What You Propose (Anything for Love 2)

"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 cra

ck 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?"