The Wolf's Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(57)

He should be excited, but memories of his first wedding overwhelmed his brain, making it impossible to focus on anything.

Lucy had worn blue.

Her eyes had shone with tears. Her grandfather had refused to walk her down the aisle on the principal that she was marrying a rogue.

Eastbrook had done the honors.

It had been the happiest day of his life.

How could he have known that their first anniversary would result in her death? That the light that danced in her eyes would be dead in another three hundred and sixty-five days?

His hands shook, and he folded them behind him. The last thing Hunter wanted was for Gwen to think he was regretting the decision to marry her. If anything, it wasn't regret; no, it was more like fear. No, absolute terror. God had given him another woman, another responsibility, and he would rather die than for her to suffer the same fate as Lucy.

The doors opened.

Gwen emerged.

In a red cape.

He burst out laughing, causing quite a few loud whispers to rise within the small chapel.

With a wink, she took off the cape, revealing a beautiful ivory dress fit for a princess. He did not deserve the way she looked, nor the twinkle in her eyes when she pointed to the ribbon in her hair and grabbed the red roses from the basket Montmouth held out to her.

The music began, she took a step on Montmouth's arm, and then the doors opened again.

His eyes had to be deceiving him, for the man who came into the chapel was Lainhart.

And his butler was with him, looking as shaggy as ever. Did the man ever shave? Or bathe for that matter? The butler pushed Lainhart's wheeled chair in front of Montmouth and then spoke in hushed tones.

Montmouth jerked his head back and then asked Gwen a question. She nodded her head yes and kissed Montmouth on the cheek, and then she took Lainhart's knobby hand within hers and turned toward Hunter.

The music started again.

But this time, it was Lainhart who proudly held his head as high as he could as he gripped Gwen's hand. The butler pushed the wheeled chair forward. People continued to whisper. Hunter looked to Gwen for confirmation that everything was all right, that she was indeed happy to have Lainhart escort her, a man she knew Hunter did not do well with.

Her smile was bright, her eyes glistened with tears, and then she nodded her head to Lainhart who, with his free hand, pointed at the blackboard in his lap and showed it to the audience as they continued down the aisle.

"My new granddaughter" is what it said.

And Hunter found that the emotions he'd been trying so desperately to keep inside, the ones that had been threatening to overtake him for years, burst free.

And he was again a man broken.

Only this time, his undoing was not death.

But life.





Chapter Twenty-seven





Wolf—

You may be waiting a very, very long time. Perhaps it would be wise to lower your expectations. I know I did.

—Red





Gwen gripped Hunter's hand. It was sweaty and shaking, and then she saw it. If she had been looking the other way she would have never known, but a stray tear made its way down his chiseled face and dropped onto the floor.

And then he turned his golden eyes to her. Their gazes locked and all she cared about was kissing away his pain, of being his partner in more than one way, of being his savior. His everything.

The vicar announced them husband and wife. People clapped, but she could barely hear anything going on around her. All she was focused on was Hunter's eyes. He leaned in and touched his lips lightly to hers and then placed both hands on either side of her face, pulling her in for a longer kiss. It was a branding, a burning kiss, and one that showed possession.

When he pulled back, she leaned forward. He shook his head in amusement and offered his arm.

They walked to the carriage amidst cheers from the crowds. Hunter helped her in. When the carriage pulled away, she sighed.

"So, where are we going?" She hadn't given it much thought earlier, but the last thing she wanted to do was spend her wedding night at Dominique and Isabelle's house! Imagine! Everyone would know, and it would be… uncomfortable. They'd already decided to forgo the wedding breakfast.

"Well…" Hunter grinned wolfishly. "Over the river and through the woods, of course."

"There is no forest, Hunter."

"Says whom?"

"I say. This is London, after all."

"Ah." Hunter tapped the side of her head with his finger. "But where is your imagination, sweetheart?"

She lifted an eyebrow at him as the carriage pulled to a stop. They were at the same house Hunter had brought her to, not but a week ago, when he had tortured her. Lovely. "Last time we were here, you assaulted me," she pointed out.

"True." He grinned.

"Do you plan to whip me this time?"

His half-lidded eyes smoldered. "Do you want me to?"

"Only if I can hit back," she countered.

"But of course." He chuckled. "After you."

Gwen approached the house with dread. Was this his idea of romance? Take her to an abandoned house he hadn't lived in for over nine years? He did not even have a full staff!

Hunter wrapped his arm around her as he pushed the door open and led her in.

How the man had managed to bring a forest into his own home was quite beyond her. Everywhere she looked were different types of trees in pots, and hanging from each one of the trees were candles in glass jars.