Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  One woman stood in the darkened corridor. She tentatively began to move forward and he took his opportunity. He went up to her, cupped his hand over her mouth and began moving her quickly towards his suite. Her body went limp in arms, making it more difficult for him to maneuver her about. Thorn reached the suite, fought briefly with the door, before pushing her into the room. He took one last look in the hallway before entering the room himself and slamming the door shut.

  “What in bloody hell do you think you are doing here?” he demanded.

  “I’m sorry, sir. You must have me confused with someone else.”

  “That is the game you’re going to play?” he growled, then crossed the room, bearing down on her. “You may have fooled me once, wife, but not again.” His prey continued to back away from him.

  “Wife?”

  “Yes, wife,” he stressed the word. He grinned as she came up against the wall, unable to move any further. He reached behind her and untied the mask, letting it drop to the floor. His chest tightened at what he saw. Her face had been ravaged by the tears she must have cried during the night. “Bekah,” he groaned, leaned in, and trapped her between the wall and his hard, warm body. Thorn played with her lips, teasing her, before deepening the kiss. The sensualness left her breathless and she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck. She stood on her tiptoes bringing them closer together.

  “There’s so much I have to tell you,” she whispered against his lips.

  “I concur, but not here, and not now.” He kissed her again before pulling away. “Do you know how dangerous it was for you to come here?”

  “I have to talk to her. There are things I have to know.”

  “But. Not. Here,” he enunciated each word. “Dammit, Rebekah, this isn’t a game. I don’t get to call a cease-fire or a temporary truce when people I care about arrive on the scene. There is a reason I have extra guards at the house to watch over you and the children. You don’t realize the sort of danger you are in by just being here.”

  “You don’t understand, Thorn. I have to talk to her.”

  “And you can, but not now. I am going to tell you what we are going to do now. I am going to take you out of here out the back. We are going to call a coach for you, and you are going to go straight home.”

  “But…”

  “No. I will hear no argument from you on this quarter. I will set up a meeting between the two of you when it is safer, but no sooner.”

  “So, I am to go home and be a prisoner?”

  He grabbed Rebekah’s upper arms and squeezed, to ensure he had her attention. “I hate it as much as you do, but this is how it has to be. You may hate me all you want, but trust me when I say it has to be this way.”

  “You really are worried about our safety,” she said, sounding a bit breathless.

  “Yes, I am. Although you might not realize it, you and the children are my weakness. So, I beg you, please do this for me. Go home, take care of the twins, and let Barkley see that you remain safe.”

  “And what of you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who will make sure that you are safe?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I have been doing it a long time,” he dipped his head for one more kiss. “Now, turn around so that I can replace your mask.” She did, and he fit the mask back into place, and tied it. He dropped kisses on her exposed nape.

  “You are making it difficult for me to leave.”

  He took her hand and pulled her across the room. “We may have to wait for a conveyance.”

  “I have a hack waiting for me.”

  “Good. I am going to lead you out the back and to the front of the building. Then I want you to go to the coach as quickly as possible. I will watch and make certain that you get in and away.”

  “All right.”

  Thorn opened the door enough to peek into the hall. When he was satisfied that no one was about, he led her out of the room and down the corridor. A door was camouflaged in the hallway, and most people would walk past it. The afternoon sun had weakened with the clouds that had moved in. A cool breeze had picked up, dropping the temperature, belying the fact that they were fast approaching mid-August. Wulfe led her around piles of trash.

  “Be careful, love,” Thorn said, coming as close as he would to saying what he truly felt, refusing to tell her in an alley littered with trash that he loved her.

  “You, too,” she said, before slipping around the corner. He watched her give the driver directions, then disappear into the hack.

  ***

  In a matter of seconds she realized she was no longer alone. She looked across from her and was startled to see a female that looked very much like her, only her hair appeared darker, redder, where hers only had red highlights among her brown tresses. So this was her sister. The one her father chose over her. The one her father loved.

  “What are you doing in my coach?”

  “Attempting to save your life.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “I knew this was a mistake.” She started to knock on the roof of the coach, but Rebekah grabbed her hand and stopped her.

  “I came to the Lady Luck to talk to you.”

  “That is the worst thing you could do right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Never mind, ma chérie. Why did you wish to see me?”

  “There are questions I have that only you can provide answers to.”

  “Such as?”

  “How did it feel?”

  “What?”

  “To be loved.”

  “You put me in danger to ask a silly question like that? Have you lost what little sense you had?”

  “I want to know what it was like to be loved,” Rebekah said firmly. No longer did it come across as a question, but rather a demand.

  “Thorn never loved me. He cared for me, and he never treated me like a whore, but he did not love me.”

  “I am not talking about Thorn, but thank you for that, I think. How did it feel to have a father that loved you? That wanted to be with you?”

  “Sad, because he could not be with us as much as he wanted. Society’s dictates and such. I am not condoning how he treated you, your mother, or your sister. I only know how he was around Maman and me. He was kind, gentle, and loving. He took us places and brought us presents. Pére would bounce me on his knee and read me stories. He would stay with us for a few days, and then he would be gone for weeks, sometimes months. But those days he was with us, he was ours, we loved him, and he loved us.”

  “I hated him.”

  “I know.”

  “Did he?”

  “I suspect he did. His resentment of your family turned into a boiling rage when he would leave us. At first, I did not know, did not understand. But then, one day I heard Maman and Pére talking before he left. He looked so angry. Maman was trying to calm him. I heard his words and they frightened me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Best you not know.”

  “Tell me!”

  “Fine! He said, ‘The bitch keeps breeding and I can’t stand it. Can’t stand to have her have more babes when you cannot. I must stop it, each time. I’m being punished for my sins when she breeds because it is you I think about when I am with her, you I am holding, you I want more children with. Not her. Never her. Why did I not find you before I married her, my darling Gabby?’”

  “Bastard!”

  “Oui. He had come for my thirteenth birthday, and I remember hearing his words so clearly. Oh, I hid so that they did not know I had overheard, but I never saw him in the same light as I had before. And that night I cried for your mother, for her pain and suffering, and for my half-sisters.”

  “And your mother?”

  “I believe she was torn. She loved Pére so very much and wanted to be with him so badly. I think she both resented your mother and pitied her. She always hated the fact that she had
to become a courtesan to support myself and me. Pére doesn’t make very much as a pastor and what he did, he spent making sure his ‘family’ looked the part.”

  “When did they meet? Where?”

  “Here, in London. Your mother was halfway through her pregnancy, with you, I believe, and he was summoned for a meeting. She did not want to travel. He went to a play with some other men and Maman caught his eye. I arrived a handful of months after you.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “The Reverend is dead. Apoplexy.” Rebekah watched as blue eyes like her father’s filled with tears. Aimée could not hold them back, and they slipped over her lashes and down her cheeks. She held a hand to her trembling lip. She should have broken it to her more gently. She wondered if it felt like she had ripped her heart out, because that is what Aimée had done to her as she described the life she had dreamed of, the life she thought was a fantasy, but had been real for another little girl. Rebekah turned her face away and looked out the window at the passing buildings. Her sibling deserved to be able to mourn, but she would not comfort her, for she felt no loss.

  ***

  The man tracked the coach with the two women in it. He knew Wulfe had hoped to hide her from him at the Lady Luck, but he had been unsuccessful. He was curious as to where they were going. The driver was nervous, for he kept looking around at every little noise that came from the encroaching darkness. He merely wanted to take Thorn’s wife, a little insurance that the man would behave properly and sign on to aid their cause.

  What was Aimée doing with her? His loins quickened as he thought of his lover. She was exquisite in and out of the bed. But just because he enjoyed her did not mean she was safe from him. A fine mist began to fall, giving everything an eery cast. They were moving towards the outskirts of London, and the roads were not as well maintained in this area. The road oozed mud from the heavy rain of the previous days, and the mist that had set in was not aiding matters.

  He kept his distance and watched as they came to a stop at a cemetery. One woman got out of the carriage, a cloak pulled tightly about her, her head covered. The driver got down and lit the carriage lamps while the other woman exited the carriage. She, too, was covered head to toe with a cloak. The first woman stopped to pick some wildflowers along the outer fence before she entered the consecrated grounds. Interested, he stopped to watch the proceedings in the shadows of a building. Which woman was which?

  ***

  “Hello, little one,” Rebekah said, going to her knees in front of the marble tomb of her son. She added her flowers to some that were already there, but not as fresh. “I am so sorry for so many things. I should have looked harder for your father. I should have demanded they tell me where he was. If I had, perhaps things would have been different. You might have lived and we might have been a family from the beginning.”

  She heard the crunch of footsteps behind her and could not help feeling irritated that this time of self-reflection had been interrupted by her half-sister who was still very much a stranger. Rebekah placed her hands on the cool, wet marble and relished the tears that fell from her eyes, for they were healing tears this time. She remembered with fondness how she would lay in bed and feel his kicks. She would tell him stories of his father, of how handsome he was, and how he would grow up to be like him some day—handsome and wicked, breaking all the girls’ hearts.

  “I loved your father then, and I have fallen in love with him all over again.” The sound of clapping had her turn around. She started to say something cutting to Aimée, but fell back on her hands when a strange man stood there.

  “Heart wrenching. Absolutely heart wrenching.” He noticed Rebekah looking frantically towards the coach. “You will find no help in that quarter.”

  She tried to push up and run, but became tangled in her cloak. Firm arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. He smelled of licorice and his eyes were almost as dark. “Let me go,” she squirmed, kicking at the man.

  “I think not.”

  Rebekah felt herself lifted, a hand clapped over her mouth to keep her from shouting for help. She was unceremoniously thrown into the hack. She smelled the stench of unwashed body before she felt a pair of heavy hands on her. She looked up and yelled.

  “Lady Wulfe, do you remember Tiny? I believe you, um, injured him not too long ago. This is his twin brother, John. John is just looking for a reason to avenge his brother. Don’t give him a reason. Aimée, make sure he doesn’t kill her…yet.” He closed the door. “Tiny to my house. We have business to attend.”

  “You lying bitch!” Rebekah yelled at the woman across from her. “You didn’t want to save my life! You were following me weren’t you? You couldn’t give a shit if we were sisters!”

  Walsh opened the door once more, “John, shut her up before she calls attention to us.”

  “My pleasure,” the big oaf grinned before backhanding her so hard that she lost consciousness.

  Chapter 25

  When Thorn slipped back into the gaming hell, both Walsh and Aimée had disappeared. Was Aimée involved with Walsh, as well? Did she know what the man was planning? Did she know who the other players were in the game? He was tired of this cat and mouse game. If it had ended weeks ago, it could not have been too soon for him. He went about walking around the Lady Luck, welcoming patrons, encouraging them to spend their money. He took the time to study each player carefully.

  A young man he did not know very well, other than he was the inheriting son of an earl, played at the Faro table. Walking past, a movement caught his eye. Trying to appear nonchalant, he turned and stood at one of the other tables, as if he were watching the betting at that table with intensity. His eyes strayed to the young man. He was a tapper, the back of the card, the table, and parts of his face. He was more than tapping, he was communicating, but with whom.

  Thorn studied the room. No one seemed to be paying the man any attention other than those at his table, most specifically the dealer. Both men wore a small signet ring on their pinky finger. A roar went up from the table he was standing at, startling him to the presence. Thorn looked at the face of the dealer, but did not recognize him. He must be someone that Glandingham had brought in. The dealer also explained how the information was being shared with all members of the group.

  Thorn left the table he stood beside and made a revolution around the room. Several of the younger men wore similar signet rings on their left pinky. Six, if he counted correctly, seven including the dealer. Each of them, except the dealer, were sons set to inherit titles from their aristocratic fathers, if they had not already done so. So, they were revolting against their fathers’ beliefs of how England should be run. That still did not explain why Walsh was after Mack.

  Wulfe went into his office and scribbled off the names and titles of the men that he knew. He also pulled in one of the dealers he had hired and asked of the other man.

  “He’s only been about a couple of weeks, my lord. Doesn’t say much to anyone. Strange duck, that one.”

  “Keep an eye on him. Send word around to me immediately should something peculiar happen.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Do not hesitate, regardless of the hour. Also, do not let Glandingham nor Walsh know anything about this.”

  “Of course not. My lord, pardon me for askin’, but do you know what you’re getting involved in? Glandingham and Walsh are not the most popular men in this area.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I am well aware of the danger that I am facing. Now, return to your table, and remember what I said, they don’t need to know that you are watching them.”

  “Yes, sir,” the other man saluted Thorn before returning to the main room.

  A feeling of unease crept over Wulfe. He felt a need to check on his wife and the twins. He stopped to tell Glandingham he would return before the night was over. He left the Lady. Upon arriving at the townhouse, he slipped off his horse and tied it to the post out front. He planned
only to check on Rebekah and the children, wanting to ease his worries. He entered the house and immediately had two children wrapped around his legs.

  “Oh, ho, what have we here?”

  “It’s us, Uncle Thorn!” Zachary exclaimed behind the paint on his face and feathers in his hair.

  “What is this about?”

  “Mr. Barkley has been telling us stories about the Indians in the Colonies.”

  “He has, has he?”

  “Yes, and it’s been so exciting,” Ivy added.

  “Where is your Aunt Bekah?”

  “She’s not here, Uncle Thorn,” Zachary said.

  “She’s not?” Thorn looked at his valet for confirmation.

  “We haven’t seen her for two days now, my lord.”

  “Where is she?” Ivy demanded of her uncle.

  “I’m sure she’s merely delayed. Tell me what Barkley has been teaching you,” he said, distracting the twins.

  ***

  Rebekah slowly became aware of her surroundings. She lay prone on a settee in a room that she had to admit was quite beautiful. Her head throbbed and worsened as she tried to sit up. She saw spots before her eyes and quickly closed them before her stomach decided it would rebel.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “What do you care?” Rebekah snarled as she rubbed her pounding head.

  “I did want to help you,” Aimée said.

  “And pigs fly. Who is that man, anyway?”

  “That man is the Duke of Walsh, and best you do what he asks. He is not a man to anger unnecessarily.”

  “Now, I remember. He danced with me at the Richmond’s ball. What does he want with me?”

  “I can hazard a guess.”

  “And what would that guess be?

  “He wants your husband’s cooperation and help.”

  “And he believes kidnapping me will bring Thorn to his side? He must be mad. Half the time Thorn hates the very air I breathe.”