What You Propose (Anything for Love #2) (24 page)

The man looked terrified, and Marcus was relieved to find, that in alerting Coombes, he had not betrayed any of the villagers. "I doubt the men from the Custom House will care where the contraband came from. Their only interest lies in the men unwilling to pay duty to the Crown. But if ever a similar opportunity presents itself, I strongly suggest you refuse."

Lenard nodded.

"Just one more question," Marcus continued. "Have you seen Samuel Lessard in the last few days? I ask because I thought I saw him in the inn on the night the minstrel played. But both Selene and her father insist he is in Lyon."

"That is strange," Lenard said scratching his head. "I thought I saw him too. He never spoke, and someone else must have served him, but I am sure I recognised him amongst the crowd."

"I think I need to question Selene again."

Marcus held the cottage door open for Lenard. They stepped outside and scanned the deserted area looking for his cook.

"Perhaps she has wandered around to the back of the house," Lenard said noting his concerned expression.

"Trust me." Marcus was suddenly feeling far more perceptive than he had in days. "Selene obviously had an ulterior motive for coming with us. Don't ask me why, but I believe if we find Selene we will also find Miss Sinclair."

Chapter 20

She was dead!

Well, that was the first thought to enter Anna's head when she opened her eyes. But she would have expected the fiery pits of hell to be a lot less cold and dank. The floor beneath her felt damp and moist. A fine trace of soil stuck to her palms as she lay patting the solid surface. In a panic she tried to sit up, expecting to hit her head on the lid of the coffin, expecting to be overwhelmed by a sudden fear of suffocating. But there was no lid or wooden box to restrict her movements.

Inhaling deeply, she struggled to focus in the darkness. All about her seemed to sway. Black shapes danced before her eyes, moving closer and then pulling away. The throbbing ache in her temples did not help matters, and when she tried to stand she clutched at nothing in the hope of finding hidden support in the depths of the shadows.

What in heaven's name had happened to her?

She remembered sitting in the cart on the way to the village. She remembered chatting to Selene, remembered the horrified look on the woman's face as her world became a hazy blur.

So how had she ended up all alone, curled up on the dirty floor?

As her eyes became accustomed to her surroundings, she realised she was standing in the middle of a room. Amidst the gloom, she could just make out the outline of a door, and with her hands held out in front of her to guide her way, she shuffled blindly forward.

The solid wooden door had been reinforced with metal strips. Despite running her hands over every inch of the grooved panels, she found no handle, no key in the lock. Anna pushed it, hit out, kicked it until her toes were sore and she felt dizzy.

"Help!" she shouted numerous times. Too many to count. "Can anyone hear me?"

But each time she was met with an eerie stillness.

With her vision restricted, all other senses were more attuned. The faint rhythmical swooshing sound made her think of the sea, like undulating waves crashing against a rocky shore. Indeed, mingled with the rather repugnant earthy smell, she noted a hint of salt in the air.

So, she was in a building near the sea.

Perhaps the smugglers were aware of Marcus' assignment and had taken her hostage in a bid to secure his silence. But he had already alerted Coombes of their plans, although they probably didn't know that. And while Lenard needed money to help his daughter, she could not believe him capable of such deception and cruelty. Perhaps Victor's accomplice had progressed from anonymous threats in the stables to kidnap and murder. Of course, he'd not have the stomach to commit the act himself and had locked her up in a tomb in the hope she'd suffocate.

The last thought caused panic to flare.

It was a tomb!

She swung around, tapped the wall to her left and followed it until her fingers found the powdery indentations carved into the stone.

With her airways closing, she gasped a breath as she stumbled back into the middle of the room. Just the thought of sharing such a small enclosed space with heaven knows how many corpses was alarming in itself.

Corpses!

Anna shuddered, stamped her feet and wriggled in disgust as though she had walked into a giant cobweb and feared an equally large spider had crawled beneath her cape.

The frantic movements made her feel lightheaded again, and she sagged to the floor to calm her ragged breathing and racing heart.

Was this to be how she would meet her demise?

Was she to take her last breath all alone in a tomb?

Then another thought hit her, the blow more painful than anything she'd ever felt before. Her last words to Marcus had been said in spite and anger. He would never know how much she cared for him. He would never know that her time with him at the monastery had been the most wonderful experience of her entire life. She wanted to tell him she loved him; she understood his pain, could forgive him for his betrayal.

With no concept of time, Anna wasn't sure how long she'd sat there contemplating her fate, replaying the turbulent events leading her to this precarious point in her life. She imagined Victor's evil grin of satisfaction, a glint of pleasure flashing in his cold, black eyes; she heard her father's solemn warning that all sinners must repent or pay a hefty price.

Indeed, with her thoughts just as chaotic as the night she'd heard the intruder in the monastery, she almost missed the sound of footsteps outside.

Jumping to her feet, she rushed forward. "Help. Can you hear me?" She thumped on the door with clenched fists.

It was probably an animal or a group of children playing nearby. No doubt, they'll have scampered home to tell their parents they'd heard the terrifying wail of a ghost from inside a tomb.

The sudden clinking of a key in the lock captured her attention, and she stepped back into the darkness. The door creaked open, beams of light piercing the shadows. A figure filled the doorway: his outline revealing a tall scrawny frame.

He stepped inside and then came to an abrupt halt. "
Ce que l'enfer? Qui es-tu
?"

Anna swallowed down her nerves. "What do you mean, who am I?" Now the door was open perhaps she could manage to get away. "Surely you're the one who locked me in this morbid place."

The mysterious silhouette took a few steps closer. After scanning her face, his eyes widened as he muttered a foul curse. "What are you doing in here?"

Recognising him as Samuel Lessard, the man they'd seen smoking his clay pipe whilst listening to the minstrel, she said, "Well, you're the one with the key. What possible reason could I have for being in a …" she glanced around the small, compact space. The rows of stone memorial plaques lining the walls were visible now. "In a mausoleum?"

He stepped closer, his brows meeting in the middle as his beady gaze drifted over her. "Ah, it is the whore from England. Poor Marie left all alone with a pile of rotting corpses."

Anna shivered. Samuel Lessard was the man who had spoken to her in the stables. It was uncanny how he sounded so much like Victor. Yet there was one distinct difference. This man's words lacked conviction. When Victor spoke, everyone stopped and took notice.

"Who told you my name?" she said finding the courage to raise her chin.

"Ah, you do not deny your profession, yet challenge me over such a simple thing." He looked beyond her shoulder to a roll of linen lying on top of old sacking on the floor near the far wall. Offering a relieved sigh, he said, "I shall ask you again. How did you get in here? Did those blackguards hope to swindle me? Did they ask you to steal the key from Selene?"

Despite her curiosity, Anna ignored the comment about swindling blackguards. "Selene has a key?"

Samuel Lessard waved his hand in the air. "But of course, this tomb belongs to our family."

What motive could Selene have for locking her in the chamber? But then she
had
been with Selene when she was taken ill. Her thoughts drifted back to the valerian tea — although she had hardly drunk enough of the disgusting liquid to render her unconscious. Unless it had something to do with the tonic she'd swallowed? Anna snorted. As the cook, Selene could have been slowly poisoning her for days.

But why?

"It may well belong to your family," Anna began, glaring at him with contempt, "but I doubt you've come here to pay your respects."

He smirked. "Even the dead have their uses. My ancestors have been kind enough to keep watch on an item I have stored in here. And have provided shelter for me these last few nights."

Anna did not need to follow his gaze to know he meant the roll of material lying on the floor behind her. "I'm surprised you went to so much trouble for a roll of linen."

"Linen?
Non, non!
Are the beautiful wings of a butterfly not hidden in the depths of the caterpillar's bland cocoon?"

It took a moment for her to comprehend his meaning, but then it occurred to her that the linen protected something infinitely more precious.

"You mean the roll contains silk."

He raised an amused brow and nodded.

"I assume you're not planning to take up dressmaking? I know of no maiden who desires to smell of salt and decomposing flesh."

"Now I understand how you have managed to acquire so much money," he said with a chuckle. "It seems gentlemen pay handsomely for a witty tongue." Tapping his chest, he added, "I must thank you, Marie, for funding my expedition."

The man spoke in riddles.

As though sensing her confusion, he said, "If you want to keep your money safe, you should not hide it under the bed."

It took every ounce of willpower Anna possessed not to shove her hand down between her chemise and stays to check her notes were still there. With a bundle lying on each breast, she could feel them when she moved. But she had not counted it for weeks.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you, you should repent your sins?" She was starting to sound like her father. "That if you don't, they will come back to haunt you."

He gave a mocking jeer, held his hands together in prayer. "
Pardonne-moi!
I ask for forgiveness. But you should be grateful I did not steal it all." With a heavy sigh, he pointed to the roll of silk encased in linen. "As much as I am enjoying your repartee, in an hour or two the sun will be setting, and I fear I must be on my way. If you will be so kind as to hand me my goods."

Anna almost told him to go to the devil, but she supposed she should be grateful he had opened the door else she could well have suffocated in the confined space. Suppressing her ire, she bent down and gathered the roll up into her arms.

"Take it," she said suppressing the need to throw it at him as he scooped it out of her grasp. "I hope the expedition I've funded proves fruitful."

He shrugged. "Fifty of your English pounds will get me to your shore, pay for my keep, for the odd turn at the tables." He thrust the roll under his arm. "Now, it is time for me to be on my way."

Anna followed him towards the door, relieved to feel fresh air breezing over her face. "I'm sure I shall know the moment a lady enters a room wearing a dress made from that silk."

"I doubt it." He turned and scanned the tomb. "Had I known this was to be your fate I would have asked Selene to steal it all. What good is having money hidden under the bed when you shall perish in here."

Anna gulped and shook her head. "But surely you mean to let me leave?"

"Ah,
non
. It is not possible. Not now you know of my plans, know of my silk."

Taking a deep breath for courage, Anna blurted, "I am leaving this tomb whether you to try to stop me or not."

Samuel Lessard tutted. "Why must everything be so difficult?" he said wearily. "Do not make me draw my knife. Do not—" His attention shifted and he raised his chin as wrinkles formed on his brow. Anna thought she'd heard something, too. But then, with a quick shake of the head he stared at her. "Where were we?"

With the door still open, this was her only chance to escape.

Without giving the matter another thought, she charged towards him, barging past in a desperate bid to be far away from the hideous place.

The mausoleum stood on the edge of a cliff leading down to the sea. The few gravestones dotted about gave the impression that all others had fallen to the rocky shore as the battering waves eroded the earth, sucking it away. She had no option but to run straight ahead and managed to take a few strides before being knocked to the ground, her face hitting the pebbled pathway.

Rolling onto her back, she met Samuel Lessard's irritated glare as he loomed over her, wielding the roll of material like a floppy sword.

"Get up. Get up," he repeated, his tone revealing irritation as opposed to anger.

"Samuel. Samuel." The feminine cry drifted through the air. Anna glanced to her left to see Selene running towards them, scraping back the ebony locks clinging to her face. She stopped at Anna's side and put her hand on her chest as she tried to catch her breath. "What … what have you done?"