The Wolf’s Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(34)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Wilkins himself answered. "Hunter, my boy, how is the investigation? Did you need something?"

Wilkins’ demeanor was so vastly different than before that at first Hunter thought he was foxed. "Er, yes, I was going to continue my investigation and the trail has lead me to Hollins. Have you seen him recently?"

With a laugh, Wilkins shook his head. "No. It is very rare for me to see Hollins when there are no codes scheduled for transfer."

"That is what I thought. Well, thank you."

Hunter walked back to his carriage more confused than he’d been in a while. Wilkins was clearly lying, Hollins was delivering notes on the wrong day, and he still had to go to a blasted masquerade that evening!

****

Hunter waited in the shadows. True to his word, he’d dressed as a wolf. Donning all black was not stretching his current style too much, but wearing a cape truly did have its advantages. It was covered in fur and made him feel like an oversized rug. He also had a sneaking suspicion that, if he stood near the wall that was currently painted a ghastly brown color, he blended in quite well.

His eyes greedily searched for Gwen.

Hah! Gwen. The same woman who caused him so much emotional turmoil, he had nearly run his horse into a tree during his afternoon ride. After their discussion in the carriage, he wanted nothing more than to take the first ship out of port and find himself in a foreign country.

She could not get too close.

He would not allow it.

Everything he touched seemed to wither away and die. And everyone he ever loved left him.

Trusting a woman was akin to inviting death into his life again, and though he hadn’t a care for his own soul, he would not stand by and be responsible for Gwen losing hers.

He circled the ballroom twice, had his cape caught underneath at least four different slippers, all belonging to females who looked as if they wanted to devour him, and drank two glasses of wine.

All before he found her.

Had he been holding anything, he would have dropped it.

Trouble. Her entire costume bespoke trouble. If that costume was true to a shepherdess, well, he would eat his cape. Fur and all.

Gwen’s fluid movements caught him off guard. He tried to clear his throat, but found it was too dry, due in part to the fact that his mouth was gaping open.

Well, at least he was breathing.

Though he did have an inkling that his heart had in fact stopped around ten seconds ago.

"Gwen," he croaked.

Her hair was piled high above her head, giving him a delightful view of her neck and high cheekbones. Her costume, while all white, had him forgetting his name.

The dress was by all standards proper, except for the fact that her sleeves fell effortlessly below her shoulders. Exposing so much skin his eyes hurt.

To stare at her was certain blindness. For everywhere he looked, he saw pure white skin, skin that had never been touched by any man, skin that invited him in by its very essence.

He reached out to touch her creamy white shoulder, but was immediately hit with a cane.

"Ah, the shepherd’s crook. I forgot." He rubbed his shoulder where Gwen had tapped him.

They both wore masks, but hers did nothing to hide the beauty of her eyes, crystal blue eyes looking directly through him. Perhaps he should avoid staring at them lest he become entranced in their spell.

She hooked her arm into his. "Now, where shall we do this?"

Hunter tripped and cursed. "Sorry, the cape has a mind of its own." He looked away and rolled his eyes, quite certain that he had, in fact, just blamed his inability to walk in a straight line on an inanimate object.

Hunter touched his own mask to make sure it was still secure. "Now, what exactly did you have a mind to do?" He pulled at his cravat as it choked him even more, and waited.

"Our little talk, of course. I wish to know what you know. No more secrets."

"Dance with me," he said, quickly pulling her into his arms.

Soon they were matched up for a quadrille. "Really, your grace, must you be so dense?"

The man to Hunter’s left coughed.

When he and Gwen touched hands again he whispered, "Have a care, we are in public."

"Thank you for reminding me."

Hunter nodded emphatically, and took a step back only to join her once more.

"Had you not reminded me," Gwen continued, "I would have accosted you where you stand for being such an idiot."

"Tell me," Hunter murmured as they turned. "Would that have been before or after you kissed me?"

Gwen gasped and stepped back.

Amused, Hunter winked and continued the dance.

When their hands met again, however, Gwen made a point to step on his toes harder than one ought, earning an earsplitting curse from him.

Ladies gasped.

Gentlemen chuckled, but the dance continued.

The minute it ended, Hunter grabbed Gwen’s elbow and led her down the hall and up the back stairway.

Without speaking, he went to the first door and ushered her in, nearly pushing her to the ground in the process. "Is this a game to you?"

"Of course not!" Gwen leaned against her crook. Fire blazed behind those icy blue eyes. "I am your partner! If you keep things from me, how am I supposed to help?"

"I should ask you the same thing." Hunter said, his voice cool and detached.

"You. Are. Impossible. I do not even see why you are so special. What makes you the great Wolf of Haverstone? You haven’t done a thing! While I’ve been thrust upon society like a tart!"

"Sweetheart, please do not compare yourself to such delicacies. At least tarts do not have fangs."

"Wolves have fangs."

"Believe me, I know." Hunter tilted his head to the side. "What is it you desire?"

"I want you to be real."

"And yet I stand before you, flesh and blood. I admit, you have me confused." Even as he said the words, he felt himself pale, felt the blood drain from his face. She asked too much of him. Women always did.

"For once." Gwen swallowed and walked toward him cautiously. "Leave the Wolf behind, take off the mask. Allow me to see you."

He cursed. "Why?"

"Because you are asking me to blindly trust a lie."

"And if the lie is better than the truth? What will you do?"

"Then I will have no choice but to trust the man."

"And the beast within?"

Gwen sighed. "Him as well."

It was one of those moments Hunter wished he could run away from. He could count on his one hand how many he had had in his lifetime. And they all had to do with his job as a spy and his role as a failed husband. They were moments that when one was held at gunpoint, one’s treacherous mind replayed. Telling you, if only, and what you should have said, what you should have done.