The Wolf's Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(47)

Hollow. That's how he felt. As if his insides no longer existed. The only reason he knew he was still living was because he was in his own living Hell. And if he were dead, he would be reunited with Gwen, with Lucy. Instead, he was on his way to announce the death of one of the most brilliant women he'd ever known.

The carriage ride was too short.

The air too calm and peaceful.

Laughter echoed from inside, and Hunter argued with God for a minute. Why hadn't He taken him in her place? Why snuff out the life of someone so young, so beautiful? Why allow him to live through such horror twice? Perhaps this was his punishment; maybe he truly was in Hell and his reality was to live through the pain of loss for the rest of his existence.

Legs like lead, he walked slowly to the door and prayed Montmouth would just shoot him and put him out of his misery. It took more than five minutes for Hunter to keep his hands from shaking, and another two minutes to wipe the tears that had suddenly filled his eyes and spilled over.

He knocked softly on the door. Laughter from inside again mocked him, mocked what he was doing at this residence.

The door swung open.

With twinkling eyes, the butler nodded to him.

"Haverstone to see Montmouth. I have… news. It is urgent." He nearly choked on the last word. He had to control his emotions before they got the best of him. His lower lip trembled. He bit down to keep it from moving.

"But of course!" The butler nodded. "Though weren't you just here not but an hour ago?"

"No." Hunter walked into the house and sighed. "No, I was not."

"Are you sure?" The butler questioned him.

Irritated, Hunter snapped, "I'm sure! Now I need to see Montmouth!"

"Quite demanding for someone who just imprisoned me in my own home," came that sweet voice.

Hunter's head snapped up.

Gwen stood there, arms crossed and eyes blazing, as if she wanted to murder him where he stood. Which truly wasn't all that new.

"G-Gwen?" he sputtered. "Is it truly you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Must you always get yourself foxed before we have conversations?"

"Gwen?" he repeated again, this time walking toward her with his arms open. A tear escaped his cheek before he could stop it. Exhaustion or perhaps madness set in, and he collapsed to the floor.

"Hunter!" Gwen raced to his side. "Rosalind!"

Hunter's blurry eyes took in Rosalind's form as she ran to his side and knelt to the ground, and then Montmouth rounded the corner and laughed.

He laughed.

"Did she clock you, then?" he asked.

Gwen scoffed. "I did nothing of the sort! He simply collapsed into a puddle at my feet!"

"Is he foxed?" Montmouth asked, as if Hunter wasn't having a real-life hallucination.

"He said not," Gwen answered, and then touched Hunter's forehead.

He reeled back and with a curse scrambled to his feet. "This is not real. I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming."

Gwen laughed. "I believe we've been over this before, Hunter. I would never visit you in your dreams."

"But, but, the carriage… and Redding? Why are you not with Redding?"

The room fell silent.

Montmouth cleared his throat. "Did you hit your head during the fall?"

"No." Hunter couldn't take his eyes off Gwen. Was this real? Was she real? Or had he suffered through so much pain and agony that his mind was making up nonsensical things?

"Strange." Montmouth scratched his head. "Your hair. It is… well, it is quite long."

"What?" Hunter snapped out of his fog and glared at Montmouth. "What the devil does that have to do with anything?" He pointed at Gwen. "Why is she alive?"

Montmouth laughed. "Really, Haverstone, I'm not so much of an ogre that I would shoot my own sister-in-law for trying to seduce you."

Dreaming. He truly was dreaming. Gwen would rather seduce a cactus than him. He laughed bitterly at the joke and shook his head. "Right, and I'm Saint Peter."

Gwen poked him in the chest. "No, you're the devil himself! How dare you tell my brother-in-law that I tried to seduce you! And then keep me imprisoned in my own house! And then…" Gwen reeled back. "Why are you wearing different clothes, and why the devil is your hair longer?"

"That's what I said," Montmouth grumbled, and scratched his head. "Will someone please tell me what the blazes is going on?"

Gwen examined Hunter.

Hunter, possibly a little too excited to see her alive and breathing, did the first thing he could think of. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

In front of Montmouth, God, and everyone.





Chapter Twenty-one





Wolf—

So you desire to know what I'm doing when I read these notes? I should think that the burning hole in the middle of this correspondence should suffice. To be quite honest, I read the note, offer my reply, then pull out my pistol and shoot it. But for some reason, the agitation and irritation do not leave me. You're like a plague; therefore, I burn every note. And while I watch the flames, do you know what I do? I smile.

—Red





Hunter's lips were firm against hers. Heat enveloped her body as he tugged her forcefully against him. Hands dipped into her hair causing a nervous fluttering in her belly.