Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) by Tammy Jo Burns Read Free Book Online

and maids began delivering umbrellas, hats, and capes to the people gathered.   Carriages lined up at the door ready to return the mourners to their homes.   When the last person had left, the butler closed the door and quietly signaled the staff to follow him into the bowels of the house.
    Thorn studied the three other people standing in the parlor.   Reverend Hezekiah Johnson stood a few inches shorter than himself.   The man had a wiry build, but there seemed to be a strength about him he had never noticed before.   His hair had turned to a pepper gray over the years.   His eyes were a bright blue.   Edith Johnson, came to his mid-chest, and could be considered tiny.   She had rich, brown hair, but nothing else could be said about it because of the tight bun she wore it in.   The woman looked as if she seldom, if ever, smiled.   Wrinkles etched her face and she never looked up, instead staring down at her hands as she clutched them furtively together.
    “Mrs. Johnson, stop fidgeting,” the Reverend barked the order to his wife.
    “Yes, Reverend Johnson,” she said, dropping her hands to her side, but never raising her head.   He could not even tell the color of the woman’s eyes.
    Thorn studied Rebekah.   He could see her jaw working pensively and her hands fisted at her sides.   Her eyes sparkled green and blue in her anger.   Dark smudges underlined them, showing that she had been losing sleep.   She had put her silky straight brown hair up in a knot this morning, but it had slowly begun to work loose.   Now stray tendrils clung to her neck and   face.   How have I missed how beautiful she is? he thought.   Her skin looked different from so many women of the ton , having a warm, honeyed tone.   She also had generous, womanly curves belying the fact that she did expel energy quite often chasing after two rambunctious children.   He found himself having to shift slightly at the physical reaction to his wife.   Rebekah sort of favors Aimée , he thought and then immediately chastised himself for comparing his wife to his mistress.   I don’t have time for any of this , he argued with himself.
    “Reverend and Mrs. Johnson, thank you for coming to offer your condolences about my brother.   That was most generous of you.”
    “We came for the children,” the Reverend barked.
    “There must be some misunderstanding, Reverend.   You see, my brother and Sarah left the children in our care, not yours,” Thorn said, indicating Rebekah and himself.   He moved closer to the young woman and took one of her fisted hands in his.   Surprisingly, she clasped his hand, interlocking their fingers, and squeezing as if he were her lifeline.
    “There is no misunderstanding.   Do you really believe we would leave the Duke of Wulfecrest in the care of a scoundrel such as yourself and a harlot like her?”   he asked, indicating his daughter.
    “Sir, I could not care less what you say or think about me, but I will not allow you to belittle your own daughter in my presence, especially an innocent.”  
    “That woman is no longer my daughter and has not been for the last six years.   She is as innocent as Queen Jezebel.   I will not have my grandchildren raised in a house that condones such actions as hers and your own.”
    “Leave.”
    “Pardon?” The Reverend Johnson queried.
    “You heard me,” Rebekah said.   “You kicked me out of your house ten years ago.   Now I am kicking you out of mine.   You are not welcome back here, ever,” she ordered.
    “This is not your house, this house belongs to the Duke of Wulfecrest.”
    “Leave,” a small voice said from the staircase.
    Thorn felt the loss of contact with Rebekah as she rushed to the two children that stood on the stairs.   She stood in front of the twins, facing the older couple, as if she were the children’s only defense.   Thorn walked across the room and joined the trio.   He draped his arm across Rebekah’s shoulders, hoping to