What You Propose (Anything for Love #2)

by Adele Clee

  The muscles in his jaw twitched as his expression darkened. He raised an arrogant brow. "If you believe me capable of such a heinous crime, then why are you still here? I'm not forcing you to stay. I can write to Dane and ask him to make alternative arrangements."

  His cold tone hurt her like a sharp slap to the face. The shock made her reconsider her harsh words. But she could not retract them; she could not bow and scrape to him.

  "I don't need a man to make arrangements for me. I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

  With his mouth set in a firm line, he stepped back. Pride forced her to walk past him. In the morning, she would go down to the village, see Lucy Tullier or ask Lenard if there were any rooms at the inn. The man obviously needed the money. Perhaps she could set sail with the smugglers and ask them to leave her in Guernsey.

  Feeling a little nauseous and with her mind replaying the events of the evening, she struggled to sleep. She heard Marcus pacing back and forth along the length of the corridor, his heavy gait evidence of his sour mood. A few times, he stopped outside her door, the silence almost deafening while she waited to see if he would knock.

  She supposed she had been quite scathing in her outburst. Of course, she knew he was not the man she'd heard in the stables. But Marcus had betrayed her. How could she ever trust him again? No doubt, he would use her bitter accusation against her to ease the burden of his own guilt.

  The bright morning sun streaming in through her window did nothing to relieve her chaotic mind and aching body. Nausea had progressed into a stabbing pain just behind her navel, and she felt hot, short of breath. Perhaps it had something to do with the ale she'd drunk at the inn. Perhaps this was the pain of heartbreak.

  After hiding in her room all morning, Anna plucked up the courage to go and speak to Marcus, and so made her way downstairs. Whatever happened between them, she was grateful for his hospitality and could not leave without explaining her plans. The thought caused her stomach to lurch. Hopefully, Selene would know of something to ease the pain. She was a marvel when it came to plants and herbs. The balm she'd made for Anna's hands had worked a treat. They were almost as soft and smooth as when she'd first arrived.

  Anna spotted the woman coming out of the chapter house. "Selene."

  "Oui, madame?"

  "Do you happen to know of something I can take to settle my stomach?" The mere thought of a remedy caused another sharp pang, and she rubbed the area with her palm. "I don't think ale agrees with me."

  Selene frowned. "Is there a headache, a sickness or fever?" She put her hand out to touch Anna's forehead but left it hanging in the air until Anna nodded to give her consent. "You feel hot. I shall go and fetch a tonic."

  Anna gave a sigh of relief. "Is Mr. Danbury feeling well?" she said gesturing to the closed door. They had shared the same meal, drunk the same ale.

  "Oh, he is not here. He asked me to tidy the room."

  "Did he say where he was going?" Anna wondered if his absence had anything to do with their argument last night.

  "Non, madame. He left over an hour ago."

  Anna sighed as she touched her fingers to her temple, the pressure going some way to relieve the pounding. "I'll take a tonic, and then I think I'll go for a walk. Do you need anything from the village? I have a few errands to run." Finding somewhere else to stay was her priority.

  Selene shook her head. "Mr. Danbury says you are not to go out on your own. And you are not well, I fear."

  When she spoke to Marcus, she would do so as his equal. Playing the distressed damsel did not sit well with her. She would find alternative lodgings even if she had to crawl to the village on her hands and knees through a muddy swamp.

  "The air will do me good. And I will be safe enough if I ride."

  "Non, madame." Selene looked horrified. "I will take the cart and come with you. There are things I need, so it will not be a wasted journey."

  Anna gave the woman a warm smile. "Thank you, Selene."

  "I will bring the tonic to your room and meet you in the courtyard in twenty minutes."

  "I'll just get my cape."

  Anna went into the chapter house and found her cape draped over the chair. Everything about the room reminded her of Marcus. A musky masculine scent hung in the air, the potent smell rousing memories of his bronze skin and muscular chest. She could almost hear his rich drawl, the sweet curses that fell from his lips as he moved inside her.

  As she scanned the room, she realised she would miss being at the monastery with him. She would miss watching him eat and sleep, miss the seductive smile that promised a wealth of pleasure at his hands.

  Why did life always bring such bitter disappointment?

  Her gaze fell to the ink pot on his desk. On her return from the village, she would sit and write to Miss Beaufort. She would apologise; she would explain the circumstances surrounding Marcus Danbury's betrayal.

  Anna was still standing in quiet contemplation when Selene walked past carrying a tray.

  "I'm in here, Selene."

  She stopped and came into the room. Her gaze fell to the cape over Anna's arm, and she caught a brief flash of disapproval in the woman's dark brown eyes. "Here, you must drink this," she said balancing the tray on the edge of the desk. "It is valerian tea. It is known to help with stomach spasms."

  "If it works, I shall be forever in your debt." Anna offered a chuckle in an attempt to distract from the pain. Although after the success with the balm, she was confident in the woman's abilities.

  The rich amber liquid smelt of pine and a sticky sort of sweetness Anna couldn't quite place. After taking a sip of the slightly cloudy drink, she decided she could definitely note pine, and sandalwood, and perhaps clove. Overall, it tasted unpleasant, so she swallowed it down quickly, took a large spoonful of Selene's tonic to cleanse her palate.

  "Oh, you can always tell when something is medicinal by the revolting taste." Anna blinked and shook her head vigorously as the liquid trickled down her throat.

  "The tea can be bitter, but it will help with the pain." Selene picked up the tray. "I'll take this to the kitchen and then go and get the cart. I do not want Andre to see me, as he will demand to go in my place."

  Anna was tired of men thinking they had a right to take control of every situation. "Well, I won't tell him. I can wait down by the gate if it helps?"

  Selene smiled. "Yes. I will meet you there in twenty minutes."

  Stuffing the notes down between her chemise and stays, and grabbing the few French francs she had, Anna wrapped her cape around her shoulders and hurried down to the gate. She wanted to be gone before Marcus returned. Come the evening she would have a new place to stay. The freedom that came with independence would empower her to take a more logical view of her relationship with him. And when she came back for the rest of her things, she'd have the strength she needed to talk.

  "This is very good of you, Selene," Anna said as she climbed into the cart.

  "There is a blanket for your legs," Selene replied glancing at the woollen object nestled between them on the wooden seat.

  "I'm fine. My head still feels hot, though the cramps have eased a little." Anna stifled a yawn as they rumbled along the muddy lane. "Forgive me. I don't think I slept for more than a few minutes last night."

  "Mr. Danbury said le troubadour brought many to the inn last night."

  "I have never seen so many people packed into such a small space. But it's good for business, good for Lenard."

  The rhythmical rocking made Anna feel nauseous, and she held onto the seat.

  "You seem to like it in the village," Selene said gazing ahead.

  Anna nodded. "The people are friendly, and it makes a change from the bustling streets of London." In truth, anywhere was preferable to Labelles.

  "You do not miss your home?" Selene cast a sidelong glance. "You do not long to be back there?"

  "I miss it a little." She did not miss London at all and had no desire to return. She had always hop
ed to go home to Marlow but, in reality, the excitement she used to feel burning in her belly had gone. "In all honesty, I have felt more at home here than anywhere else my entire life."

  "So you intend to stay?"

  Anna shrugged. "No one knows what the future holds. No one knows—"

  She stopped abruptly. Her head felt light and dizzy, and she struggled to focus on the road ahead. Tiny lights crackled and sparked to hinder her vision, and she could feel herself falling.

  "Are you well, madame?"

  "I … I'm not sure. Could you stop the cart for a moment?"

  The cart rattled to a halt, and Selene turned to face her. "Is it the pain? Are you too hot?"

  Anna found it hard to absorb the woman's words. It felt as though she was being pulled back from reality. Everything grew misty, a little hazy.

  "Would you like to lie down?" It took a moment for Selene's mumbling to penetrate her addled brain.

  Anna heard the word cart and blanket.

  But then she heard nothing as she descended into a dark abyss.

  Chapter 19

  Marcus stormed through the nave; the brisk ride had done nothing to help soothe his troubled conscience. He had been down to the village in the hope of retrieving the letter. The letter he should never have written. The letter he should never have sent.

  But he was too late.

  On the ride back he'd ventured down to the shore, thought it best to stay away from the monastery and so spent a few hours pondering the strange emotions plaguing his mind and body whenever he thought of Anna Sinclair. He contemplated the consequences of informing Coombes he'd made a mistake about the smugglers' intention to transport contraband. He couldn't do it, of course. Conspiring with criminals against the Crown was considered to be on par with the owlers smuggling their wool to France through Romney Marsh. Indeed, Marcus had no desire to turn traitor or wrestle with the hangman's noose.

  "Mr. Danbury. Mr. Danbury." Selene came running through the cloisters, tendrils of hair falling around her face, her eyes wide and fearful. "Thank goodness you are back. I have been waiting for hours."

  Marcus raced towards her, taking hold of her arms before she fell to the floor in a breathless heap. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

  The wild look in the woman's eyes caused a frisson of fear to shoot through him.

  "I … I don't know." She shook her head, closed her eyes as though desperate to rid her mind of a terrible memory.

  "Just stop for a minute," Marcus instructed. "Try to calm yourself."

  Selene sucked in a breath and then suddenly flew into his arms, pressing her cheek to his chest. Marcus froze, not knowing what to do or how to react. He patted her arm and offered a few words of comfort before forcing her to straighten.

  "Has someone been here?" he demanded. What the hell was the matter with the woman? "Has someone been hurt?"

  "It is Miss Sinclair," Selene blurted.

  Marcus almost crumpled to the floor, too, as panic gripped him by the throat and threatened to crush his airways. "Miss Sinclair? What's happened? Where is she?"

  Selene shook her head. "That is just it. I do not know."

  "You don't know? You're not making any sense." He considered grabbing her and shaking the words from her mouth. However, experience forced him to modify his tone. "Has something happened to Miss Sinclair?" he repeated.

  Perhaps Anna had packed her things and left the monastery. Perhaps the fear that was currently clawing away at his heart was unfounded.

  "I … I took Miss Sinclair to the village," Selene began with a sniffle. "She was not well. She was suffering from a headache, fever, and became — how you say — delirious."

  Marcus felt the blood drain from his face, run the length of his body to pool at his feet. His last words to her were said in anger. Out of guilt and frustration he had suggested she leave.

  "Where is she now?"

  "That is the problem. I do not know."

  Marcus' frantic gaze scanned the garth and the ancient corridor, glanced behind to the nave and the chapel. Was there anyone about who could tell him what the bloody hell was going on?

  Draping an arm around his cook, he led her into the chapter house, made her sit and take a nip of brandy. It took a tremendous amount of effort not to charge out into the courtyard, mount his horse and gallop down to the village. But he knew that a few minutes spent procuring information would save time in the end.

  "You took Miss Sinclair to the village," he repeated in as calm a tone as he could muster as he perched on the edge of his desk. "What time was this?"

  Selene shrugged. "I don't know. I think sometime after one."

  "But that was hours ago."

  "Oui. I have been here, waiting for you to return."

  "Did you not alert Andre? Ask him to come and find me?"

  "I did not think you would want me to mention it until you knew what to do."

  Marcus suppressed his frustration. In truth, he was annoyed with himself for staying out so long. "What happened then?"

  Selene nodded. "I took her in the cart. She wanted to lie down, but found she could not stay awake, and so I covered her with a blanket. I … I left her for a minute while I ran to get help. But when I came back she had gone."

  "Gone? Gone!" People did not just disappear. "Perhaps one of the villagers saw her and offered assistance. Perhaps she wandered to a house, and they took her in."

  "Non!" Selene cried. "I could not wake her."

  Marcus stood up. "She had lost consciousness?"

  "Miss Sinclair felt sleepy. She closed her eyes, and I could not rouse her." Selene held her head in her hands and sniffed again. "What if she had lost her way and cannot remember where to go? What if I was wrong and she did speak to a man in the stables that night, and he has taken her somewhere far away?"

  Guilt stabbed at his chest as a way of punishing him. He had made her ill. His unforgivable actions had brought her nothing but torment and distress.

  "I'm sure all will be well," he lied, hoping Selene's dramatic account did not paint an accurate picture of events. What if Victor did have an accomplice staying in the village and he'd witnessed Anna's vulnerable state? Then another thought entered his mind. "I shall go down to the village and search for her. But before I go, I want to ask you something."

  Her head shot up, her brown eyes growing wide. "What is it?"

  "On the night Miss Sinclair spoke with the intruder, she said she saw you wandering the corridors. She said you ran out through the nave." It wasn't a lie, just a slight manipulation of the truth. "What were you doing?"

  Selene gasped as her hand fluttered to her chest. "She … she was mistaken. Andre woke me when you asked him to search our rooms. If you ask him, he will tell you."

  Marcus didn't know what the hell to believe anymore. He didn't want to believe any of his staff would conspire to deceive him.

  "Very well," he sighed, brushing his hand through his hair. "Tell Andre I am going down to the village. Tell him to meet me there promptly, that I shall need his assistance."

  Without another word Marcus strode out to the stables. He rode to the village in less than ten minutes, dismounting and tethering his horse before surveying the quiet street. One or two people were milling about, and he noticed Selene's father, Pierre Lessard, scurrying along towards him.

  "Pardon, Monsieur Lessard." Marcus waved his hand to get the elderly man's attention, rushed over to block his path. "Have you seen Miss Sinclair today? She came down to the village a few hours ago with Selene. They were travelling in the cart."

  Being petite in stature, Monsieur Lessard craned his neck, pushed his thinning hair from his brow as he shook his head. "Non. Not today. But Madame Lessard has been ill, and I've been occupied for most of the day."

  "Is Samuel at home?"

  "Samuel?" The man looked puzzled. "He is in Lyon though you are not the only person to mention him to me these last few days."

  It occurred to Marcus that Antoine Tullier had made a
mistake. Surely, Samuel's father would be the first to know of his return home. But then Marcus thought of his own father, of how he would sell his soul to avoid being in his company, and so it all seemed more plausible.

  "Someone told me Samuel was in the inn last night."

  "Oui, oui. So I hear. But why would he travel all the way from Lyon and not visit his mother?" Monsieur Lessard gave a decisive nod. "Non. There must be some mistake."

  "Perhaps you're right," Marcus said with a sigh as he did not wish to worry the man. He pulled his watch from his pocket and checked the time before replacing it. "Lenard will be open for business. I'll go and speak to him."

  Marcus inclined his head and stepped aside so Monsieur Lessard could continue on his journey. He was about to enter the inn when he saw Andre hurtling towards him in the cart. Marcus had expected the man to come alone but noticed both Selene and Justin perched on the wooden seat.

  They jumped from the cart and rushed over to him.

  "What do you need me to do?" Andre asked. Before Marcus could pass comment, Andre jerked his head to his companions. "They wanted to come. I thought we could search a larger area if there were more of us."

  Marcus nodded. "I'll speak to Lenard. You check with the shopkeepers. Talk to anyone who might have been passing." He turned to Selene. "Is your brother still in Lyon?" He was deliberately abrupt to throw her off guard.

  Selene appeared confused. "Samuel? Yes, I assume he is. My parents have not mentioned they're expecting him home."

  "Very well," he said raising his chin in resignation. "We'll meet back here in ten minutes and then decide what to do once we've examined any new information."

  They all went their separate ways, and Marcus marched into the inn. Lenard was standing behind the worn oak counter, wiping tankards with a cloth. Besides the minstrel sitting at the table next to the fire, the inn was empty.