The Wolf’s Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(27)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

And Gwen was alone with a drunk. The footmen had all but retired, and it was commonly known that Dominique only hired Russians, who were such independent sorts, it was a miracle they were around to help at all!

She grabbed her wine glass and walked over to Hunter, who had managed to fall asleep in a terribly uncomfortable position on the floor. His mouth was slightly ajar, leaving the perfect target for her attack.

First rule of spying. Never leave yourself exposed to the enemy. First rule of being the Wolf? Don’t insult your partner repeatedly and expect her not to retaliate.

With a smirk, she poured a bit of wine down his front, only a section of it dribbling into his mouth. Red streaked down his chin. Curse the man, why the devil was he allowed to be so handsome when he was foxed?

He murmured something inaudible. She poured more wine.

His hand flew up and grabbed her arm. Quite fast for being so drunk.

"Having fun, my dear?" he purred into her ear, for he had pulled her down to the floor and nearly on his lap. His breath smelled nothing like whiskey. It was sweet, with a hint of wine and horse.

"Until you woke up, yes," she managed to grind out, even though his hand was burning through the skin on her neck.

"Wasn’t sleeping," Hunter announced, nipping at her ear. "Saints alive, what do you wash your skin with? It smells…" He inhaled again, his fingers lightly brushing the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

"Whatever it is…" She tried to jerk away. "At least I know that it attracts wolves."

"That it does." He chuckled, still not removing his hand. His fingers drummed against her pulse, and she felt the rhythm of his touch all the way down to her toes as it hummed through her blood. "I like touching you."

"You’re drunk."

His other hand moved to her waist, where he began sliding it across her stomach and down her hip toward her thigh. She hadn’t the strength to move, his touch was such temptation, and she didn’t know how to fight it.

His nose touched her neck as his lips moved across her bare skin. "Not that drunk."

"Yes, you are."

"I’ve had two glasses of whiskey. Believe me, I’m not drunk, but sometimes…" His lips moved to her jaw. "A person has to be what he is not, in order to gain information that he needs, yes?"

"Yes." She moaned. What was she saying yes to?

"And sometimes—" His teeth grazed her jaw. "A man has to do things he’d rather not do, for the sake of his country, yes?"

What did he say? Something about living in the country? Men in the country? His fingers moved from her neck and slid down to the front of her dress. "Yes?"

"Oftentimes…" Why was he still talking? "It is imperative to be reminded that you are not yourself when you are owned by the Crown. And even when you want something so badly you can taste it…" His tongue traced her lower lip. "You must say no."

"Yes."

"Say no." Hunter moaned against her lips.

"Why?"

"Because I’m drunk and about to take advantage of you."

"You said you weren’t drunk."

"I feel drunk right now." He kissed her hard across the mouth and all she could think was, Me too, me too.

Chapter Fourteen

Red—

Forgive me if I am wrong, but did you just first encourage me to bite and then act on instinct, and finally refer to you? My dear! A worthy opponent you are, but do you truly think it safe for your virtue to make advances toward an animal such as me? You’ve done nothing but encourage the beast within, and I guarantee you that soon, you will see why they call me the Wolf of Haverstone. By the by, did you get my drawing? I worked hard on that. Sheep are not the easiest of God’s creatures to draw. Tell me, my dear, do you like being compared to a farm animal? Or would you rather be compared to a tiger? Spend the night in my bed and let me decide. Woof.

—Wolf

Blasted conscience. Why was he suddenly developing one, now of all times? When he had the most beautiful woman in his arms moaning and rubbing against him?

He sighed. "I have something for you." That came out wrong. He tried again. "A surprise."

Gwen stiffened in his arms.

He should have let his horse finish him off, for he truly had fallen off of it. Not that it was his own fault. Someone had shot at him.

But that was beside the point.

"Shall I start over?"

"That would be best," Gwen said.

"First, help me off the floor."

Gwen pushed herself away from him and onto her feet. "Why are you on the floor to begin with, if you are not even that drunk?"

"Attention." He chuckled. "Not but a few months ago, Dominique was shot in the arm. Nearly died. I wanted to see what it was like to be nursed to health by a fallen angel."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Who says I’m fallen?"

"All you need to do is ask, and I’ll do the pushing."

"Must everything be a joke to you?"

Hunter sighed. "If I cannot joke, then I must settle with reality, which frankly makes me wish my horse would have finished me off."

Gwen said nothing as he shrugged and staggered to his feet. He probably should not have said that aloud and was momentarily thankful that she chose not to comment. He stumbled a bit and swore.

Gwen cursed and put an arm around him, then gasped. "Hunter, you’ve been shot."

"Oh, now I remember!" He snapped his fingers. "Yes, that was what I was going to tell you." He looked up into her crystal blue eyes and grinned. Most likely from the alcohol, not the simple fact that she had her arms around him, and he’d just finished kissing her. "I’ve been shot."

"Yes. I can see that."

"But I didn’t feel a thing. Remarkable!"

"Thus the drinking?"

Hunter suddenly felt faint. "Well, yes, I didn’t feel a thing immediately, that is, until I tried to get back on my horse and that’s when I began to wail like an adolescent girl."

"Never been shot before, hmm?" Gwen asked.

"No." Hunter took a steadying breath. Sweat poured down his face. "Never been kicked by a horse before, either. An entirely uninteresting experience I have no desire to repeat."

Gwen stopped walking. Why had she stopped? Did she not see that he was clearly bleeding all over the place?

"Your horse kicked you as well?"

"Yes." He gritted his teeth. "But to be fair, he’s never been shot at, either. Easy mistake."

Gwen said something about the stupidity of beasts and wolves, or perhaps she said wolves were just as stupid as beasts. Whatever she said, he had trouble hearing, since he was going in and out of consciousness. It did not help that his vision was suddenly going very, very dark.