The Wolf's Pursuit

by Rachel Van Dyken

  "My lady! Hands off!" Hunter smiled brightly. "I will not seduce you!"

  "Hunter, I swear I will—"

  "What the devil is going on?" Montmouth burst into the room.

  "Ah, Montmouth is it?"

  Idiot. He knew who Montmouth was.

  "Kindly tell me why—" Montmouth looked from Gwen to Hunter. "Why, er, why she was thrusting herself upon you?"

  "Other than the obvious?" Hunter clapped his hands together. "After all, what woman wouldn't be curious about my… talents?"

  Montmouth lunged for Hunter, but Hunter quickly moved away.

  "It would be wise, Haverstone, to be quick with your explanation."

  Hunter slowly walked to the door and stopped in front of Montmouth. "It seems your innocent little flower is not so innocent, for not but three minutes ago she threatened to kiss me. Apparently, the little girl wanted a bit of… rake."

  "Leave," Montmouth said through gritted teeth. "Now."

  "My pleasure, but do be careful about keeping her on a short leash. After all, Redding is on his way to take her on a walk. Wouldn't want her asking him the same favor. You could very well find her ruined."

  Gwen watched in astonishment as Hunter ruined every single plan she had for that afternoon and possibly her life.

  Upon Hunters exit, Montmouth slammed the door behind him and glared at Gwen. "What must I do to keep you safe from ruin? It seems you are even a danger to yourself!"

  Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but Montmouth held up his hand. A large vein in his head began to throb as if it too was angry. So she kept quiet.

  "You will not interrupt me, and you will not leave this house."

  "For how long am I to be kept prisoner?"

  "Until I die!" Montmouth yelled.

  Gwen bit her lip to keep from shouting back.

  Montmouth cursed. "I did not mean that." He cursed again. "Women are a plague."

  "I'll be sure to tell my sister you think so."

  "Brat." Montmouth smirked. "Please, I do not care for gray hair. At least stay in the house until your sister returns, and she can deal with you."

  "You are passing me off?"

  Montmouth strolled back toward the door. "With pleasure. I'll be sure to have the staff watch you."

  Just then the butler approached the door. "Viscount Redding to see you, my lady."

  "I will take care of this." And with that Montmouth left the room.

  Gwen had trouble deciding if she was more upset or impressed with Hunter's acting ability. He better have a good reason for keeping her away from Redding and it better be a matter of life or death. If not, then she was going to shoot him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Red—

  Sometimes I imagine what your face would look like while reading these little love notes from yours truly. Do you blush? Does your body warm at the thought of my hands touching you? I find myself positively aroused thinking upon such things, which is why I think upon them often. Care to take a guess at what I'm thinking about doing to you now?

  —Wolf

  Hunter pounded on the door for the third time. Earlier that morning he had sent a perfect copy of the code to his grandfather for him to decipher. He knew it was of the utmost importance that he give the man time to look it over. Considering their last meeting, he had reasons to believe Lainhart's mind was indeed weak. Hunter had given him three hours to look at the code. It should be long enough.

  He knocked again.

  Where was that blasted butler?

  It was nearing the time when Gwen and Redding would have their romantic walk, and he was planning on spying the entire time. He knew Gwen could take care of herself, but something about Redding did not sit well with him. Perhaps it was the idea that the man would be breathing the same air as Gwen. Not that he was jealous.

  He pulled out his pocket watch and cursed. After one final knock went again unnoticed, he tried the door and pushed his way inside.

  A maid was slowly walking down the stairway. "Apologies, it seems our butler has gone missing!"

  "Clearly," Hunter said dryly. "I need to see Lainhart. We have a meeting of sorts."

  "Of course. Just this way." She turned to go back up the stairs, but he caught her arm.

  "Actually, I know where he is. I am, after all, his grandson."

  The maid paled. "I'm so sorry, your grace, I had no idea! I—"

  "It is of no consequence. I will see myself the rest of the way to his room."

  Nodding, she nearly ran back down the stairs as he quickly walked in the direction of Lainhart's room.

  Without knocking, he burst into the room, his eyes scanning for the maid who usually attended to his grandfather. She was sitting by his side, and she was writing.

  Lainhart looked up and pointed down. Not good.

  "Has he had enough time to decipher it?" Hunter outwardly remained calm, even though his heart was pounding in his ears.

  Lainhart pointed up while the maid nodded. "Yes, it seems part of the code was destroyed, but there is enough to see the location and time. There is also a smaller code near the corner of the paper that says something disturbing."

  "And?"

  Lainhart shook his head slowly and pointed down as he opened his mouth. "A-again."

  The maid sighed. "He's been saying that all day. Again, again. I have no clue what he means, and he often falls asleep after he tries to speak. The exertion is hard on his frail body. I do not know how this will help but I wrote down what he was able to decipher."

  She held out a note.

  Hunter greedily took it. "My thanks. I have an appointment. I must be going."

  "S-stop!" Lainhart wailed.

  Hunter watched as his grandfather's mouth shook, his lips trying to form words that his body was no longer able to pronounce. "D-danger."

  Sweat ran down Lainhart's cheek as he repeated the same word again and closed his eyes.

  "I know, grandfather. I know." His eyes flickered to Lainhart's hand. It twitched and then he pointed up and crossed his heart.

  "What does that mean?" Hunter asked the maid.

  She swiped a tear from underneath her eye and sighed. "A broken heart."

  Anger and guilt slammed Hunter in the chest. Unable to breathe, he nodded and ran out of the room as fast as he could. He ran until he reached the front door and ran until he was in front of his carriage. All the while pushing the memory of what he'd just seen to the farthest point in his mind.

  His fault.

  He had broken the old man's heart.

  And Lainhart had nothing to show for it. Nothing but a grandson by marriage who did exactly what Eastbrook had accused him of.

  Abandoned his family, abandoned what was left of it, took up with the first whore he saw, and never returned to London.

  Until now.

  He truly was a poison. Would he ever get life right? Or would he for the rest of his existence be in purgatory, hoping that when he did die, what he did on earth was enough to atone for the sin of being late? Of not being the husband he should have been?

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, then suddenly remembered he had the note still clenched tightly within his palm.

  Hunter unfolded the paper and read the location.

  Hyde Park. Three in the afternoon. Bring Lady Gwendolyn, and then near the side of the note, just as the maid had said, was the word death.

  "No, no..." His hands shook as he jumped into the carriage. "Hyde Park! As fast as you can!"

  The carriage jolted to life, but all Hunter could think as he waited an eternity to arrive, was that he could not go on living if he was to be late a second time.

  He would rather die.

  Within minutes, he was at Hyde Park. He jumped, or rather flailed, out of the carriage and began running — not sure which direction to run into and not caring that he looked a complete lunatic. The note hadn't said which area of the park, and considering it was quite large, he would have a devil of a time locating them.

&n
bsp; His eyes greedily scanned the park. Most people were too caught up in their own lives to notice that he was having a near apoplexy as he tried to locate Redding or the crest on his carriage.

  Just when he was about to give up hope, he saw him.

  Across the park, near the Corner, and laughing as he got into his carriage.

  Hunter ran across the grass, his legs burning as his muscles flexed and stretched.

  An eerie sense of foreboding caused him to stop in his tracks as he watched the carriage drive away, and then explode. Pieces of debris went flying into the air as the horses neighed and galloped from the scene, both of them covered in dust. Blood was everywhere.

  Hunter froze. Everyone around him screamed, women began running in every direction, men cursed and quickly herded people away from the disaster.

  But Hunter was immobile.

  Late. Again. His heart clenched. Funny, for he hadn't realized his still worked after breaking in two, but there it was, slamming into his chest and causing him more pain than he thought possible.

  Hadn't he already lived through enough guilt?

  Gwen was dead. And it was his fault. Because for the second time in his life, he was late and unable to stop catastrophe.

  He choked back a sob and walked solemnly toward Montmouth's residence.

  It was the same walk he had taken not nine years previous, when he'd had to announce to Lainhart that his granddaughter, his favorite little girl, had died.

  Hollow. That's how he felt. As if his insides no longer existed. The only reason he knew he was still living was because he was in his own living Hell. And if he were dead, he would be reunited with Gwen, with Lucy. Instead, he was on his way to announce the death of one of the most brilliant women he'd ever known.

  The carriage ride was too short.

  The air too calm and peaceful.

  Laughter echoed from inside, and Hunter argued with God for a minute. Why hadn't He taken him in her place? Why snuff out the life of someone so young, so beautiful? Why allow him to live through such horror twice? Perhaps this was his punishment; maybe he truly was in Hell and his reality was to live through the pain of loss for the rest of his existence.

  Legs like lead, he walked slowly to the door and prayed Montmouth would just shoot him and put him out of his misery. It took more than five minutes for Hunter to keep his hands from shaking, and another two minutes to wipe the tears that had suddenly filled his eyes and spilled over.

  He knocked softly on the door. Laughter from inside again mocked him, mocked what he was doing at this residence.

  The door swung open.

  With twinkling eyes, the butler nodded to him.

  "Haverstone to see Montmouth. I have… news. It is urgent." He nearly choked on the last word. He had to control his emotions before they got the best of him. His lower lip trembled. He bit down to keep it from moving.

  "But of course!" The butler nodded. "Though weren't you just here not but an hour ago?"

  "No." Hunter walked into the house and sighed. "No, I was not."

  "Are you sure?" The butler questioned him.

  Irritated, Hunter snapped, "I'm sure! Now I need to see Montmouth!"

  "Quite demanding for someone who just imprisoned me in my own home," came that sweet voice.

  Hunter's head snapped up.

  Gwen stood there, arms crossed and eyes blazing, as if she wanted to murder him where he stood. Which truly wasn't all that new.

  "G-Gwen?" he sputtered. "Is it truly you?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Must you always get yourself foxed before we have conversations?"

  "Gwen?" he repeated again, this time walking toward her with his arms open. A tear escaped his cheek before he could stop it. Exhaustion or perhaps madness set in, and he collapsed to the floor.

  "Hunter!" Gwen raced to his side. "Rosalind!"

  Hunter's blurry eyes took in Rosalind's form as she ran to his side and knelt to the ground, and then Montmouth rounded the corner and laughed.

  He laughed.

  "Did she clock you, then?" he asked.

  Gwen scoffed. "I did nothing of the sort! He simply collapsed into a puddle at my feet!"

  "Is he foxed?" Montmouth asked, as if Hunter wasn't having a real-life hallucination.

  "He said not," Gwen answered, and then touched Hunter's forehead.

  He reeled back and with a curse scrambled to his feet. "This is not real. I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming."

  Gwen laughed. "I believe we've been over this before, Hunter. I would never visit you in your dreams."

  "But, but, the carriage… and Redding? Why are you not with Redding?"

  The room fell silent.

  Montmouth cleared his throat. "Did you hit your head during the fall?"

  "No." Hunter couldn't take his eyes off Gwen. Was this real? Was she real? Or had he suffered through so much pain and agony that his mind was making up nonsensical things?

  "Strange." Montmouth scratched his head. "Your hair. It is… well, it is quite long."

  "What?" Hunter snapped out of his fog and glared at Montmouth. "What the devil does that have to do with anything?" He pointed at Gwen. "Why is she alive?"

  Montmouth laughed. "Really, Haverstone, I'm not so much of an ogre that I would shoot my own sister-in-law for trying to seduce you."

  Dreaming. He truly was dreaming. Gwen would rather seduce a cactus than him. He laughed bitterly at the joke and shook his head. "Right, and I'm Saint Peter."

  Gwen poked him in the chest. "No, you're the devil himself! How dare you tell my brother-in-law that I tried to seduce you! And then keep me imprisoned in my own house! And then…" Gwen reeled back. "Why are you wearing different clothes, and why the devil is your hair longer?"

  "That's what I said," Montmouth grumbled, and scratched his head. "Will someone please tell me what the blazes is going on?"

  Gwen examined Hunter.

  Hunter, possibly a little too excited to see her alive and breathing, did the first thing he could think of. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  In front of Montmouth, God, and everyone.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Wolf—

  So you desire to know what I'm doing when I read these notes? I should think that the burning hole in the middle of this correspondence should suffice. To be quite honest, I read the note, offer my reply, then pull out my pistol and shoot it. But for some reason, the agitation and irritation do not leave me. You're like a plague; therefore, I burn every note. And while I watch the flames, do you know what I do? I smile.

  —Red

  Hunter's lips were firm against hers. Heat enveloped her body as he tugged her forcefully against him. Hands dipped into her hair causing a nervous fluttering in her belly.

  His tongue slipped into her mouth.

  His kiss, unlike previous kisses, was so tender, she fought the urge to gasp from the shock of it all.

  With her heart beating erratically, she wrapped herself around his body, allowing her breasts to press against his firm chest.

  "What the devil!" Montmouth shouted, pulling them apart, but Hunter just reached for her over Montmouth's hands, as if losing her touch was such a painful idea that he could no more release her than stop breathing.

  "Do you mind!" Montmouth shouted again, this time punching Hunter in the stomach. Hunter doubled over, but as he fell, his hand reached out yet again toward Gwen.

  She took it and held on. Much to the shock of the entire family, who stood with mouths gaping open, as if she had taken complete leave of her senses.

  "Cease from touching one another!" Montmouth grumbled. "Now tell me what the blazes is going on before I lose my mind!"

  "I cannot." Hunter straightened to his full height. "Up until a few minutes ago, I thought I was dreaming."

  "Yes, well, up until a few minutes ago, I was considering allowing you to live." Montmouth narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Now, explain why you would accuse Gwen of seducing you, leave, then return
and pretend to have not been here. Everyone saw you. Saints alive! I spoke to you! Now, unless you have an identical twin waltzing around, you'd better explain. Now."

  Gwen watched the color drain completely from Hunter's face. "Impossible." He paced in front of her, running his hands through his hair. "It cannot be. He is dead, or presumed dead! He disappeared the day she died, the day…" Hunter began to shake. "I think I need a drink."

  "Would that make you feel better, then?" Montmouth asked.

  "Immensely."

  "Rosalind, hide the whiskey. Oh, and do send a note to Dominique. It seems we are to have a duel."

  "A duel?" Gwen gasped. "Whatever for?"

  "He kissed you." Montmouth shrugged.

  "So you plan to shoot him?"

  "My dear, I see no other option."

  "Than death?"

  Montmouth shrugged. The man shrugged! As if killing Hunter was the same as stepping on an ant!

  "You cannot simply shoot him because he kissed me! Besides it wasn't even the first time!"

  Rosalind gasped. Montmouth's face turned an interesting shade of purple, and though Hunter still appeared pale, a smug grin appeared on his face. Rogue.

  "I'll kill him where he stands," Montmouth announced, eyes narrowing as he purposefully stepped toward Hunter.

  Hunter, deciding against bravery, scooted over and stood behind Gwen. "I believe if you hear all of the facts, then you will be less likely to shoot me. Besides, I've already been shot once this week."

  Gwen nodded. "True, he has been shot, but that was after I broke his nose."

  "Not helping," Hunter murmured behind her.

  "Five minutes." Montmouth held up his hand. "You have five minutes to explain before I lose my mind and shoot Hunter on irritation alone."

  Gwen could feel the heat of Hunter as he stood behind her. His breath tickled her neck. She wanted nothing more than to lean against him and close her eyes. What was happening to her? She was supposed to be his partner. She refused to become attached to the type of man who would rather stare at himself in the mirror and smile than give any part of himself to a woman.