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

Damn it. He couldn't just stand there staring. He was going to have to say something.

"Madame Labelle. Let me welcome you."

She glanced at him briefly, not bothering to look at his unconventional choice of attire. As a woman skilled in the art of seduction and titillation, he expected a flirtatious comment or a suggestive wiggle of the hips. But he received neither.

"You are Mr. Danbury, I presume?" she asked raising her chin.

Her voice sounded too haughty, too lofty for his liking. She could stop with the pretence. He was not a randy lord seeking proof she ran a higher class establishment.

"I am," he replied, intrigued by the smile that touched her lips as she scanned the exterior of the ancient stone building.

"And this is a monastery?"

"It was a monastery, but now it is my home."

"Is there still a chapel?"

"A small one."

Why did she ask so many questions?

"Excellent," she beamed, her face alight with pleasure and he had to blink from being blinded by the sheer brilliance of it all.

Marcus shuffled uncomfortably on the spot.

Perhaps it would have been easier if she had been an old hag with a crude mouth and a saggy bosom. The thought forced him to focus on her petite frame. In stark contrast to her steely composure, she appeared delicate and fragile, and he guessed her small breasts would fit nicely into his warm palms.

Roused by a sudden suspicion that this was a trick concocted by Dane for his own amusement, Marcus chose to be rude. "You seem eager to visit the chapel. Have you come here to repent?"

"Perhaps." She eyed him suspiciously but showed no sign she had taken offence. "In any given situation, one must make the most of the opportunities presented before them."

Marcus considered her cryptic words. Was she referring to her scandalous past? Did she consider him an opportunity to line her pockets? By God, he'd be tempted to pay just to satisfy his curiosity.

He stepped closer. It had been years since he'd felt such a strong pulse of desire.

"Perhaps I should follow your philosophy and make the most of the opportunity standing before me," he said with a smirk. He decided it best to be blunt for he had no intention of playing her mind games. "It's been a while since I've had the opportunity to bed a woman as fetching as you or with half the skill when it comes to pleasing men."

The slap came quick, sharp, stinging his cheek, albeit temporarily.

Tristan gasped but then raised a brow to suggest Marcus deserved nothing less.

That did not stop his blood boiling and bubbling away inside, and he clenched his jaw for fear of growling.

Who the hell did she think she was? Perhaps the woman had forgotten that she spent all of her working hours on her back.

"Let me make a few things clear, Mr. Danbury, before we proceed any further." Her blue eyes flashed a hard frosty stare. "My name is not Madame Labelle. That name was given to me, forced upon me and I have borne it for far too long. I do not know what Lord Danesfield has told you. But from your crude and presumptuous manner, I can only guess. You should know I have left that world behind me, too." She exhaled deeply, a tired, weary sound and a frisson of guilt coursed through him. "Now, let me thank you for your hospitality and for offering me a place to stay."

She held out her hand. He didn't know whether to kiss it, turn his back or drop to his knees and swear undying loyalty.

He took her bare hand, ignoring the sparks of desire flitting through him and brushed his lips against the soft skin. It took a tremendous effort not to linger over it as the sweet smell of almonds flooded his nostrils.

"Forgive me, if I caused any offence. If you no longer wish to be known as Madame Labelle, how would you prefer to be addressed?" He could not hide the note of contempt in his tone.

As she glanced up at Haines, the coachman offered a reassuring smile and nodded his head as though encouraging her to continue.

"My … my given name is Anna." The words stumbled from her lips but then she repeated with a little more confidence, "My name is Miss Anna Sinclair."

Chapter 2

Anna Sinclair.

She repeated the words over and over again in her mind. Other than revealing the truth to Haines during their journey, she had not uttered that name in years.

The truth was written on the first page of the Bible she kept at her bedside. Though she never dared to open the leather-bound book, and only found the courage to lay her hand on the cover in silent prayer.

Anna Sinclair was like a distant relative: someone whose blood flowed through her veins. Someone who shared a kinship, yet she never visited the girl she once knew. Separating the past and the present had been her way of coping, of preventing the poison tainting everything she held dear.

Marie Labelle was nothing more than her adopted name. The name thrust upon her when Lucifer called to claim her soul.

She glanced up at the facade of the ancient stone building. The Lord revealed himself in a series of signs, or so her father had once said. To send a woman, rotten and riddled with sin, to a monastery was enough to rouse a faint flicker of faith even in the hardest of heathens.

Mr. Danbury may have mocked her, but in truth, she would use her time here to repent.

Her gaze drifted to the gentleman whose crude assumptions revealed him to be shallow and uncouth. While she imagined some women found his rough appearance becoming, she had seen enough of men to know his failure to follow convention most probably stemmed from a deep-rooted resentment.

Not that she cared.

A strong jaw and muscular frame offered little to no appeal. She had come to see one gentleman's body much like another, the sight of which left her cold. In that respect, her time with Victor had been educational. It had taught her to value honesty, humility and kindness above beguiling eyes and a charming smile.

"I have a letter from Lord Danesfield, proof that he sent me here," she said.

"You're in the company of Haines. That's proof enough. But you may leave it on the desk in the chapter house."

"The chapter house?"

"I shall give you a brief tour and then show you to your room, Miss Sinclair." Mr. Danbury's tone sounded a little less arrogant. However, the air around them whirled with tension and hostility. "After such a long journey, I'm sure you'll want to wash and change your clothes."

"I'm afraid I left in rather a hurry and only managed to bring a few items with me." Miss Beaufort had helped her pack a small bag, but Anna had not been of sound enough mind to care. "Is there somewhere locally where I may purchase what I need?"

Mr. Danbury gave a curt nod. "I'm sure Tristan will escort you to the village in the morning. He can act as translator—"

"I speak the language fluently, Mr. Danbury."

The gentleman's curious gaze drifted over her.

"I would be happy to escort you wherever you wish to go," Tristan replied.

Anna listened for the ugly sound of lust hidden beneath his words. Years of deceit and degradation made one doubt even the smallest of thoughtful gestures. But she heard only sincerity, an eagerness to be helpful and friendly.

"Thank you, Mr. …"

"Mr. Wells," he replied offering a bow one would give to a lady. "But I insist you call me Tristan. There's no need for formality, at least not here."

Anna gave a weak smile before scanning Mr. Danbury's bristled jaw and crumpled shirt. Compared to his friend, he looked like the destitute relative. "I can collect anything you may need whilst there Mr. Danbury. A comb, shaving implements, a clean shirt perhaps?"

Tristan sniggered and then pursed his lips.

"That won't be necessary." Mr. Danbury gestured to her bare hands. "But I should see what they have for chapped skin. You'll be expected to earn your keep whilst here."

Panic flared. There was only one way a man expected a whore to earn her keep.

"You will be expected to perform certain household chores," Mr. Danbury added as though party to her thoughts. "I trust that will not be a problem."

Relief coursed through her. "I am perfectly capable of cooking and cleaning," she replied only too eager to keep herself busy. "If you provide me with a list of duties, I will be more than happy to contribute. However, I do ask for an hour each day, where I may do whatever I choose."

Mr. Danbury offered a curt nod and charged off through the open doorway, no doubt expecting her to follow.

Tristan waved his hand towards the arched entrance. "Dare you risk entering the lion's lair?" he mocked, his face brimming with amusement. "Take it from me, his roar is far worse than his bite, his tone sharper than his teeth."

Anna stared thoughtfully at the door. "Mr. Danbury is a playful kitten compared to what I am used to."

"Forgive me." Tristan cleared his throat. "I did not mean to be insensitive to your situation."

"You should also know that nothing you could say or do would offend me, Mr. Wells."

There was a brief moment of silence while he studied her.

"I understand." He turned to face her fully. "I too have placed a wall of ice around my heart. It is easier to convince ourselves we feel nothing than to live in constant pain."

She was not prepared to address the honesty in his words, and so she did what she always did when faced with the truth. She feigned indifference.

"Do not presume to know me, Mr. Wells. I've often wondered if I even have a heart."

A smile touched his lips, and she knew he could see through her disguise. "I insist you call me Tristan," he said ignoring her comment. She found she had gained a modicum of respect for him, purely because he had no desire to force his point. "Now, I shall assist Haines in stabling the horses and will arrange for your luggage to be taken up to your room."

A wave of anxiety caused her to stiffen and her gaze shot to Haines, who gave her a reassuring nod. "I'll see as all your belongings are kept safe," Haines said. "You can trust in that."

The coachman knew what her Bible meant to her. She could hardly walk around the monastery hugging it to her chest. Mr. Danbury really would believe she had pious intentions.

She wondered what he would say if he knew he had agreed to give refuge to a murderer.

As though summoned by pure thought alone, the gentleman in question strode back out through the arched doorway and glared. "I do not have time to wait while you stand conversing. Follow me, Miss Sinclair."

"Forgive me," she said, suppressing her amusement. True anger revealed itself in the eyes. Victor's black beady stare was a look terrifying enough to send wolves scampering. Mr. Danbury's warm brown gaze told her all she needed to know. "I assumed you had gone to make yourself more presentable."

Mr. Danbury brushed his hands through his shoulder-length hair. "This is presentable. Not that it is any concern of yours. You'll find no fancy lords here, all trussed up in their finery, spouting babble."

Anna resisted the urge to clap her hands together. Compared to Victor, Mr. Danbury was easy to read when it came to his emotions. Resentment was the motivation for his comment. Had he failed to meet the high expectations of a certain woman, she wondered? Or did he feel a sense of inadequacy when it came to the aristocracy?

Time would tell.

"And for that I am grateful, Mr. Danbury." She had no desire to argue and feed his frustration. When it came to defusing volatile situations, no one was more skilled. "I've heard more than my fair share of burble from obnoxious nobles to make me want to race for the hills at the mere thought of it. Rest assured, I admire those with the integrity to adhere to their principles."

Mr. Danbury's mouth opened and then he snapped it shut. He did not know what to make of her — that much was obvious.

Who had ever heard of a whore preach of integrity?

Anna took a step forward and stopped. "Thank you, Mr. Wells, for the warm welcome. Haines, I hope to continue our philosophical discussions this evening." Wearing a wide grin, both men inclined their heads. She walked up to Mr. Danbury. "Once you have given your tour, I should like to spend an hour in the chapel, if I may?"

He swallowed visibly, drawing her gaze to the open neck of his shirt. "You may spend the rest of the day as you wish. Tomorrow, you will take up your duties like the rest of us."

"That is most generous." She offered him her brightest smile. His blunt manner had no effect on her countenance, and she wondered if he was still brooding from the sharp slap he had received. "Please, lead the way, Mr. Danbury."

He escorted her through the nave, but the rows of pews were no more, and now the wide walkway acted as a passage to the rest of the building.

"There's a small chapel at the end there, located in the north transept," he said pointing to the left as he marched on ahead. She followed him out through the cloisters and into the garth. "You may use this area for recreation. The well in the centre is functioning and the water safe to drink."