by Annie West
He leaned back against the pillows, increasing the distance between them. Yet the perfume of her skin lingered.
When he’d imagined them meeting he’d envisaged himself almost healed, enough to see at least.
His jaw tightened. It had been a mistake mentioning her name so soon to the officious hospital staff. He should have waited. He hated not being in control.
‘How do you feel, Orsino?’
A laugh grated in his throat. ‘What? You were worried about me?’
She didn’t answer but he felt new tension in the air. Something that made him sit straighter. He sensed her turmoil and his predatory senses twitched. How he wished he could see her!
‘The whole world is wondering how you are. You’re an international hero for saving your climbing partner and yourself.’
‘Ah, that’s why you came running so quickly. To bask in the reflected media glow.’ Everywhere they’d gone, whenever he’d wanted privacy, there’d been someone with a camera wanting pictures of them, dubbed by some trashy magazine the year’s hottest couple. He’d been slow to realise it was attention Poppy, with her need for constant media coverage, wanted.
‘I see you haven’t changed, Orsino.’ Her voice came from farther away and held a razor-sharp edge. ‘Still the charmer. And still so quick to judge us lesser mortals.’
He ignored that. What was there to say? He’d been in the right. She’d been in the wrong, so far in the wrong he’d known a moment of red-hot fury when violence would have been a welcome outlet. Lucky for Poppy Graham he was a civilised man. Some men wouldn’t have walked away as he had. Some would have taken revenge for what she’d done.
Having her at his beck and call for a couple of weeks while he recuperated hardly counted.
‘Have you changed, Poppy?’ This time when he spoke her name the word emerged crisp and clear, yet he tasted the echo of it on his tongue, sweet as wild raspberries but with a tang of disappointment.
How was it that after all this time she had the power to make him feel?
It must be some residual weakness after his ordeal in the wilderness.
‘Of course I’ve changed.’ He heard her long stride across the floor as she paced. ‘I’m not twenty-three any more. I’m my own woman, self-reliant, secure and capable.’
‘You were always self-reliant,’ he murmured. ‘You never needed anyone, did you, Poppy? Except on your own terms.’ He heard her hiss of breath. ‘You used people for what you could get. Is that still your style?’
‘You’re a fine one to talk! When did you ever give or share?’ Orsino heard her jagged breath and knew intense satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one feeling.
‘I remember giving all the time.’ He breathed deep. ‘Money, the prestige and connections you were so hungry for …’
Silence met his accusation. He waited, but she didn’t break it.
So, in one thing at least she’d changed. Once she’d been ruled by passion, as impetuous in her defence as in everything else. Now she knew when to give up. What was the point arguing the unwinnable?
Orsino frowned, fighting a disappointment he couldn’t explain.
‘Obviously you don’t want me here.’ Her voice sounded guarded and, if he hadn’t known it impossible, defeated. ‘The hospital made a mistake contacting me.’
He shook his head, wishing yet again that he could see her face. The strength of his need to see her stunned him.
‘No mistake. But they were a little too prompt. You’re not needed quite yet.’
‘Needed? You don’t need me.’
Orsino heard the shock in her voice and didn’t bother hiding his smile. Maybe it was shallow of him but after all this time, after what she’d done, it felt good to have her exactly where he wanted her.
‘But when I leave hospital I will. Who else should look after me as I recuperate but my wife?’
CHAPTER TWO
‘WIFE?’ POPPY’S VOICE ROSE. ‘You’re kidding!’
But looking at his satisfied smile she had a dreadful feeling Orsino wasn’t joking. There were new lines around his mouth, grim lines that hadn’t been there when she’d known him. They spoke of rock-hard determination. And pain.
She blinked as her heart squeezed. How bad were his injuries? He still hadn’t told her. Those bandaged eyes …
Poppy pulled herself up. Did she seriously think she could read Orsino when so much of his face was swathed in bandages?
He was a stranger now. He’d severed any connection.
‘Why should I kid?’
It was there in his voice now, that smugness. As if he enjoyed her reaction, knowing her discomfort. The realisation made her shiver.
Orsino had been hard, unreasonable and unforgiving. But spinning out a painful situation hadn’t been his style. He’d preferred to walk away, leaving her bereft.
Had he changed?
‘Because I’m not your wife. You can’t want me nursing you.’
‘It won’t be full-time nursing. I expect to manage once the bandages come off.’ Was that a hint of doubt in his voice? But he was talking again, distracting her from the fleeting impression. ‘I’ll only need someone on hand to be sure. That’s where you come in.’
‘As I said, Orsino, I’m not your wife. It won’t be me caring for you. Ask someone else.’
Then a horrible thought struck. Had his head injury affected his memory? Didn’t he recall what had happened between them? Poppy swayed. The possibility of brain damage was too much on top of exhaustion.
‘Of course you’re my wife. You never filed for divorce.’ He paused. ‘Why is that, Poppy? Because there was still publicity to be milked from my name?’
His icy tone grazed her skin, making her shudder.
Relief battered her, and anger. No memory loss after all. Orsino recalled everything. And still blamed her.
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.’
She watched his mouth form her name and a deep tingling throb began inside. Maybe it was the way he said it, in that dark-as-night voice, but something long forgotten stirred.
Poppy took another step back from the bed.
‘No one has ever done that climb, because it’s so dangerous. The experts say it’s impossible.’
‘Only until someone does it. Besides, if we’d succeeded the money we raised would have funded a new eye clinic and helped scores of local families.’
‘You risked your life for an eye clinic?’ Poppy knew he raised money for charity with his more daring adventures, but this—
‘Why not? Better this than as some commercial stunt for a luxury company.’ His voice held an unfamiliar note and Poppy watched his hand clench on the coverlet.
‘Orsino? What do you mean?’
He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Nothing. What I do with my time is my business. Mine alone.’
Wasn’t that the truth?
When she’d needed him, when she’d been desperate for his strong arms holding her, he’d headed off on one of his adventures. He hadn’t cared enough to support her, too busy taking on the next challenge.
‘It’s not just your business when it endangers others. What about your climbing partner and the men who rescued you? You were selfish to put them in danger.’
‘Michael is recovering nicely down the hall. He knew the risks.’ But the rough edge to Orsino’s tone made her wonder if, after all, he felt guilty.
Orsino raised his hand as if to rake his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration she recalled too clearly. When his hand touched bandage it dropped to the bed.
‘As for the rescue party—’ His mouth pursed. ‘We’d left instructions that no rescue was to be attempted if anything went wrong. We know how many local guides are killed and injured supporting foreign climbers.’
‘It’s a good thing for you they ignored your wishes.’ Poppy wrapped her arms across her chest, chilled anew at the thought of Orsino on the unforgiving mountain, buried in snow. How long did it take to die from exposure?
Suddenly he grinned. With his dark stubble surrounding that slash of white teeth he looked like a pirate.
Poppy stared, telling herself it was not a zing of attraction she felt. That was no longer possible.
‘I’m not complaining.’ His smile faded. ‘We knew them all from previous years here, that’s why they ignored our wishes. Bloody fools. If something had happened to one of them …’
He really was the most complex, unreasonable, infuriating man.
She wanted to despise him for his life of idle luxury but he risked his life raising money for others. She wanted to berate him for taking stupid risks but he’d cold-bloodedly taken on this challenge knowing he could die and demanding no one risk their life to save him.
Poppy sank into a visitor’s chair. No wonder she felt confused. Orsino Chatsfield was the sort of man to tie anyone in knots. But just because he had a social conscience didn’t mean he was good husband material.
Good husband! If the idea didn’t hurt so much it might have been funny.
She hadn’t thought of him as her husband in ages.
Yet there
was still something about this man that burrowed deep beneath logic and reason. Something that had squeezed her heart till she couldn’t breathe when she thought he was going to die. Something that hurt like the devil when he accused her of wanting him dead.
He had the power to anger her and hurt her as no one else could.
Why hadn’t that died when he killed her love?
Poppy watched her hands twist in her lap and knew real fear. Fear that, despite everything, it wasn’t over between them. At least not for her.
She shook her head. It couldn’t be. She was stronger than that. Five years ago she’d grovelled, leaving pleading messages for Orsino to contact her. None had been answered.
That was how little she’d meant to him.
Since then she’d dragged herself back from the brink, facing the glare of the press, the curiosity of millions, slavering for details on their breakup, probing her feelings and watching her every move.
Unlike Orsino, Poppy didn’t have the buffer of extreme wealth to protect her. She’d had to get back to work, acting as if her heart hadn’t been ripped into bleeding shreds.
It had taken everything she had to rebuild herself, to be more resilient and focused than before.
She lifted her head and scrutinised Orsino. He pretended he still had some say in her life, but he’d forfeited that right long ago.
He had no hold over her.
All she had to do was remember that and ignore her body’s traitorous awareness of him. That must be some legacy of the past, a sense memory that would soon fade.
‘Are you still there?’ His deep voice broke her reverie. Was that a hint of vulnerability she heard? It would be natural given those injuries. But the set of Orsino’s firm jaw spoke of strength, not fear. Why would he be concerned if she’d left? He who’d deliberately faced death on that treacherous climb?
‘Why did you tell the hospital to contact me? And don’t give me that line about being your next of kin.’
‘I told you. I need someone to be with while I recuperate.’
Need not want.
Was that why his jaw set so tight? Because he didn’t want her but needed her help? Yet this was Orsino Chatsfield. He didn’t do anything unless it suited him.
