The Wolf's Pursuit (19 page)

She swiped a tear from underneath her eye and
sighed. "A broken heart."

Anger and guilt slammed Hunter in the chest.
Unable to breathe, he nodded and ran out of the room as fast as he
could. He ran until he reached the front door and ran until he was
in front of his carriage. All the while pushing the memory of what
he'd just seen to the farthest point in his mind.

His fault.

He had broken the old man's heart.

And Lainhart had nothing to show for it.
Nothing but a grandson by marriage who did exactly what Eastbrook
had accused him of.

Abandoned his family, abandoned what was left
of it, took up with the first whore he saw, and never returned to
London.

Until now.

He truly was a poison. Would he ever get life
right? Or would he for the rest of his existence be in purgatory,
hoping that when he did die, what he did on earth was enough to
atone for the sin of being late? Of not being the husband he should
have been?

He shoved his hands into his pockets, then
suddenly remembered he had the note still clenched tightly within
his palm.

Hunter unfolded the paper and read the
location.

Hyde Park. Three in the afternoon. Bring
Lady Gwendolyn
, and then near the side of the note, just as the
maid had said, was the word
death
.

"No, no..." His hands shook as he jumped into
the carriage. "Hyde Park! As fast as you can!"

The carriage jolted to life, but all Hunter
could think as he waited an eternity to arrive, was that he could
not go on living if he was to be late a second time.

He would rather die.

Within minutes, he was at Hyde Park. He
jumped, or rather flailed, out of the carriage and began running —
not sure which direction to run into and not caring that he looked
a complete lunatic. The note hadn't said which area of the park,
and considering it was quite large, he would have a devil of a time
locating them.

His eyes greedily scanned the park. Most
people were too caught up in their own lives to notice that he was
having a near apoplexy as he tried to locate Redding or the crest
on his carriage.

Just when he was about to give up hope, he
saw him.

Across the park, near the Corner, and
laughing as he got into his carriage.

Hunter ran across the grass, his legs burning
as his muscles flexed and stretched.

An eerie sense of foreboding caused him to
stop in his tracks as he watched the carriage drive away, and then
explode. Pieces of debris went flying into the air as the horses
neighed and galloped from the scene, both of them covered in dust.
Blood was everywhere.

Hunter froze. Everyone around him screamed,
women began running in every direction, men cursed and quickly
herded people away from the disaster.

But Hunter was immobile.

Late. Again. His heart clenched. Funny, for
he hadn't realized his still worked after breaking in two, but
there it was, slamming into his chest and causing him more pain
than he thought possible.

Hadn't he already lived through enough
guilt?

Gwen was dead. And it was his fault. Because
for the second time in his life, he was late and unable to stop
catastrophe.

He choked back a sob and walked solemnly
toward Montmouth's residence.

It was the same walk he had taken not nine
years previous, when he'd had to announce to Lainhart that his
granddaughter, his favorite little girl, had died.

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.

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.

His tongue slipped into her mouth.

His kiss, unlike previous kisses, was so
tender, she fought the urge to gasp from the shock of it all.

With her heart beating erratically, she
wrapped herself around his body, allowing her breasts to press
against his firm chest.

"What the devil!" Montmouth shouted, pulling
them apart, but Hunter just reached for her over Montmouth's hands,
as if losing her touch was such a painful idea that he could no
more release her than stop breathing.

"Do you mind!" Montmouth shouted again, this
time punching Hunter in the stomach. Hunter doubled over, but as he
fell, his hand reached out yet again toward Gwen.

She took it and held on. Much to the shock of
the entire family, who stood with mouths gaping open, as if she had
taken complete leave of her senses.

"Cease from touching one another!" Montmouth
grumbled. "Now tell me what the blazes is going on before I lose my
mind!"

"I cannot." Hunter straightened to his full
height. "Up until a few minutes ago, I thought I was dreaming."

"Yes, well, up until a few minutes ago, I was
considering allowing you to live." Montmouth narrowed his eyes and
crossed his arms. "Now, explain why you would accuse Gwen of
seducing you, leave, then return and pretend to have not been here.
Everyone saw you. Saints alive! I spoke to you! Now, unless you
have an identical twin waltzing around, you'd better explain.
Now."

Gwen watched the color drain completely from
Hunter's face. "Impossible." He paced in front of her, running his
hands through his hair. "It cannot be. He is dead, or presumed
dead! He disappeared the day she died, the day…" Hunter began to
shake. "I think I need a drink."

"Would that make you feel better, then?"
Montmouth asked.

"Immensely."

"Rosalind, hide the whiskey. Oh, and do send
a note to Dominique. It seems we are to have a duel."

"A duel?" Gwen gasped. "Whatever for?"

"He kissed you." Montmouth shrugged.

"So you plan to shoot him?"

"My dear, I see no other option."

"Than death?"

Montmouth shrugged. The man shrugged! As if
killing Hunter was the same as stepping on an ant!

"You cannot simply shoot him because he
kissed me! Besides it wasn't even the first time!"

Rosalind gasped. Montmouth's face turned an
interesting shade of purple, and though Hunter still appeared pale,
a smug grin appeared on his face. Rogue.

"I'll kill him where he stands," Montmouth
announced, eyes narrowing as he purposefully stepped toward
Hunter.

Hunter, deciding against bravery, scooted
over and stood behind Gwen. "I believe if you hear all of the
facts, then you will be less likely to shoot me. Besides, I've
already been shot once this week."

Gwen nodded. "True, he has been shot, but
that was after I broke his nose."

"Not helping," Hunter murmured behind
her.

"Five minutes." Montmouth held up his hand.
"You have five minutes to explain before I lose my mind and shoot
Hunter on irritation alone."

Gwen could feel the heat of Hunter as he
stood behind her. His breath tickled her neck. She wanted nothing
more than to lean against him and close her eyes. What was
happening to her? She was supposed to be his partner. She refused
to become attached to the type of man who would rather stare at
himself in the mirror and smile than give any part of himself to a
woman.

"I am not necessarily, er, retired." Hunter
walked around Gwen and approached Montmouth, hands raised in
surrender. "However, it would be best for us to continue this
conversation in the privacy of your study."

Montmouth sighed and led the way. Hunter
followed. Rosalind linked her arm within Gwen's as they trailed
behind the men.

Montmouth turned, starting to close the doors
in front of the women's faces, but Gwen held her foot out, blocking
it. "I think not. After all, I do not trust you alone with him. Who
knows? You may slip and accidently shoot your pistol."

Curses exploded out of Montmouth's mouth. He
looked to Rosalind as if to say, "Help!" but she merely tilted her
head as if to say, "Give me a reason to slap you."

He held the door open wide for them to
enter.

"You have ten minutes before I accidentally—"
Monmouth glared at Gwen. "What did you say before? Oh, yes, before
my finger accidentally slips on the trigger of my pistol."

Hunter looked at Gwen and winked. "I only
need five."

Montmouth cursed. "I was discussing your
story, not your speed at seduction."

"Apologies." Hunter nodded and gave Gwen
another grin. Heavens, she felt heated all over. She fanned her
face, much to Hunter's amusement.

He cleared his throat. "I came here to tell
you Gwen had died."

"Clearly she lives," Montmouth spat.

"Are you planning on interrupting me the
entire time?"

"Sorry."