The Wolf’s Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(41)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

"Oh, my—" Her legs wrapped around his body as he lifted her against him and deepened the kiss.

"Gwen, I—"

The door flew open.

Montmouth yelled something, most likely a curse or a threat, but Hunter was too focused on Gwen’s mouth.

"Release her or I will shoot you before your wedding day. I believe I have been gracious enough, giving you five minutes."

Hunter set Gwen down and grinned. "Told you it only took five."

Montmouth sputtered. "You seduced her, then?"

"No." Hunter took a step back, needing the distance air would give him. "She seduced me."

Gwen grinned proudly. "It took me two."

"Two?" Montmouth repeated. "Two what?"

"Minutes." Hunter walked by him. "I will see you tomorrow. We have arrangements to make for our… wedding."

Chapter Twenty-three

Wolf—

Let us be honest with one another for once, shall we? I do not dream. If I allowed myself to dream, I fear I would not think on happy things but on war, blood, killing, and sacrifice. If you desire for me to be honest with you, then you must be ready to hear my confession. If you ever see me dreaming, please, have a care and wake me, for nightmares plague me in my sleep, and it seems the only thing able to scare them away is a living nightmare, in the shape of a wolf.

—Red

Gwen had taken complete leave of her senses! What the devil had she been thinking? She hadn’t. Not one logical thought had crossed her brain while she was in Hunter’s arms.

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?"