What You Propose (Anything for Love #2) (10 page)

"I don't know what to do." Tristan shrugged and glanced at Miss Sinclair. "I can't leave you to deal with Lenard on your own. And who will watch over Anna while you're out at night?"

Marcus pushed aside all his selfish thoughts. "Your family must come before either of us or the assignment."

Tristan knew him well enough to know that nothing would get in the way of their assignment. Marcus would find a way to get the job done.

"What if I go home for a few days or so? I could be back here in a week. Then I'll stay until we've dealt with Lenard."

"Lenard could make his move tonight." Marcus understood his friend's desire to ease his conscience, but he suspected he would complete their assignment before Tristan returned. "I doubt he'll wait more than a few days before heading out. No. Forget about Lenard. You have enough to concern yourself with. Miss Sinclair and I will find a way to manage."

"I agree," Miss Sinclair said stepping forward to stand at his shoulder. Under such grim circumstances, he found the gesture oddly reassuring. "It will fall to us to deal with things in your absence, Tristan. I'm certain we will manage perfectly well."

He wondered if she truly believed that or if the words were said purely to placate Tristan. She spoke with the confidence of a duchess, and it occurred to him she knew how to take control of difficult situations. The leery lords of London were not easy men to deal with, particularly when randy and in their cups.

"I will be Mr. Danbury's partner," she continued boldly. "I will help him in any way I can."

Marcus cleared his throat and stepped back to face her. "Excuse me?"

She smiled. "I'll partner you this evening."

The words roused visions of her partnering him in a much more amorous activity, a wild and erotic coupling that served to satisfy the lust clawing at his needy body.

"Good Lord," Tristan blurted, his wide eyes revealing more than shock. "You cannot be serious. Do you know what Lenard's men will do to you if they discover you're an informer?"

Miss Sinclair lifted her chin and gave a look defiant enough to bring any nobleman to his knees. It confirmed Marcus' suspicion that she had rallied her alter ego, Madame Labelle, to do her bidding.

"Suffice to say, I will not go into the tiresome details of past encounters," she said with an air of superiority. "I may not be skilled in the use of a sword or pistol. But I am resourceful, sharp-witted and loyal to a fault when I believe in the cause."

Marcus resisted the urge to clap. He admired her gumption, knew she would not falter when it mattered. She had neglected to inform Tristan of her experience with a blade. Indeed, he felt privileged to be the one she'd confided in. She had killed a man out of necessity and in that respect would be a useful ally.

"So," Marcus began. He gave an exaggerated wave to feign a degree of disapproval, yet he was confident he could manage the minx and keep her safe. "Let me understand you. What you propose is an alliance, a merging of efforts."

"Precisely," she nodded.

Tristan glared at Marcus. "You're not considering it?"

Marcus ignored him. Hot blood pumped through his veins at the thought of spending the lonely nights in her company. "If you intend to fill Tristan's boots in his absence it will mean taking commands from me."

She would know exactly who was in charge here. In order to protect her, he had to trust in her ability to follow orders.

She arched a mocking brow. "You are to command me in the field, Mr. Danbury, nothing more."

"Agreed," he snapped in his eagerness to seal their deal.

"What?" Tristan grabbed Marcus' arm in a bid to get his full attention. "Have you lost your mind?"

For the first time since her arrival, she presented Tristan with a scowl. "I am more than capable, my lord."

Marcus felt the sting in her recognition of Tristan's new title.

"Anna, please," Tristan said in a softer tone. "You're making it awfully hard for me to leave knowing you'll be out there, dicing with danger."

She straightened as her expression darkened. "Dicing with danger? I have diced with the Devil, and I am the one still standing."

Excitement bubbled away in Marcus' chest. He put his hand on Tristan's shoulder. "I have not lost a man yet, and I do not propose to do so now. Have faith in my ability to get the job done."

Tristan sighed and drew his palm down his face. "Do you still have a flask of brandy in your desk?"

Marcus smirked. "You look as though you need a bottle. Help yourself to it while I discuss the particulars with Miss Sinclair."

"The particulars?" She stepped closer, the sweet scent of almonds drifting over him.

"To begin with, we shall dispense with all formality. You will call me Marcus."

"Then you must call me Anna."

Marcus put his hand to his chin in thoughtful contemplation as his gaze scanned her dull dress. "Agreed. I will call you Anna in private, but something more masculine when you don breeches to ride out with me at night." When her eyes grew as wide as trenchers, he added, "We do not want the smugglers to know you're a woman."

Tristan mumbled something as he sat in the chair behind them.

Miss Sinclair put her hands on her hips and huffed. "What did you have in mind?"

"Something that's easy to remember. Something short, something fitting." He knew just the thing. "I have it. I shall call you Ned during our assignment."

"Ned? Ned! Is that the best you can do?"

Marcus pursed his lips. Despite feeling a deep sadness over Tristan's impending departure, Miss Sinclair would help to ease the burden. "It reminds me of a horse I once had, so I'm unlikely to forget it."

When a smirk touched the corners of her lips, he should have known her sharp wits were about to come into play.

"You believe it is wise to disguise one's identity when informing on criminal activity?"

He gave a firm nod. "I do."

"Then I shall also refer to you by another name during our assignment. It would not be wise for me to call out your name in the darkness. One never knows who is lurking in the shrubbery, listening to our conversation."

"She's right," Tristan remarked. "You can't argue with her logic."

Marcus sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. "Let me guess. You've decided you'll call me Milo, after a mangy dog."

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "I would never demean you in such a way. I think I will call you Rupert."

"Rupert?" Heavens, the name gave him chills, but he hid it well. "After a beloved family member, I presume."

"No," she chuckled, "after a pompous lord filled with his own self-importance."

Chapter 9

Having shared an early supper with Tristan, the event more subdued than previous meals enjoyed at the long crude table, Anna decided to accompany Mr. Danbury as he walked his friend to the gate.

They stopped a few feet from the entrance.

"You will write and let us know how you fare?" Anna rubbed Tristan's arm affectionately, fearing an embrace would result in her shedding tears.

"You know I will."

Mr. Danbury pulled Tristan to his chest and patted him on the back. "It's not going to be the same around here without your jolly antics. I fear I shall be more solemn than ever."

"I doubt that's even possible." Tristan laughed but it failed to reach his eyes, and she knew he found it hard to say goodbye. "Try to be a little more hospitable in my absence. Conversation can be quite stimulating you know."

"Miss Sinclair and I are going down to the village inn this evening," Mr. Danbury said with a smirk. "We can converse over a mug of ale. I can't be any more hospitable than that."

Anna turned to him and narrowed her gaze. "When you mentioned we would be going out this evening, I didn't think we'd be going to the inn."

Mr. Danbury shrugged. "I thought we'd discuss it later. As I recall, you did agree to follow my command."

"Then I assume we'll be working." Anna could feel a nervous energy bouncing back and forth between them.

"Would you follow my command if I said no? Would you come with me if I said our visit had nothing to do with the assignment?"

"I think you know the answer, Mr. Danbury."

"Marcus. You agreed to call me Marcus."

Anna exhaled deeply.

The next few days would be interesting. Working with Mr. Danbury would result in one of two things. Either they would become firm friends, trust one another implicitly, share their deepest, darkest secrets. Or, they would grow to despise one another until it became impossible to be in the same room without revealing their contempt.

Tristan smiled. "Part of me wishes I was staying just to witness the outcome of this war of wills."

"I feel it may be a long drawn out battle," Marcus said with a chuckle. Anna was about to protest, when he added, "One where brute strength may be overthrown by a woman's intelligence and cunning wiles."

She felt her cheeks flame at his obvious compliment. Good heavens, she had seen wrinkly old lords spread naked on a bed. She had seen grown men dressed as young girls, heard the growl of a man's pleasure accompanied by the loud crack of a whip. Why one silly remark should make her feel light-headed and giddy was beyond her.

Tristan shook Marcus' hand. "Well, I wish you luck with Lenard. Don't do anything foolish. Observe their movements and report it. Nothing more."

"You know me. I always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Anna watched the exchange with keen interest. She imagined Mr. Danbury was a law unto himself; there were no restrictions or boundaries when it came to doing what he felt was right. Not many men possessed such a quality. Some would frown on his unconventional approach to things. Surprisingly, Anna found she admired him all the more for it.

Tristan stepped in front of her and brought her hand to his lips. "Remember what I said when you arrived, about the lion's lair."

Anna smiled. "It is as I suspected. It is the lair of a fluffy kitten in the guise of a ferocious beast."

Tristan nodded. "Always keep that in mind and you will do well here."

"If you happen to see Lord Danesfield on your return, will you ask how long I'm to stay?" It could well be that she developed an aversion to kittens and it would be helpful to know she could escape back to London if necessary.

"Of course," Tristan nodded. He stepped closer and embraced her purely to whisper, "Take care of him. He's not as strong as he looks."

The words made her heart flutter. She couldn't help but glance at Mr. Danbury's muscled shoulders filling his shirt. Strong did not go nearly far enough to convey the power emanating from such a robust physique. Anna imagined many women had run their hands over the chiselled contours, felt the warmth radiate from his bare skin. It shouldn't matter to her, but oddly it did.

"Enough of this soppy sentiment," Mr. Danbury chided, and he held the reins on Tristan's horse while he mounted. "Send my regards to your mother and sister."

Tristan shuffled in his saddle then gave a firm nod. "Wish me luck. I'm going to need it. I think I'd rather walk into Lenard's inn shouting '
where are the smugglers?
' than step into a crowded ballroom after all these years."

"I'd rather tie an anchor to my ankle and throw myself overboard." Marcus laughed, the deep creases around his eyes making him appear carefree, more appealing.

"You're supposed to make me feel better." Tristan tipped his hat. "I'll see you both soon and stay out of trouble."

They stood side-by-side at the gate and watched the dust settle as Tristan rode far from view. Anna felt a deep ache in her chest. Surprisingly, it had nothing to do with her own feelings regarding Tristan's departure. From the sound of Mr. Danbury's strained breathing, she knew he would miss his friend terribly, and it roused a need to offer comfort.

"Come." She touched his sleeve lightly. "I will pour you a drink while you tell me why we're going to the inn tonight."

In her experience, distracting the mind was the best way to cope with feelings of dejection.

He glanced down at her fingers. She had forgotten how unsightly they were and so hid them behind the folds of her skirt.

"If you're to assist me with the assignment you won't have time to do chores." He struggled to make eye contact, his gaze drifting past her shoulder. "I'll tell Andre you'll be taking over Tristan's administration duties in his absence."

"Is it my hands?" she asked sensing guilt played some part in his decision.

"They need time to heal." When he looked at her, his warm brown eyes did reveal a trace of guilt. "Have you been applying the balm?"

She shrugged. "When I remember."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Only once then."

"Yes, only once."

He inhaled deeply, the air causing his chest and shoulders to expand before her eyes. "You can forget pouring me a drink. Bring the balm to the chapter house and we'll deal with your hands while I tell you of our plans."