Free What You Propose (Anything for Love #2) by Adele Clee

survivors. "We will tell her the truth. Dane would not have sent her to us if she was not to be trusted."
    Tristan nodded. "I would trust you with my life, Marcus. And I shall trust your decision in this."
    Marcus grabbed his friend's shoulder: a masculine gesture of affection. "Miss Sinclair has been sent to us for a reason." Yes, to torture him with her luscious body and kind overtures. To force him to lie awake in bed each night with a throbbing cock and a guilty conscience. "Perhaps she could work with us. After all, she has some skill when it comes to distracting the hearts and minds of men."
    Of that he was certain.

 
     
    Chapter 8
     
     
     
    Despite pleading with Mr. Danbury to allow Tristan to accompany him on his nightly reconnaissance, he had insisted on going out alone.
    The hollow feeling in Anna's chest, which she attributed to fear, did not subside. After all, someone had deliberately cut through the strap on her saddle. Someone lurked out there in the shadows ready to wreak mischief or exact their revenge. Anna had heard tales of smugglers dragging loose-tongued witnesses from their beds and stringing them up from the highest bough. Whether the mysterious culprit was guilty of smuggling casks of brandy or innocent women from the streets of London remained to be seen.
    For once, Tristan's jolly countenance did not alleviate her melancholic mood. Feigning a throbbing ache in her thigh, the bruise being less painful than she had anticipated, Anna went up to her bedchamber to watch from the window until Mr. Danbury returned. If he insisted on going out again tomorrow night, she would demand Tristan went too.
    Minutes stretched into hours.
    What on earth was he doing out in the darkness?
    With her head resting on her arm, she heard the sound of horse's hooves clipping over the bridge before she saw him approach. Whistling a tune as he rode past her window, she scanned his muscular form. He sat straight, not hunched forward or clutching his side. And so, convinced he had not come to any harm, she breathed a sigh and settled into bed.
    When she eventually fell asleep, her dreams were plagued by terrifying visions of a brutal sea battle. She fled to the upper deck just as heavy cannon fire hit the wooden boards, splintering them easily upon impact. The floor beneath her tipped, tilting to the right, so she was forced to hold her arms out to steady her balance.
    Victor's hideous form appeared through the billowing smoke. The smell of charred wood reminded her of the cheroots he puffed on daily. He strode over to her in his usual pompous way, grasped her chin with his bony fingers and pushed her backwards. She tumbled into the sea, sinking into the icy depths, her long hair fanning out in the water like a peacock's tail feathers, her wide eyes sad and soulless as she clutched at nothing.
    Anna woke with a start.
    The morning sun streamed in through her window, heralding the start of a new day and an end to the torturous nightmares. Thank goodness she had no mirror in her room as her lids were surely puffy and swollen from lack of sleep.
    Throwing on her clothes and washing in the cold water left in the bowl, she made her way downstairs. With the refectory deserted, Anna knew Selene would not be far away.
    "Good morning, Selene," Anna said finding the woman making bread in the kitchen. "Did you enjoy the fair?"
    Selene's curious gaze drifted over her. " Oui , madame . How is your leg? Did the poultice help?"
    "It did," Anna nodded. "Although the smell was rather unpleasant, something akin to rotting leaves and wet grass. But it took the swelling down and now I hardly know the bruise is there."
    Selene raised her chin in acknowledgement. "Did you come to eat?" she said turning back to knead the dough.
    "Yes. But don't worry. I'll help myself to bread and some of your strawberry preserve."
    "No," Selene cried meeting Anna's gaze. "Mr. Danbury will think I am lazy. He will not like guests serving themselves."
    "I am