Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “Uncle Thorn, how long before we get to London?” Zachary asked.

  “We should arrive tonight,” Thorn ensured.

  The children wiggled in their seats, contented, and swinging their legs back and forth. Rebekah noticed the two children exchanging yawns between bites of food. Soon they were reclining against the chairs and their heads began to nod. The twins fell asleep shortly afterwards, laying their heads on the table. Rebekah pushed the plates back out of the way so that a mess would not ensue.

  “They can’t already be that tired,” Thorn chuckled.

  “If only you had been locked in the carriage with them, then you would be thankful they have fallen asleep,” Rebekah challenged as she continued eating her meal. As she finished, she pushed her plate back as well.

  “It’s nice to see a woman that isn’t afraid of eating in front of a man.”

  “But you aren’t just any man, are you? You’re my husband, so there is no need to impress you.”

  “That hurts, my dear,” Thorn placed a hand over his heart acting as if she wounded him with her words.

  “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will be only a moment and then we can carry the twins back to the carriage.”

  “I’ll be waiting in anticipation, darling,” he stood as she did. He gave her a wicked grin in response to her withering glare. Wulfe stood upon her return. “I’ll be but a moment,” he said, walking towards the innkeeper.

  Rebekah surreptitiously watched the man from the doorway she reluctantly referred to as husband. She silently berated herself for allowing his looks to stir her. He cut a fine figure and made her pulse race. She found herself trying to distance herself so that he would not pick up on her body’s traitorous response to him. His dark, brown hair was a shade or two darker than hers. He kept it on the longer side, making him appear very roguish. She could just make out the whiskers that had begun to appear after his shave early this morning. Rebekah idly wondered what it would feel like if she rubbed her hand against his cheek. She closed her eyes calling to mind his dark brown eyes. Rebekah opened her eyes and saw him heading back towards the private room. She scurried back to the table hoping he had not seen her.

  Wulfe entered the room and saw the delectable cloth-covered rump of his wife. The image did unsettling things to his anatomy. If he could only woo her into his bed, he doubted he would ever have need of a mistress. He watched her gracefully stand upright. He found her beauty intoxicating. She did not attempt to hide herself behind powders and creams, or drip herself in jewels. Rebekah’s beauty was natural and entirely hers.

  “This is yours,” she jammed his hat against his chest. “And quit staring at me like you are starving and I am your meal.”

  “Oh, my dear, I could make you my meal,” he growled and bent towards her.

  “Get Zachary,” she said, sidestepping his attempt to kiss her. She bent low, picking up Ivy and carrying her through the inn. Rebekah refused to look back to see if Thorn followed her directions. A footman helped her to enter the carriage with her slight burden. Once settled, she felt the carriage sway and watched Thorn enter as well. He settled himself in the corner, his burden tucked snugly on his lap. “Please let the pups ride with you for awhile,” she told the maid accompanying them.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the maid curtsied then quickly disappeared with the pups.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Rebekah demanded, as Thorn entered the carriage.

  “I decided to pass the next little while with my beautiful wife and my wards. Is that a crime?”

  Instead of answering she shifted as far away from him as possible. Ivy woke, seeing her brother tucked onto their uncle’s lap, and jumped up to fight for her spot, waking her brother in the process. Rebekah shot her husband a heated look before turning to look out the now closed window as the carriage lumbered into motion for the final leg of their journey to London.

  The children kept up an animated conversation with their uncle. They told him all about their life on the estate and how they filled their days. Usually their chatter did not bother Rebekah in the least, but today her head pounded. She blamed Thornton for her discomfort, but of course she blamed him for many irritating things that had occurred in her life. She settled in the corner of the coach, deciding sleep would be the only way to tune out the over-sized irritant.

  “Aunt Bekah’s asleep,” Ivy whispered.

  “Yes,” her uncle replied.

  “Why doesn’t she like you?” the little girl queried.

  “Oh, she likes me well enough,” he answered.

  “No, she doesn’t,” his nephew replied solemnly.

  “Well, perhaps you can help me win her over,” he said.

  “What can we do?” the children asked exuberantly and in unison.

  “Shhh,” he held his finger to his lips when he noticed Rebekah shift at the loud noise. “Tell me about your aunt. It has been a long time since I’ve seen her.”

  “She spends lots of time with us,” Ivy said.

  “Yes, she even plays outside with us,” Zachary seconded.

  “What else does she do?”

  “She tells us stories and makes up stories about princesses and knights and faraway lands,” Ivy continued.

  “She makes us do our lessons,” the new little duke harrumphed.

  “You don’t have a tutor?” He watched as the children shook their heads in the negative. “What else does your Aunt Rebekah do?”

  “She takes care of all of us,” Ivy informed him. “She always talks to Mrs. Thompson.”

  “The housekeeper?” The little girl nodded. “So, your aunt runs the household?” Again the little girl nodded.

  “I’m hungry,” Zachary groaned from his place on Thorn’s lap.

  “We ate less than an hour ago,” Thorn replied. The little boy shrugged in response.

  “Zach’s always hungry,” Ivy giggled. She then slid off Thorn’s lap and crawled underneath the bench seat they occupied.

  “What are you doing under there, little one?” he asked curiously. He chuckled low when he saw her drag out a basket into the middle of the floor. “Zach, I do believe your sister and aunt have saved your life.” The little boy grinned up at him. Thorn reached out a hand to help his niece stand when the carriage was jarred. Ivy lost her balance and began to fall when Thorn grabbed her around the waist and hauled her into his lap.

  “What was that?” Ivy asked.

  “I believe we either rolled over a large rock or through a deep rut.”

  “Oh,” the little girl replied.

  Thorn started to bend over to retrieve the basket when he heard an ominous snapping sound. There were several more pops and then the carriage began to list sickeningly to one side. He heard the driver trying to calm the team as their load pulled in an unaccustomed manner. Thorn looked over his shoulder out the window and saw a thirty foot ravine with a shallow river running at the bottom. Trees were scattered here and there. Several more cracks filled the air and Wulfe tightened his hold on the twins while bracing himself in the corner, his right leg braced on the seat across from him and his left where the door frame met Rebekah’s seat.

  He hoped the driver would be able to bring them to a stop, but the speed at which they were traveling seemed to indicate otherwise. The uneven pull must have spooked the horses causing them to increase their speed. He felt the carriage edge uncomfortably close to the edge of the road. He looked across from him and saw that somehow Rebekah remained asleep.

  “Rebekah, wake up!”

  “What?” she asked groggily.

  “Brace yourself!” Thorn yelled as he felt the wheels on his side of the carriage lose their fight with gravity. The children clutched at him while he held them tightly. He felt the carriage jostle precariously, followed by a final pop, louder than the rest, and then the opposite side of the carriage seemed higher than his side. The next thing he knew, they were sliding down the ravine on his side of the carriage.

  Chapter 6

 
; Rebekah could not put her finger on what woke her first. Had it been the increased jostling of the carriage, or a mother’s instinct that her children were in danger? Whatever it had been, the terror intensified at the sound of concern in Thorn’s voice. She had never heard him sound worried before. Aggrieved, yes. Concerned, never. She came fully awake as the carriage began to tumble over the edge of some unknown precipice. Unable to brace herself as Wulfe had, she let her body go limp. She hoped for the best but expected the worst.

  She frantically grabbed the leather loop, trying to keep herself alive, and found herself doing something she had not done in years - praying. Rebekah did not want to leave those two children with only their disreputable uncle to raise them. The children! she thought wildly and managed to catch a glimpse of them in Thornton’s arms. In relief, she relaxed her body, and lost her grip on the piece of leather. She felt herself being thrown across the carriage to land hard against the opposite wall. Her head careened into the window frame, causing her to immediately lose consciousness.

  Thorn could only watch in horror, his arms full of children, as Rebekah flopped across the interior of the coach like a rag doll. He winced as he watched her head slam into the side of the carriage. They finally came to a stop at the bottom of the ravine. His back became wet as water from the river began to enter the carriage. He heard yelling from outside and whimpering from inside. Both children had been as quiet as church mice and only now began to show their fear.

  “Shhh, everything will be fine. Are either of you hurt?” he asked his charges worriedly. They shook their heads in the negative. “Good.” He replied.

  “Aunt Bekah,” Ivy whimpered.

  At that moment, the door across from them flew open and crashed against the side of the carriage. A footmen, his clothing having definitely seen better days, looked down on them from above.

  “Sir! Everyone all right?” one of the footmen asked.

  “I think so. Take the children,” Thorn managed to somehow twist out of his awkward position reclining in the corner and lift each child up in turn to the man who turned and passed them off to someone else. Once he knew the children were safe, he knelt beside Rebekah, focusing his attention on her. He didn’t know whether or not to move her, but the water continued to infiltrate the carriage space cutting his decision-making time short. “Bekah, can you hear me?” He held her head slightly elevated so that she would not take in any more water than she already had. “Bekah, I need you to wake up and tell me where you hurt.” Still no response. If she did not respond in the next few minutes, he would have to take his chances. He patted her cheek sharply trying to rouse her. Thorn watched her eyes flutter a bit then fly open.

  “The twins!”

  “Are fine. Frightened, but fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Now I need you to focus. How do you feel? Do you have feeling everywhere? Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?”

  “I think I’m fine. I hurt. I’m wet! Am I bleeding? I’m dying, aren’t I? Listen to me Thorn, you have to give up your wild life and raise the children. I won’t let my father harm another child, do you understand?”

  “Calm down, Bekah,” Thorn broke in. “Take a deep breath and let it out. There you go. Listen to me. Yes, you are bleeding, but it is a wound on your head. You’re wet because the carriage landed in a small river we were passing by, and I refuse to ever let your father anywhere near the twins regardless of my occupation. You will all be safe under my watch, do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Good. Now, do you want to try to stand?”

  “Yes.”

  Again, he had to strain to hear her answer. “All right. Let me help you.” He watched her attempt to hide the wince when he wrapped his arm around her. “You are likely to be covered in bruises tomorrow.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” she responded. She noticed that he looked at her curiously. Dropping her gaze, she said, “Just get me out of here.”

  “Hold your hands up for the footmen and they will pull you up.”

  Rebekah did as he commanded and could not contain the cry of pain that shot through her wrist.

  “Let her go!”

  Through the haze of pain, she registered Thorn’s sharp words, and then his powerful arms surrounding her.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded of his bride.

  “My wrist. I must have wrenched it when I was trying to hold onto the strap.”

  “Let me see.” He took her reluctantly offered wrist and examined it. Already it was swelling and bruising. “We’ll have to wrap it and see about some sort of compress. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

  All of a sudden a cacophony of noise could be heard that included crying children, barking dogs, neighing horses, and a growing din of voices. The sound intensified the pounding that had begun in her head. Knowing that little could be done about the escalating racket, she gritted her jaw.

  “Please just get me out of here.”

  “Fine. It isn’t going to be very gentlemanly.”

  “At this point, I do not care.”

  “Men, have a care for her wrist. It is badly sprained. Ready?” He looked at her.

  “Yes.”

  “Keep your body stiff,” he directed before squatting in front of her and lifting her up through the carriage door.

  Shock coursed through her at the way Thorn lifted her through the doorframe. Then she felt men grabbing her under her arms and dragging her out the rest of the way. She would be utterly humiliated if it were not for the fact she was free of the watery carriage. Another footman helped her reach the ground and she could not stifle the groan when he put his arms around her.

  “I’m sorry, mistress,” he apologized stiffly.

  “No, please, don’t apologize. I was knocked around a bit in the carriage and am beginning to feel the affects.”

  “I see. Should I help you to the other carriage?”

  “No, I shall be fine,” she waved him off.

  “Aunt Bekah!” two little voices called out to her at the same time. The twins ran to her.

  She smiled and held out her arms toward them. She took a step and stumbled, then righted herself. Then the world began to spin sickeningly. Rebekah fell to her knees and good hand before the children ever reached her. Her stomach churned violently and before she realized what was happening she was violently ill in front of everyone. She cradled her bad wrist against her stomach, hoping to ease the spasms she felt there.

  “Yuck!” Zach said, before backing away from his aunt.

  “Uncle Thorn, Aunt Bekah’s sick!” Ivy called.

  Rebekah soon felt warmth surround her. She had begun to shiver uncontrollably and welcomed the extra warmth from another human’s body. A large, firm hand moved to her forehead providing stability she found she greatly needed. She continued to wretch until dry heaves took over her body. A sheen of sweat covered her body. A wet cloth passed over the back of her neck and her face provided some relief.

  The entire situation reminded her of a time she had survived years ago. She had promised herself that day to never feel helpless and weak again, yet here she was. Tears misted her eyes as she allowed herself to think back on that other time. Again, something she did not let herself do, for it served no purpose. But here she was, physically a wreck in front of the one man that ever meant anything to her. The one man that had helped destroy her life and everything in it. The man that she reminded herself she despised with every part of her being. The man that was now her husband. When she made herself stand, with Thorn’s assistance, the world tilted on its axis and sent her over the edge. This time, having garnered his promise to care for the children, she gave herself up to the darkness and did not care one bit about returning to a world with him in it.

  ***

  Thorn felt his wife’s voluptuous body tug against his arms. He only then realized that she had lost consciousness. He swung her up in his arms and looked around, beref
t. Should he lay her on the ground until she recovered consciousness? Should he place her in the other carriage? Should he just stand there like a fool and hold her, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. Suddenly he was hit by two waves, one of longing, and one of déjà vu. Having her in his arms swept him with a feeling of familiarity. He shook it off as he looked down at his wife. Her head lolled against chest, and her lashes looked like dark, feathery smudges on her skin. Her skin had lost its honey glow.

  “Sir! Sir!” a voice broke into his thoughts.

  He looked up to see a maid running towards him, her arms flailing in the air to get his attention. Heralding her arrival were the pups followed by the twins.

  “Sir, bring Miss, I mean, Lady Wulfe to the carriage.”

  Thorn nodded and made his way toward the second carriage, escorted by children, servants, and dogs.

  “Do you have any blankets?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Spread them in the shade of the carriage. I’ll put her down there.” He waited while the maid spread out a blanket and held another to place over her. Thorn went down on one knee and gently placed her on the blanket. He then took the second blanket and tucked it around her. He cupped her cheek and lowered his thumb until he felt the pulse at the base of her neck beating steady.

  “Is she going to be all right, Uncle Thorn?” Ivy asked so softly he had to strain to hear her.

  “Yes,” he replied, pushing away his doubts. “You two watch over her. I’m going to go get some water for your aunt and check on the carriage.”

  “Yes, sir,” the twins chimed in together. They plunked down on either side, each grabbing a hand of their precious aunt, as if they could will her to do what they wanted.

  Thorn walked towards the edge of the ravine, but paused when he saw the driver and the footmen gathered around the horses, talking. He changed his direction and joined them. He clapped his hand on the driver’s back. “You saved our lives.”

  “Twasn’t me, sir. Sam there did some quick thinking.”

  “Oh?”