Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (54 page)

“He certainly is.
 
I want to know something.
 
How long had you been in labor?”

“Longer than I thought, I think” she replied.
 

“Rebekah!”

“I wasn’t sure.
 
I just knew I felt achy and uncomfortable the last few days and it had progressively gotten worse.
 
This little one was bound and determined to join the world today, Thorn,” she smiled adoringly at her newborn son.

“Next time, my rebellious wife, our child will be born safe and sound in a bed with a midwife.”

“We’ll see,” she raised her lips to receive a kiss.
 
She looked at him, her eyes shining brightly, sparkling between green and blue.
 
“We did well, my wicked Lord Wulfe.”

“Indeed we did, my love.”

***

“Thorn, I want to tell you the vows I could not say in front of the others.”

“I’m listening, love.”

“I know that I am strong-willed, opinionated, and have not always made your life easy.
 
There are times that you drive me mad.
 
But I know that at the end of every day, you are there for me and I, you.
 
And I know that I fall more in love with you every day.”

“Rebekah, I am in awe of your strength and courage.
 
You have been through so much, and when I look at you, I not only see my beautiful, headstrong wife, but also my hero.
 
You are my everything, and I love you more than I did yesterday, but less than I will tomorrow.”
 
He kissed her softly, nibbling at her lips before easing his way into the moist recess of her mouth.
 
Thorn pulled away.
 
“Wait right here.”
 
He crossed the small hut and pawed through a knapsack before coming back to her.
 
“Turn around and close your eyes.”

Rebekah did as he commanded, knowing full well if it had been two years ago, she would have fought him tooth and nail, not trusting anything he might do.
 
She felt a slight weight against her chest.

“You can open your eyes.”

She did and looked down.
 
Rebekah held it out so that she could see.
 
It was a beautiful silver necklace with a pearl pendent surrounded in diamonds.
 
“It’s beautiful,” she said in awe.

“The diamonds are for the month of our marriage - April.
 
The pearl is the birthstone of our handsome son, Jeremy.
 
And then there is this necklace,” he held it up.
 
This time an amber stone lay nestled amongst diamonds.
 
“For our first son.”

“Thorn,” she threw her arms around him, squeezing tight.
 
She furiously blinked away a sheen of tears.
 
“I have a wedding present for you as well.”

“You do?” he growled playfully, kissing her neck.

“Yes.”
 
She took his hand and moved it low to her belly.

“Another?”

“I think so,” she laughed.

“Think so?”

“Well, with the baby teething, he hasn’t been feeding and we have not done anything to prevent another babe.”

“And?”

“Well, I’ve been feeling a little queasy and certain foods are just…”

Thorn picked her up and swung her in a circle.
 
He dropped her to her feet, kissing her once more.
 
“I’m going to have to purchase another necklace.”

“It would seem so.”

“Where do you think this one is going to be born,” he asked teasingly.

“I’m sure wherever he or she wants to as long as their Papa is there to welcome them into the world,” she retorted mischievously.
 
“Now that I have you tamed, Lord Wulfe, I believe you owe me a honeymoon.”

“It will be my absolute pleasure, Rebekah, my love.”
 
As he took her into his arms, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to his brother, not for the first time, for tricking him into a proxy marriage that led to a love of a lifetime.

About the Author

I grew up in the Panhandle of Texas, but have always been fascinated with the land of my forefathers – England, Scotland, and Ireland.
 
I also classify myself as a true romantic, and find I frequently dream of greater than life heroes that leave me thinking – that is what love should be like.
 
So, I work on creating love stories with strong women and stronger men, and let the battle of wills ensue.
 
I am currently busy writing my fourth book in my little cottage in the woods of North Texas with my cat, Ajax, to keep me company.

I would love to hear from those who read my books.
 
I can be contacted at:
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Tammy Jo Burns

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I truly hope you enjoyed this book!

Warm wishes & happy reading,

Tammy Jo

A Traitorous Heart

The Reluctant Lords, Book 1

“Good evening, my lord,” Lieutenant Harding greeted Derek as he arrived at the safe house well past midnight.

“Lieutenant,” Derek nodded curtly.
 
Harding held Goliath while Derek lowered himself to the ground.
 
Derek untied the cane and removed the two pistols.
 
“The prisoner?”

“Upstairs, my lord.
 
She’s a right fetchin’ lass.”
 
Derek nodded, but paused giving Harding a look that had the man looking sheepish.
 
“Pardon me, my lord.”
 
Derek prominently limped as he moved toward the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane.
 
His leg began to throb uncomfortably.
 
He silently reprimanded himself for not taking a carriage.

“Has the physician arrived yet?”

“No, my lord.”

“Show him up as soon as he arrives.”

“Yes, my lord.”
 
Derek climbed the short entrance stairs and saw the guards standing at the far end of the hall.
 
He gave a short nod before entering the chamber where they held the prisoner.
 
The guard opened the door for him and closed it firmly after he entered.
 
A slight figure lay on the bed in the shadows.
 
The fire burned cheerfully in the grate belying the seriousness of the situation.
 
Derek stopped in front of the fire and removed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat.
 
He knew from experience it would be a long evening and decided to get as comfortable as possible.
 
He wished for a draught for his leg, but needed all his wits for questioning the prisoner.

Derek lit a candle from the fire.
 
The glow showed the cracks in the ceiling and the stained walls.
 
If this were not more of a prison, it would be a slum.
 
He moved towards the bed and noticed the prisoner dressed as if she resided here, her clothes little more than rags.
 
She looked more like a street urchin than a woman with traitor’s secrets.
 

Her feet and good arm were manacled to the thick bedposts by long chains.
 
Her other arm lay at a slightly odd angle from the shoulder, and her skin looked pasty and covered with perspiration.
 
Her auburn curls caressed her sunken cheeks.
 
She looked to be in desperate need of food.
 
A light blanket covered her, but her teeth still clicked together as if she were freezing.
 
He attributed the action to shock.
 

Derek lowered the candle to get a better look at the woman’s face.
 
Something familiar tugged at him.
 
He studied her more intently, trying to see past the grime that covered her.
 
His heart picked up an unsteady rhythm.
 
His hands shook and he tried to calm himself, placing the candle on the side table with a thud before he dropped it and caught the whole bloody house on fire.

She turned her eyes away from the candlelight, and a moan escaped her lips.
 
Her hair lay matted at the base of her skull.
 
He lightly touched the area and discovered a huge lump.
 
Upon withdrawing his fingers he found them coated in her blood.

He took out his handkerchief and wiped at the red staining his hand, unable to remove it completely.
 
He lectured himself about look-a-likes and imposters.
 
She could not have survived.
 
No one had. He had been assured over and over.
 
Derek grasped her pointed little chin in his hand and turned her face towards him once more.
 
She cried out at the movement.
 
He focused on the freckles scattered across her upturned nose and the lush bow shape of her lips.
 
Her brow furrowed in pain, and her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

He noticed a glint of gold on her left ring finger and immediately recognized the signet ring.
 
Auburn hair, the ring, and that familiar spattering of freckles – it could not be, yet the evidence said otherwise.
 
He fell heavily onto the ladder-back chair that sat next to the bed.
 
His heart thundered until he thought it would leave the confines of his chest at any moment.
 
He grasped the hand of her uninjured right arm, not noticing the blood that covered it.
 
He chaffed it gently between his own.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.
 

***

She heard the commanding voice and moaned as the pain filtered into her unconsciousness.
 
She heard the command again.
 
I’m trying
, she thought.
 
She fought her way out of the darkness to hear the voice she thought lost to her forever.
 
The pounding in her head intensified so much it almost caused her to give up and retreat back into the darkness.
 
She tried to move her hands to her head, hoping to ease the pain only to find one immobile and the other produced such pain when moved, that she cried out.
 
Oh please, just let me die
, she thought as the throbbing intensified.
 
No, she would not give in to death, not when so many others had been taken from her.

The voice called to her again.
 
Perhaps God had sent him to take her to Heaven.
 
She had always thought it would be her mum to do that, but as long as she had him again, she did not care.
 
Her eyes fluttered open, but the light from the fire and small candle on the bedside table were too much for her to bear.
 
She quickly closed them again, certain she would be sick at any moment.

“No, open your eyes now,” the voice demanded again.
 
Sometimes he could be so intolerably high-handed
, she thought.
 
Nevertheless, she obeyed this one final time and opened her eyes.
 
She knew either he would not truly be there or she had expired and entered the afterlife.
 
She had dreamed of him so many times and woken up certain he would be with her, but there had been no one.
 
Therefore
, she decided,
I must be dead, only I hurt too badly
.
 

Derek watched intently as her emerald eyes shown brightly from behind fluttering lids.
 
They looked feverish, set in a very familiar and dear face.
 
He brought her manacled hand up to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles covered in dry blood.

“Contessa,” he whispered softly.

“I must be in Heaven,” she said hoarsely, “but it feels like Hell.”
 
After uttering those words, the ragamuffin prisoner smiled at her jailer and then let the darkness carry her away once more to blessed oblivion.

Derek stared dumbfounded at the limp hand that he held in his.
 
He reached across her and gently caressed the signet ring gracing her delicate finger.
 
She looked malnourished.
 
What had happened to her in these last ten months?
 
How could Gabe believe her a traitor?
 
What possible causes did he have to even consider it?
 

He stood painfully and leaned over her letting his lips lightly caress hers.
 
Derek stood watching her and raked his hands through his golden brown hair giving it a decidedly rakish appearance.
 
He paced the room like a caged animal forgetting about his throbbing leg.
 
The Earl of Blackburn alternated between thanking God that He had seen fit to bring her back to him, and cursing the circumstances all in the same breath.
 
He limped to the door and jerked it open.
 
The guard jumped to attention.