The Hunter

It was late Saturday evening. A cool breeze washed gently ashore, rippling the otherwise still surface of the lake and bringing with it the faint thrum of a Spanish guitar.

She sat poised on the edge of a tall stool, her hands folded delicately in her lap. The breeze ruffled her raven hair slightly and picked up the edges of her ball gown.

She reached into her handbag and produced a mirror. Gazing into it, she tucked a stray lock of hair back into place and reapplied her makeup. She draped the shawl about her shoulders just so and slipped the mirror back into her handbag as she heard footsteps approaching.

"Why, Eve!" he exclaimed, sounding not at all surprised. "I apologize. I had not expected you so early. I have been in the wine cellar for at least half an hour. I trust you have not been here so long?"

She smiled coldly. "Not at all, my dear John. I've only just arrived. No one answered the door, so I let myself in and opened the windows. Nothing like the good fresh air of the country. I'm afraid the factories in town make the air quite foul."

"Yes, I do love the countryside. I would have answered the door had I known you'd arrived. You see, my butler retired early today with a nasty head cold. Anyway, I hope you understand that I'm not quite ready. If you'll excuse me a moment, I must finish up some business in the kitchen, and I shall bring us back something to refresh ourselves with."

He indicated the bottle of wine he carried.

"Certainly. I should like to have some. Your vineyards make for exceptionally fine wine."

He entered the kitchen and she leaned back to watch him. He set aside the wine and took up a quill. From a drawer he produced an inkwell and scrawled on a piece of parchment. He then proceeded to fold it up, seal it in an envelope, and address it. He poured wine into two delicate glasses.

She turned away and busied herself a moment as he glanced back at her. When he was certain she wasn't watching, he slipped something out of his pocket and into one of the glasses of wine.

Oh! She smiled and put her hand to her breast, hardly able to contain her excitement and laughter. This shady man was just as she expected! Did he really believe her body was as prone to such ridiculous child's play as drugs? Hardly so! It would phase her, certainly, but she would take it as a challenge. She'd never hunted such elusive prey before. How much better the world would be when 'twas rid of such a man! It seemed he had underestimated her, and did not suspect her identity.

He returned and said, "All right, let's begin anew, shall we?"

She nodded and flashed him a knowing smile. He gently took her hand and kissed its soft skin. With a self-assured smile, he spoke:

"Milady, you look absolutely ravishing this evening!"

"Why, thank you, John. I must say, you seem especially dashing as well."

He grinned and went on.

"Dearest Eve, I do believe the butler has brought us some wine. Here, this glass is for you, and this is for me. Try it, if you will. It's only the finest from the family vineyards."

"Of course."

She sipped daintily at the wine. "As good as ever!"

"Oh, come on. Drink it!" he urged.

She smiled and poured it hastily into her mouth. She frowned, rolling something over on her tongue, and swallowed the wine, holding the object in place with her tongue. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a handkerchief. She spat into it and gasped.

A ring!

He grinned and knelt down on one knee.

"Eve, I know we've only known each other for a short while--"

"We've courted for a month!" she exclaimed, genuinely startled.

"But I have never met anyone who makes me feel as you do. Eve, would you marry me?"

She gaped at him for a moment. This evening was not decisive in the way she had planned it to be. Had she misjudged him? No, she was never wrong. He was still up to no good, and still could not be up to any worse than what she was about. This was only a ruse, an obstacle. She collected herself and replied, "Of course!" in her most convincing tone of voice.

He grinned, his eyes flashing hungrily, and slipped the ring on her finger.

"Darling, you look as though you need air. We'll go for a stroll. Get some fresh air, shall we?"

She nodded. "I think that would do me some good."

"Wait here a moment while I light a lantern. Will your shawl be all right, or shall I get you a jacket of mine?"

"No, my shawl will do, thank you."

He returned quickly and rushed her out of the door.

"I think we've walked the vineyards enough. Shall we take the forest path?"

She nodded.

"What's wrong? You're engaged!"

She thought a moment and said the first thing that came to her:

"However will I tell my family? We've been courting for a month! It's scandalous! I'll be shunned!"

"They don't have to know! We'll run away if we must!" he exclaimed.

So that's his game, she thought.

"When? Soon?" she asked, pretending to be flustered.

"Now!"

"Now?"

"Now!"

"All right." She nodded resolutely. "Down the forest path we go!"

"It's haunted, you know," he said with a wink.

"John! I'll have you know, I'm not afraid of ghosts. And neither should you be! There are far worse things."

She stopped. Was now the time?

"Such as?" he laughed. The lantern's light flickered dangerously in his predator eyes.

Her stomach growled. It was as good a time as ever.

"You really never knew, did you?" She grinned wickedly. The hunter had become the hunted.



An hour later she stood in his kitchen. She delicately dabbed the blood from her lips with her handkerchief and admired her ring in the soft glow of the fireplace. It was a shame, really. Such a large diamond from such a dreadful man. He had seemed truthful when he'd proposed, though. At least until he suggested running away. He certainly hadn't asked her father's permission.

She broke the wax seal on his letter.

Dear Mr. White,

I shall have her to dinner tonight. She's a beautiful young woman, but perhaps too clever. I am not certain how much she believes about me. She meets all of your specifications. The set price is seven hundred dollars.

Sincerely,

Mr. Black

She chuckled grimly to herself and tossed the letter and handkerchief in the fire.

Such a dreadful, delicious man.