To Love and Protect (57 page)

“I have some papers for you to sign, sir,” his valet entered the room.

“What are they?”

“I don’t know, sir.
 
Mr. Brown brought them and said they are in regards to various estate matters.”

“Why isn’t Win taking care of it?”

“That is a question for Mr. Brown, sir.”

“Just give me the damn papers, James.
 
What about the other?” he asked as he dipped a quill in ink and began scrawling his name at the spots indicated, not reading what he signed.

“Taken care of, sir.”

“Here,” he pushed the papers in James’ direction.
 
“Have those delivered to Brown.”

“Yes, sir.
 
Anything else?”

“How are you at telling people their son is dead at the hand of his partner?”
 
He looked up and saw the look of disapproval that crossed James’ face.
 
“For God, King, and Country,” he lifted the whisky bottle in the air before drinking directly from it.

“Sir?”

“Your dismissed, James.”
 

The valet turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
 
Thorn started the letter three times before he finally found a way to inform a family that their son had valiantly died that night, never once mentioning his part in the whole sordid affair.

***

“Theodore Wulfe, I will not do it!
 
I cannot believe you even have the nerve to ask such a question of me,” Rebekah stormed to the window and looked through it, unseeing.

“Rebekah,” the man behind her said in a gentle tone, much like one would use when attempting to calm a wild horse.
 
“Do you see those children out there?”

“Yes,” she whispered, letting her forehead fall against the glass, welcoming the coolness.
 
She knew what he would say next, and Lord help her she could not hate him as much as she wanted to.

“They are my life.
 
They are the best of both Sarah and I, as you well know.
 
You have helped care for them since they entered this world.
 
Do you want them sent to an orphanage?
 
Hell, Rebekah, do you want them sent to Sarah’s parents?
 
Do you want them deciding the future of this dukedom?” the Duke of Wulfcrest queried.

“No!” Rebekah exclaimed horrified.
 
She watched the two little ragamuffins that played outside with their matching Wolf Hounds, Piddles and Smelly.
 
Smiling, she remembered how she had tried to coax the children into naming them something else, but they were as stubborn as their mother which explained why their names made vague references to bodily functions beyond a young pup’s control.
 
Sarah’s parents would never allow the children to have pets of any kind, let alone the menagerie they seemed to keep.
 
No, two four-year-olds deserved to be allowed to play and be rambunctious, not locked away in a living tomb.
 

“Sarah loved you.
 
I love you.
 
We could not ask for a better adoptive mother for our daughters,” he broke off into a fit of coughing.

Rebekah tried to tune out the coughing, but found she could not.
 
She could no longer deny that he continued to get worse.
 
She also knew that if she turned around, the handkerchief he used would have flecks of red on it.
 
She wanted to rage at Heaven about the unfairness of the situation.
 
These two precious children would be orphans in a matter of months.
 
Teddy and Sarah were wonderful people who did not deserve to be taken so young.
 
Especially when his rotten, good for nothing brother still drew breath.
 
A man who could not be bothered to attend his sister-in-law’s funeral.
 
A man who had not shown his face around Wolf’s Point in years.
 
A man who if she saw him, she swore there better not be a loaded gun nearby.
 
A man that Teddy wanted to tie her to for the rest of her life.

“Teddy, I have a wonderful idea,” her face lit up as she turned to look at him.
 
Once more composed, he looked at her expectantly.
 
“Why don’t you and I marry?
 
It would be a marriage of convenience.
 
I could care for you.
 
Why are you shaking your head no?”

“I will be taking myself off to London at the end of this week.
 
I don’t want the girls to see me decline.
 
It will not be pretty and if I can spare them, I will.
 
That was one blessing in regards to Sarah’s accident, she did not linger.
 
And besides, if I know my in-laws, they will fight you for the children regardless.
 
Knowing that Zachary will rule a dukedom, they will want to have him close so that they can attempt to turn him into a pious monster.
 
No, Rebecka, you need Thorn’s strength to help you.
 
The two of you will have to provide a united front to fight the Reverend and his wife.”

“That is going to be most difficult when I want to kill him myself.”

“Rebekah, I have told you on many occasions that he has excellent reasons for everything you accuse him of,” Teddy sounded as if he were attempting to patiently talk to a small child.

“So you say.
 
I still reserve the right to despise him.
 
Even now, he needs to be here and where is he?
 
Or should I say whose bed is he in?
 
He is single-handedly destroying your family name, and all you do is make excuses for him.
 
It sickens me.”
 
She turned once more to stare out the window.
 
The children were playing tag with the dogs.
 
Squeals, laughter, and barks filtered into the room.

“On this we will just have to agree to disagree.”

“Teddy, he runs one of London’s most notorious gaming hells!
 
How can you excuse that?”

“I have said all that I will say on the matter.”

“Oh,” she growled, “Sarah said you could be stubborn when you set your mind to something.”

“And I have set my mind to this.
 
Need I remind you what Sarah said when I held her in my arms as she took her last breaths?”

“No,” she bit out, tightening her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms.
 
She refused to give into any more tears.
 
It had been two years since they buried her sister, and best friend, but some days it felt like only yesterday.

“She wanted you to be happy.”

“And marrying your wastrel brother is the solution?” she asked incredulously, spinning around to face him once more.

“Regardless of what you think, family is very important to Thorn.
 
He loved Sarah like a sister for most of his life.
 
He loves his niece and nephew.
 
He tolerates you,” he tried to tease.

“I loathe him.”

“What really happened between the two of you?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she huffed and moved across the room.

“Sarah always suspected there was more between the two of you than you let on, but she said you remained tight-lipped about it.”

“It was none of her business and now it is none of yours.”

“Fine.”
 
He held up his hands knowing he would not get anywhere further on that front.
 
He started to say something but another fit of coughing overcame him.
 
This time it lasted longer than before, and had him doubling over until Rebekah could assist him to a chair.
 
Once seated, she quickly got him something to drink.
 
She made to stand up when he grasped her wrist.
 
She could not help but notice that his grip had weakened over the weeks.
 
Kneeling beside him, she looked up at him and saw the desperate look in his eyes.
 
“Please, Rebekah.”

Those two words were like a death knell sounding over the valley.
 
Suddenly she felt as if someone had put the last nail in her coffin and she could not take in enough air.
 
“Do what you must,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Thank you.
 
You don’t know how this eases my mind.”
 

“I’m going to go outside with the children for a while,” she said, slipping out of his grasp and escaping from the room.
 
Once she reached the coolness of the darkened hallway, she came to a stop.
 
“Bloody hell and damnation,” she muttered, nerves and anger jockeying for first place position inside her.
 
“This will never work.
 
I’ll kill him first.

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Seducing the Ruthless Rogue

The Rogue Agents Trilogy, Book 2

May 11, 1812

Stuart McKenzie straightened the cuffs of his shirt and his cravat before he entered the lobby of the House of Commons.
 
He had received a note from Prime Minister Percevel to meet him here.
 
Very rarely did he have direct contact with the prime minister, so he was intrigued as to why he was being asked to meet him, and here of all places.
 
Usually he would be summoned to the man’s office.

He entered the lobby of the building to find men milling about.
 
Of course, there would be meetings and hearings on different matters being held today.
 
Mack moved to a shadowed corner where he could watch the proceedings.
 
He wasn’t one to have his back to people.
 
It was not wise for one in his position.
 
Not after having had several assassination attempts on his life, one very nearly succeeding.
 

At the other end of the lobby, the doors opened and Percevel entered with his entourage of people.
 
They crossed the lobby and people could be heard hailing greetings to him.
 
A man entered, looking about nervously.
 
Mack perked up and began to cross the lobby.
 
Something about the man seemed off.
 
All of a sudden, the atmosphere seemed charged with energy.

“Prime Minister,” the man called.
 
Percevel turned, a smile on his face from something one of the other men had been telling him.
 
A loud pop echoed in the lobby, and Mack only had seconds to react.
 
He jumped towards the man, not even getting out a warning, and then just as quickly fell to the floor.
 
Another pop sounded and then a flurry of activity broke out.

Mack wheezed, and tried to stand, but seemed unable to catch his breath.
 
He lifted his head and watched Percevel’s eyes glass over as blood spread across the man’s chest.
 
Then the Prime Minister fell to the floor.
 
His assassin stood by the door, unmoving, guns still in hand.
 
Mack’s side ached fiercely.
 
He placed a hand against it and attempted a deep breath.
 
Instead he ended up coughing uncontrollably.
 
He lifted his hand and saw blood smeared on it.
 

“Help,” he tried to yell, but it came out more of a weak whisper.
 
Mack lifted his head, but the men were blurring.
 
He tried to push himself up, but dizziness washed over him.
 
He squinted his eyes and thought he recognized a familiar face.
 
“Gabe,” he called two times before the man in question looked over.

“Mack?”

Mack let his head fall back on the marble floor and waited for oblivion to come over him.

“Mack!”
 
The voice sounded a long way off.
 
He felt something push firmly against his side.
 
“I need help over here!”

“Don’t let Grandmother see me like this.”

“Grandmother is the least of your worries, old man.”
 

Mack smirked followed by a grimace of pain, then the darkness blessedly rolled in on him.

***

Four Weeks Later

“What is it?” Stuart McKenzie barked at the sound of a tepid knock on his office door.

“Pardon the interruption, sir, but the young woman is here.”

“Tell her the same thing as always.”

“But sir, it has been almost a year.
 
Can’t you just…”

“No, I can’t, Mr. Preston.”
 
Mack’s silvery eyes met the younger man’s without blinking.

“Yes, sir.”
 
The timid man backed out of the director’s office.
 
He turned to the beautiful blonde
 
that patiently sat in a chair near his desk.
 
She had sat in that same chair once a week for the last year, wanting to speak to Director McKenzie.
 
Every time, she left disgruntled because he could not be bothered to speak to her.
 
“Miss Graham,” Mr. Preston began.

“Let me guess, Mr. Preston.
 
Director McKenzie is too busy to once again speak to me in regards to my missing father.
 
I shall see you next week.”
 

Mr. Preston watched the woman as she stood, turned, and regally left the office.
 
There were times when he felt the man he worked for was truly an arse, and this was one of those times.
 
He was a ruthless, Scottish brute, and it came out most specifically when dealing with his job as Director of the War Office.
 
The secretary shot a look at the closed door and then returned to his desk.
 
He began shuffling through the mail when a courier entered the room, breathless.