.

Wilkins himself answered. "Hunter, my boy, how is the investigation? Did you need something?"

Wilkins' demeanor was so vastly different than before that at first Hunter thought he was foxed. "Er, yes, I was going to continue my investigation and the trail has lead me to Hollins. Have you seen him recently?"

With a laugh, Wilkins shook his head. "No. It is very rare for me to see Hollins when there are no codes scheduled for transfer."

"That is what I thought. Well, thank you."

Hunter walked back to his carriage more confused than he'd been in a while. Wilkins was clearly lying, Hollins was delivering notes on the wrong day, and he still had to go to a blasted masquerade that evening!





****





Hunter waited in the shadows. True to his word, he'd dressed as a wolf. Donning all black was not stretching his current style too much, but wearing a cape truly did have its advantages. It was covered in fur and made him feel like an oversized rug. He also had a sneaking suspicion that, if he stood near the wall that was currently painted a ghastly brown color, he blended in quite well.

His eyes greedily searched for Gwen.

Hah! Gwen. The same woman who caused him so much emotional turmoil, he had nearly run his horse into a tree during his afternoon ride. After their discussion in the carriage, he wanted nothing more than to take the first ship out of port and find himself in a foreign country.

She could not get too close.

He would not allow it.

Everything he touched seemed to wither away and die. And everyone he ever loved left him.

Trusting a woman was akin to inviting death into his life again, and though he hadn't a care for his own soul, he would not stand by and be responsible for Gwen losing hers.

He circled the ballroom twice, had his cape caught underneath at least four different slippers, all belonging to females who looked as if they wanted to devour him, and drank two glasses of wine.

All before he found her.

Had he been holding anything, he would have dropped it.

Trouble. Her entire costume bespoke trouble. If that costume was true to a shepherdess, well, he would eat his cape. Fur and all.

Gwen's fluid movements caught him off guard. He tried to clear his throat, but found it was too dry, due in part to the fact that his mouth was gaping open.

Well, at least he was breathing.

Though he did have an inkling that his heart had in fact stopped around ten seconds ago.

"Gwen," he croaked.

Her hair was piled high above her head, giving him a delightful view of her neck and high cheekbones. Her costume, while all white, had him forgetting his name.

The dress was by all standards proper, except for the fact that her sleeves fell effortlessly below her shoulders. Exposing so much skin his eyes hurt.

To stare at her was certain blindness. For everywhere he looked, he saw pure white skin, skin that had never been touched by any man, skin that invited him in by its very essence.

He reached out to touch her creamy white shoulder, but was immediately hit with a cane.

"Ah, the shepherd's crook. I forgot." He rubbed his shoulder where Gwen had tapped him.