Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (13 page)

Why had Thorn asked her about being in his arms?
 
She shivered wondering if he had begun to remember.
 
“No,” she said aloud.

“No, what?”

Rebekah sat upright, sloshing water all over the floor.
 
She grabbed a towel off a low stool near the bathtub and draped it across her breasts and brought her knees in close to her body.
 
“How did you get in here?”

He nodded to a door on a wall perpendicular to the hall wall and the door she had locked.
 
“You forgot the connecting door.”

“Get out,” she growled.

“Not before I check that knot on your head.”

“My head is fine.”

“I’ll be the one to judge that.”
 
He strode the rest of the way across the room.

“Stay away from me, or I’ll scream.”

“No, you won’t.
 
And you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Not mine, you haven’t.”

“Lean forward,” he instructed, ignoring her.
 
He met her glare and held it until she relented and did as he said.

“I despise you.”

“Hmph.
 
You have a lot of bruises.”

“Do you think I can’t feel them and see them?” she asked incredulously.
 
“That hurts,” she snapped as he prodded her tender head.

“The bump seems not to have gotten any larger.”
 
He pulled his hand away.
 
“It is still bleeding a bit.
 
Be careful if you decide to wash your hair.”
 

“Quit telling me what to do,” Rebekah demanded.

Thorn leaned over her, bracing himself on either side of the bath, effectively trapping her.
 
“I am not telling you what to do.
 
It was merely a suggestion.”
 
They stared at each other long and hard.
 
He started to pull away when he saw the mangled scars on her back.
 
“Who did this to you?”

“Go to Hell,” she whispered, jerking out from under his probing fingers.

“Such language to be the daughter of a pastor,” he tsked.
 
He watched as the color leeched from her face.
 
If possible, she shrunk further away from him.
 
“Hey, I was only teasing.
 
Don’t look like that,” he coaxed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
 

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered menacingly.

He pushed up and away, holding his hands out in front of him.
 
“Calm down.”
 
He took several steps back.
 
“This isn’t the last of this discussion.
 
I’m going to the
Lady Luck
.
 
If you should need anything, send word.”

“Are you going to see your mistress while you’re there?”

“That usually isn’t something a wife and husband discuss.”

“It doesn’t matter.
 
The twins and I don’t need you.”

“Don’t pull them into this war between us.
 
They don’t deserve it.
 
Whatever you and I feel for each other, I love those children and will do everything in my power to protect them.”

“Too bad that wasn’t always true.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.
 
Just leave.
 
Go to your gaming hell and your harlot.”

“Good night, wife.”

She watched him stalk across her room and shut the connecting door with barely concealed fury.
 
Rebekah felt anger still pulsing through her veins after their argument.
 
She looked at the sodden bath sheet and slapped her hands against the surface of the water, splashing herself and the floor.
 
Angry at herself for allowing him to rile her, she roughly scrubbed her body, punishing herself in the only way she knew.
 
The physical pain was cathartic and kept the tears at bay.
 
After carefully washing her hair, she stood in the tub and let the water rush off her body in a waterfall.
 
She twisted her brown hair until it quit dripping water then stepped out onto the wet floor.

Rebekah flinched as she heard a thud from the connecting room, but she refused to check on Thorn.
 
She walked next to her bed and rang the bell pull before dragging on a robe.
 
Rebekah crossed the room to the door and unlocked it to await the maid.
 
She only waited for a few minutes when a petite, young woman arrived.
 

“May I help you, Lady Wulfe?”

“Yes, I believe I made a bit of a mess while bathing.”
 
She waved to the floor behind her.

“Oh,” the young maid’s eyes widened.
 
“I’ll be back in just a moment.”
 
The maid returned shortly and handed Rebekah a couple of the bath sheets before taking the rest to the bathing area to mop up the water on the floor.
 

Rebekah moved automatically, going through the process of drying her hair and changing into her modest nightgown.
 
At some point, the cold rain had become a thunderstorm.
 
Just as she was crawling into her bed for the night, she heard the faint sound of whimpering that sounded suspiciously like Ivy.
 
When she opened her door, she saw the little girl standing on the stairs above, looking lost.
 
She clutched a doll in one arm and one of the pups stood next to her.
 
She had her fingers threaded through the pup’s fur.
 
When the little girl saw her aunt step into the hallway, she ran toward her.

 
“Oh, Sweetheart, did the thunder scare you?” Rebekah asked going down on one knee.
 
She watched her niece nod.
 
“Come on, then.”
 
She held out her hand to her.
 
They had crossed the threshold into her room when she heard the snick of a door.
 
Zachary peeked his head over the rail above.
 
“Did the thunder wake you, too?”

“No,” he said, before jumping at a loud clap of thunder that shook the floor and walls.
 
The trinkets rattled on the tables

“Come on,” she nodded in the direction of her room.
 
The twins raced each other and jumped onto the bed.
 
The dogs followed.
 
“Down,” she instructed, pointing to the floor as she shut the door.
 
Whining, the dogs jumped off the bed.
 
After some situating, they were tucked in for the night, Rebekah with a child on each side.
 
The storm continued on and just as she began to drift off, she yelped before realizing the dogs had jumped back up on the bed.
 
They each circled several times, before settling with a snuffle at her feet.
 
Deciding it was too much effort to force them to get down and stay down, she finally fell asleep.

***

Thorn had a footman hail a hack for him as he changed clothes.
 
Anger still shimmered under the surface after his and Rebekah’s exchange.
 
He gave a sigh of relief when he pulled on a pair of fresh Hessians.
 
He picked up one of his old boots and fingered the leather.
 

“They’re ruined,” he announced to the room at large.
 
“Just like my life.”
 
He threw the Hessian he held in his hand against the door that connected his room to his wife’s, relishing the thud that sounded.
 
His wife
.
 
The reality was still foreign to him.
 
If his brother were alive today, he would pummel him.
 
“What the bloody hell had he been thinking?” he spoke the words aloud, needing to hear them.
 
Teddy had known what he was involved in.
 
He stood and turned slowly, studying the room.
 
This room belongs to the Duke of Wulfcrest
, he thought,
which I am not, and never will be
, he fervently hoped.

As he left his room, he stopped a maid in the hall.
 
“Please have my clothes moved to another room first thing tomorrow.”

“Are you not pleased with your room, sir?”

“It’s not that.
 
It belongs to the Duke of Wulfcrest.
 
I am merely his uncle.”

“I understand, sir.
 
Should I move Lady Wulfe’s as well?”

“Yes,” he said, thinking of the words they had just exchanged.
 
He did not care if she was really there whenever he finally arrived home, but just the inconvenience would be satisfying.
 
“Make certain our things are placed in the same room.”

“Yes, sir,” the young maid said, blushing, before turning away and moving down the hallway.

He maneuvered down the staircase to be greeted at the door by the butler.
 

“Should someone stay up to await you, sir?” the older man asked while handing Thorn his gloves, hat, and cane.

“No, Grigsby.
 
I have business to catch up on and don’t know when I shall be back.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Grigsby,” Thorn said as a thought occurred to him.

“Yes, sir?”

“See that the stable lads and the footmen rotate throughout the night.”

“Expecting trouble, sir?”

“I just don’t want to take any chances.”

“I agree, sir.
 
The children are precious, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are.
 
Goodnight, Grigsby.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

A footman held open the door to the hack.
 
Wulfe climbed in, settled himself, and called out directions to the driver.
 
Once the footman shut the door, the hack lurched into motion.
 
Wulfe enjoyed the country, but it felt good to be back in London.
 
He wondered what Glandingham had done to the
Lady Luck
since he had been away.
 
He also wondered if Glandingham had been behind the cut spokes on the carriage.
 
The man was as slippery as an eel, but he had all the right connections.
 
He would just need to keep his eye on him and make certain the man did what they wanted and needed him to do.

The hack stopped in front of the
Lady Luck
, and Thorn disembarked just as lightning lit up the sky and thunder filled it.
 
Raucous noise filtered through the door, greeting him as well.
 
With it being mid summer, London was teeming with people who were in town for the season.
 
He paid the driver and spun his cane as he proceeded to the door.
 
He walked into his gaming hell and stood as if in a stupor.
 
Not only were there men, but there were also women.
 
Women who were dressed in daringly cut dresses.
 
Women who were dressed in wetted dresses that showed more of their bodies than any man should see.
 
He felt his blood boiling.
 
He had come here this evening to relieve his stress, not add to it.
 
After spying Glandingham in the back right corner, he made his way to him.

“In my office, now,” he snarled and kept walking.
 
He did not even turn to look to see if the older man followed him.
 
He stood at the door of his office and held it open for the portly earl.
 
“Leave us,” he growled at the man who acted as Glandingham’s shadow.

“I’ll be fine, Jackson.
 
He won’t kill me with all those witnesses out there.”
 
Glandingham waved the young man away.

“See that we’re not disturbed while you’re out there holding up the wall,” Wulfe commanded.

“I don’t take my orders from you.”

“Oh, do as he says, Jackson.”
 
Glandingham waited until he heard Wulfe slam the door shut before turning and asking, “Now, what is all this about?”

“You want to know what all this is about?
 
You have turned my gaming hell into a damn brothel!”

“Not fully.”

“Not fully?
 
Is there a degree of separation?
 
And if so, please inform me, because I would be ever so happy to know what it is,” he said sarcastically, moving to his chair behind the big desk.
 
He sat down in it, welcoming the familiarity.
 
It had been his father’s favorite chair and Teddy had been kind enough to allow him to have it.
 

“The degree of separation is that we do not provide rooms, and we do not pay these women.
 
I merely allow men to bring their light of loves with them, whether it be a courtesan, a mistress, or a married lady they currently have an assignation with.
 
Did you not see the masks that some of the less bold women wore?”