Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (8 page)

“You know nothing.”

“You mean I do not know that your mistress is the great actress Aimée Beauchamp.
 
I do not know that you operate the most notorious gaming hell in London.
 
I do not know the last thing you ever had planned was to become a father to two children.
 
I do not know that your brother, along with several others, tricked you into signing the documents to see us married.
 
You see, Thornton Wulfe, you should listen to what I have to say, because I know more about you than you think I do, perhaps even more than you know about yourself.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Like I said, people travel, and people talk.
 
Women love to gossip, almost as much as men do.
 
And those women could not wait to inform me about my dastardly brother-in-law.
 
And now, I’m married to that man.
 
So tell me husband, shall we be accompanying you, or do I know too much?
 
Am I a liability to you?”

“See that everything you need is packed by the end of the week.
 
We will be leaving then.
 
No more questions.
 
Understand?”

“Of course,” she turned and disappeared down the hall.
 

He watched her go and ran his hands through his hair.
 
She knew too much.
 
What else did she know?

***

The household lived in a state of upheaval the rest of the week.
 
Trying to tell the twins that they could live without this or that for a while was like pulling teeth.
 
Having just fought the last battle she was going to,
 
Rebekah stormed down the stairs in search of her errant husband.
 
He was not in the study, nor was he in any other room downstairs.
 
As she passed a window, she saw him mounting one of the horses.
 
Knowing he was about to escape caused her to burst into action.
 
She ran down the hall and out the front door to the lane that led from the stable to the road.
 
As she approached the drive, she threw her hands up in the air and turned.
 
Rebekah had not expected to see the belly of the horse, or the hooves that pawed at the air above her head.
 
She stood frozen.

“Bloody hell!”
 
Thorn sawed back on the reins as soon as he saw the crazed woman running into the horse’s path.
 
He had an excellent view of the top of her head from where he sat perched precariously on the saddle.
 
The horse danced on its hind legs and pawed the empty air with its front hooves.
 
Wild grunting and neighing sounds came from the beast.
 
Finally, Thorn pulled on the reins until the horse spun just enough to land on all four hooves without doing damage to the crazy woman that still stood like a statue, her hands in the air.
 
He could hear men running towards them.
 
“Approach cautiously,” he called, attempting to sooth the agitated horse.

A stable lad approached with an apple in hand.
 
“Here, Mercury, look what I ‘ave for ye,” the man said.
 
The horse sniffed the air and lowered his head to receive the treat.
 
The man took the opportunity to grab the bridle while Thorn slipped off the back of the horse.
 

Thorn handed the other man the reins and exchanged a few low words with him before he turned his attention on the woman who had caused all the chaos in the first place.
 
Her arms were once more against her sides and her face looked slightly pale.
 
He stomped over and grabbed her arm, spinning her towards the house.
 
She swayed precariously and he took a firmer grip of her upper arm, “Oh, no you don’t.
 
You are not getting out of this by fainting.”

“I’m not going to faint,” she snarled back, ripping her arm out of his grip.
 
“I merely felt a bit light-headed but am much better now.”

“Good,” he said, grabbing her arm once more.
 
“Then you won’t mind explaining to me what you were trying to do just then.
 
Do you have a death wish?”
 
He asked as he led her into the study and slammed the door shut behind them.

“No, I don’t have a death wish,” she argued as she spun away from him and planted both fists firmly on her hips.

“Then what would you call what just happened out there?”

With every step he took closer to her, she found she had to crank her head back to look at him.
 
The top of her head came to the bottom of his chin, but still she hated that feeling of superiority his mere height gave him.
 
She quickly looked around the room.
 
In front of the bookshelves, she saw a stool and quickly grabbed it to stand on it.

“What do you need that for?”

“I want to be able to look in your eyes when I’m yelling at you,” she answered.

“Yelling at me?
 
You’re the fool who threw herself in front of a galloping horse!”

“Fool?!”

“Yes, fool!
 
What was so damn important that you risked your life?”

“If you are going to be underfoot, you could at least make yourself useful!”

“What in bloody hell are you talking about?”

“You watch your language around the children!”

“Since they’re not around, I think I am safe, unless you consider yourself a child.”

“I am not a child, but you must be the way you selfishly flit from here to there without staying and helping.”

“What are you talking about, woman?” he shouted in frustration.

“I’m talking about the twins and getting them packed to go to London.
 
Do you know how many fights I’ve had with them over the last few days about what they can and can’t take?
 
I have yet to pack for myself for dealing with them.”

“Let them take whatever they want,” he shrugged off the answer as if it were nothing.

“Come with me,” she regally stepped off the stool, crossed the room, and opened the door.
 
She went up the stairs, refusing to look back to see if he followed or not.
 
If he knew what was good for him, he would be on her heels.
 
She opened the door to the nursery.
 
“Do you see that pile over there?”
 
She indicated three small trunks stacked under the window.

“Yes.”

“That is what the children and I have agreed they can take.
 
I should tell you that none of those trunks hold their clothes and absolute necessities.”

“What…”

“Do you see that pile over there?”

Thorn looked at the pile of toys, books, knick-knacks, and other items that grew before his eyes.
 
He watched the twins each dump an armful of items on the pile as he stood there.
 
“What is all this?” Thorn swept his hand through the air indicating the large pile of items.

“These are the additional things they want to take with them.
 
I have tried to reason with them.
 
Again, I am tired of being a single parent.
 
Your brother, for some reason I have yet to understand, thought you would be excellent in a father role.
 
Here is your chance to prove him right.
 
I have a pounding headache and am going to my room.
 
Good luck.”
 
Rebekah’s skirts swished as she left the room.
 

“Is Aunt Bekah all right?” Ivy asked worriedly.

“I think you two rapscallions might have worn her out.”

“We didn’t mean to,” Ivy sniffed.

“Hey, now,” Thorn said going to his knee in front of the children.
 
“No need for tears.
 
We just need to figure out how to make her happy again.”

“How do we do that?” Zachary asked.

“Well, the first thing we need to do is talk about all this stuff you want to take to London with you.”
 
He looked at the pile that included everything from toy soldiers to a rocking chair.
 
“Did Aunt Bekah tell you that we have furniture in the London house?”

“We do?” Zachary tilted his head.

“Yes. So, perhaps we wouldn’t have to take the rocking chair with us.”
 
The children gave a mumbled consent of agreement.
 
“A lot of these things we can purchase in London, if you decide you really need them,” he hinted.

“We can?” Ivy asked.

“Of course, we can.”
 
Thorn began picking up each item in the pile.
 
It became a guessing game as to who put the item in the stack.
 
By the time they had gone through every item, long shadows had begun fall across the room.
 
“Damn,” Thorn muttered under his breath.

“Uncle Thorn, you said a naughty word,” Ivy remonstrated.
 

“Forgive me,” he bowed low to her after standing.
 
“Why don’t you two go wake your aunt and tell her it is near supper.
 
I have a meeting to attend.”

“I want to go!” Zachary announced.

“Me, too!” Ivy said.

“You can’t go.
 
You’re not the Duke of Wulfecrest,” Zachary told his sister, looking down his nose at her and sounding very imperious.

“You can’t go, either, young man,” Thorn told Zachary.
 
“This meeting has nothing to do with you or your estates.”

“You can’t tell me no.
 
I’m the Duke of Wulfecrest.”

“Ivy, go to your aunt.
 
The Duke of Wulfecrest and I have a few things that we need to discuss.”

“Yes, Uncle Thorn,” the little girl slipped through the door, but not before sticking her tongue out at her little brother.
 
Ever since Papa had died, he had been bossy, trying to tell her what she could and could not do.
 
He had even been rude to Aunt Bekah as well.
 
It served him right to get in trouble.
 
She walked down the hall to her aunt’s room and lightly knocked on the door.

“Go away,” she heard from the other side.
 

Ivy grinned.
 
Aunt Bekah always sounded grouchy when someone woke her up.
 
Ivy twisted the doorknob and slipped into the room leaving the door open.
 
She tiptoed across the room and climbed on the bed.
 
“Aunt Bekah, wake up,” she singsonged as she lifted one of Rebekah’s eyelids.

“Is it morning?” The woman asked the little girl.

“No,” the little girl answered, then her stomach growled loudly.
 

“Oh, it’s that time,” Rebekah rolled over on her back and stretched.

“What happened to your arm?” Ivy asked, her little hands flew to her mouth.

Rebekah looked at where the sleeve of her dress had ridden up her arm.
 
A circle of bruises in the shape of fingers served as a bracelet above her elbow.
 
“It’s nothing.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s tender,” she answered, as she gently probed the area.

“Let me kiss it!” Ivy exclaimed her blonde curls bouncing about her head.
 

“Kiss what?” a deep voice asked.

“Nothing.”

“Aunt Bekah’s hurt,” Ivy answered.

“What happened?” Thorn asked as he crossed the room.
 

“Nothing,” she repeated as she fought with her sleeve and tried to sit up at the same time.
 
She failed in both areas.
 
She tried to hide her reaction to the warm, callused fingers that grabbed her arm.
 
When he touched her, she could feel her pulse quicken.

“I apologize,” Thorn said, and brushed his lips over the bruises on the inside of her upper arm.
 

Rebekah felt the tingle from his lips shoot up and down her arm.
 
She pulled her arm free from his grip.

“My turn!” Ivy said and placed a gentle kiss on the outside of her arm.

“Don’t you want to help your aunt get well?” Thorn turned to look at the little boy who had entered the room behind him.
 

Zachary started to answer with a petulant no, then thought better of it.
 
He grudgingly crossed the room and gave his Aunt Rebekah a kiss.
 
Papa had spanked him on many occasions, it had been his job.
 
But Uncle Thorn was supposed to be fun and let him do all sorts of fun things, not spank him.
 
He shot the man that stood across from him a glaring look.

“Oh, sweetheart, it is all right,” Rebekah said, misunderstanding Zachary’s glassy eyes.

“I believe he is more concerned with his own physical discomfort rather than your yours,” Thorn said.