Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (46 page)

“Yes, my lady,” the girl curtsied, in awe of being in the presence of the wife of one of the most well-known rakes in London.

Rebekah could tell the young girl wanted to ask her a question.
 
She paused in the doorway and turned back to her before saying, “Yes, he is just as handsome as they say and quite troublesome.
 
Trust me, marry an ugly man.
 
He will not be much to look at, but you never have to worry about him straying.”
 
Rebekah almost laughed at the girl’s shocked expression.
 
Though truthfully, she knew she did not have to worry about Thorn straying, well at least not unless she drove him away.

Just before she entered the hack, she gave the driver instructions for another stop.
 
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

“Are you sure, my lady?”

“Yes, I am sure.
 
I have something to do.”

“Aye,” the driver said and snapped the reins as the door closed and she settled inside.
 

While the coach lumbered to their destination, she donned her cloak and mask she had just purchased.
 
Finally, they came to a stop in front of Thorn’s gaming hell.
 
Anger suffused Rebekah at he thought of how much time he spent here.
 
Even though she now knew it was part of his duty to the Crown, she still could not help the jealousy she felt.
 
A man dressed in the livery style of the
Lady Luck
held the coach door open for her

“Wait for me,” she instructed the driver once more.

“Aye,” he said, sounding resigned to his fate.

She walked inside and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimness.
 
A small crowd had already gathered even though it was early evening.
 
As the night wore on, more would show up to try to win their fortune.
 
Some of the men had a look of desperation, as if their last chance lay with a roll of the dice or a turn of the card.
 
None of that mattered to Rebekah.
 
She searched the room and saw her husband standing in a shadowed corner.
 
He looked pensive, worried.
 
She ached to go over and ease his mind, to tell him she wanted their marriage to work, wanted to be a wife to him in every way and a mother to their children, even if it were only the twins.
 
But that is not why she came here.
 

Only a handful of women mingled amongst the men.
 
She wondered how many were there looking for a new protector.
 
How many were there for the thrill of being somewhere they were usually denied access?
 
How many were checking up on their husbands, making sure they did not squander away the family riches?
 
How many were attempting to win back the family riches any way they could?
 
Rebekah walked around the room, avoiding getting too close to Thorn, afraid he would pick up on the fact that his wife was prowling about the
Lady Luck
.

All of the other women wore masks as well, making it difficult to search for the one that she needed to speak with.
 
She saw Thorn’s partner walking about the room, a woman on his arm.
 
The woman whispered something in the man’s ear before slipping into the back.
 
Rebekah followed her quarry.
 
She entered a hallway that was darker than the larger room she had just left.
 
She looked up and down the corridor, trying to determine which way the woman had disappeared.
 
A hand cupped over her mouth, and a firm arm wrapped about her waist dragging her backwards.
 
Rebekah could not regain her footing and tried to go limp to make her captor’s job harder.
 
She was pushed into a familiar looking room and the door was slammed shut.
 

***

Thorn casually watched the newcomer make her way around the perimeter of the
Lady
as if she searched for someone in particular.
 
He noticed she avoided where he stood as if in coming close she might contract the plague or some other dreaded disease.
 
He observed her movements, the way she walked, the way her hips swished back and forth, causing the cape she wore to flip up occasionally, revealing the smallest peek of her skirts beneath.
 
Her hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard manner, the low lantern light highlighted different colors, mostly dark brown with strands of honey and deep cinnamon.
 
Tendrils escaped and caressed the woman’s neck like a lover’s fingers might.
 
Wulfe knew that if she came close enough, he would be greeted with hazel eyes, the elusive smell of mint, and a beguiling smile.
 

“Bloody hell, what is she doing here?”

“Pardon me?” a nearby footman queried.

“Nothing,” Thorn waved the man away.
 
He continued to watch.
 
Now she moved with purpose.
 
He did a sweep of the room and saw Aimée slip into the back area.
 
“Damn,” he muttered and pushed away from the wall.
 
She was going to confront Aimée.
 
Not now, not here.
 
Did she not know better?
 
If she challenged Aimée here, she risked Glandingham knowing of their connection.
 
He wanted her as far away from Glandingham as possible.
 
Just then the door opened and Walsh walked through as if he owned the
Lady Luck
.
 
Both women had now disappeared into the back.
 
Thorn stayed to the shadows so as not to attract Walsh’s attention, and followed the women.

One woman stood in the darkened corridor.
 
She tentatively began to move forward and he took his opportunity.
 
He went up to her, cupped his hand over her mouth and began moving her quickly towards his suite.
 
Her body went limp in arms, making it more difficult for him to maneuver her about.
 
Thorn reached the suite, fought briefly with the door, before pushing her into the room.
 
He took one last look in the hallway before entering the room himself and slamming the door shut.

“What in bloody hell do you think you are doing here?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, sir.
 
You must have me confused with someone else.”

“That is the game you’re going to play?” he growled, then crossed the room, bearing down on her.
 
“You may have fooled me once, wife, but not again.”
 
His prey continued to back away from him.

“Wife?”

“Yes,
wife
,” he stressed the word.
 
He grinned as she came up against the wall, unable to move any further.
 
He reached behind her and untied the mask, letting it drop to the floor.
 
His chest tightened at what he saw.
 
Her face had been ravaged by the tears she must have cried during the night.
 
“Bekah,” he groaned, leaned in, and trapped her between the wall and his hard, warm body.
 
Thorn played with her lips, teasing her, before deepening the kiss.
 
The sensualness left her breathless and she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck.
 
She stood on her tiptoes bringing them closer together.

“There’s so much I have to tell you,” she whispered against his lips.

“I concur, but not here, and not now.”
 
He kissed her again before pulling away.
 
“Do you know how dangerous it was for you to come here?”

“I have to talk to her.
 
There are things I have to know.”

“But.
 
Not.
 
Here,” he enunciated each word.
 
“Dammit, Rebekah, this isn’t a game.
 
I don’t get to call a cease-fire or a temporary truce when people I care about arrive on the scene.
 
There is a reason I have extra guards at the house to watch over you and the children.
 
You don’t realize the sort of danger you are in by just being here.”

“You don’t understand, Thorn.
 
I have to talk to her.”

“And you can, but not now.
 
I am going to tell you what we are going to do now.
 
I am going to take you out of here out the back.
 
We are going to call a coach for you, and you are going to go straight home.”

“But…”

“No.
 
I will hear no argument from you on this quarter.
 
I will set up a meeting between the two of you when it is safer, but no sooner.”

“So, I am to go home and be a prisoner?”

He grabbed Rebekah’s upper arms and squeezed, to ensure he had her attention.
 
“I hate it as much as you do, but this is how it has to be.
 
You may hate me all you want, but trust me when I say it has to be this way.”

“You really are worried about our safety,” she said, sounding a bit breathless.

“Yes, I am.
 
Although you might not realize it, you and the children are my weakness.
 
So, I beg you, please do this for me.
 
Go home, take care of the twins, and let Barkley see that you remain safe.”

“And what of you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who will make sure that you are safe?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I have been doing it a long time,” he dipped his head for one more kiss.
 
“Now, turn around so that I can replace your mask.”
 
She did, and he fit the mask back into place, and tied it.
 
He dropped kisses on her exposed nape.
 

“You are making it difficult for me to leave.”

He took her hand and pulled her across the room.
 
“We may have to wait for a conveyance.”

“I have a hack waiting for me.”

“Good.
 
I am going to lead you out the back and to the front of the building.
 
Then I want you to go to the coach as quickly as possible.
 
I will watch and make certain that you get in and away.”

“All right.”

Thorn opened the door enough to peek into the hall.
 
When he was satisfied that no one was about, he led her out of the room and down the corridor.
 
A door was camouflaged in the hallway, and most people would walk past it.
 
The afternoon sun had weakened with the clouds that had moved in.
 
A cool breeze had picked up, dropping the temperature, belying the fact that they were fast approaching mid-August.
 
Wulfe led her around piles of trash.

“Be careful, love,” Thorn said, coming as close as he would to saying what he truly felt, refusing to tell her in an alley littered with trash that he loved her.

“You, too,” she said, before slipping around the corner.
 
He watched her give the driver directions, then disappear into the hack.

***

In a matter of seconds she realized she was no longer alone.
 
She looked across from her and was startled to see a female that looked very much like her, only her hair appeared darker, redder, where hers only had red highlights among her brown tresses.
 
So this was her sister.
 
The one her father chose over her.
 
The one her father loved.

“What are you doing in my coach?”

“Attempting to save your life.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“I knew this was a mistake.”
 
She started to knock on the roof of the coach, but Rebekah grabbed her hand and stopped her.
 

“I came to the
Lady Luck
to talk to you.”

“That is the worst thing you could do right now.”

“Why?”

“Never mind,
ma chérie
.
 
Why did you wish to see me?”

“There are questions I have that only you can provide answers to.”

“Such as?”
 

“How did it feel?”

“What?”

“To be loved.”

“You put me in danger to ask a silly question like that?
 
Have you lost what little sense you had?”

“I want to know what it was like to be loved,” Rebekah said firmly.
 
No longer did it come across as a question, but rather a demand.

“Thorn never loved me.
 
He cared for me, and he never treated me like a whore, but he did not love me.”

“I am not talking about Thorn, but thank you for that, I think.
 
How did it feel to have a father that loved you?
 
That wanted to be with you?”

“Sad, because he could not be with us as much as he wanted.
 
Society’s dictates and such.
 
I am not condoning how he treated you, your mother, or your sister.
 
I only know how he was around Maman and me.
 
He was kind, gentle, and loving.
 
He took us places and brought us presents.
 
Pére would bounce me on his knee and read me stories.
 
He would stay with us for a few days, and then he would be gone for weeks, sometimes months.
 
But those days he was with us, he was ours, we loved him, and he loved us.”