What You Propose (Anything for Love 2)

Withdrawing slowly, he filled her again and again, his thrusts growing harder, more determined. Following his pace, she rocked her hips to meet each moist slide.

"Oh, God, Anna." He focused his sinful gaze on her face. She stared into his warm brown eyes, showing him how much she welcomed his touch, showing him the ecstasy she felt building inside.

She arched her back, ran her hands over her breasts, threw her arms above her head with wanton abandon. He muttered something wicked as he held them there, held her captive, a slave to his rhythmical command. As the muscles in her stomach tightened, as the pulsing sensation brought her closer to some unknown destination, she thrashed and cried for more.

With a sudden spasm, her body shook, pulsing around the hard length of him. Every nerve tingled: she even felt it in her toes. Two more delicious strokes and he withdrew. A loud, masculine groan filled the room as took himself in hand.

The enchanting sound of their pants and ragged breathing warmed her soul.

Marcus collapsed on top of her. "You're mine." He growled the possessive words and she knew then she had lost her heart to him.

Chapter 15

While Anna lay staring up at the ceiling, the gentleman at her side lay sprawled on his front sleeping soundly. Their second coupling, third if she counted the incident in the cave, had been just as wild, just as frantic. She resisted the urge to trace her finger along the three scars running across his back. Up until a couple of days ago, the need to comfort any man had been foreign to her. Now she feared she would do anything to soothe his woes, secure his happiness.

You're mine!

His possessive words drifted through her mind, followed by a whole host of fanciful ideas — of her living in the monastery, of lying next to Marcus each night, of him loving her, protecting her.

Anna snorted and mentally shook her head.

What on earth had happened to her since leaving Labelles?

What had happened to the woman who wished for nothing more than to survive one more day? The one who wanted to live in solitude, hoping never to set eyes on another man again?

A noise in the corridor drew her gaze to the chamber door. With her mind being somewhat loud and chaotic she wondered if she had imagined hearing the patter of footsteps. In her years at Labelles, she had been conditioned to listen out for distressing noises, which was why the soft whimpering captured her attention almost immediately.

Experience had taught her never to ignore a sorrowful sound.

Glancing at Marcus, she decided not to wake him; it was probably nothing. After spending numerous nights trailing the smugglers, he needed to sleep. There was also an element of self-preservation; she would not be able to resist him should he wake in an amorous mood, and she did not wish to appear too keen, too desperate for his attention.

Throwing on her chemise, she tied her cape around her shoulders and wrapped it across her chest. Only one candle lamp still flickered. The tiny wax stump would last for more than the few minutes needed to investigate the noise, she thought, as she picked it up and crept towards the door.

Why was it when one wanted to be quiet every sound seemed magnified? The click as she turned the iron key in the lock was louder than a hundred men cocking their pistols. The squeak as she eased the door gently from the jamb sounded like she had stumbled upon a hundred mice, all squealing at the sight of the unexpected giant figure.

Nonetheless, she managed to make it out into the corridor without disturbing Marcus.

The faint sobbing drifted through the air, but despite holding the lamp aloft, she could see nothing. The sound brought to mind the last time she had scoured the dimly lit hallways of Labelles, desperately trying to discover which one of her girls was crying. She had spent twenty minutes untying Amy's hands from the bedposts, rubbing her purple fingers until they were pink again.

Anna shook her head.

Had her guilt over the welfare of her girls played a part in her imagining the strange noises? She had no idea what had happened to them all. Whilst she had been busy enjoying the fair, chasing smugglers and lying enveloped in strong arms, heaven knows where they were or what fate lay in store for them. Anna hoped Lord Danesfield had kept his word. Indeed, she felt another measure of guilt for not telling him where he could find Miss Beaufort.

But she could never betray a trust.

Deciding she'd not be able to sleep until she had scanned the garth and chapel, Anna held her lamp high and wandered downstairs. Trying to listen for a noise amidst the stillness of the night was more difficult than one would imagine. A low humming resonated in her ears, convincing her she truly was a victim of her own wild imagination. But then she was not used to silence, particularly at night.

Memories.

Would she always be haunted by all the terrible things she'd heard and witnessed? Would she always—

Something caught her attention as she passed through the nave: a shadow hovering near the main door. An apparition shrouded in a long white cloak. Was this the source of the sorrowful sound? Feeling a frisson of fear, it crossed her mind to call out to Andre or Selene, but the words got lost in her throat.

Aware of her presence, the ghostly figure turned before racing out through the open door and into the night. Most women would have yelled or screamed, fled to their chamber to rouse masculine support. But Anna's inquisitive nature drew her to the door, forced her to peer out across the courtyard whilst her mind was busy trying to form an explanation for the bizarre events.

Had she seen a ghost?

Many old buildings claimed to have some form of resident spirit. One only had to read gothic novels to learn of mysterious hauntings, though she doubted one would have the strength or the capability to lift the solid bar from the door.