Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (21 page)

“Please follow me,” he bent down and hoisted the little girl up.
 
She felt like a feather in his arms.
 
He walked up the stairs and entered the Duchess’ bedchamber.
 
The staff kept it immaculate.
 
The maid ran in behind him and quickly pulled back the coverlet and sheets on the bed.
 
He gently placed Ivy on the bed.
 

“I want Aunt Bekah,” the little girl whimpered and sniffed.

“James!” he bellowed and an instant later it seemed like, Rebekah was racing through the door.
 
When it looked as if she were going to jerk the little girl into a hug, he quickly stopped her.
 
“Careful with her.
 
Her arm must be set.”
 
Rebekah looked at him horrified.

“Aunt Bekah, I don’t feel good.”

“Chamberpot,” the maid’s aunt called for quickly.
 
The little girl was indeed sick.
 
“Could be the head or the arm causing that,” she said matter-of-factly.
 
“Stand back.”
 
She looked at her niece who had just entered the room quite breathless with a handful of twigs.
 

“I will not,” Rebekah argued.

“M’lady, this isn’t going to be pleasant for anyone.
 
Please stand back and allow my niece and me to do what needs to be done.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“I raised my sons in the country.
 
They were always falling out of something and breaking an arm or leg.
 
We didn’t have the luxury of calling for a surgeon.
 
We took care of things ourselves.”

Rebekah removed herself from the bed and crossed the room so that the women could work, but she could still see what was happening.
 
She felt, rather than saw, Thorn’s presence beside her.
 
Feeling the need to share her worry, she reached for his hand and entwined her fingers with his, squeezing tightly.
 
They watched as the two women worked together, hardly saying a word.
 
The older woman gave a hard yank and Ivy screamed, then all was quiet.

“What’s wrong?” Thorn asked, rushing towards the bed.

“The little one has fainted.
 
It’s better for this next part.”

“Better?
 
What next part?”

“We must stabilize the arm.”

“Oh, dear,” Rebekah said softly, and plopped down onto the chaise set against the wall.
 

“Like I said, better this way.
 
I’ll be worried if she doesn’t wake within the hour.”

Thorn walked over to his wife and sat beside her.
 
She rubbed her hand along the length of her left forearm back and forth, over and over.
 
He halted her progress and lifted her hand away.
 
A large, ugly scar ran the length from of her inner forearm from her wrist to her elbow.
 
“When did you get that?”

“I must have been Ivy’s age, perhaps a little older,” she said, never taking her eyes off of her niece.
 

“It must have been a gruesome cut.
 
What happened?”

“Sarah and I were climbing a tree at the church.
 
It was a glorious climbing tree.
 
I lost my balance and fell, snagging a broken limb on the way down.”

“What ham-handed person sewed you up?”

“The Reverend.
 
He said I deserved to be scarred for disobeying him.
 
After the first few stitches, I fainted from the pain.
 
He kept waking me before he would continue.”

“Your father is a complete and utter bastard,” Thorn said vehemently.
 
He held her arm in his hand and rubbed his thumb back and forth over part of the scar and put his arm around her attempting to give her his strength.
 
They watched and waited and what seemed to be days later, but was actually only a half hour, Ivy awoke.
 
She complained of her head and arm aching, but otherwise was the picture of good health.
 
The older woman left them instructions and told them to have her niece send for her should they become worried.
 

“Don’t be surprised if she runs a fever.
 
Sometimes happens with broken bones.
 
Treat it like you would any other fever.”

“I’m staying with her,” Rebekah said.

“I never thought you wouldn’t.”

“I would not ask this of you under normal circumstance, but please don’t go to the gaming hell tonight.”

“Of course not.
 
What kind of person do you take me for?”

“I don’t want to argue.
 
I just want to know that if she should need something…if something should happen…”

“Nothing is going to happen.
 
She merely had an accident.
 
Children do.
 
I will remain for as long as you need me.”

“Thank you,” she said and stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his lips.
 
She turned to the giant bed and crawled up on Ivy’s good side.

Thorn stood in the doorway and watched as Rebekah lay on her side, running her fingers through her nieces blonde locks, and murmuring softly to her.
 
The little girl’s eyes fluttered closed and her breath evened out slow and steady.
 
He found himself wanting to do the same to Rebekah until she fell asleep.
 
Thorn pushed away from the door, leaving it open so that he could hear them better if they needed him.
 
He turned to the stairs and there stood the empty chair.
 
He had a young duke he needed to speak to.

He looked in the nursery, the schoolroom, and the bedrooms they occupied and could not find him.
 
Wulfe went downstairs and looked in the study and the parlor only to come up empty handed.

“I believe your quarry is in the kitchens,” James said.

“Thank you,” he said not even bothering to ask why or how the man knew.
 
He stalked into the kitchen and was brought up short.
 
He did not know know what he should expect, but it wasn’t this.
 
In the farthest corner of the room, Zachary sat huddled, his knees pulled to his chest and his head resting on his knees.
 
His body shook with sobs.
 
Wulfe felt the anger leave his body in one long sigh.
 
He walked over, bent down and picked up the child in his arms.
 
He carried him upstairs and into the nursery and took a seat in the large rocking chair.

“I killed her,” the little boy cried into his uncle’s shoulder, the words coming out muffled.

“You did
not
kill her,” Thorn said.

“But she was so still,” he continued sobbing between words.

“Ivy broke her arm and has a bump on her head, but otherwise she is fine.
 
Now, calm down before you make yourself sick,” Thorn instructed taking a handkerchief and mopping at the boy’s face.
 
It took several long minutes before Zachary calmed down enough that he could talk.

“We were sliding down the banister.
 
I remember Papa talking about how you and he used to do it when you were little.
 
I was missing him and thought it would be fun.”

“That is why you had the chair.”

“I am too short and needed to be taller.
 
I did it once,” the boy’s face lit up briefly.
 
“It was ever so much fun, Uncle Thorn!
 
Ivy saw me and she wanted to do it, too.
 
I helped her climb up, but as she started sliding, she slipped sideways.
 
I tried to grab for her Uncle Thorn, I promise I did.”

“I know you did, son.
 
I think, though, you must hear the rest of the story, for I don’t believe your father told you everything.”

“He didn’t?”

“No.
 
You see, he and I both landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
 
Your grandfather added the spindle after he caught us sliding down it.
 
See this bump here?” he pointed to the bridge of his nose and waited for the little boy to inspect him.
 
“I broke my nose that day.
 
There was blood all over me, your Papa, and our mother’s favorite carpet.
 
Your grandfather took us upstairs, cleaned us up, and then gave us a spanking until neither of us could sit down.
 
He then added the spindle so if we did try it again, we could not go flying off the end.”
 
Thorn watched as his nephew carefully thought about all that he had told him.

“I suppose you are going to spank me.”

“You would be correct.”

“What about Ivy?”

“I will give her a day or two to feel better.”

“You’re going to spank a girl?”

“I don’t see why not.
 
Did she do wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Did your father spank her?”

“Yes.”

“Then she must be punished as well.”
 
He watched as the little boy slipped from his lap and crossed the room.
 
He leaned against the wall, with his legs spread a little.
 
Wulfe felt relief that the boy understood.
 
Thank goodness the children would not think him an ogre compared to their deceased father.
 
He stood, crossed the room, and meted out his second punishment as a parental figure.
 
It did not feel good by any means, and he found himself wondering if he could truly give the same punishment to a little girl.
 
Zachary sniffed, but he did not cry.
 
“Would you like to see your sister before going to bed?”

“Yes, sir.”
 
The two made the journey downstairs to the duchess’ chamber together.
 
Rebekah and Ivy both had fallen asleep.
 
“Are you certain she will be all right?”

“Yes, Zach, I am.”
 

The boy nodded his head.
 
“Uncle Thorn, may I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course, son,” he said.
 
“Let’s go get you changed, and then we will return to my bedchamber.”
 
He stepped into the hall and pulled the door halfway closed.
 
He stopped James who was coming out of his bedchamber.
 
“James in light of tonight’s events, I will not be going to the
Lady Luck
this evening.
 
Will you please let them know?”

“I have already sent word through one of our footmen, m’lord.”

“Thank you, James.
 
Go ahead and retire for the evening.”

Once he had returned to his bedchamber, he made himself as comfortable as possible while still dressed.
 
Zach snuggled next to him.
 
The pups had been in here, but left, and he assumed were protecting their mistress.
 
Somehow animals always knew who needed them.
 

As he lay there in the silence, his mind wondered.
 
How was he going to continue with his two lives?
 
He never realized how much being a father and husband required of his time.
 
Well, he was still unsure about the husbandly part, but being a parent took so much of one’s time.
 
One had to protect them and not just from bad people.
 
Just look at what happened today.
 
It could have been so much worse.

Then there was his obligation to the Crown.
 
He had worked too many years to cultivate the rakish identity, and make his connections, to just throw it all away.
 
They were so close, he could feel it.
 
He needed to be there this evening, working the crowd, making connections, and observing.
 
He hoped to hell that someone made a mistake soon.
 
He wanted it over with.
 
But he was needed at home as well.
 
Rebekah had finally asked him for help.
 
Never before had he felt torn.
 
Even when Sarah had died, and he had been unable to attend the funeral, Teddy had understood.
 
This was different.

He placed his hands behind his head and watched the moonlight’s shadows play on the ceiling of his bedchamber and listened for any sign of distress down the hall.

Chapter 12

A week later, Ivy was once more chasing her brother about the house.
 
Her arm resided in a sling designed by her uncle just for her.
 
She was cautioned to take care, so she would not hurt herself again.
 
Rebekah sat at a table on the terrace watching the children and the pups playing.
 
She had never been nervous about the children before, but ever since Ivy’s accident, she would not let them out of her sight.