Epilogue

Hunter

27 Feb 1815

I peered around the doorway and spied Gwendolyn at her easel with a fresh canvas before her. If I could watch her paint in this precise manner for the rest of our lives, I would be a happy man.

She stood barefoot in a plain dress with her hair knotted in a simple chignon at the back of her neck. I chuckled as I recognized the unusual birthmark on her ankle, peeking out from beneath her hem. My wife of nearly three months, the prim and proper Ice Princess of London, was without any manner of footwear, and I adored this side of her.

Watching her, I smiled as she tilted her head and examined the parchment in her hands again. A poem from Julia, to be certain. The paints before her ranged from sunrise yellow, ocean blue, and the color of Gwen's eyes, jade green. I silently chuckled at the sight of Penelope, the spoiled tabby, curled up near one of the legs of her easel.

Despite not being the most quiet and stealthy of specimens, I managed to sneak up behind her. I have succeeded in getting this close several times without her suspecting a thing solely because of her concentration while painting.

She picked up her paintbrush and dabbed it in the first paint jar when I kissed the back of her neck.

Startled, she flung the paintbrush and a large glob of blue paint landed on Penelope's tail, which sent the feline sprinting out of the room.

"Hunter, you devil!"

I chuckled against her skin. "Indeed." I angled my head to sweep my lips along her jaw.

Though I heard her seize a short breath, she now held completely still. My hands gripped her waist and circled her around to face me without breaking the connection of my lips on her skin. I then relished in the freedom of brushing them across her neck, below her chin, and the tender hollow beneath her ear.

She giggled.

I had learned a couple of months ago that my genteel wife is quite ticklish and found nothing pleased me more than taking advantage of that only to hear her laugh.

"Stop," she pleaded, half laughing, half begging. When I didn't adhere to her request, I suddenly felt something wet on my nose.

I reached up and touched it and, to my great surprise, blue paint covered the tip of my finger.

Paint? On my nose?

With my other hand still on her waist, I squeezed… producing another round of giggles, then swiped some yellow paint from her palette with my same finger that bore the blue and hovered it near her face.

"Hunter…" she warned, trying to give me a serious look while fighting the laugh from my tickling. I brought my finger closer as she tried to wiggle out of my clutch. "Don't you dare," she attempted to rebuke me.

I stilled my hand at her waist and leaned in very close. With my full attention, she slid her tongue slowly and sensually across her upper lip, and I came undone. The woman knew precisely how to tempt me, for when I abandoned my game and claimed her lips, they were turned in a sly smile.

"Pardon me, my lord." Henry cleared his throat from the doorway.

I waved him away with my hand, then embraced my wife with no intention of stopping my newest favorite pastime.

"I'm afraid it's urgent… er, so says Lord Zachary."

Gwen now broke the kiss and whispered against my lips when I attempted to keep kissing her. "Love, we can resume this after you see Zachary."

I grumbled, "Maybe I want to make Zachary wait."

She smiled and whispered, "He will only search us out."

She was right. If I didn't come, then Zach might barge in anyway.

"Besides, I lost my concentration to paint with your first touch." She kissed my cheek. "Just hurry back."

I kissed her one more time for good measure and turned away, following Henry to the parlor.

"You better have a bloody good reason, Collins!" I bellowed. "I was delightfully occupied."

He stood up and bowed. "Gwendolyn will forgive me."

I noted his heightened, serious state. "What's the matter?"

"Napoleon escaped Elba."

"Blast!" I rubbed my jaw. "When?"

"Yesterday."

I paced the room. Though my new responsibilities kept me bound to England, I felt a part of me lurch in worry for those who would engage once more in a ruthless battle against the relentless leader.

"I'm going," Zach declared.

I swung around and stared at him. "You're certain?"

"I have nothing keeping me here."

Zachary had spent more time in London than I anticipated. I knew he and Eveline had spoken on several occasions and their acquaintance renewed, but his dear friend remained married to a fool of a man and their future endured only within the bounds of friendship.

"While in service, I will continue to search for Jaxon. In truth, I should have left after your wedding. With the information his father has uncovered, there are new leads."

"I wish I could go with you," I said.

He glanced at the empty doorway. "You are exactly where you need to be, Devon."

I knew this to be true. Gwendolyn was my life, and I could not bear to ever part with her again, even for a day. "May God watch over you, brother." We shook hands, then embraced. "Come home to us, Zach."

He nodded and bowed his departure.

I spent several more minutes in the parlor, stunned by the sudden news of Napoleon's escape and presumed return to power. How will England respond?

Gwendolyn's arms suddenly wound around my waist from the side, and she nuzzled her way up against me resting her head on my chest. "Are you alright?"

I glanced down at her and cupped her jaw. Holding her brought the only comfort my worried soul hungered for. "I am now." I leaned down and kissed her.

Though my primary thoughts centered on my lovely wife, a small corner of my contemplations now carried a new fear for my friends, Zachary and Jaxon, and all I could do was pray for their safety and that they would both return to England, whole and of sound minds.