Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “I truly am sorry for the bruises I caused. It was not my intention.”

  “I’ll mend.”

  “I have a meeting I must attend. Don’t wait up,” Thorn said.

  “Do I ever?”

  “Maybe one day,” he said. Before he could stop himself or tell himself what a bad idea it was, he leaned over Rebekah. She sat propped against the pillows stacked against the headboard. He braced one hand against the headboard and used the other to cup her cheek and lift her face upwards.

  “Never,” she denied, her eyes sparkling.

  “I’ll take that bet,” he whispered before lowering his mouth to her clamped, shut lips. He let his tongue trace the seam of her lips, and he took in the gasp that escaped. Thorn moved in when he felt her sharp little teeth bite into his lower lip, drawing blood. He pulled back from her, but continued to cup and stroke her cheek. He licked his lip at the spot she had nipped. “You are quite the tigress, wife of mine.”

  “And what is your mistress?” She asked, hating the jealousy she could hear in her voice.

  “Becoming quite the bore,” he said. Thorn flicked her chin with his finger before leaving the room. He made his way through the house and back to the stables. The same horse he rode earlier stood at the ready. He nodded at the men in the stables as he took the reins and mounted the horse. His trip down the lane this time remained uneventful. The setting sun cast grotesque shadows among the trees. He carefully watched the road to ensure that the horse would not step in a hole. At the fork in the road, he guided the horse left, away from the small village of Wulfecrest.

  He traveled a few miles down the road and arrived at a copse of trees. He dismounted, leading the horse to the trees. Thorn let out an animal call that was responded to. He sat quietly, and heard a the sound of breaking sticks as the person approached. Thorn turned and watched as a familiar figure approached.

  “Barkley,” Thorn greeted the man with a handshake. “What news do you have for me?”

  “Evenin’, sir. There’s a storm on the horizon,” the older man said as he rubbed his gnarled hands together.

  “Literally or figuratively.”

  “Both, I’m thinkin’.”

  “Tell me about it,” Thorn instructed.

  “Since the earl has been running things, there have been a new crop of men in and out of the Lady Luck.”

  “Oh? Good or bad?” Thorn queried.

  “A lit’l of both, sir,” Barkley answered. “There’ve been some high lords in and out since you’ve been gone. There’ve also been some questionable characters been seen about. The good Earl won’t let me anywhere near them.”

  “He won’t, huh?”

  “No, sir. In fact, him and his boys act real funny when the new members show up. Some stay around to play, but they always end up going to a back room before they leave.”

  “Who’s in the room?”

  “Won’t let me back there. The Earl always seems to make his way back there though. I think there’re some others that come in the back that I never see.”

  “The Earl is thick in this, and who knows who else. The big questions are what exactly is going on, and what are they planning?” The two men sat in silence for several minutes, each mulling over the information.

  “When are you coming back?” Barkley asked.

  “We’ll start traveling in two days.”

  “We’ll? I thought you would want me to return right away.”

  “We as in myself, my wife, and my two wards.”

  “What the bloody hell are ye’ talkin’ ‘bout?”

  “You know what I am talking about, since it was you who brought me the papers to sign a few years ago, damn you Barkley.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to gather up the family. Don’t want it to look too suspicious and be gone too long.”

  Thorn looked at the full moon that had risen in the sky. “We’re not done with this, old man.”

  “Aye!”

  Thorn watched the older man disappear back into the trees. He waited until he heard a horse clopping off into the distance. He mounted his horse and then turned to return to the house. Remembering how he had left, when he came to the fork in the road, he turned toward the village and sought out the local company and ale.

  Chapter 5

  Rebekah ran to the stairs and halfway down before coming to an abrupt halt after hearing a great crash. Half of her dark locks were pinned up and the rest hung loose about her shoulders. Her green homespun dress gaped and slipped off her right shoulder showing the sleeve of her chemise and shoulder. Her left hand gripped the bannister rail so tightly that it turned white about the knuckles. Thorn lay in a heap among the luggage and trunks that had been packed for the impending journey. Her lips thinned as the smell of ale and perfume wafted on the breeze through the open door up to her.

  “Dammit, what is all this?” Wulfe demanded. He pushed trunks and bags out of his way so that he could regain his feet.

  “Are you so drunk that you cannot tell what baggage looks like?”

  “Bloody hell, Rebekah, I do not need you harping on me at this late hour,” he growled.

  “Perhaps if you had come home at a decent time…”

  “What, Rebekah?” he interrupted. “What would you have done if I had ‘come home at a decent time’? Would you have given yourself to your husband as a wife is supposed to?”

  “I am not going to stand here and listen to this, and you need to hold your tongue. Someone might hear you.”

  “Let them hear me,” he mocked her and raced up the stairs. “Why is it that you hate me so much?” He queried, not stopping until he stood in front of her, blocking her path. He parried her every move, refusing to let her past him. “I am a great swordsman.”

  “If you wish to believe that,” she said mockingly.

  “Again, what have I ever done to you to make you hate me so much?”

  “Get out of my way,” she growled. Instead of hearing a response, she felt herself maneuvered until her back pressed against the wood-grained wall. She watched as Thorn moved closer. Rebekah still found herself looking into his dark brown eyes. Their bodies aligned so very well… Stop that! she chastised herself. She willed her heart to calm itself at his nearness. Her hands fisted at her side so she would not be tempted to touch him.

  “You are not unaffected by me, are you wife?” Wulfe ran the back of his fingers down the side of her neck to the pulse that throbbed at the base of her throat. He gathered a lock of her hair and curled it around his finger. Thorn held it under his nose and inhaled her scent. “You smell of mint, cool and refreshing.”

  “And you smell of ale and cheap perfume.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Get away from me.” She wedged her fists between their bodies and tried pushing him away from her. The only thing she accomplished was freeing the lock of hair he had wrapped around his finger. Rebekah felt Thorn thread his fingers through the tresses of her hair. She turned her head and made to take a step downstairs, but he quickly trapped her by placing his left hand near her shoulder and stepped closer to her. She realized her mistake when she felt his teeth gently tug on her exposed earlobe. “Thorn,” meaning it to sound like a reprimand, it instead sounded like a lover’s moan.

  She felt herself melting as he followed the trail with his lips his fingers had explored minutes earlier. Rebekah found herself tilting her head, allowing him greater access to the column of her neck. She bit her lip as he trailed downwards to where her neck met with her shoulder.

  “Relax,” he whispered against the indention of her collarbone.

  His deep, husky voice rolled over her causing her to shiver slightly, bringing back memories that had been locked safely away for a half dozen years. Rebekah found her hand unfurling, drifting up, and her fingers dragging themselves through his too-long, disheveled hair. The curls entwined themselves around her fingers like a lover. The texture of his hair was so different from hers, coarser, but somehow she found it captivating. />
  She gasped when she felt his tongue lightly lave her fluttering pulse at the base of her neck. Thorn took her open mouth with his, slipping his tongue into the dark recesses before she could think to fight him. Relying on that long ago lesson, Rebekah found herself fighting him in an intimate duel. She enjoyed everything about it—the strength, the taste of ale that lingered, and the hint of smokiness and tobacco, perhaps from a pipe. She found herself clutching him to her and attempting to deepen the kiss, if that were possible.

  “Papa! Papa!” A child’s wail had them jumping apart.

  Rebekah stared in horror as she realized how far gone she had been after just a few touches. The back of her left hand covered her mouth, while she pushed him away with her right. She truly was the harlot her father had called her all those years ago. She felt herself blush as she realized how lost she had been in his touch, and how she had taken over in those last moments.

  “What is this between us?” Thorn cupped her left cheek.

  “Aunt Bekah,” a tousled, tow-headed little boy stood with his face poking through the railing above them, “Ivy had a bad dream.”

  “I…,” she broke off and cleared her throat. She took a step up the stairs forcing Wulfe to lose contact with her, “I’ll be right there. Go back to your room.”

  “Answer me, Rebekah.”

  “There is nothing between us,” she answered, looking down on him.

  “That wasn’t nothing. It seemed familiar somehow.”

  “Forget it, because that is the only time you will get that close again,” she huffed, and ran up the rest of the stairs. When she reached the top, she felt herself halted by her skirts. She turned around to see that Thorn had a fistful of her dress. “Let go of me,” she ground out the words.

  “Wife, I can guarantee you that will not be the last time we are that close,” he let go of her skirt and instead grabbed a fistful of her hair, tilting her head back. He plundered her mouth in a rough and heated kiss that left them both breathless. “We will leave in the morning as soon as you can have the children ready.” He dropped a tender kiss on her swollen lips before stiffly walking away.

  Rebekah found herself grabbing for the rail to steady herself as she watched him disappear into his bedchamber. She started to move towards hers until the sound of whimpering penetrated her senses. Get hold of yourself, she reprimanded herself, firming her knees, and turning towards the nursery.

  ***

  When the group started out for London the next morning Rebekah’s nerves were already strung taut from her encounter on the stairs with her husband. At least I don’t have to share this enclosed space, she thought drearily. Everywhere she looked she saw either child or dog. All four were rambunctious, and she was sure to have a pounding headache by the time they reached London. With the lumbering coaches they were traveling in, it would be well past dark by the time they reached the townhouse. Rebekah tried to relax against the squabs and let the rocking of the coach soothe her.

  At some point she must have dozed off, for the next thing she knew she heard a repeated banging sound. The scene before her frightened her to her senses. Zachary stood precariously in the doorway of the carriage while the door slammed shut, but refused to catch and stay shut. One of the pups stood by his side staring out at the passing scenery.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Rebekah demanded, hooking her fingers in the waist of his pants. She pulled backwards just as a hulking figure loomed down from his place on a horse.

  “What in bloody hell are you thinking? Zachary could have been killed.”

  “I have everything well in control,” she argued, attempting to keep a hold of the squirming little boy.

  “But Aunt Bekah,” he protested.

  “Yes, it looked like you had everything under control. Just keep the damn door shut and child and beast inside. Can you manage that, lady wife?” Wulfe sneered.

  “Oh, go get…”

  “There are children present,” he shook his finger at her before slamming the door shut.

  “Aunt Bekah, Piddles has to…”

  “What, Zachary? What does Piddles have to do?”

  “Piddle,” the little boy said just a bare moment before the pup relieved its nervous bladder within the confines of the traveling coach.

  “Oh goodness!” She cried. “Stop, stop!” Rebekah called out to the driver and gathered up the puppy in her hands, holding him far out in front of her. “Open the door!”

  “What is this about?” Thorn asked, his tone turning even more surly, if that were possible. He dismounted his horse and stalked to the coach. Before he knew what happened he had a puppy relieving itself on his shined, sparkling Hessians. “By all that is holy!” He exclaimed, attempting to watch his language in front of the children.

  “Welcome to the world of parenting. Do take the children and pups for a walk while I clean up this mess.”

  “Don’t tell me it started in the carriage,” he groaned.

  “Oh no, husband. I just love to constantly be on my hands and knees scrubbing the floors of carriages.”

  “I could show you some things we could do on our hands and knees in a carriage that we would both find quite enjoyable,” he offered rakishly.

  “Go to Hell,” she hissed.

  He clucked his tongue three times and shook his head before he responded. “There are children present, wife.” He let the laughter roll through him as he looked at her arched brow and the murderous look that crossed her face. “Come Zachary and Ivy, let’s go see if we can’t scare up some fairies, shall we?”

  “Fairies?” Ivy squealed in delight while Zachary commanded the dogs to scatter as many fairies as they could find.

  “Mistress, let me clean up that mess,” one of the maids accompanying them offered.

  “Thank you, Nancy, but I have it,” she answered with a smile before turning with the damp cloth the maid had provided and scrubbed the carriage floor as if she were removing her husband out of her life.

  ***

  The newness of the journey had warn off for the children as the passing scenery looked much like that at home. Rebekah had recited every story she knew, making certain to use different voices while telling them. She also had brought games they could play in the confined space, but nothing kept two four-year-olds occupied very long. Then the bickering had begun, followed soon by the whining. The dogs seemed to pick up on this and before long, Rebekah’s head pounded in time to the whimpering of dogs and children. Finally, able to stand no more, she waved out the window to get Thornton’s attention. What I wouldn’t give to be sitting astride his horse, enjoying the fresh air with him inside here trying to keep this foursome entertained, she thought sourly.

  “Yes, love?”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

  “What would you like me to call you?” he teased.

  “Nothing. I merely want to know how far until the next village.”

  “You sound like the twins,” he teased.

  “I’m not surprised,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What was that, sweetheart?”

  “Nothing, and don’t call me that either!”

  “What can I call you?”

  “Lady Wulfe or Rebekah, if you must.”

  “You are going to beg me to call you so much more,” he whispered and started to trot off.

  “Wulfe, get back here,” she demanded.

  “Would you make up your mind? Do you want me or not?”

  “Quit putting words in my mouth,” she hissed through the window.

  “Oh, love, that is not at all what I want to do to that delectable little mouth of yours.”

  “Save it for your whore,” she bit out, surprised by the anger she felt towards him turning to another woman.

  “What is this? Jealousy? Why, I do believe the green brings out the emerald sparks in your eyes.”

  “Stop it,” she ground out.

  “Uncle Thorn, when are we getting to London?” Za
chary asked petulantly, rubbing his eyes.

  “I’m hungry,” a small, feminine voice echoed.

  “I’ll see what I can do, loves. Go easy on your aunt for the time being, eh?”

  The children both nodded before the curtain fell closed blocking his view of the interior of the carriage. Smiling wickedly, he called, “Lady Wulfe,” in a singsong voice.

  “What is it?” she snapped, popping the curtain out of the way. “Shouldn’t you be scouting for villages or giving directions?”

  “I just need a little something to keep me going,” he responded before leaning over and brushing a kiss on lips through the open window.

  “How dare you!” Rebekah raged, pulling back.

  “You can’t begin to imagine all that I dare,” he answered wickedly before spurring his horse into a burst of energy and moving ahead of the coaches.

  She sat with her arms crossed, forcing herself not to look out the window until they reached the village approximately two hours later. “Finally,” she groaned as the carriage came to a halt. It must be a popular day for travel, she thought as she looked around the inn yard. They had passed several carriages on the road, but the inn yard brimmed with coaches and teams as well as solitary horses. “Stay,” she ordered the pups after helping the children down and quickly closing the door.

  “One of the footmen will take the pups for a walk,” Thornton said as he walked up to Rebekah’s right side. He bent low and scooped Ivy into his arms, plunking her onto his left hip so that his right hand could grab Rebekah’s elbow. The Duke of Wulfcrest held her right hand as they walked into the busy inn. Thorn left her and Zachary’s side for only a few moments as he made arrangements for a private room for the group. After refreshing themselves, they rejoined each other to share a well-deserved meal in the reserved room.

  The children dove into the savory meat pies that were placed before them. Enjoying the peace and silence, Rebekah overlooked their horrible table manners and turned to her own meal. During the meal, she continually felt eyes on her. When she looked up it would be to find Thorn staring at her across the table. He did not have the decency to look away, not even when she glared at him.