The Wolf's Pursuit (21 page)

That was the problem. She either wanted to
strangle the man or kiss him senseless. Brilliant way to start a
marriage. How long, she wondered, would they last before pistols
were drawn?

Yet she swallowed the lump of emotion in her
throat — she refused to shame her family further. Lies, so many
lies, and all of them because of her, because she chose to keep a
part of her life separate from her family. Because she chose to
work in order to put food on the table after her father's murder
the year previous.

She straightened her skirts and walked up to
her room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

But Hunter? He had secrets as well, ones he
thought he kept well hidden until his mask crumbled, leaving
nothing in its place but the shell of a man broken. She wondered
what would happen when he could no longer hide anymore. Would he
ever love her? Come to care for her? Or would she always be cursed
with this aching, this longing in the pit of her stomach for
something more?

In a way, it made sense. Her sisters were
both gifted with wonderful marriages. Rewarded for the lives they'd
lived. While Gwen, well, she was going to marry a man who was more
wolf than man. A gentleman who was more likely to have a wife and a
mistress on the side, than to be loyal to one woman alone.

She touched her lips. Hunter's taste was
still present. Gwen closed her eyes again.

A knock sounded at the door.

She stepped back and opened it.

"Oh good! No tears." Rosalind stepped into
the room and shut the door firmly behind her. "Tell me you cannot
seriously be willing to go into a marriage with a man who is better
looking than any man has a right to be? Tell me you would like to
cry off. All you need to do is say yes."

Gwen squinted. Hadn't her sister been in
agreement with her husband?

"I see. No words. You must be in shock. Nod
your head if you want to cry off."

Gwen bit her lip.

"Blink, can you at least blink? Oh heavens,
where are the smelling salts! Is it possible to faint with one's
eyes open?"

Gwen blinked several times and shook her
head. "Have you lost your mind?"

"You ask me if I've lost
my
mind?"

Gwen nodded.

"Me?" Rosalind pointed at herself and
laughed. "This from the woman who is days away from marrying the
Duke of Haverstone? The Great Wolf? The same man who left a ball
nearly naked nine years ago? They say he can speak over eleven
different languages and has a mistress in every country! Even
America!"

"Stop." Gwen couldn't hold the laughter back
any longer. She wiped a tear of mirth away from her eye.

"See! You
are
crying!" Rosalind
pointed an accusing finger her way.

"From laughter, yes." Gwen reached out and
grasped her sister's hands within her own. "I know what I am doing.
I truly do not want to bring shame upon my family. He has kissed
me, several times if you must know. I set out to find a husband
this Season and I landed a duke. Why would I cry?"

"Because you do not love him." Leave it to
Rosalind to pounce on the one thing that was bothering Gwen.

She released her sister's hands and
straightened to her full height, which still did not match
Rosalind's. "Sister, you are a romantic at heart. Your husband rode
into your life on a white horse, literally."

Rosalind laughed.

"He pounded on the door and said he was going
to rescue you and marry you. He danced with you in the meadow, he
saved your life."

Rosalind began to pace, while Gwen continued
her speech. "Isabelle was taken by the Beast, and his music spoke
so richly to our sister that she was lost in him. She saved him,
and in return his love for her is the strongest I've ever seen one
human have for another." She took a shuddering breath. "What are
the odds that that type of love would happen thrice in this
family?"

Rosalind flushed and looked down. "It could
happen. He looks at you…"

"Like any man would look at a woman he is
attracted to." Gwen shrugged. "Sister, I know it is difficult for
you. But you need to understand, there isn't always a white horse.
There isn't always a faraway kingdom and a castle. Sometimes there
is no one to save. And sometimes, the princess has to marry the
mask before there will ever be hope to love the man."

"The mask?" Rosalind asked. "Whatever do you
mean?"

"I imagine Hunter as a little boy lost in the
woods. When he first set out on his trip, he had someone to fight
for, something he was running toward, and when that thing shattered
before his eyes, he became lost. He fell into himself and confused
himself, for the monster had destroyed what he loved so dearly. He
is both Hunter and Wolf. Beast and man, and he is lost. Therefore,
even if he loved me or said he loved me, it would not be the type
of love you experience. To ask for his love right now would destroy
what shred of humanity he still possesses, and I love him…" Gwen
closed her eyes and crossed her arms protectively around her chest.
"I love him too much to ask for it."

Rosalind's face broke out into a bright
smile. "You love him?"

"I am not sure. I mean, does love feel like
you want to both kiss and strangle the object of your affection?
Does it create so much unrest within your own body that you feel
you are losing your mind? Is love so strong that I have a perpetual
head and stomachache?"

"I had a headache for three days when I met
Stefan." Rosalind smiled and looked down. "I also had several
fantasies of hitting him across the head with his own pistol."

"I've had that one, as well." Gwen sighed
happily. "I am not sure if my love trumps my desire to cause
physical harm to his person. Most of the time he drives me so crazy
I merely react out of frustration rather than love, but I imagine
Hunter does not understand any other way to communicate than
fighting and innuendo."

"He's a man." Rosalind shrugged as if that
explained everything.

The room fell silent.

Rosalind pulled Gwen into a tight hug.
"Sister, it will not be easy, loving a wolf. The minute you get
close, they tend to snap. Just remember it is out of defense, for a
wolf fears man. Men are always a symbol of death for animals.
Therefore you must tread carefully." Rosalind released her and
sighed.

"Have no fear, dear sister. Wolves also love
the thrill of the chase, the smell of blood and meat. I imagine my
trap will be sufficient for him. And if all else fails, I'll merely
take off my dress and use his own lust against him."

"Brilliant!" Rosalind clapped her hands.
"Now, we only have a few days. Let us get our trousseau together.
We shall stop by Isabelle's. Would you like me to tell her the
news, or would you like to announce to your sister and the Beast
that you are marrying one of their dearest friends?"

"I nominate Hunter."

"Good girl." Rosalind winked.

Red—

I too dream of blood. I dream of killing, of
lies, of violence and greed. But most of all, I dream of her. Of
how I could not reach her in time. Dreams are a cruel thing, for
this certain dream gives me hope that one day I will be on time,
one day I will save her from death. Yet it always ends the same. I
am holding her body in the street, and she is gone.

—
Wolf

After leaving Montmouth's residence, Hunter
made his way toward Wilkins' establishment. If he wasn't already
privy to the information surrounding Redding's accident, then he
needed to be. The last person to see Redding alive was most likely
Hollins.

It took a half hour to reach the
townhome.

The wind whipped Hunter's jacket around him
as he made his way toward the stairs. He knocked twice.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still no answer.

Biting back a curse, Hunter walked back to
his carriage and made his way toward Dominique's residence. Now
would be probably a better time than most to announce to the man
that he was, in fact, marrying his wife's sister.

Perhaps he should send ahead a note to make
sure all weapons were hidden.

Hunter grinned just thinking upon it.

Truly he should be anything but amused at
this point.

Someone had shot at him, his dead brother was
very much alive, a murderer was on the loose, and Redding was
dead.

Yet all his ridiculous brain could think upon
was the taste of Gwen's lips, the way her soft body felt pressed
against his.

He told himself to stop grinning. That it was
ridiculous and quite rude, considering a man had died today.

But it could not be helped. He looked at the
dreary streets of London and for once his mood did not match what
he saw. No, the blasted world could be coming to an end, and he
would still be in his carriage, smiling.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of
Dominique's townhouse. Hunter cleared his throat and tried to think
upon what he needed to do. The minute he pressed his lips together
another grin broke out.

It was useless.

Which was why, when Samuel the infuriating
Russian butler opened the door, Hunter felt the need to finally get
the man's name right rather than irritate him beyond reason.

"My good man." He slapped the butler on the
back. "Is the Beast at home?"

Samuel groaned and rolled his eyes. Perhaps
it was impossible for Hunter to be normal. Perhaps it was because
the man was Russian, which immediately made Hunter want to say
something annoying. After all, he was conditioned to do so with all
Russians. Just ask Dominique.

"In the study." Samuel pointed and wandered
off.

"Thank you," Hunter yelled at the retreating
butler's back. A grunt was his only response.

Hunter sauntered over to the study and
knocked on the door.

No answer.

Was no one at home today?

And then he heard it.

A blunt object was suddenly pushed against
the back of his head and the all-too-familiar click of the hammer
being pulled back gave him pause.

"Explain," Dominique said in Russian.

He only spoke in Russian when he was truly
upset.

"Has something happened?" Hunter asked in
English.

"It is about to," Dominique ground out. "You
have three seconds."

"Listen—"

"One."

Hunter tried to turn around, but Dominique
pushed him against the wall.

"Two."

"Fine!" Hunter held up his hands and cursed.
"What is it you want? And stop pointing that thing at my head!
Devil take it, you are not even giving me a chance to speak!"

"One cannot speak if one is dead." Dominique
cursed in Russian, then pulled the pistol back from Hunter's head.
Though the minute the pressure was relieved, he kicked Hunter in
the leg, causing a shooting pain to run from his calf all the way
up his spine.

"What the devil is wrong with you?" Hunter
flipped around and glared at his friend.

"I should ask you the same." The pistol was
still pointed at Hunter's body. Brilliant. Perhaps he would get
shot twice in one week! One could only hope.

Hunter could not fight back the grin. Truly,
it was the worst time in the history of his lack of self-control to
actually be unable to restrain himself.

"If you took advantage of her, slept with
her, I swear I will shoot you and never look back." Dominique
sneered. Ah, so he was to negotiate with a beast.

Well, he was a wolf, after all.

With a quick movement, he knocked the pistol
out of Dominique's hand. It fell to the floor in a clatter as
Hunter punched Dominique in the stomach. Was it his fault his fist
slipped and nailed his best friend on the chin?

Cursing, Dominique came at him, fists flying.
Within seconds they were on the floor wrestling one another.

"Heavens, what is all that noise?" came
Isabelle's soft voice, and then the woman cursed. "Unhand each
other this instant."

Dominique looked up at his wife. Hunter took
advantage and landed a blow to his friend's jaw. Murderous outrage
reflected in Dominique's face as he thrust his head against
Hunter's, causing his body to slump to the cold hard marble.

"Isabelle? What is all that noise?" Another
figure appeared. Though the voice was feminine, Hunter could not be
sure if it was another person, or if he was suffering merely from
double vision.

"Dominique!" Gwen yelled. "Kindly remove
yourself from my future husband!"

"Not until he's dead." Dominique cursed and
grasped at Hunter's cravat, winding it tightly into his hand. To
breathe was the very devil. To be fair, Hunter hadn't expected this
reaction from Dominique. Now, Montmouth? That was another story
entirely.

"I said release him." Gwen pushed Dominique
off of Hunter and glared. "Truly, what has gotten into the both of
you? Acting like rebellious children! Whatever happened to
talking?"

Hunter pointed at Dominique. "He tried to
shoot me."

"He struck me first!" Dominique argued.

"And my horse is bigger than yours," Isabelle
said dryly. "Now, husband, explain." She glared daggers at
Dominique. Hunter shifted nervously on the floor, suddenly feeling
quite lucky that he wasn't married.

"He ruined her." If Dominique pointed his
finger one more time in Hunter's direction, he was going to snap it
in half.

"Actually…" Gwen winked at Hunter. "It is I
who ruined him… for all other women."

There it was. That blasted grin. Though his
face hurt like the devil, it decided to make an appearance again as
his eyes greedily took in Gwen and her defense of him.

"And it only took two minutes," Hunter added
helpfully.

"At most." Gwen sighed.

"What the devil is going on? And Hunter, I
swear by all that is holy, if you lie to me, I will end you." Well,
at least the bloke was speaking in English now. That had to be a
good sign, didn't it?