Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  She remained stiff, looking straight ahead, not daring to look at the graveyard again. “I said, take me home,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Did you know that lord Blackerby bought a headstone for his grave? Normally he would have been buried at the family cemetery in the country, but everyone feared leaving you and opted to have it here.”

  She looked up sharply at her husband and knew that she shouldn’t have. Tears shimmered in his eyes and she felt years of pain and suffering coursing through her body as if pulled by a team of a thousand horses. He jumped out of the coach and gathered her in his arms despite her kicking and protestations. He had warned both the footman and the driver about the task at hand. Thorn carried her to the back of the graveyard and set her on her feet.

  “Look.”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, Bekah, look at our son’s grave. Grieve. Say goodbye. Tell him you love him one last time. Do all the things you should have done all those years ago, but your father stole from you.”

  “No,” she fought him until her took her head and forced it downwards. A rectangular marble box on a pedestal lay before her. The words inscribed read Thornton James Wulfe, Beloved Son, November 2, 1804. A statue of a child with angel’s wings sat next to it.

  He felt her begin to shake in his arms, and then the sound she emitted would forever haunt him. She sounded like an animal caught in a hunter’s trap. She slipped from his grasp and fell to her knees, rocking back and forth, her arms wrapped around her waist. “My baby,” she wailed mournfully, over and over. Thorn slipped to his knees beside her, his tears dampening the top of her head, hers soaking his coat and shirt. He carefully took her in his arms, almost afraid she might break if he moved too suddenly. The moon was high in the sky before her sobs subsided to the occasional hiccup.

  “Let’s go home.” She suddenly leaned forward and clutched the marble box. He gently pried her fingers loose before sweeping her into his arms. “We’ll come back, I promise.” Then she tightly wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her to the coach. When they arrived home he carried her in as well. The twins slid to a halt as they came running from the back of the house.

  “Is Aunt Bekah sick?” Ivy asked.

  “Just a little. I’m going to take her to her room.”

  “Is she going to die?” Zachary queried, always cutting to the heart of the matter.

  He heard Rebekah half-whimper, half-chuckle.

  “No, she isn’t. And why are you two scamps up at this hour?”

  “There they are,” the nanny said from the top of the stairs. “They snuck to the kitchens. Cook made a cake today. Come, before I have a mind to keep you from having any sweets for the next month.”

  The twins began whining, but quickly followed her. “Bless her,” Thorn said before climbing the stairs.

  Rebekah sobbed once more. Her laid her gently on the bed. He removed her shoes and then undid the buttons down the back of her dress, removing it so that she would be more comfortable. She remained boneless and limp while he took care of her. He pulled the blanket over her and turned to leave the room when he heard her speak.

  “Don’t leave.”

  “Rebekah.”

  “Hold me. I don’t want to be alone. Please,” he bowed his head and sighed. He removed his coat and waistcoat, as well as his cravat. He fought with his boots until he got them off. He heard a giggle come from his wife on the bed.

  “Think that was funny?” She held her thumb and finger close to each other indicating a little.

  He climbed on top of the covers and pulled her into his arms, her cheek resting against his chest. The silence in the room was deafening.

  “Thank you,” she finally whispered. She felt him squeeze her tight and drop a kiss on the top of her head. “I never allowed myself to think about him. Whenever I would start to, I would just turn in on myself. And then Sarah had the twins and needed help with them, and well, they didn’t replace him, they just kept me busy. I didn’t think about him as much. And then Teddy suggested the proxy marriage to you and everything was there at the forefront again.”

  “Did Sarah know?”

  “No. Just mother, Gertie, Lord Blackerby, and Clarissa. And of course the Reverend.”

  “Don’t ever mention that man again.”

  “All we can do is move forward.”

  “Can you? Move forward, that is.”

  “Only time will tell. I can say that this is a step. At least you no longer repulse me.”

  “There is that,” he replied, stunned to find himself chuckling. “Rest.”

  “You’ll still be here?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Lady Luck?”

  “Can survive without me for one night. Sleep,” he tipped her chin up and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips before tucking her close to his heart.

  ***

  Thorn fell asleep at some point because he woke during the night to the sound of sobbing. Rebekah lay on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. The distance between them felt like a deep, dark chasm that he had to cross. Instead of pulling her to him, he moved closer to her, tucking her in close to him.

  “Why did you have to take me there?”

  “You needed closure.”

  “Does this look like closure to you?” She broke free of his hold and stood next to the bed.

  “I repulse you once more, don’t I?” He ended the question with a heavy sigh.

  “You dare joke about this?”

  “Trust me when I say I am not joking.”

  “I just don’t understand your attitude. How can you…”

  “How can I what?”

  “You seem so unaffected,” she waved. “You fell asleep as if you hadn’t a care in the world. Has this all been an act? Perhaps you did know about the babe.”

  “And just how could I possibly know that?”

  “I wrote you. Many times. I thought it only right to let you know of your impending fatherhood.” She refused to admit that she had held out some hope that he would ride up to Gertie’s house and ask for her hand in marriage, all the while begging for forgiveness for his poor treatment of her.

  He sat up and threw his clothed legs over the side of the bed. “You wrote me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I never received a letter.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Where did you send it?”

  “Sarah said that Teddy had stated that you should be written to through a Colonel McKenzie…” she put her hands to her mouth and her hazel eyes widened as she realized what she had just said.

  “I’ll kill him,” Thorn very nearly roared as he stood and crossed the room. A trembling hand landing on his linen-covered bicep halted his progress.

  “You truly did not know,” she said, shock still etching her features.

  “No. You still thought that I knew? You asked me to stay all the while believing that I knew you had been pregnant with our child? You wanted me to hold you thinking that I had abandoned you and our child? What kind of man do you think I am? Better yet, what kind of woman are you?”

  “A lonely one,” she said so softly he almost missed the words.

  “What?”

  “I won’t say it again,” she said stubbornly, raising her chin, and staring him in the eyes. She swiped at the stubborn tears that refused to quit falling, even though the sobs had ceased.

  “You have Ivy and Zachary.”

  “And they are growing and are needing me less and less, especially since they now have a governess and nanny.”

  “Friends, then.”

  “Few. I do not want to have to watch one of them hang for murdering a high ranking government official.”

  He felt a warmth spread through him that she even considered him a friend. “McKenzie deserves to be murdered.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I swear, I never saw one of those letters. If I had, nothing would have stop
ped me from coming back and marrying you.”

  “Perhaps that is why you never saw them. I am sure Mack had his reasons and no one could have known how things would play out.”

  Thorn gripped her upper arms with his large, firm hands. His thumbs moved soothingly back and forth. She found she enjoyed how he made her feel feminine and special without ever saying anything, that is when they were not verbally sparring with one another. Rebekah raised her arms to grip his waist. His shirt had come untucked and her palms itched to feel his skin beneath them. She refused to look away from him, and she felt him studying her in the silvery moonlight that filtered through the window.

  “Rebekah,” he breathed.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  “Kiss you?” He asked. “When minutes ago you wanted to tear me from limb to limb?”

  “Kiss me,” she softly demanded once more. She took her hands away from his waist and slipped them up between them. Rebekah threaded them through his brown locks and pulled him down to her. Her mouth opened willingly for the onslaught. She relished the feel of his lips and tongue dueling with hers. There could be no other description, for there was nothing delicate, kind, or sweet about this kiss. It was a combination of hot, sultry need, and pure lust. Both were equally demanding and giving in their participation.

  Thorn reached down, gripping the hem of her chemise and broke from their kiss long enough to rip it over her head.

  “You have too many clothes on, Thorn.”

  “And if I do not keep them on, this will be over before it has begun,” he snarled before capturing her mouth once more. He grabbed her upper thighs and lifted her off the ground. He was torn between sighing in relief or screaming out in physical pain when she wrapped her legs around his hips. Wulfe could feel her heat caressing his manhood through his pants, causing it to lengthen and harden in anticipation. “You’re going to kill me,” he grunted as he stumbled to the bed. He attempted to drop her onto it, but she pulled him down with her, refusing to relinquish her hold.

  “Never say that,” she said, rubbing her breasts against his shirt-covered chest. She enjoyed the sensation that brought the tips to aching awareness, but wanted more. “Touch me,” she begged.

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere. I feel like my skin is on fire.” When he did not move quickly enough, she took his hand and ran it up her side until it covered her breast. She arched her back, trying to push her fullness into his hand. When he tweaked her nipple between his fingers, she tried to squeeze her legs together to ease the ache, but his hips remained in the way. “Too many clothes,” she said again, before ripping his shirt open. Studs plinked as they landed all over the floor. Rebekah ran her fingers along the chiseled contours of his abdomen and through the springy hair on his chest. She pulled him down to devour his mouth once more.

  “Slow down,” Wulfe said as he brushed her heated skin with gentle movements.

  “No. When we slow down, you pass out.”

  “May I point out that on one occasion you drugged me?”

  Rebekah could feel the blush that spread across her skin.

  “At least you have the decency to blush,” her husband said before taking possession of her mouth once more. This time the kiss was different, less hurried and more passionate, if that were even possible. When he took her mouth it was a sensual duel rather than a devouring hunger. Rebekah felt herself falling deeper under the spell he wove her in. He tore his mouth from hers and began laying kisses along her neck until he reached where it joined her shoulder, then he began again with the other side.

  Rebekah’s head tipped backward off the side of the bed, stretching her neck to its fullest. He licked the indention at the base of her throat before dropping kisses across her chest. She felt his hand cup her breast and push it upwards while his thumb stroked the peak back and forth, causing it to tighten even further. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling when he took her breast in his mouth and began suckling as he did that night at the Lady Luck. The sensation almost overwhelmed her, then he was dropping kisses once more across her breastbone and showing the same attention to the other. When he began to deposit kisses along her ribs, she found herself fisting her hands in his shirt, trying to pull him back up.

  “Trust me.”

  “But, I’m…”

  “Beautiful, and I will have my way,” he rasped. “Now, lie back and allow me to pleasure you.”

  “I don’t know that I can,” she said looking him in the eyes, as he once more loomed over her.

  “Stop being in control for once,” he encouraged, before kissing her deeply once more, then he moved back to where he had left off, at the area right above her belly button.

  She quickly slipped her hands over her belly, knowing he would see the silvery, lightning-like scars that showed evidence she had indeed carried a child. She felt him take each hand and kiss the back before holding them firmly in his, threading their fingers together. Rebekah squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that he would find her repulsive and pull away from her. Instead, she felt the gentlest of kisses being placed along her lower belly.

  “You endured so much,” he said, as he continued kissing what seemed like each individual mark. “You are so strong,” more kisses, “so courageous,” even more kisses. “I will always regret not being there for you.”

  Chapter 19

  Rebekah bit her lip as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and ran down her temples. She felt him place one last kiss on her firm belly before skipping over her dewy, aching center. When he let go of her hands and lifted her left leg and began kissing his way from her toes to her thigh she felt shock. When he draped it over his shoulder, she quickly made to lower it.

  “No. Remember, let go,” he said, before picking up her other leg and following the same protocol.

  Then he was there, or rather his mouth was there, doing things she had never dreamed possible. “What are you doing?” she managed to squeak out before she felt him slowly insert a finger into her sheath as well. She squealed before covering her face with her hands. Rebekah could not control the way her body was reacting to this man she had wanted for so long. This man, who despite the anger she tried to feel towards him in the intervening years, she could never dismiss this need he created in her just when she thought of him. She felt him pull out and slowly insert another finger, gently widening her channel, while his tongue continue to ply the nubbin he had manipulated so well the other night.

  She felt his thumb replace his tongue as he dropped kisses randomly between belly and chest until he reached her breasts once more, letting her legs fall to his sides. He alternately suckled her breasts while continuing to toy with her nether region. Rebekah bit her lip as she felt something building within her. It felt as if would sweep her under, suffocate her, if given the chance, so she fought it.

  Thorn could feel the tightness in her body and knew she was fighting the sensations rushing through her. She did not know how to relax, to give up her control. It was not in her nature, and too many things had conspired against her in the past, including himself. Why had it been different at the Lady Luck? Anonymity. He could not give that to her, but he could do something else—give her control.

  Rebekah felt at a loss. One minute Thorn was there, everywhere, and the next, he was gone. Her body thrummed with unfulfilled desire. She eased up on her elbows and saw him standing beside the mattress. He pulled off his shirt and flung it into the background and then dexterously undid the buttons on the placket of his pants. She met his eyes, and then he shucked his pants off, kicking them out of the way. His turgid length bobbed in its full splendor. Then he was lying beside her, flat on his back.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, confusion lacing her voice.

  “Letting you take the reins,” he replied.

  “Are you comparing me to a horse?” she huffed.

  “Perhaps a skittish filly. Your experiences have not been wonderful, no thanks to me, and the one time it was, you were anon
ymous. You like to be in charge of your life.”

  “But I don’t know what to do.”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you and guide you, but you are going to decide how and when.”

  Tears burned the back of her throat. Did he know how much this meant to her? How difficult it was to let someone else be in charge of her body? “Sponges,” she said. Although she wanted children someday, if it were possible, now was not the time. She slipped from the bed and quickly crossed the room before opening a drawer and digging out her reticule.

  “Bring the whole bloody lot of them,” Thorn called from the bed.

  She felt excitement enter her veins, causing her pulse to race. She grabbed both the decanter of brandy Thorn had brought to the room to help her sleep and a glass. Rebekah poured some brandy in the glass before tipping it back and taking a drink. She poured more and held it out to Thorn.

  “I’ll pass this time.”

  While she had been across the room, he had shifted so that his head rested on several pillows like he was a reclining sultan. She nodded and dropped a couple of the sponges with long strings attached to them into the glass. “Can you cover that?” she asked nodding to his member.

  “For now,” he said, pulling a corner of the coverlet over just his hips. The rest of him remained uncovered.

  Feeling more confident, Rebekah climbed up on the bed beside him. She reached over him and placed the glass with the soaking sponges on the bedside table. She felt his heated breath on her puckered nipple and could not help the moan that escaped her lips.

  “You are in control,” he reminded her.

  She crawled onto his thighs, straddling him, facing him. Rebekah kept a distance between the covered part of his anatomy and hers, remembering the pain of last time, her only time. She linked her hands behind his neck and tried to pull him forward, but he would not budge.

  “No, you have to tell me what you want.”

  “I want you.”

  “To what?” He watched a blush cover her body. He hated putting her through this, but her father had made her hate herself in so many ways, and he had stolen from her the one good memory she should have. This was his opportunity to help her find her sensuality and explore it. “What do you want?”