Imagine my surprise that you would be so forthcoming with your feelings. My dreams await you, sweet. —Wolf Hunter watched as Gwen entered back into the ballroom. He'd had enough family dramatics to last him a lifetime tonight. The last thing he wanted to do was go visit Lucy's grandfather and allow him to lecture Hunter about why her death was on his head. He'd probably blame Hunter for the fact that someone was deciphering the codes for the French as well. He reached for the flask of brandy in his jacket and took a few swallows. The night was eerily quiet. He took a few soothing breaths and leaned against the stone wall. No doubt Gwen was inside, blushing to the roots of her hair. He hadn't meant to kiss her. Well, actually that wasn't entirely true. He'd meant to kiss her, just not so forcefully, nor did he mean for his tongue to accidently slip past the barrier between her lips and into the honey of her mouth. It also wasn't planned that his body would flare to life in such an embarrassing way that he could think of doing nothing except lifting her skirts against the wall and having his way with her.
