Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) by Tammy Jo Burns Page B

it.
    “What do you need that for?”
    “I want to be able to look in your eyes when I’m yelling at you,” she answered.
    “Yelling at me?   You’re the fool who threw herself in front of a galloping horse!”
    “Fool?!”
    “Yes, fool!   What was so damn important that you risked your life?”
    “If you are going to be underfoot, you could at least make yourself useful!”
    “What in bloody hell are you talking about?”
    “You watch your language around the children!”
    “Since they’re not around, I think I am safe, unless you consider yourself a child.”
    “I am not a child, but you must be the way you selfishly flit from here to there without staying and helping.”
    “What are you talking about, woman?” he shouted in frustration.
    “I’m talking about the twins and getting them packed to go to London.   Do you know how many fights I’ve had with them over the last few days about what they can and can’t take?   I have yet to pack for myself for dealing with them.”
    “Let them take whatever they want,” he shrugged off the answer as if it were nothing.
    “Come with me,” she regally stepped off the stool, crossed the room, and opened the door.   She went up the stairs, refusing to look back to see if he followed or not.   If he knew what was good for him, he would be on her heels.   She opened the door to the nursery.   “Do you see that pile over there?”   She indicated three small trunks stacked under the window.
    “Yes.”
    “That is what the children and I have agreed they can take.   I should tell you that none of those trunks hold their clothes and absolute necessities.”
    “What…”
    “Do you see that pile over there?”
    Thorn looked at the pile of toys, books, knick-knacks, and other items that grew before his eyes.   He watched the twins each dump an armful of items on the pile as he stood there.   “What is all this?” Thorn swept his hand through the air indicating the large pile of items.
    “These are the additional things they want to take with them.   I have tried to reason with them.   Again, I am tired of being a single parent.   Your brother, for some reason I have yet to understand, thought you would be excellent in a father role.   Here is your chance to prove him right.   I have a pounding headache and am going to my room.   Good luck.”   Rebekah’s skirts swished as she left the room.  
    “Is Aunt Bekah all right?” Ivy asked worriedly.
    “I think you two rapscallions might have worn her out.”
    “We didn’t mean to,” Ivy sniffed.
    “Hey, now,” Thorn said going to his knee in front of the children.   “No need for tears.   We just need to figure out how to make her happy again.”
    “How do we do that?” Zachary asked.
    “Well, the first thing we need to do is talk about all this stuff you want to take to London with you.”   He looked at the pile that included everything from toy soldiers to a rocking chair.   “Did Aunt Bekah tell you that we have furniture in the London house?”
    “We do?” Zachary tilted his head.
    “Yes. So, perhaps we wouldn’t have to take the rocking chair with us.”   The children gave a mumbled consent of agreement.   “A lot of these things we can purchase in London, if you decide you really need them,” he hinted.
    “We can?” Ivy asked.
    “Of course, we can.”   Thorn began picking up each item in the pile.   It became a guessing game as to who put the item in the stack.   By the time they had gone through every item, long shadows had begun fall across the room.   “Damn,” Thorn muttered under his breath.
    “Uncle Thorn, you said a naughty word,” Ivy remonstrated.  
    “Forgive me,” he bowed low to her after standing.   “Why don’t you two go wake your aunt and tell her it is near supper.   I have a meeting to attend.”
    “I want to go!” Zachary announced.
    “Me, too!” Ivy said.
    “You can’t go.   You’re not the Duke of Wulfecrest,” Zachary