“Stay away from my family, you bastard,” Thorn growled.
“Do your job, and you will have nothing to worry about. You are dismissed,” Mack turned back towards the papers he had spread out on his desk.
Wulfe turned and left, slamming the door so hard that it rattled within its frame. He looked down and saw that his hands were shaking. He had to do something before he went to the Lady Luck. After making his way downstairs, he mounted his horse and turned him towards Bond Street and Gentleman Jackson’s. Thorn found himself praying that someone would be there, because if not, he feared he might go back and attack Mack. He did not care how good a friend the man had been with his brother. No one threatened his family.
***
Thorn walked into his gaming hell a few hours later. He let his eyes become accustomed to the dimness before he began moving around the room greeting customers. He kissed women’s hands, finding that he looked closely to see if his wife was among them once more. When he would determine that one woman was not Rebekah, he found himself both relieved and disappointed at the same time, then he would move on to the next.
Wulfe visited with the men, cajoling the ones that were losing to keep trying their hand and congratulating those that were winning. He tried to look for anything that seemed different, but he was the only who seemed different. He felt jumpy, as if he expected something to go wrong at any moment. He knew that most of it had to do with his worry over the well-being of Rebekah and the children. Damn Mack for threatening them as he had. What in bloody hell had he been thinking?
“What’s wrong with you?” Aimée hissed at him, a smile on her face.
“Where did you come from?”
“If you had been paying attention, you would have seen me. What is the matter with you?” she demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Then do your job. Glandingham has been sending you strange looks ever since you arrived.”
As if talking about the man made him appear, Glandingham arrived at Aimée’s side. He pulled her close, kissing her, branding her as his. “Don’t think you are getting this one back, Wulfe,” the other man laughed boisterously. “You’ve had your fun with her, now she’s mine.”
“As if I would want to go back to him,” Aimée pouted, draping herself against the other man. “You are a much better protector and lover,” she whispered just loud enough for Thorn to hear.
“Did you hear that Wulfe? I have you beat.”
“I must be slipping.”
“For quite a while,” Aimée said cattily.
“That’s enough, darling,” Glandingham said. “We don’t want to offend my partner’s sensibilities too much. Now, be a good girl and go fetch me a brandy.” The two men watched her nod and slip away. “Damn, I get hard just looking at her,” the earl said, taking a deep breath. “It’s good to see you back here, Wulfe. I must admit, I thought perhaps that new wife of yours had turned you against the Lady Luck.”
“No one could do that,” Thorn said. “There were some issues that arose, but all has been dealt with.”
“I see.”
“I must compliment you, Glandingham, you have done an excellent job watching over the old girl. And the changes you have implemented. At first I had my doubts, but you have convinced me of their benefits.”
“I knew you would come about given enough time.”
“I am extremely impressed with the new clientele you have brought in as well.”
“The women?”
“Oh, not just the women. The men seem to be of a far better class.”
“What did you expect from an earl?”
“True.”
Aimée sauntered back up, carrying a brandy. She wrapped an arm around the portly Glandingham and handed him the drink. “Warmed, just as you like it,” she said, her accent just a little heavier.
“You are too good to me,” Glandingham said, groping her and pulling her in close in front of everyone.
“And you me, mon cher,” she said, and nibbled at his ear.
“There will be plenty of time for that tonight,” he said, squeezing her bottom. “Go be nice to my friends.”
“Of course,” she said, leaving the two men once more.
All of a sudden the crowd became restless. Whispers ran through the people like waves in the ocean. Men and women alike were pointing and nodding in the direction of the door and then the crowd began to bob up and down.
“Who is it?” Glandingham asked.
“Prinny.”
“What in bloody hell is that pompous ass doing here?” Glandingham demanded, his face turning red. Realizing he had spoken aloud, the man blushed even more, if possible.
“I’ll go and welcome him. Why don’t you slip out and recover your faculties?” Thorn walked across the room and bowed low when he stood in front of the Prince Regent. “Welcome to the Lady Luck, Your Highness.”
“Lord Wulfe, it is always a pleasure. I saw your sniveling coward of an associate spirit himself off to the back. I did not come to see him anyway. I came to do a little gaming and perhaps make the acquaintance of one of these lovely, masked wenches. Now where do you suggest I start?”
“That depends, Your Highness. Which do you prefer, dice or cards?”
“Excellent question, Wulfe. I think this evening I prefer to use my intelligence rather than leave it totally up to fate.”
“In that case, allow me to direct you to the Faro tables.”
“Perfect. Be so kind as to send both drink and women my direction.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Thorn bowed deeply before slipping away. He found Aimée. “Prinny wants drink and women, not necessarily in that order.”
“Consider it done,” she nodded in the direction of the Prince Regent. Thorn watched a woman approach the man carrying a balloon snifter and decanter. “You must trust me. Together we can make this work and each get what we want.”
“What is it you want?” he asked, not looking at her.
“You do not worry about me. I can care for myself, I have for a long time now. I think you need to ask yourself what it is you want,” she said before walking off.
Thorn continued making the rounds, visiting the patrons. He tried to identify those he had seen being overly friendly with Glandingham in the past few weeks. Speaking of Glandingham, the man had yet to make an appearance since the Prinny’s arrival. The man was a coward.
“Lord Wulfe, just the man I wanted to speak with.”
Thorn turned and saw a man a few years younger than himself approaching. He was dressed like a dandy, but many of them were. “Good evening, Your Grace,” Thorn bowed low as Ephraim Gilbert, Duke of Walsh came to a stop in front of him. “I’m surprised you want to speak to me after our run-in the other night.”
“You were merely a man making sure everyone knew that his beautiful wife was not to be toyed with. And may I say what a beauty she is? Those eyes,” he said.
“Yes, she is beautiful, but she also has a fierce temper.”
“I can only imagine. Please, call me Lord Walsh. It is my understanding that you are acting guardian of a young man that has inherited a similar title much too early.”
“Yes,” Thorn said, stiffening imperceptibly.
“My condolences on the loss of your brother. Though, I hear he died a hero.”
“Oh?” Thorn asked. They had not discussed with anyone outside a select few as to how his brother had died. Everyone surmised that his ill health had done him in and that is what they wanted everyone to believe.
“Yes, Wulfe, I know the truth. Your brother was shot as he tried to protect the director of the War Office. I can see the curiosity in your eyes. You want to know how I know such a thing. Let me just say that I have connections and ways of knowing things that others do not. I also know who was behind the assassination attempt on the good director.” Walsh threw back his head and laughed at the doubt and speculation that entered Thorn’s expression. “You are a smart man to not take me for my word, Wulfe.
Here is my calling card. Come to my house on Thursday at three, shall we say? We can talk more then.”
Thorn looked at the card, the name, Ephraim Gilbert, Duke of Walsh was emblazoned on it. He flipped it over on the back. Thursday at 3 o’clock. You will not regret it., had been scrawled in a bold script. He looked up in time to see the young duke exit the building. Wulfe tucked the card into an inside pocket of his superfine.
The night passed slowly after that. A crowd gathered around Prinny, cheering him when he won and booing when he lost. Wulfe looked for his wayward partner, only to find that the miserable coward had indeed left. Thorn shook his head and returned to the large room. He found himself wishing these people would leave so that he could return to his family, to Rebekah. Was she pacing the floor, awaiting his return? Was she asleep in her bed, holding the pillow he had slept on close?
“I don’t know where you are, but snap out of it,” Aimée snarled.
“Jealous?”
“Hardly. I want to know what went on between you and Walsh earlier.”
“Nothing for you to be concerned about. Your lover has disappeared. Why are you still here?”
“I have a job to do, and I will see it through, unlike some people.”
“Trust me, my dear, I will see my job through.”
“Do not call me that. You have lost that privilege, and I do not believe my dear sister would appreciate you showing such familiarity to your ex-mistress.”
“Tell me how your father treated you.”
“He’s my father. I love him. Why wouldn’t I? He never raised a hand to me and showered me and Maman with gifts whenever he could get away to see us.”
“Showered you with gifts? The Reverend?” Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, this is rich. The mighty Reverend Hezekiah Johnson fell in love with a whore.”
“It isn’t remotely funny,” Aimée said in a fit of pique.
“No, it isn’t, especially if you knew what his other daughters went through. The daughters he had in the bounds of holy matrimony and hated them every second because they were not children conceived with your mother.” His pocket watch chimed and he pulled it from his pocket, flipping it open. “Thank God,” he said as he read the watch face and saw that he could close the Lady Luck. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will make your closing bets, the Lady Luck will be closing in five minutes.” Sounds of sadness reverberated around the room, but everyone complied, and within a half hour, Thorn was on his horse, traveling the streets of London.
He rode his horse into the mews behind the house. A sleepy stable lad came out yawning to take the horse from Thorn and lead him into the stable. He entered the house through the servant’s entrance and was met at the door by a giant of a man. When the man saw it was his master, he relaxed his stance.
“Lock this door and check all the windows on the first two floors.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thorn did not wait to see if the man would follow his words with action, instead he turned and took the stairs two at a time. He opened her door to find the bed empty and in pristine condition with the sheets turned down. She was nowhere in the room. He backtracked to his room, opened the door and was greeted the same way. Wulfe recalled the veiled threat Mack had made, and his heart began to race. They had spoken in the heat of the moment, he would not harm Rebekah or the children, would he? The children!
He took the stairs to the nursery area and saw that the door was cracked open and the flickering light of a candle could be seen. Looking around for a weapon, he saw nothing, so he crouched into a fighter’s stance and pushed the door open. It swung silently open on well-oiled hinges. His pent-up breath left him in a whoosh as he saw Rebekah snuggled down with the two children on one of the beds. He stumbled across the room and dropped into the rocking chair. Thorn rested his elbows on his knees and rammed the heel of his hands into his eyes.
“Wulfe, what’s wrong?” he heard Rebekah’s husky, sleep-laced voice ask.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m a light sleeper. Besides, my arms have gone to sleep and I have a crick in my neck.”
“Let’s see if we can’t remedy that.” He stood and scooped Zachary up in his arms, turned around and laid him on his bed before tugging the covers up to his shoulder. He turned and saw Rebekah attempting to wriggle out from under Ivy. Thorn slipped his arms beneath Rebekah and lifted her, holding her close. He savored the feel of her in his arms.
“My arms are asleep, not my legs,” she whispered.
“Humor me.” As they left the room, Ivy rolled over, pulling her dolly close to her. Rebekah wrapped her arms around Thorn’s neck. He saw her blink rapidly and bite her lower lip. “Hurt?”
“Like hundreds of needles. It will go away soon.”
He carefully made his way down the stairs and entered her bedroom. She pushed the door shut. Thorn ruthlessly took her lips with his. He was tired of the games and the threats. He just wanted everything to be over. He even found himself resenting the Lady for keeping him away from Rebekah and the twins. “You’re beautiful,” he moaned against her mouth.
“You’re a liar, but thank you,” she responded.
“Truth,” he said, and before she could argue, he took control of her mouth. He stood her on her feet next to the bed. “Just stand there. Do not do anything, understand?” Rebekah nodded and watched him as he began to hurriedly strip off his clothes. She started to reach around for her buttons, but he grabbed her hand, kissed her palm, and placed it at her side. “No, just stay right there.”
Before long, he stood before her, nude. She took her time looking at his chest, at the springy hair that covered it. His muscular arms that had carried her down the stairs. “Turn around please,” she said. When he complied, she studied his strong back that looked like it might have been carved from marble, the only indication that he wasn’t was the warmth he put off. His buttocks looked firm, and she found herself wanting to find out. She reached out and gave a little squeeze, only to hear him take a strangled breath. Yes, it was as firm as she believed it would be. She continued her study as she came to his legs. Who would have thought that a man’s legs could cause her to lose her breath?
“May I turn around?”
“Yes,” she answered huskily. He did, slowly. His feet were masculine and his thighs were muscular. She quickly met his eyes, and thought she might could see his very soul at that moment.
“You can look,” he prompted.
“At what?”
“I believe you know at what. You are its master, did you not know that? It responds only to you.”
“I don’t know that I can.”
“You don’t have to touch, but you should know what you have done to me. No other woman causes this reaction in me.”
At that, she could not help but look. His member looked as if it stretched towards her. It bobbed slightly as if attempting to get her attention, to let her know it wanted her. That he wanted her. She was wanted by her husband, and it was enough for her. If he offered her anything else it would be too much of a risk. Even now she felt him prying away at the mortar that held the crumbling bricks around her beating heart.
He cupped her face and tilted her mouth up for a kiss. Before long, he was working on the row of buttons down the back of her dress. As he pulled apart the fabric, he was shocked to find his hands met bare skin. Thorn rubbed his fingers up and down her spine as he pulled away to look at her questioningly. “No undergarments?”
“I decided to live a little dangerously,” she replied flippantly.
“You are going to be the death of me,” he said, before tugging her dress down her arms, to her waist, and then over her hips so that it fell in a heap on the floor at her feet. His wife stood before him in all her glory, her chin tilted proudly in the air, her hands fisting beside her the only proof she was still slightly uncomfortable with this aspect of their marriage. He turned and walked across the room to lock the door. When he turned back she was still sta
nding there, a hint of stubbornness in her features.
“I thought you were going to leave.”
“Like this?”
“You’re much braver than I am,” she shrugged.
“I am not going to leave. For better or worse, until death do us part, you are mine and I am yours. I will want no one but you.”
“That’s all I could ask for,” Rebekah said huskily.
“No, you should ask for so much more, and you will have it, I promise.” He walked her backwards and laid her back on the bed. “Now, I believe we left off about right here this afternoon,” he grinned lasciviously before planting a string of kisses across her stomach. They spent the rest of the night alternately loving and sleeping, neither pressing the other to talk about matters they did not want to or asking for promises that could not be kept.
Chapter 22
Rebekah slipped from the bed the next morning, leaving Thorn sleeping, or so she thought.
“Where are you going?” he asked, stretching.
“I have things to do. I cannot stay abed all day and do nothing.”
“My plans did not involve doing nothing,” he grinned seductively, before grabbing her hand and placing kisses along her palm.
“Thorn,” she moaned, then slipped her hand free of his. She walked over and kissed him, then pulled back. “I have people to see today,” she said, then turned and walked across the room. She was amazed at how unselfconscious she felt in her nudity in front of him. “Don’t you have things you should see to as well?”
Last night’s encounter with the Duke of Walsh flashed through his mind. “Indeed I do.” He threw back the covers, stood, and crossed the room with determination.
“Go away,” Rebekah swatted at him when he came up behind her and wrapped her up in his arms.
“Are you certain that is what you want?”
She spun around in his arms and wrapped hers about his neck. “You are incorrigible and insatiable,” she said before kissing him. The next thing she knew, she was being lifted into the air and her back pressed to the door with Thorn sinking deep within her.
Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) Page 25