Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “What do you mean?”

  “People are going to woo us and invite us into their homes. All to try to convince us of certain things in regard to our nephew, voting in the House of Lords, and other topics related to our government and monarchy.”

  “Who would have the owner of a gaming hell in their home?”

  “You would be surprised. In our society, people know that we are the ones that will assist Zachary in making decisions, and we will be the ones guiding him. People are going to want us to attend their functions, if for no other reason but to try to sway us to their side. Until he reaches his majority, I will be voting for him by proxy in Parliament. You do know what proxy means, don’t you? It is where you give someone permission to act in your stead, sometimes without your knowledge,” he said pointedly. He watched as a blush spread attractively over her neck and face. “Take Gertie or Clarissa with you and purchase yourself a new wardrobe. Open an account under my name wherever you choose.”

  “Are you ashamed of how I look?”

  “I am not dignifying that with an answer, and I am tired of defending myself to you at every turn. If you want the fishmonger’s wife to look better dressed than you, that is your prerogative, but you will be accompanying me to any engagement we are invited to. Do you understand? I myself do not care how you look.”

  He found himself on the receiving end of another mutinous glare. He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, at first just holding her tightly. She remained stiff in his arms. Thorn pulled back, playing with the wisps of hair that clung to her neck. He teased the lobe of her ear. Her sparkling eyes and elevated breathing indicated that she was not as unaffected by him as she tried to pretend. Thorn felt his body reacting to her, his member hardening as he held her in his arms. She challenged him, and he enjoyed it.

  Rebekah vowed to herself that she would remain unaffected by his touch and kisses. She counted silently, but found herself starting over at least four times as he pressed kisses along her jawline. Her hands had turned white because they were fisted so tightly at her side. She felt her pulse racing as he began to nibble at her lips. Rebekah closed her eyes tightly so as not to look at his handsome face in its nearness. She felt like she was being treated as one would a delicacy.

  “Allow me to show you how it can be,” he breathed against her lips, but she stubbornly refused to grant him access.

  She felt him step away and heard herself whimper before she could stop herself at the loss of contact with his body.

  He started to say something about her not being immune to him after all, but thought better of it. Thorn tried teasing her lips once more, hoping to coax them to open beneath him, but she held firm. He lowered his right hand to her waist while the left cradled her close. Ever so slowly he moved his hand up her side, allowing his thumb to lead, teasing here and there. In a move of stealth, Wulfe captured her breast in his hand. Her eyes flew open, meeting his and her mouth opened on a gasp.

  Taking the opportunity granted him, he bent her backwards slightly and delved into the moist recesses of her mouth. He could tell the moment she began to think and plot, because she stiffened in his arms once more. In response, he gently squeezed her breast, teasing her. Her body began to overtake her mind, and she relaxed into his touch. Thorn sought her tongue with his, showing her what he wanted, and the pleasure he could show her. In triumph he felt her hands grip him and tug him close. Just as he deepened the kiss and felt her response, they heard an ear-piercing scream followed by silence.

  Thorn set her away from him and pushed her behind him. “Stay here,” he ordered before taking a gun from his desk and crossing the room. When he opened the door, he heard the clomping of heavy feet drawing near. He looked up the staircase to see Zachary standing at the second floor landing, staring at the floor below. A look of horror was etched on the little boy’s face. He stood on a chair, looking over the railing. Thorn’s gut churned in dread when he looked down the hall. Lying motionless was his beautiful little niece.

  “Keep her back, James,” Thorn directed his valet. Not needing to know who, the valet went and gently restrained Rebekah. When she finally was able to see past the larger man she began screaming and keening. Wulfe approached the little girl who looked at him with terrified eyes. She took in heaving gasps, as if she could not get enough air in her lungs. “Ivy, love, calm down,” he said soothingly, cupping the little girl’s cheek. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart.” The little girl kept gasping and tears began to trickle down her temples and into her hair. “Ivy, I know you’re scared, but you have to listen to me. Take a deep breath,” he found himself doing it to show her how. “Now, release it.”

  “She’s alive, m’lady” Rebekah heard the valet whisper in her ear. “You must calm yourself. You aren’t helping yourself or the little one.” Rebekah stopped screaming, but she continued to cry and began fighting against the restraint of the bigger man’s arms.

  “Let me go!”

  “I’m sorry, m’lady, but I can’t do that.”

  Thorn ignored his wife struggling against her captor. His focus was on the little girl before him. After several minutes he had her breathing normally. She wanted to sit up, but he made her stay where she lay. “I need you to be very still.” One of the maid’s arrived with a woman Thorn had never seen before.

  “My lord, this is the cook from next door. She is my father’s sister, and she has some experience with healing. I went to get her.”

  “Thank you. Please, do what you can,” he begged of the older woman. The woman went to her knees and worked from the top of Ivy’s head to the tips of her toes. Thorn carefully watched her all the while trying to tune out his wife’s cries and struggles. He knew she wanted to hold the little girl in her arms and know that all would be well. Hell, he wanted to do the exact same thing. However, they had to make certain that she was not hurt worse.

  “She has a bump growing on the back of her head. It isn’t good, but it is better than no bump at all. That would be worrisome. And her arm is broken.” The little girl cried out when the woman gently lifted her forearm. “It must be set.”

  “Can you set it?”

  “Aye. Won’t be pleasant.”

  “Is there anything we can give her for the pain?”

  “No. Not until we know more about the head injury.” The maid’s aunt gently laid Ivy’s arm across her waist.

  “Please follow me,” he bent down and hoisted the little girl up. She felt like a feather in his arms. He walked up the stairs and entered the Duchess’ bedchamber. The staff kept it immaculate. The maid ran in behind him and quickly pulled back the coverlet and sheets on the bed. He gently placed Ivy on the bed.

  “I want Aunt Bekah,” the little girl whimpered and sniffed.

  “James!” he bellowed and an instant later it seemed like, Rebekah was racing through the door. When it looked as if she were going to jerk the little girl into a hug, he quickly stopped her. “Careful with her. Her arm must be set.” Rebekah looked at him horrified.

  “Aunt Bekah, I don’t feel good.”

  “Chamberpot,” the maid’s aunt called for quickly. The little girl was indeed sick. “Could be the head or the arm causing that,” she said matter-of-factly. “Stand back.” She looked at her niece who had just entered the room quite breathless with a handful of twigs.

  “I will not,” Rebekah argued.

  “M’lady, this isn’t going to be pleasant for anyone. Please stand back and allow my niece and me to do what needs to be done.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “I raised my sons in the country. They were always falling out of something and breaking an arm or leg. We didn’t have the luxury of calling for a surgeon. We took care of things ourselves.”

  Rebekah removed herself from the bed and crossed the room so that the women could work, but she could still see what was happening. She felt, rather than saw, Thorn’s presence beside her. Feeling the need to share her worry, she reached for his hand and
entwined her fingers with his, squeezing tightly. They watched as the two women worked together, hardly saying a word. The older woman gave a hard yank and Ivy screamed, then all was quiet.

  “What’s wrong?” Thorn asked, rushing towards the bed.

  “The little one has fainted. It’s better for this next part.”

  “Better? What next part?”

  “We must stabilize the arm.”

  “Oh, dear,” Rebekah said softly, and plopped down onto the chaise set against the wall.

  “Like I said, better this way. I’ll be worried if she doesn’t wake within the hour.”

  Thorn walked over to his wife and sat beside her. She rubbed her hand along the length of her left forearm back and forth, over and over. He halted her progress and lifted her hand away. A large, ugly scar ran the length from of her inner forearm from her wrist to her elbow. “When did you get that?”

  “I must have been Ivy’s age, perhaps a little older,” she said, never taking her eyes off of her niece.

  “It must have been a gruesome cut. What happened?”

  “Sarah and I were climbing a tree at the church. It was a glorious climbing tree. I lost my balance and fell, snagging a broken limb on the way down.”

  “What ham-handed person sewed you up?”

  “The Reverend. He said I deserved to be scarred for disobeying him. After the first few stitches, I fainted from the pain. He kept waking me before he would continue.”

  “Your father is a complete and utter bastard,” Thorn said vehemently. He held her arm in his hand and rubbed his thumb back and forth over part of the scar and put his arm around her attempting to give her his strength. They watched and waited and what seemed to be days later, but was actually only a half hour, Ivy awoke. She complained of her head and arm aching, but otherwise was the picture of good health. The older woman left them instructions and told them to have her niece send for her should they become worried.

  “Don’t be surprised if she runs a fever. Sometimes happens with broken bones. Treat it like you would any other fever.”

  “I’m staying with her,” Rebekah said.

  “I never thought you wouldn’t.”

  “I would not ask this of you under normal circumstance, but please don’t go to the gaming hell tonight.”

  “Of course not. What kind of person do you take me for?”

  “I don’t want to argue. I just want to know that if she should need something…if something should happen…”

  “Nothing is going to happen. She merely had an accident. Children do. I will remain for as long as you need me.”

  “Thank you,” she said and stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his lips. She turned to the giant bed and crawled up on Ivy’s good side.

  Thorn stood in the doorway and watched as Rebekah lay on her side, running her fingers through her nieces blonde locks, and murmuring softly to her. The little girl’s eyes fluttered closed and her breath evened out slow and steady. He found himself wanting to do the same to Rebekah until she fell asleep. Thorn pushed away from the door, leaving it open so that he could hear them better if they needed him. He turned to the stairs and there stood the empty chair. He had a young duke he needed to speak to.

  He looked in the nursery, the schoolroom, and the bedrooms they occupied and could not find him. Wulfe went downstairs and looked in the study and the parlor only to come up empty handed.

  “I believe your quarry is in the kitchens,” James said.

  “Thank you,” he said not even bothering to ask why or how the man knew. He stalked into the kitchen and was brought up short. He did not know know what he should expect, but it wasn’t this. In the farthest corner of the room, Zachary sat huddled, his knees pulled to his chest and his head resting on his knees. His body shook with sobs. Wulfe felt the anger leave his body in one long sigh. He walked over, bent down and picked up the child in his arms. He carried him upstairs and into the nursery and took a seat in the large rocking chair.

  “I killed her,” the little boy cried into his uncle’s shoulder, the words coming out muffled.

  “You did not kill her,” Thorn said.

  “But she was so still,” he continued sobbing between words.

  “Ivy broke her arm and has a bump on her head, but otherwise she is fine. Now, calm down before you make yourself sick,” Thorn instructed taking a handkerchief and mopping at the boy’s face. It took several long minutes before Zachary calmed down enough that he could talk.

  “We were sliding down the banister. I remember Papa talking about how you and he used to do it when you were little. I was missing him and thought it would be fun.”

  “That is why you had the chair.”

  “I am too short and needed to be taller. I did it once,” the boy’s face lit up briefly. “It was ever so much fun, Uncle Thorn! Ivy saw me and she wanted to do it, too. I helped her climb up, but as she started sliding, she slipped sideways. I tried to grab for her Uncle Thorn, I promise I did.”

  “I know you did, son. I think, though, you must hear the rest of the story, for I don’t believe your father told you everything.”

  “He didn’t?”

  “No. You see, he and I both landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Your grandfather added the spindle after he caught us sliding down it. See this bump here?” he pointed to the bridge of his nose and waited for the little boy to inspect him. “I broke my nose that day. There was blood all over me, your Papa, and our mother’s favorite carpet. Your grandfather took us upstairs, cleaned us up, and then gave us a spanking until neither of us could sit down. He then added the spindle so if we did try it again, we could not go flying off the end.” Thorn watched as his nephew carefully thought about all that he had told him.

  “I suppose you are going to spank me.”

  “You would be correct.”

  “What about Ivy?”

  “I will give her a day or two to feel better.”

  “You’re going to spank a girl?”

  “I don’t see why not. Did she do wrong?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did your father spank her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then she must be punished as well.” He watched as the little boy slipped from his lap and crossed the room. He leaned against the wall, with his legs spread a little. Wulfe felt relief that the boy understood. Thank goodness the children would not think him an ogre compared to their deceased father. He stood, crossed the room, and meted out his second punishment as a parental figure. It did not feel good by any means, and he found himself wondering if he could truly give the same punishment to a little girl. Zachary sniffed, but he did not cry. “Would you like to see your sister before going to bed?”

  “Yes, sir.” The two made the journey downstairs to the duchess’ chamber together. Rebekah and Ivy both had fallen asleep. “Are you certain she will be all right?”

  “Yes, Zach, I am.”

  The boy nodded his head. “Uncle Thorn, may I sleep with you tonight?”

  “Of course, son,” he said. “Let’s go get you changed, and then we will return to my bedchamber.” He stepped into the hall and pulled the door halfway closed. He stopped James who was coming out of his bedchamber. “James in light of tonight’s events, I will not be going to the Lady Luck this evening. Will you please let them know?”

  “I have already sent word through one of our footmen, m’lord.”

  “Thank you, James. Go ahead and retire for the evening.”

  Once he had returned to his bedchamber, he made himself as comfortable as possible while still dressed. Zach snuggled next to him. The pups had been in here, but left, and he assumed were protecting their mistress. Somehow animals always knew who needed them.

  As he lay there in the silence, his mind wondered. How was he going to continue with his two lives? He never realized how much being a father and husband required of his time. Well, he was still unsure about the husbandly part, but being a parent took so much of one’s time. One had to
protect them and not just from bad people. Just look at what happened today. It could have been so much worse.

  Then there was his obligation to the Crown. He had worked too many years to cultivate the rakish identity, and make his connections, to just throw it all away. They were so close, he could feel it. He needed to be there this evening, working the crowd, making connections, and observing. He hoped to hell that someone made a mistake soon. He wanted it over with. But he was needed at home as well. Rebekah had finally asked him for help. Never before had he felt torn. Even when Sarah had died, and he had been unable to attend the funeral, Teddy had understood. This was different.

  He placed his hands behind his head and watched the moonlight’s shadows play on the ceiling of his bedchamber and listened for any sign of distress down the hall.

  Chapter 12

  A week later, Ivy was once more chasing her brother about the house. Her arm resided in a sling designed by her uncle just for her. She was cautioned to take care, so she would not hurt herself again. Rebekah sat at a table on the terrace watching the children and the pups playing. She had never been nervous about the children before, but ever since Ivy’s accident, she would not let them out of her sight.

  She had not spoken to Thorn since two days after Ivy’s accident. That was the day he came in and held a conversation with their niece on the dangers of riding the banister. Then he unexpectedly pulled the little girl over his knees, careful of her injured arm and spanked her bottom. While Ivy cried softly, the little girl had been scooped up in Thorn’s lap, and he had tenderly hugged her. She could not overhear their conversation, but by the time it was over, Ivy was clinging to him as if the spanking had never occurred.

  “We have received an invitation to a ball being thrown by the Duke and Duchess of Richmond. It is in three days. We must hire a nanny and you must purchase an appropriate ball gown.”

  Her husband’s voice broke into her thoughts. She hated the way her body reacted when he spoke to her, when she could smell his scent in the air. “You are assuming that I will go with you,” she said never taking her eyes off the children.