What You Propose (Anything for Love #2)

by Adele Clee

  "The letter can wait," he said. His desire for Anna Sinclair was the only thing that mattered to him.

  To atone for his uncouth behaviour, he would give her a night to remember.

  Chapter 14

  With the passing of each new day, Marie Labelle faded away into the background. Anna found she was not as cynical as her alter ego: the character she had hidden behind as a way of coping with the pain and sorrow. Indeed, she had grown to trust Marcus Danbury. Somehow, he had managed to find his way through the solid ice cavity and into her heart.

  Reconnecting with the spirited, innocent girl she had once been caused a wealth of emotions to push forth: excitement, hope, and desire. The deep sense of longing was a new feeling, one neither Marie or Anna had experienced before. Consequently, numerous attempts to define it had left her baffled.

  "We'll have to tend to the horses." Marcus' rich voice broke her reverie. He helped her down, holding her close to his body until her feet settled firmly on the ground. Desire sparked anew. "Help me remove the tack and brush them down. After the slow ride back there'll be no need to walk them to cool their muscles."

  Her body thrummed with anticipation.

  After their chores, would he suggest another shared activity? Such a mundane job as brushing down the horses should have left her feeling cold. But there was something seductive about the way he went about the task. During each long, soothing stroke his eyes flashed with hot sensuality as he failed to look at anything else but her.

  "What now?" she said as they settled the animals into the stable.

  "Now we must attend to the needs of the riders. And I intend to give a lot more time and attention to the task."

  She laughed as they crossed the courtyard heading for the monastery's oak door, the sound a way of expelling the hot air filling her lungs, a way of cooling her heated blood. "What? Are we to brush each other down, relax our muscles, and take something refreshing to drink?"

  "Yes, in a manner of speaking." He closed the door behind them, pulling down the heavy bar to offer added security. "I suggest you let me take the lead. I am somewhat adept when it comes to doing a thorough job."

  "Is that why you were so angry with me in the cave?"

  "Had you explained your situation, I would have done things a little differently, yes."

  Anna threaded her arm through his as they walked through the nave. The echo of his boots on the tiled floor cut through the silence. "I assume the servants are all in their beds?"

  "More than likely. They're used to my unconventional habits. Sometimes, Andre waits until I'm home." She let go of his arm as he opened the door to the chapter house. The room was dark, and he removed his coat, lifted the strap of his leather bag over his head and placed both items on the chair. "Would you like something to drink?"

  "What do you have?"

  "Definitely brandy. I always keep a flask in the drawer, unless Tristan's downed the lot." He moved to the small round table in the corner, picked up a bottle and shook it. "You're in luck. There's port, too."

  "I'll have a drop of port."

  When he sauntered over to give her the glass, a sinful smile touched his lips. A sensual aura emanated from every fibre of his being. The seductive energy soothed her aching muscles, brought a level of inner calm despite the fact her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

  "We'll drink it here and then head upstairs, so I'll not bother to light the lamp." He stared at her over the rim of his glass as he sipped his port.

  It was as though she had forgotten how to perform simple tasks such as breathing and swallowing and almost dribbled the burgundy liquid down her cape and dress when her mouth refused to comply.

  As Marcus watched her use her finger to wipe the residue from her chin, he stepped forward. "Allow me."

  She expected him to produce a small piece of linen, but to her surprise, he held her finger to his lips and sucked the tip softly. His mouth was warm, wet, utterly wicked. The sensation caused sparks of desire to ignite. Like a blacksmith's furnace, the fire inside raged fast and furious, melting away any doubts and reservations. As the master of the flame, he could bend and mould her easily to his will. Just as she had done in the cave, she would give herself over to him, right now if he wished it so.

  Her gazed drifted over the breadth of his chest, ventured to the desk behind him.

  His tongue circled the tip of her finger before he pulled it slowly out of his mouth. "Don't get any ideas. We're not staying here." Even his silky smooth tone sent ripples of excitement racing through her, the pulse between her thighs beating a powerful, pleasurable rhythm.

  "Do you presume to know my thoughts?" she said, unable to keep her desire for him from infusing her tone.

  "You cannot glance at the desk with that sultry smile and not expect me to draw my own conclusions." He nodded to her glass. "Drink up, for the anticipation is killing me."

  Now she wished she had asked for a much larger measure. Not because she wished to stall him. But she needed a way to bolster her courage. With a slight tremble in her fingers, she swallowed what remained in her glass. Marcus took it from her and placed it on the desk behind him.

  "Come." He took her hand. "Let's find somewhere more comfortable."

  "Are we going to my chamber or … or yours?" she said in a bid to sound more confident.

  "Mine."

  How could one simple, solitary word cause a shiver to race through her body? No doubt his masterful tone played some part in rousing such a reaction.

  They climbed the stairs in silence though her internal voice refused to be tempered. Question after question flooded her mind. Would her disdain for the patrons of Labelles, for the debauched scenes she'd so frequently witnessed, prevent her from enjoying the experience? Would she know how to please him or would she fall hopelessly short of his expectations? What would happen when the time came for her to leave the monastery and return to England?

  The last thought caused a frisson of fear, and she quickly pushed it aside so as not to ruin the moment.

  His quarters were at the end of the long corridor, the furthest room from her own, she noted, and she recalled his reserved, austere facade when he'd first shown her up to her chamber.

  "Please, come in," he said as she hugged the door jamb like one would a mast on a sinking ship. With some hesitation, Anna stepped over the threshold and into his private domain. "Give me a moment. I'll just light the candle lamps."

  She stood in the middle of the vast space. Where her room was small and cosy, his was three times larger, maybe more. As a soft, warm glow illuminated the shadows, she scanned her surroundings, believing his choice of decor would reveal much of his character.

  "What's happened to your bed?" she asked, surprised to find it stood no more than a few inches from the floor. For a man with such a large frame, it could hardly be comfortable.

  Marcus glanced at it and shrugged. "I built it myself. It's just a frame without legs. I've spent years sleeping in barns, on the ground, anywhere I could lay my head. I sleep better the lower I am to the floor."

  "Oh," she replied, noting how the room had an inherently masculine feel. All the soft furnishings, from the drapes to the coverlet, were in varying shades of green. There was something natural about it, something unassuming, earthy.

  "It's far more comfortable than it looks," he said as he strode past her. She heard him close the door and turn the key in the lock. "Now, do you wish to go first or second?"

  She swung around to face him. "Excuse me?" Confusion caused her to frown. But her breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer and tugged the ties at her neck, pushed her cape off her shoulders. "How … what …?"

  Marcus took her hand, forcing her to step out from the pool of material. "We'll spend a little time getting to know one another." His heated gaze roamed over her dress. "Thankfully, your decision to forgo a few layers has made my work a lot easier."

  She had no idea what he meant. No idea what he intended to do. It had all been v
ery simple, all been very base at Labelles. Copulation amounted to nothing more than lots of heaving, grunts and banging. The girls feigned desire. They were desperate to be rid of their partners. Even the erotic paintings lining the wall in the drawing room had failed to provide the enlightenment needed to respond to Marcus' odd question.

  Anna shook her head, honesty being her only option. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

  He stared at her for a moment; an arrogant grin played at the corners of his mouth, and she felt her cheeks burn. "Then I shall gladly go first." He led her to the edge of the bed. "Wait here."

  Anna watched him fill the wash bowl from the pitcher, throw a few sprigs of dried lavender into the water along with a linen square.

  Coming back to stand in front of her, he flexed his fingers. "I'm going to undress you, unless you've changed your mind."

  "No. I've not changed my mind." Heavens, she had spent years feeling nothing but disdain. She welcomed the multitude of pleasurable emotions coursing through her.

  Marcus smiled. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around, began slowly undoing the row of buttons on her dress. Her breath came quick; her head felt light at the touch of his nimble fingers as they traced a line down the length of her back. The garment slithered to the floor. She shivered visibly when he gathered her chemise and pulled it over her head to leave him with a clear view of her naked behind.

  He sucked in a breath. "Lord help me, restraint is going to be far more difficult than I thought."

  She couldn't speak. She could feel him standing close, almost jumped when he rained featherlight kisses along her shoulder. With her eyes closed, her body reacted to every touch, to every breath that drifted over her skin. She knew the moment he moved away.

  "Don't turn around. Not yet." His tone was rich and heavy amidst the sound of splashing water. "It might feel cold at first."

  As soon as the soaked linen touched her skin, she inhaled sharply, arching her back to pull away. "Good Lord."

  "Hush," he whispered, pressing his mouth against her ear as one hand settled on her hip while the other wiped over her back with the damp cloth. A hint of lavender drifted through the air to tease her senses. "Your skin is so soft." The hand at her hip moved in caressing circles.

  "It … it doesn't feel as cold now." She felt dizzy, drunk, a little disorientated as she swayed with his soothing touch. A bolt of desire shot to her core when he wiped the cool, moist piece of linen over her buttocks. "Marcus," came her breathless pant.

  He must have dropped the cloth because two strong hands gripped her hips. Falling to his knees, he kissed along the base of her spine, moved lower to nip and lick each bare cheek.

  The heavy feeling between her legs grew in intensity.

  "Tell me you want me to touch you," he said. "Tell me you want to feel my hands all over your body."

  "I do," she panted, a moan falling from her lips as he stroked the outside of her thigh, moving up the inside to skim lightly over the place that ached for him. "I do." Her tone revealed her impatience.

  "Tell me what you want, Anna."

  "Touch me," she whispered feeling no shame. "Touch me again."

  "Like this?" His fingers travelled up her thigh, brushed against her sex, and she groaned as she moved against them.

  "Yes."

  Her breasts felt full and heavy, the slight chill in the air causing her nipples to peak. Desire raged through her like nothing she had ever felt before. The need to feel close to him, to feel him cover her body, push deep into her core, was overwhelming.

  She almost whimpered when he dropped his hand, but the rustling of garments, the thud of boots hitting the floor convinced her he would soon be naked, too. With her heart beating so loudly, she gasped when he stepped closer. His bare skin felt hot, scorching against her back, the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against her buttocks.

  He cupped her breasts as he pushed against her, his thumbs grazing over her nipples. Closing her eyes, she welcomed all the wonderful sensations. One hand drifted down to the apex of her thighs. As he nuzzled her neck, he whispered of all the things he wanted to do to her.

  "Marcus," she murmured as she writhed against his fingers. "I can't wait. I need you. I need you now."

  "Thank the Lord," he said turning her to face him. He gulped as his gaze fell to her breasts. "Hell, I haven't the strength to hold back."

  She marvelled at the sculptured muscles in his chest. She couldn't resist touching him, her fingers gliding over the hard planes, her gaze falling to stare at his jutting erection. "Good heavens."

  Stepping forward, he snaked his arm around her back and pulled her close until she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. "Now, where were we?"

  He claimed her lips like a man possessed, devouring, delving deep inside, branding her with his hot mouth. Rampant hands seemed to cover every inch of her body.

  "Forgive me," he gasped as he sucked in a breath. "I have a feeling this will be a frantic coupling as I don't have the patience to be thorough. At least, not this time."

  "I don't care." She threaded her arms around his neck, pulled him closer, the thick shaft of pure masculine flesh pressing against her stomach. "I just want you. More than I have ever wanted anything."

  He lowered her down onto the bed, covering her with his body. The time for talking had passed. The time for thinking about anything other than the pleasure rippling in waves, ready to carry her off to an exotic location had passed, too.

  "I'll try to be gentle," he said, tormenting her with kisses on her neck, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking.

  "I'm fine. Just hurry, Marcus."

  He needed no further inducement. Using his knee to coax her legs apart, he took himself in hand and pushed slowly inside her. There were no words to describe the overwhelming sense of joy as she took him into her eager body.

  "I'm not hurting you?"

  "No … no. Not at all." She shook her head, wrapped her legs around him and relished in the glorious look of satisfaction etched on his face.

  Withdrawing slowly, he filled her again and again, his thrusts growing harder, more determined. Following his pace, she rocked her hips to meet each moist slide.

  "Oh, God, Anna." He focused his sinful gaze on her face. She stared into his warm brown eyes, showing him how much she welcomed his touch, showing him the ecstasy she felt building inside.

  She arched her back, ran her hands over her breasts, threw her arms above her head with wanton abandon. He muttered something wicked as he held them there, held her captive, a slave to his rhythmical command. As the muscles in her stomach tightened, as the pulsing sensation brought her closer to some unknown destination, she thrashed and cried for more.

  With a sudden spasm, her body shook, pulsing around the hard length of him. Every nerve tingled: she even felt it in her toes. Two more delicious strokes and he withdrew. A loud, masculine groan filled the room as took himself in hand.

  The enchanting sound of their pants and ragged breathing warmed her soul.

  Marcus collapsed on top of her. "You're mine." He growled the possessive words and she knew then she had lost her heart to him.

  Chapter 15

  While Anna lay staring up at the ceiling, the gentleman at her side lay sprawled on his front sleeping soundly. Their second coupling, third if she counted the incident in the cave, had been just as wild, just as frantic. She resisted the urge to trace her finger along the three scars running across his back. Up until a couple of days ago, the need to comfort any man had been foreign to her. Now she feared she would do anything to soothe his woes, secure his happiness.

  You're mine!

  His possessive words drifted through her mind, followed by a whole host of fanciful ideas — of her living in the monastery, of lying next to Marcus each night, of him loving her, protecting her.

  Anna snorted and mentally shook her head.

  What on earth had happened to her since leaving Labelles?


  What had happened to the woman who wished for nothing more than to survive one more day? The one who wanted to live in solitude, hoping never to set eyes on another man again?

  A noise in the corridor drew her gaze to the chamber door. With her mind being somewhat loud and chaotic she wondered if she had imagined hearing the patter of footsteps. In her years at Labelles, she had been conditioned to listen out for distressing noises, which was why the soft whimpering captured her attention almost immediately.

  Experience had taught her never to ignore a sorrowful sound.

  Glancing at Marcus, she decided not to wake him; it was probably nothing. After spending numerous nights trailing the smugglers, he needed to sleep. There was also an element of self-preservation; she would not be able to resist him should he wake in an amorous mood, and she did not wish to appear too keen, too desperate for his attention.

  Throwing on her chemise, she tied her cape around her shoulders and wrapped it across her chest. Only one candle lamp still flickered. The tiny wax stump would last for more than the few minutes needed to investigate the noise, she thought, as she picked it up and crept towards the door.

  Why was it when one wanted to be quiet every sound seemed magnified? The click as she turned the iron key in the lock was louder than a hundred men cocking their pistols. The squeak as she eased the door gently from the jamb sounded like she had stumbled upon a hundred mice, all squealing at the sight of the unexpected giant figure.

  Nonetheless, she managed to make it out into the corridor without disturbing Marcus.

  The faint sobbing drifted through the air, but despite holding the lamp aloft, she could see nothing. The sound brought to mind the last time she had scoured the dimly lit hallways of Labelles, desperately trying to discover which one of her girls was crying. She had spent twenty minutes untying Amy's hands from the bedposts, rubbing her purple fingers until they were pink again.