Rebel's Bargain

Poppy stiffened her backbone, setting her jaw and telling herself she’d been a fool to think he’d ever be glad to see her.

She didn’t want this man in her life. She was glad to be rid of him.

Yet his question rang in her ears. Why hadn’t she divorced him?

‘You didn’t file for divorce, either.’ Poppy stopped, hating how scratchy and thin her voice sounded, revealing her turmoil. She breathed deep, clasping her hands before her. They trembled.

Orsino had always made her feel too deeply.

Time hadn’t cauterised the wounds at all. She’d just pretended it had. That knowledge scared her as nothing had in years.

‘Our marriage ended when you walked out.’ Though it had taken her far longer to realise it. The memory of her desperate hopes and frantic phone calls, all unanswered, made her itch with embarrassment.

‘When I walked out? Talk about selective memory!’ Orsino shook his head. ‘There’s no mistake. I gave the hospital your name.’

Poppy blinked owlishly at the man before her. He’d orchestrated this?

She darted a glance towards the door. Why stay and let him manipulate her?

Yet something welded her to the spot. Pity for his injuries? Better that than the alternative, that somewhere, deep down, she still cared. That she didn’t want to leave till she found out how badly he was hurt and whether he’d see again.

‘You had no business giving them my name.’

He shrugged and Poppy hated herself for noticing the way his broad shoulders moved against the white bed linen, as if she were some love-struck teenager, transfixed by his athletic physique.

Been there, got the T-shirt, over it now.

If only she believed it. The thread of unexpected heat twisting deep inside belied her certainty.

‘The hospital needed my next of kin. That’s you, Poppy. It has been ever since we left that registry office together.’

She shook her head. ‘What about Lucca? What about Lucilla? You’ve got all those brothers and sisters. Plus your father. Any one of them—’

‘They’re all tied up at the moment. Besides, by law you’re my next of kin.’

‘And you thought I wouldn’t be busy?’ Her hands slipped to her hips as anger hiked. ‘Unlike you, I have to work for my living. I’m in the middle of a photo shoot. I can’t simply drop everything to nurse you.’

‘But you just did, didn’t you?’ His words punctured her fury, pulling her up short. Poppy bit her lip, the salt tang of blood filling her mouth.

He was right. She’d thrown over everything in the rush to get to him.

Would she have a job to return to? There’d been talk of working around her absence, shooting without her for a few days, but she’d barely taken it in.

Poppy chewed her lip. Of course she’d have a job. Hers was the new face of Baudin.

But she’d left them in the lurch. Never had she behaved so. Poppy Graham was always a consummate professional, punctual and reliable. Until now. She spun on her heel and marched to the window, pushing her hair back over a shoulder that slumped with weariness.

Looking up she saw the dark bulk of the Himalayas, enormous as a crouching giant. Her heart plunged at the thought of what might have happened.

‘What were you doing up there?’ She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle, wishing she could warm the part of her that was still frozen from lingering fear. ‘You must have known it was ridiculously dangerous, especially at this time of year!’

‘Why, Poppy, if I didn’t know better I’d almost believe you were worried about me.’

She swung around, fingers biting into her arms through her cashmere sweater. ‘Spare me the act, Orsino. I’m not in the mood.’ She breathed deep. ‘Much as I … dislike you, I never wished you dead.’

His tight smile disappeared. The lines bracketing his mouth scored deeper than she remembered. What was the rest of his face like beneath those bandages? Grim like his mouth?

‘Really? But you’d look superb in widow’s weeds.’ His voice grated on stretched nerves. ‘You’d do stoic vulnerability with such panache. Think of all the lovely media sympathy to boost your profile.’

She strode to his bed, slamming to a stop beside him. ‘That’s a vile thing to say! I never …’ She swallowed hard, choking on a fiery ball of tangled emotion. ‘You can be an absolute bastard, did you know that?’

His mouth thinned. ‘So I’ve been told.’

No doubt by some woman. Poppy swung away but stopped as long fingers closed unerringly around her wrist.

How had he known so precisely where she was when he couldn’t see her?

The warm abrasiveness of his callused fingers held her in a familiar grasp. She told herself she felt only fury at his accusations.

Yet it wasn’t true. She repressed a shudder as her nerve cells leapt in recognition of his touch. Memory bombarded her. Orsino’s hand linking with hers as the marriage celebrant pronounced them husband and wife. His hand splayed at the back of her head as he tilted his face to hers the first time they kissed. His hand trawling in slow seduction over her naked body.

Even through the pervasive smell of hospital cleansers she caught the scent of his skin. She drew it in hungrily. She’d missed it, she realised, that subtle tang of cedar wood spiced with something that was wholly, uniquely Orsino.

His thumb swiped the inside of her wrist, over the spot where her pulse raced. It felt like a caress.

She tugged her hand but his fingers closed tight. Despite his injuries he was physically stronger.

Once, she’d revelled in his strength that made her feel fragile and feminine despite her almost six feet in height. Orsino had made her feel delicate instead of gangly. His embrace had awakened Cinderella fantasies she’d harboured as a child, before the harsh realities of life cured her of believing in happy-ever-afters. In his arms she’d actually believed that they might come true after all.

‘Let me go, Orsino.’ Miraculously her voice was composed.

For a second longer he held her, almost as if he didn’t want to release her.

Then she was free. She took a step back, her other hand circling her wrist, covering the place where his heat lingered.

‘What were you doing up on the mountain, Orsino? Everyone said it was a dangerous climb.’

‘Danger is part of the appeal.’

‘That’s no answer.’ She’d never understood his need to fling himself into one perilous venture after another. ‘Even by your standards this was foolhardy.’

‘Not foolhardy. A calculated risk. Ice climbing always is.’

‘Then you didn’t calculate very well, did you?’ Why she harped on like this Poppy didn’t know. But she couldn’t leave it alone.

Even after all that had passed between them, she hated him risking his neck.

‘No one could have predicted that avalanche. I’m not omniscient, you know, Poppy.’