like
he'd had a fight with the devil and lost. Perhaps women weren't
attracted to men they could successfully punch.
"Gwen, are you taking callers this
afternoon?" Dominique asked, clearing his throat in the awkward
silence.
Gwen stole a glance at Hunter then looked
down at her lap. "Why yes, I believe I will be receiving callers at
Montmouth's residence. I do hope some men show up. After all, I
desire a husband above all else." She blushed convincingly and
ducked her head like an innocent virgin, which of course made
Hunter think of all the ways his body was willing to rid her of
said virginity.
Hunter flexed his hand, causing the fork to
clatter to the floor. He mumbled his apologies and quickly picked
up the discarded silver.
Dominique smiled genuinely at Gwen. "I'm sure
you will be the toast of the ton."
"Yes, I'm sure," Hunter said dryly.
"What has gotten into you?" Dominique
snapped.
"Forgive him," Gwen intervened. "After all,
Hunter had a rough night. Not many men escape my presence
unscathed."
There was too much truth to that
statement.
"And we cannot all be as clever as wolves
when it comes to escape, now, can we, Hunter?"
Isabelle looked at Gwen curiously. Dominique
did the same. Hunter wanted to laugh. The girl had no idea that
both of his dear friends knew of his current involvement with the
War Office, as well as his plans this Season. She was doing nothing
more than causing them to be suspicious of her.
So he added more. "But of course, if a woman
in a red cloak was to lead me down the path, I would have no choice
but to follow her out, in hopes that she wouldn't lead me
astray."
"Red is the color of treason."
"No, my dear." Hunter grinned. "It is the
color of lust."
Her eyes narrowed.
Dominique lifted his eyes heavenward.
But Hunter kept his eyes trained on Gwen. A
challenge had just been given. He was not about to run away from a
tiny woman. No matter how much of a punch she possessed. No, he was
going to hunt her, he was going to chase her, and make her wish she
had never awakened the Wolf in the first place.
With a cheerful smile, he lifted the coffee
to his lips and chuckled. He had plans to make.
Chapter Eleven
Wolf—
Imaginations are a funny thing. For this
moment, I am imagining you being shot with my favorite pistol. Do
tell, how many duels have you had to fight because of your lack of
self-control? After all, wolves are rarely known for their
restraint, and I believe I've experienced that firsthand.
— Red
Gwen donned her afternoon gown and sat
demurely on the sofa. Isabelle had begged to join her during her
first day receiving callers. The three sisters sat in relative
silence as they waited for the first gentleman to arrive. According
to Rosalind, flowers had been delivered all morning. They now
littered the blue salon, making her eyes water.
Weren't flowers supposed to make a woman
swoon? Or perhaps smile? It did nothing except fill her with
disgust. None of these men knew her, knew who she really was, or
the things she had put herself through for the wellbeing of her
family.
She sighed and took a sip of hot tea.
Goode, their butler, walked in and cleared
his throat. "My lady, you have callers. The Earl of Trehmont and
Viscount Redding."
Lovely.
"Gentlemen." Rosalind rose and greeted both
men. In Gwen's eyes, Rosalind was by far the most graceful woman
she had ever encountered. She was also strong, unyielding. Isabelle
was similar. With golden brown hair and bright blue eyes, she was
every man's fantasy. Whereas Gwen, well, Gwen was nothing. At least
she felt like nothing when she sat next to her sisters.
The only time she had ever felt beautiful had
been when Hunter kissed her upon their first meeting. And look
where that had led her, down a dark path of lust-filled gazes and
promises of seduction.
Redding was the first to speak up. "I do hope
you've received my flowers, my lady. And may I say how lovely you
look this afternoon?"
You may not . Gwen felt her
he'd had a fight with the devil and lost. Perhaps women weren't
attracted to men they could successfully punch.
"Gwen, are you taking callers this
afternoon?" Dominique asked, clearing his throat in the awkward
silence.
Gwen stole a glance at Hunter then looked
down at her lap. "Why yes, I believe I will be receiving callers at
Montmouth's residence. I do hope some men show up. After all, I
desire a husband above all else." She blushed convincingly and
ducked her head like an innocent virgin, which of course made
Hunter think of all the ways his body was willing to rid her of
said virginity.
Hunter flexed his hand, causing the fork to
clatter to the floor. He mumbled his apologies and quickly picked
up the discarded silver.
Dominique smiled genuinely at Gwen. "I'm sure
you will be the toast of the ton."
"Yes, I'm sure," Hunter said dryly.
"What has gotten into you?" Dominique
snapped.
"Forgive him," Gwen intervened. "After all,
Hunter had a rough night. Not many men escape my presence
unscathed."
There was too much truth to that
statement.
"And we cannot all be as clever as wolves
when it comes to escape, now, can we, Hunter?"
Isabelle looked at Gwen curiously. Dominique
did the same. Hunter wanted to laugh. The girl had no idea that
both of his dear friends knew of his current involvement with the
War Office, as well as his plans this Season. She was doing nothing
more than causing them to be suspicious of her.
So he added more. "But of course, if a woman
in a red cloak was to lead me down the path, I would have no choice
but to follow her out, in hopes that she wouldn't lead me
astray."
"Red is the color of treason."
"No, my dear." Hunter grinned. "It is the
color of lust."
Her eyes narrowed.
Dominique lifted his eyes heavenward.
But Hunter kept his eyes trained on Gwen. A
challenge had just been given. He was not about to run away from a
tiny woman. No matter how much of a punch she possessed. No, he was
going to hunt her, he was going to chase her, and make her wish she
had never awakened the Wolf in the first place.
With a cheerful smile, he lifted the coffee
to his lips and chuckled. He had plans to make.
Chapter Eleven
Wolf—
Imaginations are a funny thing. For this
moment, I am imagining you being shot with my favorite pistol. Do
tell, how many duels have you had to fight because of your lack of
self-control? After all, wolves are rarely known for their
restraint, and I believe I've experienced that firsthand.
— Red
Gwen donned her afternoon gown and sat
demurely on the sofa. Isabelle had begged to join her during her
first day receiving callers. The three sisters sat in relative
silence as they waited for the first gentleman to arrive. According
to Rosalind, flowers had been delivered all morning. They now
littered the blue salon, making her eyes water.
Weren't flowers supposed to make a woman
swoon? Or perhaps smile? It did nothing except fill her with
disgust. None of these men knew her, knew who she really was, or
the things she had put herself through for the wellbeing of her
family.
She sighed and took a sip of hot tea.
Goode, their butler, walked in and cleared
his throat. "My lady, you have callers. The Earl of Trehmont and
Viscount Redding."
Lovely.
"Gentlemen." Rosalind rose and greeted both
men. In Gwen's eyes, Rosalind was by far the most graceful woman
she had ever encountered. She was also strong, unyielding. Isabelle
was similar. With golden brown hair and bright blue eyes, she was
every man's fantasy. Whereas Gwen, well, Gwen was nothing. At least
she felt like nothing when she sat next to her sisters.
The only time she had ever felt beautiful had
been when Hunter kissed her upon their first meeting. And look
where that had led her, down a dark path of lust-filled gazes and
promises of seduction.
Redding was the first to speak up. "I do hope
you've received my flowers, my lady. And may I say how lovely you
look this afternoon?"
You may not . Gwen felt her
Similar Books
