To Love and Protect Page 37

  The man had given away government secrets to a French whore. What made the treason so much worse remained the fact that he was Derek’s best friend. Her brother's best friend and a traitor to King and Country. And to make matters worse, at one time she thought herself madly in love with him. He had definitely ruined that possibility for both of them. No way she could even stomach the idea of being married to him now. She could barely look at him. And to think, he had once stood alongside Admiral Nelson at Trafalgar.

  She pushed herself out of the big bed, paced to the window and threw back the curtains. The moonlight streamed into the room but did nothing to calm her. The rare cloudless and fogless night in London showed off the true beauty of the city, but she failed to see it. She had too many thoughts wrestling about in her mind for superiority.

  “How could he?” she muttered helplessly, pressing her forehead against the cool pane of glass. He had witnessed the heartache Derek had gone through when he believed his wife to be a traitor. Thank goodness all that had turned out to be false. So how could he, Derek’s best friend, do something like this? The man must have lost all the good sense he had been born with. Perhaps the stress of being one of the highest peers of the realm finally affected him.

  She shook her head sadly replaying that awful night in her mind. So many things had happened that night. Tessa had been kidnapped for one. But first she had heard Gabe giving information on troop landings to that exotically beautiful woman. She had a French accent, claiming to be an émigré to all other members of the ton. And there lie the real crux of the matter. Not only did he divulge information to the enemy, but the enemy had been beautiful and seemed to have him firmly in her clutches, if the way the woman had been adjusting her dress been any indication. She thumped her hands on the windowsill and let out a little growl of frustration. She had to decide what to do about this matter and soon.

  One thing had made itself abundantly clear though. “She can have him. I’m done with him.”

  “Done with whom?”

  Kala whirled around and clutched at her throat with one hand. “Dru, you startled me. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Indigestion,” Kala’s aunt explained as an aside as she patted her swelling tummy. “Now what has you in such an uproar?”

  “Oh, I’m just excited over all the events of the last few weeks,” Kala stuck as close to the truth as possible.

  “It has been quite an adventure, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes. Derek and Tessa will be leaving for the country once more. Then we will all gather there for Christmas in a few months.”

  “Now what are you so worked up about?”

  “I can’t tell you, Dru,” Kala said, her shoulders drooping.

  “What? You used to tell me everything. I am your favorite aunt, you know,” she waggled her brows for effect.

  Kala giggled but shook her head adamantly. “No. This is something I must figure out and address on my own.”

  “If you insist,” she reached into the pocket of her dressing robe and took out a deck of playing cards. “What do you say we pass the time with a few games?”

  “Yes, but no bets this time. Derek yelled at me for an hour for losing my quarterly pin money to you,” she shook her head sadly. “I had three queens and two tens. I still don’t understand how you beat me,” she lamented.

  “Derek is a spoilsport.”

  “Derek is right,” a deep voice drawled from Kala’s doorway.

  “Richard, I hope you didn’t miss me.”

  “Of course I did, my love.” He dropped a kiss on her lips and then covered her stomach with one of his large hands. “Is she keeping you awake?”

  “Yes.” Kala watched the byplay unashamedly and with a great deal of envy. She had been raised in a household like this one, with parents that adored one another and touched and kissed. She had hoped that she and Gabriel could have had something like this, and perhaps they could have if he had never become the Duke of Hawkescliffe. He had changed drastically in so many ways after receiving the title, a title he never should have had to don. A large part of her mourned that fact. Another part of her knew she must get on with the job of living.

  “Richard, please stay and keep an eye on Dru. I think she cheats,” she whispered loudly.

  “Kala, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Richard replied.

  “What?”

  “I know she cheats.” The three stayed up until early morning playing, laughing, and talking.

  ***

  The next morning, Kala quickly dressed in a plain, serviceable dress and scampered downstairs before anyone else arose. She asked a footman to call for a carriage. He performed the task reluctantly, seeing a dressing down in his future for letting her leave the house unescorted. Miss Kala would be the death of them all in his lowly opinion.

  The carriage arrived and Kala embarked on a journey across town to the Horse Guards. She left the conveyance and paid the driver. She paced back and forth in front of the building, chewing on her thumb as she tended to do when nervous. She had let her sable hair fall in loose waves down her back, not wanting to waste any time in getting here. Her thick, black lashes fluttered, hiding the mercurial changes of her hazel eyes.

  She needed to speak to Director McKenzie as soon as possible and silently cursed the man for choosing this morning to not arrive before everyone else to the War Office, the central headquarters where plans were made to defeat Napoleon, and as she so recently found out where her brother and Gabe worked as well. So caught up in practicing her speech, she did not hear the brisk footfalls until they were upon her.

  “What do you think you are doing here?”

  “Director McKenzie, the Duke of Hawkescliffe is a traitor,” she said as she turned around to look at the man. Her mouth fell open in horror as she realized she had just told the information to the suspected traitor himself.

  “Now that you know, what am I going to do to keep you silent, Pest?” Gabriel Hawke, the Duke of Hawkescliffe snarled as he pulled her close, the scar that slashed down his cheek made him appear piratical. Kala did the only thing she knew to do, she raised her knee and in his moment of agony, she tore free of his hold and ran for her life.

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  Taming the Wicked Wulfe

  The Rogue Agents Trilogy, Book 1

  “When are the other men showing up?” Liam asked in his thick Scottish brogue.

  “Any time. Are you certain you are ready for this?” Thorn volleyed back.

  “I have no choice now, do I?” the larger man chuckled.

  “Baptism by fire,” Thorn muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “These men want to become partners in our business?”

  “Yes.”

  “When will they be here?”

  “Bloody hell, Liam, do you never shut up?”

  “If a man is to find out things, he needs to ask questions,” Liam pulled out a pocket watch. “Half past nine,” he muttered.

  “Should be any minute. Nice watch.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Someone special give it to you?”

  “She used to be. I’ll be lucky if she ever talks to me again.”

  The men heard approaching footsteps at the same time. They were at the end of the alley, not a great position to take up when fighting an enemy, but they had scouted it the night before and knew the lay of the land. A puff of smoke heralded the entrance of William Thomas, Earl of Glandingham and two of his burly footmen. This man believed himself to be much more important than he was.

  “Gentlemen, I’m so glad you could keep the meeting.”

  “Nothing would keep us from it,” Thorn said. “Your missive said you wanted to buy into Lady Luck. I’m not certain we are looking for another partner at the moment.”

  “It would behoove you to reconsider my offer, Wulfe.”

  “Just what are you offering?”

  “Fift
y thousand pounds and I am your only partner.”

  “What the hell?” Liam interjected.

  “Shut up, you skirt wearing bastard! Know when you are in the presence of your betters.”

  “I won’t take that from the likes of you, Sassenach!” Liam argued.

  Glandingham nodded at the two men on either side of him and they moved on Liam. Although the man outweighed each of them by a stone, they cornered him, landing punches on his face and ribs. They dropped him to the trash-littered ground of the alley. The men kicked him in his back, legs, and head.

  “Enough!” Thorn yelled, causing the men to fall back.

  “We can finish him off for you, Wulfe,” Glandingham needled.

  “No.” Thorn Wulfe withdrew a pistol hidden beneath his coat and walked over to Liam. The man lay on the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath. “Fifty thousand pounds, you say?”

  “Fifty thousand.”

  “Wulfe?” Liam pushed up off his stomach and looked at Thorn.

  “Sorry, old man, it has been a good run, but we must part paths now,” he said, cocking the pistol.

  “No!” Liam yelled as Thorn pulled back on the trigger, the loudness ricocheted off of the walls of the buildings surrounding them. The Scotsman fell face down on the ground, dark liquid pooled around him like a lake. Wulfe replaced his pistol and stepped over the body of his ex-partner.

  “Glandingham, shall we go to the Lady Luck and finalize the terms of our agreement over a nice brandy?”

  “Indeed, and we are going to be partners, call me William.”

  “Shall we?” He held out his hand for the earl to go ahead of him, not offering the same amount of friendliness that Glandingham had. He left the alley, never once looking back at the man whose life he just took.

  ***

  Dawn broke over the city of London when Thorn finally retired to his rooms. He dropped heavily in the chair behind his desk, a bottle of Scottish whisky next to him. A knock sounded on the door just as Thorn removed the stopper from the bottle. “Come in,” exhaustion tinged his voice.

  “I have some papers for you to sign, sir,” his valet entered the room.

  “What are they?”

  “I don’t know, sir. Mr. Brown brought them and said they are in regards to various estate matters.”

  “Why isn’t Win taking care of it?”

  “That is a question for Mr. Brown, sir.”

  “Just give me the damn papers, James. What about the other?” he asked as he dipped a quill in ink and began scrawling his name at the spots indicated, not reading what he signed.

  “Taken care of, sir.”

  “Here,” he pushed the papers in James’ direction. “Have those delivered to Brown.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  “How are you at telling people their son is dead at the hand of his partner?” He looked up and saw the look of disapproval that crossed James’ face. “For God, King, and Country,” he lifted the whisky bottle in the air before drinking directly from it.

  “Sir?”

  “Your dismissed, James.”

  The valet turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Thorn started the letter three times before he finally found a way to inform a family that their son had valiantly died that night, never once mentioning his part in the whole sordid affair.

  ***

  “Theodore Wulfe, I will not do it! I cannot believe you even have the nerve to ask such a question of me,” Rebekah stormed to the window and looked through it, unseeing.

  “Rebekah,” the man behind her said in a gentle tone, much like one would use when attempting to calm a wild horse. “Do you see those children out there?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, letting her forehead fall against the glass, welcoming the coolness. She knew what he would say next, and Lord help her she could not hate him as much as she wanted to.

  “They are my life. They are the best of both Sarah and I, as you well know. You have helped care for them since they entered this world. Do you want them sent to an orphanage? Hell, Rebekah, do you want them sent to Sarah’s parents? Do you want them deciding the future of this dukedom?” the Duke of Wulfcrest queried.

  “No!” Rebekah exclaimed horrified. She watched the two little ragamuffins that played outside with their matching Wolf Hounds, Piddles and Smelly. Smiling, she remembered how she had tried to coax the children into naming them something else, but they were as stubborn as their mother which explained why their names made vague references to bodily functions beyond a young pup’s control. Sarah’s parents would never allow the children to have pets of any kind, let alone the menagerie they seemed to keep. No, two four-year-olds deserved to be allowed to play and be rambunctious, not locked away in a living tomb.

  “Sarah loved you. I love you. We could not ask for a better adoptive mother for our daughters,” he broke off into a fit of coughing.

  Rebekah tried to tune out the coughing, but found she could not. She could no longer deny that he continued to get worse. She also knew that if she turned around, the handkerchief he used would have flecks of red on it. She wanted to rage at Heaven about the unfairness of the situation. These two precious children would be orphans in a matter of months. Teddy and Sarah were wonderful people who did not deserve to be taken so young. Especially when his rotten, good for nothing brother still drew breath. A man who could not be bothered to attend his sister-in-law’s funeral. A man who had not shown his face around Wolf’s Point in years. A man who if she saw him, she swore there better not be a loaded gun nearby. A man that Teddy wanted to tie her to for the rest of her life.

  “Teddy, I have a wonderful idea,” her face lit up as she turned to look at him. Once more composed, he looked at her expectantly. “Why don’t you and I marry? It would be a marriage of convenience. I could care for you. Why are you shaking your head no?”

  “I will be taking myself off to London at the end of this week. I don’t want the girls to see me decline. It will not be pretty and if I can spare them, I will. That was one blessing in regards to Sarah’s accident, she did not linger. And besides, if I know my in-laws, they will fight you for the children regardless. Knowing that Zachary will rule a dukedom, they will want to have him close so that they can attempt to turn him into a pious monster. No, Rebecka, you need Thorn’s strength to help you. The two of you will have to provide a united front to fight the Reverend and his wife.”

  “That is going to be most difficult when I want to kill him myself.”

  “Rebekah, I have told you on many occasions that he has excellent reasons for everything you accuse him of,” Teddy sounded as if he were attempting to patiently talk to a small child.

  “So you say. I still reserve the right to despise him. Even now, he needs to be here and where is he? Or should I say whose bed is he in? He is single-handedly destroying your family name, and all you do is make excuses for him. It sickens me.” She turned once more to stare out the window. The children were playing tag with the dogs. Squeals, laughter, and barks filtered into the room.

  “On this we will just have to agree to disagree.”

  “Teddy, he runs one of London’s most notorious gaming hells! How can you excuse that?”

  “I have said all that I will say on the matter.”

  “Oh,” she growled, “Sarah said you could be stubborn when you set your mind to something.”

  “And I have set my mind to this. Need I remind you what Sarah said when I held her in my arms as she took her last breaths?”

  “No,” she bit out, tightening her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She refused to give into any more tears. It had been two years since they buried her sister, and best friend, but some days it felt like only yesterday.

  “She wanted you to be happy.”

  “And marrying your wastrel brother is the solution?” she asked incredulously, spinning around to face him once more.

  “Regardless of what you think, family is very importan
t to Thorn. He loved Sarah like a sister for most of his life. He loves his niece and nephew. He tolerates you,” he tried to tease.

  “I loathe him.”

  “What really happened between the two of you?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” she huffed and moved across the room.

  “Sarah always suspected there was more between the two of you than you let on, but she said you remained tight-lipped about it.”

  “It was none of her business and now it is none of yours.”

  “Fine.” He held up his hands knowing he would not get anywhere further on that front. He started to say something but another fit of coughing overcame him. This time it lasted longer than before, and had him doubling over until Rebekah could assist him to a chair. Once seated, she quickly got him something to drink. She made to stand up when he grasped her wrist. She could not help but notice that his grip had weakened over the weeks. Kneeling beside him, she looked up at him and saw the desperate look in his eyes. “Please, Rebekah.”

  Those two words were like a death knell sounding over the valley. Suddenly she felt as if someone had put the last nail in her coffin and she could not take in enough air. “Do what you must,” she said, rising to her feet.

  “Thank you. You don’t know how this eases my mind.”

  “I’m going to go outside with the children for a while,” she said, slipping out of his grasp and escaping from the room. Once she reached the coolness of the darkened hallway, she came to a stop. “Bloody hell and damnation,” she muttered, nerves and anger jockeying for first place position inside her. “This will never work. I’ll kill him first.

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  Seducing the Ruthless Rogue

  The Rogue Agents Trilogy, Book 2

  May 11, 1812

  Stuart McKenzie straightened the cuffs of his shirt and his cravat before he entered the lobby of the House of Commons. He had received a note from Prime Minister Percevel to meet him here. Very rarely did he have direct contact with the prime minister, so he was intrigued as to why he was being asked to meet him, and here of all places. Usually he would be summoned to the man’s office.