Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  His thoughts strayed to his wife. What was it about her? There was something incredibly familiar, but he just could not seem to put his finger on it. It was as if he should know her better than he did. Then he could not help the smile that crossed his face as his thoughts turned to the twins. They were definitely a handful, but they reminded him what life was all about. He was going to do everything in his power to see that Zach’s education on running a dukedom would be equally balanced with that of being a boy. Then there was Ivy. She would have every man in England pawing after her when she reached the proper age. He would be there to make sure they passed what he knew his brother would have wanted for his daughter.

  He found himself wondering if perhaps someday he and Rebekah would have their own children. If things continued between them as they currently were, the answer was a resounding no. He wished for the first time that he had some magic way of knowing why she despised him so much. She hated the gaming hell and the way it tarnished the family’s image. He could not blame her, but could not let it go yet. There was too much currently at stake.

  He found himself thinking about the carriage accident. Already, he had put his new family’s lives in danger. He would have to talk to the director and ask for guards to be placed within the house. Every day they went without protection, he risked losing them. The cab lurched to a stop and Thorn looked out the window and saw they had arrived at the townhouse. He opened the door, got out, and paid the driver. He heard children’s laughter coming from across the street and spied the twins playing in the park.

  He walked across the street and saw Rebekah and an older woman sitting together on a bench. Rebekah looked at peace for the first time in weeks. The twins interrupted that peace when they yelled his name and raced towards him. He entered the park and found that he had a child attached to each leg. He pulled Ivy into his arms and bent down to give Zach a hug before standing once more.

  “Who’s with your aunt?”

  “Gertie,” the children answered simultaneously.

  “It seems as if you are going to meet my husband,” Rebekah turned to Gertie as they watched Thorn greet the children.

  “He is very handsome and seems to be good with the children.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Now, Rebekah, remember that time changes people. And you were as responsible for what happened as he was. Now, take me to your husband.” The two women stood and walked towards the trio.

  “Thorn Wulfe, I would like you to meet Lady Gertrude Greenwood. Gertie is my mother’s cousin, and we are very close. I spent some time with her some years ago.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet a member of Rebekah’s family.”

  “I have heard a lot about you, young man.”

  “Uncle Thorn, why do you have pink on you?”

  “What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

  “Here,” the girl pointed at a spot he could not see on his cravat. His mind quickly went back and he knew that Aimée had deliberately dragged her lips across his cravat. Damn the woman, and he had thought she had taken the news well.

  “It’s nothing,” he muttered, a slight flush spreading across his skin.

  Rebekah raised one brow at him. He watched as she surreptitiously sniffed the air as well. He jaw stiffened and her hands fisted beside her. Gertie took one of her arms and threaded it through her own, rubbing her fisted hand.

  “At the end of the week, I am going to have a dinner party. It is only going to be close friends and family. My niece and her husband are also inviting some of their dear friends. I would dearly love if the both of you could come.”

  “I don’t know…” Rebekah hedged.

  “We will be there.”

  “Wonderful! I will send an invitation over tomorrow. Bring the twins. The other families are bringing their children. I know it is not the done thing, but it will be a perfect opportunity for the children to meet each other.”

  “If you are certain.”

  “You are practically like a daughter to me. Why would I not want to show you off?”

  “But I don’t have any clothes for a dinner party, or any type of party for that matter.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Thorn interjected.

  “I don’t need anything. We are still in mourning.”

  “We will discuss this later. Lady Greenwood, it was a pleasure meeting you, but I think these two are ready for a nap,” he indicated the children. Zach was stumbling as he walked and Ivy’s eyes kept drifting closed where she laid her head on his shoulder.

  “You must call me Gertie and please see to the children,” the women watched as Thorn crossed the cobbled street and entered the house with two sleepy children and their pups. “My, he is handsome. I can see what turned your head.”

  “He has been with a woman,” she seethed.

  “Now, you don’t know that,” Gertie soothed.

  “He had lip rouge on his collar, and you could smell the perfume reeking from him.”

  “Perhaps nothing happened.”

  “Please, Gertie. Give me some credit.”

  “Perhaps you are not giving him enough.” Rebekah rolled her eyes at her cousin. “Rebekah dear, things are not always what they seem. Remember that,” the older woman patted the younger one’s hand and hugged her tightly. “You have been angry and full of hate for far too long. Think of this as another opportunity for you to find your happiness. Perhaps even have children of your own.”

  “But the doctor said…” she started bitterly, unable to finish.

  “Never give up on miracles and the magic of love.”

  “Miracles and love,” Rebekah laughed harshly. “My life is not, nor has it ever been, a fairy tale. I do not expect Thorn to turn into a prince charming, and I do not expect a happily ever after. Those are things set aside for people who deserve them. My father cursed my life. I will be happy raising Sarah’s children.”

  “Oh, darling, it hurts my heart to see you like this,” the older woman hugged her once more, but felt her remain stiff in her arms. “Everything will work out, my love, you will see.”

  Rebekah walked her cousin to her carriage and waved her off before entering the house. Anger coursed through her in waves. How dare he embarrass me like that? she thought, slamming the door behind her. She stormed to his study to find it empty. Turning, she stomped up the stairs and saw his bedchamber door close just as she reached the landing. In a haze of anger, she did not pause, but turned the knob and threw the door open. It bounced off the wall and into her. She stood frozen.

  Before her stood her husband. He had already shed his coat and weskit. His shirt hung open, and he was unwrapping the cravat from around his neck. It had been so long and he had changed some, filled out, grown more muscular. She found her body reacting to the glimpses she caught of his bare chest. A warmth began to unfurl low in her belly. “No,” she muttered softly, attempting to deny her body from its obvious attraction to the man standing across the room from her.

  “Look, Rebekah, I can explain everything, but let me take a bath first.” He watched her turn and flee his room as if it were on fire. Thorn pounded his fist on the low dresser and then braced his hands against it, his head hung low. Would she ever give him a chance? Did he deserve one? And what in bloody hell had he done to make her hate him?

  ***

  Rebekah paced the study. Although she had instigated Gertie’s visit, it had spawned ancient memories she would rather forget. She feared what would happen when she retired for the evening and attempted to sleep. Would she be plagued by nightmares, or would it be worse than that and nothing at all would happen? She almost feared the latter, afraid she had forced the incident so far in her memory that it almost no longer existed. What did that say about her?

  “Rebekah,” Thorn called softly as he entered the room. She jumped at his intrusion into her thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to startle you.”

  Rebekah spun on him, letting her anger and uncertainty merge into a verbal atta
ck on Thorn like she had never let loose on anyone before. “How dare you embarrass me in front of the only family that matters to me! The only family that I have left! You come home wreaking of your whore and wearing her lip rouge on your cravat. Do you have any idea what that looked like to Gertie?”

  “That perhaps another woman is meeting my needs since my wife is not?” Thorn tossed back at her, refusing to take the verbal onslaught a moment longer.

  “You no good, bastard,” anger oozed from her like a living creature. She flew at him, her fingers curved like claws. She had no idea what she would do to him once she reached him, only that she wanted to physically hurt him. Destroy him. She looked like a banshee floating above the moors ready to attack.

  Thorn was ready for her. When she came close enough, he closed his hands about her wrists. They were as effective as a pair of manacles. He spun easily, kicking the door shut and moving her backwards until it pressed against her back. He watched her eyes sparkle green and blue in her anger. Her chest heaved with every agitated breath she took. He pinned her hands above her head. When she would have raised her knee in an attempt to unman him, he easily side-stepped her move before stepping between her legs. What he could not accomplish this afternoon with a skilled mistress came easily this evening with his innocent, angry wife.

  “I, wife, am no bastard. I was born within the sanctity of marriage.”

  “You know that is not what I meant. Unhand me,” Rebekah demanded, squirming and bucking against him, attempting to toss him off of her.

  “I would not do very much more of that if I were you,” he murmured, pressing against her pelvis. Rebekah abruptly stopped her struggles, her eyes going wide, a wild look about them. “So you know what that means.”

  “You pig! Let me loose this minute!”

  “I’ll let you loose when I’m ready,” he said before seizing her mouth. When she opened it to rebuke him, he plunged into the deep, moist recesses. He teased and coaxed, but she remained still. Never one to give up, he continued in the sensual torment until he felt the sharp bite on his tongue. He jerked back, dropping one of her hands to put his to his mouth. That was his second mistake. Her fisted hand met one of his eyes. “Dammit, woman.”

  “I told you to let me loose,” she hissed and turned to open the door.

  Not ready to admit defeat, Thorn put a hand against the door to hold it closed. “I want to know why you hate me so much. What did I do to you?”

  “More than you’ll even know,” Rebekah said before she stomped on his shod foot and rammed an elbow into his midsection. “Now leave me alone, or I will personally see that you become a eunuch.” She ripped the door open before racing up the stairs to the security of her bedchamber. She slammed the door shut, locked it, and crossed the room to the far corner where she slid to the floor and wrapped her arms tightly around her knees.

  Hatred coursed through her, along with something she very much feared putting a name to. Something that made her feel like she had that long ago night before everything went so terribly wrong.

  Chapter 9

  “What the bloody hell just happened?” Thorn asked the empty room. He hobbled over to a chair and fell into it. His foot throbbed, his abdomen ached, and his eyesight was blurry in one eye. And then there was his tongue. It felt as if it had doubled in size. One thing was certain, his wife would be wonderful backup in a fight. Barkley, Thorn’s valet passed by the door, paused, and looked again. “Don’t say a bloody word.”

  “What was that, sir?”

  “Don’t say a word,” Thorn repeated, realizing even to his own ears that he sounded like he had a mouth full of cotton.

  “Should I call for a Runner?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, so you have detained your attacker.” The valet looked about the room and then back at Thorn. “Where is he?”

  Thorn shot his valet a look that wished him to the devil. Why could the man not just go away? Because he had been with Thorn much too long and was overly comfortable in his role. Not only did he act as a valet, but he also served as his courier, and bodyguard when necessary. There was no way that Thorn was going to admit that his wife had reduced him to the damaged man that sat before Barkley. “Just get me something for my eye.”

  “What was that again?”

  “My eye. My damn eye!”

  “Ah, yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

  “Go to Hell,” he managed and the other man had the nerve to laugh as he left the room.

  ***

  A soft knock sounded on Rebekah’s door rousing her from whatever Hell she had trapped herself in. She pushed herself up off the floor, and winced when she put pressure on her left hand. She looked down at it and noticed it was swollen and was beginning to bruise. After crossing the room she opened the door to find a maid on the other side.

  “Supper is ready, ma’am.”

  “I’m not hungry, but thank you. Have the children eaten?”

  “Yes ma’am. We are about to get them ready for bed.”

  “Tell them I will be in to tell them a story.”

  “Yes ma’am. Oh, ma’am, your hand. Whatever happened to it?”

  “Oh, I, ummm. I think I hit it on a piece of furniture. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

  “I’ll ask Cook for something to put on it. She always has a cure for what ails a body.”

  “Please, don’t go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Rebekah sighed and shut the door.

  The maid tripped merrily down the stairs, excited to be of help to the new mistress. She conferred with Cook who began to quickly whip up the makings of a poultice.

  “You take her some soup and a cup of tea.”

  “But she said she didn’t want anything.”

  “And I say she’ll change her mind.”

  “Who’ll change her mind?” Barkley interrupted as he entered the kitchen. He had hoped to sneak a few moments alone with Cook. She was a lovely, full-figured woman and they enjoyed one another’s company immensely. He found her company even better when they were able to sneak a moment here or there without anyone being the wiser.

  “The mistress. Her hand is swollen up something awful,” the maid answered.

  “What happened?”

  “Said she hit it on a piece of furniture.” The maid picked up the tray laden with tea, soup, and the poultice and left the kitchen.

  “What are you doing in my domain?” Cook asked saucily.

  “I’ve come to taste the goods.”

  “Oh, you have?”

  “Aye,” he moved towards her and pulled her into his hard body, kissing her until she was breathless. He pulled back and was admiring the woman in his arms when a stray thought occurred to him. He chuckled until it turned into a full-bodied laugh.

  “James Barkley, you be thinking my kisses are something to laugh about?”

  “No, love. I am thinking that the master has met his match in his lady wife.” The man laughed at the image of the mistress bringing Wulfe, a man to be feared by other men, to his knees.

  ***

  He knew. He did not know how, but the bloody man knew. Barkley knew that his injuries were due to his wife and he would never let Wulfe live it down. Any time the man entered a room he was in, he practically snarled at him, daring him to say something. His abdomen and foot had healed within a matter of hours. His tongue had taken a couple of days because he seemed to keep re-injuring the swollen appendage. His eye was another tale. It still showed signs of bruising, the skin taking on shades of green and yellow.

  He had not returned to the Lady Luck until he could talk normally. When questioned about his eye, he merely said he had been accosted by a pickpocket. He could not, and would not, admit to any man that his wife had laid him low for a few days. He currently sat in the office of the Lady Luck going over the books. She was a profitable business. The percentage that had been promised him would see him and his family well taken ca
re of for many years to come with the proper investing. Perhaps he could even purchase a house for Rebekah and himself. He knew they would spend much of their time in London or Wulfecrest Manor, but at some point Zachary would be ready to take over and not need his aunt and uncle underfoot. His eyes narrowed as he thought of his wife. She was hiding secrets from him. Little did she know that he lived his life by secrets. He would find hers out.

  He turned back to the books, making certain that everything balanced. At least Glandingham was not a thief. He opened the membership book. He read over the names. They had agreed that the women would not have to sign their names, remaining anonymous. The men, however, were not so lucky. As he turned the page, he noticed a torn piece of paper peeking out of the binding of the book. Using a great deal of patience, he gently worked the ripped edge free and studied it. He had not removed a page and the only other person that had access to it was Glandingham.

  Wulfe looked at the other sheets. Each sheet was filled only on one side. There were approximately fifteen names on each sheet of paper. He could not be sure as to what entry dates were missing. It looked like someone had very carefully altered the information making it seem as if nothing was amiss. Glandingham’s impatient nature would not allow him to spend the time it would take to make those types of changes. No, he had a partner. Perhaps several. There was a name or names on that page that they did not want connected to the Lady Luck.

  He carefully studied the rest of the pages in the book, but could not find anymore that had been torn from it. But he did find the book lacking the names of the two gentlemen he had met the other night—Dashiel and Eason. Who else was it missing? Were those men part of whatever game it was that Glandingham was playing?

  The large clock in the gaming room chimed the hour. They were open for another round of gaming. He could hear the murmur of voices as the people began to fill the large room down the hall. Standing, he tucked the piece of paper into the pocket of his weskit. He locked both journals in the safe, straightened his clothing, and prepared himself to play host for the next little while.