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

Gwen giggled. "Sorry, my husband here hasn’t slept a wink since we’ve been married. Just yesterday, if you get my meaning. Would you mind terribly getting us some ale and fresh bread? We’ll be taking a rest here at the inn tonight."

The woman flashed one last grin at Hunter before leaving.

He shuddered. "I assure you I’ve never in my life been without words until now."

Gwen removed her hand from his death grip and sighed. "Well, at least I know you’re not a spy. With manners like that, you’d surely get yourself killed. You cannot simply gawk at a woman like that. It isn’t done, and now you’ve shown weakness. Don’t trust me to save you. I sure hope you can hold your own with the Beast tomorrow."

If she only knew. "I’ll manage, though things may go better if I simply stand behind you."

"Coward."

"Absolutely not, it just provides a better view."

"I’m sorry, rake seems to be the word."

"Thank you," Hunter said warmly, and added, "wife" with a saucy grin.

"I did that only to help you, not because I want any sort of attachment. You should know that if I hadn’t done so, that tavern wench would be at this very moment smothering you with—"

"—please, I hope to keep my appetite."

Gwen smiled sweetly and winked.

Blast, where had this woman fallen from? Heaven? Every mannerism bespoke a cunning intelligence he’d never before seen in polite society. Not that he would truly know, since he’d been everywhere but London since… the incident.

He cleared his throat and looked away as a knot lodged itself uncomfortably in his chest.

The doors to the establishment opened up. Two impeccably dressed men walked in, making their way directly for the Englishmen.

Gwen squinted in their direction, then looked back to Hunter. "Strange."

"What?" He tried to play innocent of the whole situation, though it was indeed odd.

"Oh, it’s probably nothing."

"Enlighten me, I’ve been alone without whiskey or horse for a day now. I do so love to be entertained."

Gwen exhaled and leaned in. "See those two men who just walked in?"

"Yes." Of course he had. He was a spy, after all.

"Just yesterday I was on the same ship as them."

Hunter leaned even further forward. "And this is significant because?"

"Well, it could be nothing." Gwen craned her head to look at the men and then looked back at Hunter. "But they were speaking French."

"And returning from?"

"London. I heard them saying they had business with the Earl of Trehmont."

Hunter cursed without realizing he was giving himself away. Everyone knew Trehmont was without funds. He’d worked for the War Office nearly as long as Hunter. What would the French want with Trehmont?

He cleared his throat and strained to listen to their conversation.

The men ordered ale and toasted.

Nothing all that strange, except…

They toasted to winning the war. And the Englishmen grinned in agreement. Money was then exchanged. Enraged, Hunter gripped the side of the table and tried to steady his breathing. What the devil was going on?

"Codes," one man said as he slid a scrap of paper across the table to one of the Frenchmen. "I think you will be pleased with what you see."

The man grinned and lifted up the paper. "And our man is in position?"

"He is." The Englishman nodded. "Though his price just doubled."

The Frenchman sneered. "On what grounds?"

The Englishman leaned forward. "The codes are unbreakable. Surely you realize how fortune shines upon you at this very moment?"

"Fine." The Frenchman took a long swig of ale and then chuckled. "It has been a pleasure doing business with your… employer."

Every muscle in Hunter’s body tightened. "Listen." He grabbed Gwen’s hand. "This is very important. Do you understand?"

She pulled back, but nodded.

"I need you to spend the night with me."

"Pardon?" Her voice carried a bit too loudly for his tastes. The tavern wench apparently overheard, because she seemed extremely disappointed as she put down the bread and ale.

"I need you to truly pretend to be my wife, and we need to stay the night. I need to search their room." It wasn’t the most brilliant plan he had come up with, but a man staying on his own was a man watched. If they looked married, then the men wouldn’t pay attention to him.

"Because?" Gwen giggled. "What, are you a spy or something? Truly, does the War Office take everyone these days?" Uncontrollable mirth washed over her as she placed her hands on the table and threw her head back and laughed even harder.

He would have been amused.

If the exact line of her throat and sound of her laugh hadn’t reminded him of Lucy.

Suddenly angry, he stood up and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her toward the innkeeper. "We need a room for the night." His grip tightened on her arm, but she said nothing.

The innkeeper nodded.

"And please, bring us a light supper along with some more ale to our room. We are on our honeymoon, after all."

He slipped the innkeeper enough money for Gwen to begin to choke.

"My wife." Hunter nodded to Gwen.

The innkeeper shook his head in understanding. "Of course, and your name?"

"Maksylov," Hunter lied, though he knew it was rare for Dominique the Beast to go into the village. The innkeeper wouldn’t be able to tell the two of them apart and Dominique practically owned the place, so truly it would matter not. Besides, he’d just given the man enough blunt to stay in business for the remaining year.

The innkeeper grabbed a key and led them up the stairs.

Gwen was quiet.

Until the door shut.

Then all havoc broke loose.

With a cry she stomped on his foot and reached for the door, but he slammed it in place and locked it.

"Who are you?" She pushed him against the door, which truthfully felt quite good, considering he’d been without any sort of female companionship for what felt like years. Perhaps it had only been a few weeks, days even, but she felt good, so soft and delicate.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, then grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss. Only meaning for it to be quick, he was quite surprised when she opened her mouth in response, after little coaxing. Her mouth was hot and tasted of ale, her tongue like velvet as it massaged his.

Who needed whiskey when he had Gwen? With a moan, he loosened his hold on her and reached for her face, needing to drink in more of her.