What You Propose (Anything for Love 2)

When they came upon the old rusty gate, he breathed a sigh.

As soon as they'd crossed the bridge, Tristan stopped. "I'll take the horses round. But when you've got a moment, can I speak to you in the stables?"

"I'll help Miss Sinclair to her room and then I'll be right down."

Tristan's brusque tone disturbed him. Perhaps his friend intended to berate him for leaving them behind. Perhaps he wanted to confess to there being more to his relationship with Anna Sinclair than simply friends.

"You don't need to carry me upstairs," Miss Sinclair said as they stopped at the bottom step. I need to use my leg else it will only pain me all the more."

The woman's words were logical, and besides, carrying her to her chamber filled his head with thoughts of seduction.

"I'll put you down. Keep one arm around me for support until you feel ready to stand on your own."

She nodded, wincing as she anticipated the movement causing some pain.

"It's not as bad as I thought," she said placing her foot on the floor, "although I'll probably have an ugly purple bruise on my thigh."

Marcus closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. Why did she have to mention her thigh? An image of him examining the bruise while her lithe leg hung over his bare shoulder, burst into his mind.

"How … how did you come to fall?" He coughed to clear his throat as his voice sounded strained.

"I don't know. We were riding rather fast." She managed to climb the next step with a little more ease. "And then I just slipped from the saddle."

By the time they reached the top, she could walk without support. He opened the door to her chamber and stepped back to allow her to enter. "When Selene returns I'll get her to make a poultice to help reduce any bruising. Do you need any help getting into bed?"

"No." As she shook

her head, her blue eyes flashed with a mild look of panic. "And thank you for your help. I think I'll walk around the room for a while to ease the stiffness."

Marcus would need to walk five miles or more to reduce the stiffness in a certain part of his anatomy. He inclined his head. "If you need anything, I shall be downstairs."

She smiled, and his heart lurched. "Thank you, Mr. Danbury."

Tristan was waiting for him in the stable, sitting on a wooden crate and staring at the floor. He looked up and jumped to his feet as Marcus entered.

"Look, I know what you're going to say," Marcus began, "and you're right. I should not have ridden off like that. I should have done the gentlemanly thing and waited."

Tristan snorted. "Since when have you been known to do the gentlemanly thing?" He strode over to Miss Sinclair's horse and ran his hand down over the girth strap. "But here, you need to see this."

Marcus walked over to examine the tack. Where the strap ran under the barrel of the horse's chest, the leather had split. The two pieces were only held together by the line of stitching on the outer edge. "It looks as though it's been cut through with a knife or a similarly sharp object."

"That is my theory," Tristan replied. "But why not cut through the whole strap?"

Marcus put his hands on the saddle and tested the manoeuvrability. "Because we would have noticed the strap hanging loose. This way the saddle is stable enough to sit on but unstable when riding at speed."

Tristan shook his head. "It still doesn't make any sense. Do you think the culprit knew it was Anna's horse? And if so, what reason would he have for hoping she would fall?"

Marcus drew his hand down his face, massaged his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. "It has to be connected to Lenard. Someone must have overheard our conversation. Perhaps the groom led them to our horses. I'm certain the purpose of the act was merely to frighten us."

"I find it hard to believe Lenard knows of our involvement. Or that he even had time to tamper with the strap." Tristan paused for a moment. "What of this Victor fellow? I assume he's the reason Dane sent Anna here."

"Victor is dead." Marcus refused to reveal he had met his demise by Miss Sinclair's hand. "And I do not believe his accomplice, if such a man exists, is searching for Miss Sinclair."

Tristan shrugged. "So what do you propose we do now?"

"We will tell Miss Sinclair what we suspect and continue with our assignment."

"Tell her? Surely she will only worry."