"I wouldn't say that. One little setback hardly constitutes failure." He was beginning to sound desperate.
"Madame Labelle would have been stronger. She would not have allowed it to happen."
"But she's not here." He turned and met her weary gaze. Besides, during the years spent in the brothel, you were merely playing a role. Anna Sinclair is the woman I have come to know." The woman I have come to admire and respect, he added silently. "And I believe she wanted it to happen just as much as I did."
Her gaze drifted over his face, ventured down the length of his body. "But we acted in the moment." Good. She had not denied she wanted him. "I doubt it would be the same again."
It took a tremendous amount of effort not to chuckle. She really was naive when it came to amorous liaisons. He would wager everything he owned he could rouse her desire within minutes, maybe seconds.
"Well, call me chivalrous, but I feel it only courteous to try and make amends for my lack of attentiveness."
A smile touched her lips. "I would not wish to deny you the opportunity to display your gallantry. But don't you have a letter to write?"
For a moment he imagined she was talking about his letter to Dudley. The letter where he would betray the trust she'd placed in him. But then it occurred to him she meant his letter alerting Coombes of the smugglers impending departure. Never in all his working years or during all of his assignments had he placed his own needs before those relating to his duty.
"The letter can wait," he said. His desire for Anna Sinclair was the only thing that mattered to him.
To atone for his uncouth behaviour, he would give her a night to remember.
Chapter 14
With the passing of each new day, Marie Labelle faded away into the background. Anna found she was not as cynical as her alter ego: the character she had hidden behind as a way of coping with the pain and sorrow. Indeed, she had grown to trust Marcus Danbury. Somehow, he had managed to find his way through the solid ice cavity and into her heart.
Reconnecting with the spirited, innocent girl she had once been caused a wealth of emotions to push forth: excitement, hope, and desire. The deep sense of longing was a new feeling, one neither Marie or Anna had experienced before. Consequently, numerous attempts to define it had left her baffled.
"We'll have to tend to the horses." Marcus' rich voice broke her reverie. He helped her down, holding her close to his body until her feet settled firmly on the ground. Desire sparked anew. "Help me remove the tack and brush them down. After the slow ride back there'll be no need to walk them to cool their muscles."
Her body thrummed with anticipation.
After their chores, would he suggest another shared activity? Such a mundane job as brushing down the horses should have left her feeling cold. But there was something seductive about the way he went about the task. During each long, soothing stroke his eyes flashed with hot sensuality as he failed to look at anything else but her.
"What now?" she said as they settled the animals into the stable.
"Now we must attend to the needs of the riders. And I intend to give a lot more time and attention to the task."
She laughed as they crossed the courtyard heading for the monastery's oak door, the sound a way of expelling the hot air filling her lungs, a way of cooling her heated blood. "What? Are we to brush each other down, relax our muscles, and take something refreshing to drink?"
"Yes, in a manner of speaking." He closed the door behind them, pulling down the heavy bar to offer added security. "I suggest you let me take the lead. I am somewhat adept when it comes to doing a thorough job."
"Is that why you were so angry with me in the cave?"
"Had you explained your situation, I would have done things a little differently, yes."
Anna threaded her arm through his as they walked through the nave. The echo of his boots on the tiled floor cut through the silence. "I assume the servants are all in their beds?"
"More than likely. They're used to my unconventional habits. Sometimes, Andre waits until I'm home." She let go of his arm as he opened the door to the chapter house. The room was dark, and he removed his coat, lifted the strap of his leather bag over his head and placed both items on the chair. "Would you like something to drink?"
"What do you have?"
"Definitely brandy. I always keep a flask in the drawer, unless Tristan's downed the lot." He moved to the small round table in the corner, picked up a bottle and shook it. "You're in luck. There's port, too."
"I'll have a drop of port."
When he sauntered over to give her the glass, a sinful smile touched his lips. A sensual aura emanated from every fibre of his being. The seductive energy soothed her aching muscles, brought a level of inner calm despite the fact her heart thumped wildly in her chest.
"We'll drink it here and then head upstairs, so I'll not bother to light the lamp." He stared at her over the rim of his glass as he sipped his port.
It was as though she had forgotten how to perform simple tasks such as breathing and swallowing and almost dribbled the burgundy liquid down her cape and dress when her mouth refused to comply.