The Wolf’s Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(45)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

He pulled out the codes again. Something wasn’t right about the way the symbols were drawn. They reminded him of the last note Redding had had in his possession. There had been two codes on that note. Redding would have only understood one.

Hollins had led Redding to his death. Hunter was sure of that now. But what did Wilkins have to do with everything? What wasn’t he telling Hunter? He could not be trusted, and now that he was closing the investigation, things seemed more suspicious. Redding could not have possibly been the mole, or could he? Perhaps Wilkins had suspected Redding and Hollins had carried everything out, and then when they had discovered he was bad, they eliminated him. So why go to so much trouble to hire Hunter and Gwen to discover the traitor?

His head hurt. To make matters worse, he was to be married in three days. He only hoped he would make it to the wedding without getting shot or worse, killed.

Chapter Twenty-six

Red—

I think that is the kindest thing you have ever said to me. Care to repeat it? Perhaps you like me more than you did a few weeks ago? Admit it. You care. I’m waiting for the words you’re dying to say. The phrase is something like this, "I am in love with a wolf."

—Wolf

Gwen stared at her reflection in the mirror and practiced her smile. She had to appear happy instead of afraid. For heaven’s sake, she was a spy! Acting should come naturally, but the minute the last button was fastened on her dress, she began to panic. Her hands shook and everything became fuzzy in front of her.

What was she doing? Willingly walking down the aisle toward the man who had the power to destroy her or save her with one breath? Her eyes gave her away, and Hunter would know it the minute he saw her. He would see her hesitation.

She blinked several times, and tried to think of the benefits of marrying someone who was more beautiful than any man she had ever come across before in her existence.

He kissed well. She laughed to herself. Well did not even begin to describe what that man could do with his mouth.

His eyes were hypnotizing.

His hands, well… she shivered and bit her lip.

His laugh, his easygoing manner, and finally the pain he tried to hide behind every second of every day.

Marriage to Hunter would be the scariest and possibly one of the stupidest decisions she had made yet. At the end of the day, there was no one else’s arms she would rather be in.

"Ready?" Rosalind burst into the room, Isabelle following close behind.

They’d insisted on more than just a private ceremony, but still only invited around fifty close friends.

"As I’ll ever be." Gwen turned to them and smiled, hoping that she looked convincing and not like she was about to burst into tears at any second.

"You look beautiful." Isabelle grasped her hands and sighed. "I am so glad you decided to wear a bit of red. It looks like you."

Gwen laughed. "It will shock him, that much is certain." She glanced at her reflection again. The dress was ivory, with silver embellishments around the capped sleeves trailing all the way down her back. The silver-encrusted design also twirled about her sleeves and ended right below her br**sts, creating a beautiful design of flowers. It was beautiful, gorgeous actually, but it had needed something. So she’d put a red ribbon in her hair.

The ribbon would match her red cape as well as her red roses. Hunter would probably have a heart attack when he saw her, thinking she was getting married in red, but she felt more like herself, more comfortable this way.

In a way, it was a sign for him. She needed him to see that he was not only marrying the woman the ton saw as Lady Gwendolyn, but also the spy Red. She was both people, just as he was both Hunter and Wolf.

"Beautiful." Rosalind sighed behind her. "Now, you’ve kept him waiting long enough. In an hour, you will be a married woman!"

Gwen swallowed the emotion in her throat and followed her sisters out the door and down the stairs.

The wedding was being held at a small chapel on the back of Dominique and Isabelle’s estate in town. With a deep breath, she walked toward her future.

****

"What the devil is taking her so long?" Hunter paced in front of Montmouth and Dominique.

"If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the great Wolf was a bit nervous." Dominique chuckled and elbowed Montmouth, who still looked like he was just waiting for the opportune moment to shoot Hunter in the face.

"Oh, do stop glaring," Hunter mumbled to Montmouth.

"I am not glaring, I am merely…" He cursed and joined Hunter in his pacing. "She is my responsibility. I just need to know I am doing the right thing."

"Too late to go back now." Dominique looked at Montmouth and then Hunter. "By the by, when did I turn into the optimistic one of the group?"

This received a much needed chuckle from both Montmouth and Hunter.

Rosalind poked her head into the room adjacent to the main chapel and announced, "It is time!"

Hunter suddenly felt ill.

"Not the best time to lose your nerve." Dominique grinned. "Now, go, it seems you have a bride waiting to marry you."

Montmouth and Dominique led the way out of the room. Hunter followed and then took his place at the head of the aisle, next to the vicar.

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.