“I’ve changed my mind. Please, take me home.”
“Sorry, can’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Those ladies told me not to.”
“Of course they did,” she muttered. About twenty minutes later the carriage drew to a halt.
“Are you sure this is where you want off?” the driver inquired.
“Is this the Lady Luck?”
“That it ’tis,” the driver said. A man dressed in livery of some type opened the door and helped her to exit.
Rebekah paused, and said, “Wish me luck, gentlemen.” And with that, she dropped the cloak into the hands of the awaiting attendant and entered the gaming hell with a game of seduction on her mind.
Chapter 16
Rebekah found herself more than grateful for the mask that hid her features from the present company.
“Pardon me, lovey,” a man said as he slid by her and gently patted her derriere. She straightened her spine and shot the man a withering glance that her mask prevented him from seeing. She slid to the side and stood with her back to the wall as she took a few moments to get her bearings. Twilight had just begun to descend on London and already the Lady Luck teemed with people, both men and women. True to the other women’s predictions, every woman present wore some sort of mask.
She scanned the room trying to catch a glimpse of her husband, but could not find him. Gathering more attention standing against the wall, she decided to move about the room. Rebekah found herself observing how the others were behaving. Women clung to men and was it her imagination, or were there some men that seemed to be acting a little too intimate with one another. She felt a blush begin on her chest and lightly fanned herself.
“Warm?” A deep voice asked behind her. She could not control the shiver that went down her spine upon hearing her husband.
“A little,” she agreed, turning and dropping her voice slightly, attempting to talk with a breathless quality.
“I don’t believe I have seen you before in the Lady Luck.”
“How can you say that? You cannot see my face.”
“There are certain things about a woman that men do not forget.”
“Such as?”
“The way they present themselves, masked or not.”
Rebekah took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Had he already figured out it was her? No, he hasn’t. Get yourself under control, she commanded. “I’m sure you say that to all the women.”
“Perhaps, but it is beneficial for an owner of such an establishment to know who his patrons are.”
“I think I will keep my identity to myself for the time being.”
“As the lady wishes. Enjoy your time here,” he bowed before moving off.
“Well that did not particularly go as planned,” she muttered to herself.
“Pardon?” another gentleman asked.
“Nothing,” she waved him on and found herself moving around the room. She found herself embracing the anonymity the mask provided her. She practiced her flirtation skills on other men, trying different things with each one, but sure to never let it get physical. Rebekah watched Thorn approach a man that stood in a shadowed back corner.
Wulfe stood a full head taller than this man. The man had two burly men that stood behind and on either side of him, constantly scanning the room. They looked ready to pounce on anyone that would harm their master, much like protective hounds. Rebekah walked over to a footman and requested two brandies. She doctored one, just as the women had instructed, and sipped from the other, letting the liquid fire give her the courage she needed. She stood, looking calm, and waited for her moment.
***
“I have gone along with your game, Glandingham. We have allowed women into the club, and I am ruining my family’s reputation a little more each day. I believe I have proved myself.”
“And how is your wife enjoying the fact that her husband runs an establishment very close to a house of ill repute.”
“How would yours feel? Oh, but wait, perhaps I should not ask her, but her brother.” Thorn thought the man would have a fit of apoplexy standing in front of him. “I have information and will meet the person you report to.”
“What type of information?” Glandingham asked, his eyes snapping up to Wulfe’s and licking his lips excitedly.
“I don’t know that I can trust you with it.”
“Come now, we are business parters. Certainly you can trust me.”
“I’ll think about it, while you consider your situation.”
“I know what you need.”
“And that would be?”
“I believe you should renew your acquaintance with your ex-mistress. I know that she is anxious to do the same.”
“I am married,” Wulfe bit out.
“And irritable, which can mean only one thing. Look, there she is,” Glandingham nodded across the room at the woman he had talked to earlier.
“You must be mistaken. That is not Aimée,” he studied the woman in the red dress that had been wetted so that it would cling to her body like a second skin. It had been very obvious she wore nothing under it. The elaborate mask hid her face from him.
“Of course it is. Different hair color is all.”
“It did not sound like Aimée.”
“Perhaps she is playing games with you. You know how she likes to play games.” Glandingham nodded at her, and the woman nodded back and raised a glass of brandy toward the two men before taking a sip. She held another brandy in her other hand. “Look, she is warming a brandy for you.”
“I’m married,” Wulfe all but growled. “Besides, I thought Aimée was your new interest.”
“I find her a bit of a bore. You are a miserable bastard. If you don’t go tup that woman, I may have to shoot you to put you out of my misery. Now go and be done with it. I will consider introducing you to the General.”
“The General?”
“Yes, that is what we call him. You see how this works, Wulfe? You trust me, I trust you? Now go. Reacquaint yourself with that beauty.”
Wulfe shot the shorter man a look of contempt but left him. He saw Glandingham’s brother-in-law approach as he left and the look of exultation as he caught sight of the other man. “For the good of God, King, and Country,” he recited under his breath. He worked his way from table to table, talking to the men and women, acting for all the world as if he cared about their actions.
He walked within a few feet of the woman in red when she said in her breathless voice, “You can’t keep ignoring me.”
“I can Aimée, and I will.”
“I am not Aimée.”
“You try to deny it when Glandingham pointed you out across the room?”
“Is that the name of the man you were talking to?”
“Are you attempting to prove your prowess as an actress? If so, I’m not impressed.”
“For the last time, I am not Aimée. You can choose to believe that or not, but if you do not, you cannot begin to fathom what you will be losing.”
He cocked an eyebrow studying the woman in front of him. He felt his body reacting to everything about her. There was her voice, how she looked in that dress—covered, but somehow indecent all the same. Her brown hair piled up on her head and the mask that concealed her identity, but left her lips temptingly available for sampling. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“For tonight, anyone you want me to be.”
“I am married.”
“As am I.”
“I am going to roast in Hell,” he exhaled, finding himself tired of fighting. His body was responding to this woman in front of him. Since his sham of a marriage had begun, he had found no relief when he found his body reacting to Rebekah. Just thinking of her caused his member to harden even more.
“I have been there for years,” the woman said and held out the other glass to him. “Join me?”
Wulfe took the glass from her and threw back the brandy, not taking time to sip it. “Bottom
s up, love,” he said, guiding the glass to her lips and tipping the bottom up so she would be forced to drink it all. “Now, come with me,” he took her hand and led her through the tables and throng of people who crowded the room. He refused to look at the corner where Glandingham stood and took her through a door in the back of the room. They entered a quiet hall lit by wall sconces and he showed her to a room on the right.
“So you do operate a place for soiled doves?” she asked, seeing the large bed that took up the room. She heard a click and turned to look and see that he had locked the door.
“No. But I had been a bachelor for years and operated a gaming hell. It was easier to stay here most times than keeping up a residence in London.”
“Smart.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you ever brought a mistress here?”
“That’s a strange question.”
“Not so strange. I don’t like warming another woman’s bed.”
“No, I have never brought my mistress here. I have always gone to her.”
“And your wife?”
“My wife screams like a banshee if I come within fifty feet of her. So, no, I believe it is safe to say, my wife has never been here. And what of your husband?”
“What of him?”
“Are you married to an old man that cannot satisfy you?”
She threw her head back and laughed boisterously. “No, he is not old.”
“But he cannot satisfy you?”
“I have not allowed him to try.”
“A marriage of duty then?”
“You could say that.”
“’Tis a pity.”
“Why?”
“A woman like you should be savored every night by a man that adores you.”
“He has his mistress and no need of me.”
“Children?”
“One. Dead and buried.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” There, she thought. Even though he did not know it was his wife behind the mask, she had told him about the babe. Feeling relief, she licked her dry lips before proceeding. “I should not be here,” she slipped past him. Now that she was here, doing what the girls had coaxed her into doing, she felt foolish and silly. She also felt a bit angry. This was her husband standing in front of her, willing to have intercourse with a woman he believed to not be his wife. The thought sickened her.
“Then why did you come?”
Rebekah looked down at the firm hand that gripped her upper arm and kept her from leaving. “To see if a man could find me attractive. To see if I could entice a man. To see if I am frigid, as I suspect I am.” What is it about this situation that has me being so honest? she thought.
“Does your husband not touch you, kiss you, hold you?” Thorn whispered.
“He tries.”
“And?”
“I always stop him before things can go too far.”
“Why is that?”
“I would rather not say.”
“Perhaps it will help me to understand you better.”
“I do not want to be understood.”
“Oh, but deep down I think you must,” he tipped her chin back. “And something specific has brought you here, to me, and I will find out what it is.”
“No,” she struggled out of his hold.
“Stay,” it almost sounded like a plea.
“Why?”
“My marriage is a sham. I am attracted to my wife, but she wants nothing to do with me. I have been forced to be a father to children that are not mine, but I love dearly. My life is in shambles, and you seem like a kindred soul.”
“Are you this open with every woman you wish to bed?”
“No,” he answered honestly.
“I have some requests.”
“What is that?”
“The mask stays on.”
“I am amenable to that.”
“Good.”
“You never seek me out.”
“I believe it is you who sought me out,” he observed. “Agreed,” when he saw the look she gave him.
“Your other request?”
“No children.”
“Of course.”
“I have sponges in my reticule.”
“Prepared for a seduction?” Thorn asked, all of sudden feeling hunted.
“Can we not discuss this? I haven’t very much experience at this.”
“But you are married.”
“And as I said, my husband has his mistress, and I stop him before anything intimate can occur.”
“I see.”
“I doubt it, but there it is.”
“Don’t worry, love, you’ve come to the right person,” and he swooped in, attacking her mouth with his. Her gasp of shock allowed him access, deepening the kiss. He felt her slowly relax against him. “I am finding I rather enjoy the mystery that surrounds you,” he said after he pulled away from her.
“I’m glad,” she managed to get out as he began using his teeth to tug on her ear lobes.
“We need brandy or vinegar,” she whispered as he teased his tongue down her neck, “for…for the sponges.” She grew irritated with herself for not being able to complete a sentence without stuttering her way through.
“Brandy tastes infinitely better than vinegar,” he whispered against her lips.
Her eyes widened as she gasped at his meaning. “I…well…oh,” she finally said.
“Your husband is a clod.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” she said before pulling him down for another drugging kiss, her body thrumming with excitement. The mask allowed her to be another woman entirely and she found she enjoyed the freedom it gave her. She pushed back thoughts that tried to encroach, attempting to ruin the feelings running through her. Rebekah pulled away. “I’ll pour us both a drink.”
“Forget it,” he tried to pull her towards the bed, but her glove covered hand slipped through his.
“No. Get comfortable,” she backed away and crossed the room. She poured brandy in three glasses. She took a fortifying drink from one before replacing it on the small table. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as he approached the bed and began removing his coat, waistcoat, cravat, and shirt. His skin glowed in the dimly lit room and looked warm and welcoming to the touch. Rebekah turned and brought out the vial and added a couple of more drops of the sedative the girls had given her. She then dropped the vial into a nearby waste bin.
She turned around and both glasses almost slipped from her gloved hands. The coverlet was thrown back and Thorn reclined on the bed, the sheet draped across his most private parts. Rebekah felt she should be blushing or gasping for air, but all she could do was stand there and admire this man that was her husband. This man that she could have been sharing a bed with for over a month, but thanks to her past, had to resort to hiding behind a mask before she could even approach him. I can’t do this!
“Here.” She shoved one of the glasses in his and set the other one down before turning towards the door.
“Stop right there,” he stood and grabbed her hand before she could reach the door, the glass she gave him still in his other hand.
“Could you do something about that?” She waved in the general direction of his member and averted her gaze.
“Bloody hell,” she heard him mutter. She peeked behind her and saw him throw back the brandy before ripping the top sheet from the bed and one-handedly wrapped it around his waist. “There. Now, come over and sit.” He pulled her to the edge of the mattress. It dipped when he sat next to her. “You really don’t want to do this do you?”
“I thought I did,” she whispered and looked up at him.
“May I ask you, why me?”
“Your reputation proceeds you,” she shrugged.
“I don’t know whether to be honored or to take offense.”
“I don’t know either.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“Not as much as you think.”
�
��You intrigue me. I want to kiss you.”
“I think I want you to kiss me.” Rebekah held very still while he moved in and claimed her lips. This time the kiss was soft and gentle, not like the ravenous kiss earlier. She felt wanted. She felt like a lady and a woman all at the same time if that were possible. His arms moved slowly, wrapping around her and pulling her against his chest. She cursed the gloves for not allowing her to feel the warmth of his skin and the strength of his muscles beneath her bare palms. Rebekah wrapped her arms around him so they were chest to chest with only the thin fabric of her gifted dress between them.
Thorn pulled away and dropped kisses from the corner of her mouth to her right earlobe. He took it gently between his teeth, nibbling and suckling until he won a moan from the woman in his arms. He moved back to her mouth and began methodically working the pins from her hair until it hung down her back. It looked to be a rich, dark brown in the soft light, with streaks of cinnamon and honey shot through it, and felt like silk in his fingers. Wulfe pulled away fascinated, watching the locks sinuously glide through his fingers. “Everything about you excites me,” he slurred. He looked at her and saw two of her floating in and out of one another. He shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” Rebekah asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “There’s just two of you now, both of you luscious. Damn, but I wish…”
“What?”
“Not important,” he slurred and tried to kiss her once more, but he could not make her stay still. Instead he watched her stand and move in front of him to stand in between his legs. He felt hands on either side of his face gently tipping his head back as his dream lover covered his mouth with her own. Thorn placed his hands on her waist enjoying the feel of her. When her tongue touched his without coaxing he became lightheaded with the feeling. He skated his hands slowly up her sides to heft the weight of her breasts in them. He tugged the already low neckline of her dress lower until they popped free.
Rebekah started to cover herself when he grabbed her hands and placed them on his shoulders.
“Stay still,” he slurred huskily.
It was becoming more difficult to understand what he was saying. Perhaps she had given him too much of the laudanum after all. They had said only a few drops, but he had seemed so unaffected earlier. She squeaked when she felt his tongue flick one of her nipples. “What are you doing?”
Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) Page 19
