The Wolf’s Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(13)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

"What do I look like?"

"A whore."

"Better a whore than a has-been."

Rage took over, pumping through his veins. "Did you just call me a has-been?"

"Did you just call me a whore?" she countered.

He loosened his hold on her, but her haughty eyebrow chose that exact moment to lift, as if announcing to the world that she had bested him.

"Let me see." His lips came crushing down on hers. He forced his tongue into her mouth, shamelessly ran his hands down her naked arms. She pushed him back, her face a mixture of hurt and anger. "That is why you cannot wear that dress."

"Why?" Her lower lip quivered.

"Because, my dear, a whore would never respond like you did. It would be a dangerous game to play. And you, love, would not be the victor."

He brushed his lips against her cheek and began walking away.

"Hunter." Her voice was hoarse and angry. "What was so bad about my response?"

He froze in his steps and turned around. "I don’t recall saying it was bad." With a smirk he walked away, clenching his fists as hard as he could so he would not be tempted to run back to her. That would put an immediate stop to his mission.

That dress. Lust screamed at him to do something about that dress. Blast it all! The woman was going to get herself killed! Men were not as feeble as she would like to believe. One look from her, in that dress, and a man would move mountains for one night with her. Unfortunately, because of her reputation, they would merely attempt to steal her away into the dark gardens. The thought made anger anew flush through his system. He wasn’t sure what made him feel so protective of her. He’d never worked with a woman before. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen a woman either! He’d had his share of… excursions. Granted, none of them had her br**sts or lips, or smile, for that matter. But he had always thought it easy — a simple transaction and they parted ways.

With Gwen, he had this insane desire to protect her. Yet what if he was the one who needed protection? If she wasn’t who she said she was, if her loyalty had been bought? It was a dangerous game they were playing.

One thing was for certain, he didn’t need to make the girl desirable. After tonight, she’d have every available gentleman prostrate at her feet. The rub, it seemed, was how he was going to discover if she was a double agent. And if not, what influential person was no longer loyal to the Crown?

****

That went well. He waited in the shadows while the Wolf stomped off in the opposite direction of the girl. Red put her hands on her hips and scowled after him. Yes, his partner was very correct in his assumption. The woman would be quite a tasty morsel for the Wolf. He would feast upon her until he was weak, both physically and emotionally, and in the end, he would sacrifice his soul to keep her alive. Even if it meant treason.

****

Confusing, irritating, ridiculous man! Who kisses like a god. "Gwen!" she yelled at herself and closed her eyes, trying to focus on her mission, focus on her one goal for the night. But all she could think about was his lips against hers. She hated that the minute he kissed her, she was lost. Her knees had gone weak, her breath had mingled so tightly with his that she wasn’t sure if she was even breathing anymore. His touch made her shiver. The very reason she had for working with the man seemed to dissipate. She thought in vain that, if she were merely reminded of his rakish ways and ridiculous smile, her heart and mind would immediately reject him. He would be a poison to her. Never faithful, never kind, always teasing. Besides, there was something about his eyes, some hidden secret, or perhaps it was an agenda. Or maybe he really was just, plainly, a wolf. A predator.

How was she to ever experience happiness if she had to compare Hunter’s kisses with others? Unfortunately, he knew just how desirable he was. Which meant she had to work that much harder to keep him away if she wanted to escape the Season unscathed.

She looked down at her dress and sighed. Blast the man, he was right. Though she would never admit it to him, she’d known it was a bad idea from the start, but her nerves and determination had gotten hold. Her pride no longer existed. It had disappeared the day she arrived back in London, only to find her name scattered about Mrs. Peabody’s society papers.

Things had become progressively worse when she’d gone to a small gathering only to find herself being whispered about and ignored. A few even gave her the cut direct. She was labeled as used goods. Never mind that she had only ever kissed one man. But that one kiss might as well have ruined her, for ever since that day, she hadn’t felt the same.

Cursing Hunter for a good five minutes, using as many languages as she could think of, she finally ran back through the servants’ entrance and up to her rooms.

"The white one," she directed to her maid. "I’ve decided to change into the white gown and I will wear the red hooded shawl as planned."

"As you wish." Her maid gave her an odd look but made quick work of undressing her. The red gown had been daring in color, but the white gown was daring in a completely different way. For starters it was dangerously low, even for a married woman to be wearing. The bodice had pearls sewn into the material and a very tiny slit went up to her knee underneath the first layer, making it possible if one looked very hard to see part of her leg.

It was all part of her plan. Look daring, be daring, and gain secrets. After all, the only way she could imagine gaining an offer and learning information about those disloyal to the Crown was to have gentlemen find interest in her.

Before tonight, she could have had the best personality in the world and they would only offer her companionship.

After tonight, she was planning on unleashing everything she had. Hoping, desperately that it would work.

****

Hunter waited a half hour before going through the front entrance. He pulled a flask out of his pocket, ran a hand roughly through his hair, and loosened his cravat, just slightly.

All in all, he hoped his appearance looked as if he had just finished having the best night of his life and eagerly sought more companionship. Not the type of entrance he had hoped to make upon returning to London. But then again, he hadn’t wanted to return. Ever.

When he was announced the room went silent.

He always did like being the center of attention. At least then he could ignore that irritating pain in his heart that told him he was alone.

"I don’t believe I’ve ever had such a warm welcome. You are, of course, allowed to applaud as you see fit." He winked in Montmouth’s direction. The duke narrowed his eyes. His wife, however, looked quite amused as she began clapping wildly.