Rebel's Bargain

by Annie West

  ‘In that case—’ she drew an unsteady breath ‘—I’ll make sure you get all you want.’ Poppy stepped in, skimmed a light kiss across his lips then moved away, her eyes drifting deliberately down his tense body. It trembled beneath her gaze and she smiled.

  Oh, yes, she did enjoy the pure no-holds-barred physicality of this new relationship.

  ‘Witch.’ His voice was husky. The fine hairs along her neck and arms rose in response.

  She arched her eyebrows. ‘You enjoy it. You know you do.’

  His mouth tugged up at one side, a long dimple cleaving his cheek. It was Poppy’s turn to stare, transfixed by the masculine potency of that smile. She cleared her throat. ‘Your laptop. Is it damaged? I heard something fall.’

  Orsino stepped back, arms folding over his chest.

  ‘No. I walked into a side table. My vision’s still not right.’

  ‘Give it time,’ she found herself urging. ‘You always were impatient.’

  His eyes narrowed and she wondered if he’d accuse her of overstepping some imaginary line. Instead he nodded, one hand plunging through his hair again, leaving it rumpled and effortlessly sexy.

  ‘So everyone says.’

  ‘Bettina, too?’

  ‘You heard?’ For a moment she wondered if his brows would descend in a scowl because she’d eavesdropped. Instead he shrugged. ‘The woman has the patience of Job. She has to have, working with me. She can’t see why I’m not the same.’

  ‘She’s your secretary?’ Bubbles of something—relief?—fizzed in Poppy’s bloodstream. Not another woman then.

  He nodded. ‘Though for how much longer if I can’t pull my act together, I don’t know.’

  ‘It can’t be that bad, surely.’ Organising one of Orsino’s mountaineering trips would take effort but surely it wasn’t that complicated.

  His mouth flattened as his hand slid down to scrub the back of his neck. ‘It is when I can’t read vital documents and decisions need to be made.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  The words were out before she realised it. They took him by surprise too, given the look on his face.

  ‘Help?’ He made it sound like a foreign word.

  ‘With the laptop. If you’re having trouble opening the document …’

  He shook his head. ‘Oh, I can open it. For an inveterate adventure seeker I’m surprisingly techno-savvy.’ His lips quirked up in a dry half smile. ‘The trouble is my vision.’ His voice faded on the last word as if it was something he didn’t want to admit. Despite herself, Poppy felt something clutch inside her at that unexpected evidence of his vulnerability.

  He’d always hated admitting weakness. The fact that he shared this now seemed ridiculously important. She told herself she was imagining things and forced herself to focus.

  ‘Would you like me to read it to you?’

  His hand dropped to his side and his brows arrowed in a frown.

  ‘That would be …’ Abruptly he shook his head. ‘Thank you. But no. It’s a big document, a spreadsheet, not an email.’

  Curiouser and curiouser. What sort of spreadsheets would Orsino need?

  Then the reason for his hesitation hit her. It probably detailed his impressive income and investment portfolio.

  Who would want to share that with his soon-to-be-ex-wife just prior to their divorce?

  Poppy waved her hand. ‘It was just a thought. Don’t worry about it.’

  He stepped forward and the scent of heady spice and cedar infiltrated her brain. How she’d miss that when they went their separate ways.

  ‘You’d really do that? It’s tedious stuff.’

  She spread her hands. ‘I’ve finished early. My time is my own.’

  Yet she was offering to spend it with Orsino. Not indulging in hot, frantic sex, but to read him a spreadsheet. What had got into her? What had happened to keeping her distance?

  ‘It can’t be worse than wearing a corset for hours, waiting for my leading man to get his lines right.’

  ‘That bad, eh?’ A glimmer of amusement lit Orsino’s dark eyes and it struck her how attractive his smile was. Not just sexy but … appealing.

  ‘You have no idea.’ She took a deep breath and stretched, revelling in the freedom of minimal underwear after the restrictions of the outfit she’d worn today.

  Orsino’s gaze dropped to snag on her breasts and instantly her nipples beaded, pushing against the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Excitement ignited deep inside and spread, making her quiver.

  Poppy dropped her arms and turned to the fireplace. The intensity of that reaction was too unsettling.

  ‘You want me to read this document?’

  ‘That would be helpful, thanks.’ Unlike hers Orsino’s voice was cool and even. Had she imagined that hungry stare?

  ‘Sure.’ Eager for distraction, she moved away and dropped cross-legged before the padded ottoman where his computer sat. He took the big wing chair just behind her. If she leaned back his legs would support her.

  Poppy squashed a stray thought about how cosy this was, the sound of the rain battering the windows and a fire throwing warmth across the Oriental rug. Just her and Orsino …

  With a sharp intake of breath she blinked and reached for the computer. Daydreaming about relaxed evenings by the fire with her husband wasn’t healthy. Once she’d mistaken his passion for love. She needed to keep her wits about her and remember the rules.

  Ignore the past, since it hurts too much.

  Ignore the future, since we have none.

  Live in the now.

  Keep it simple.

  Her heart lurched as for a moment forbidden memories invaded—hurtful memories. Then she slammed a lid on them. Better to pretend those were two different people than tear herself apart trying to explain how she could want Orsino and he her after what had gone before.

  ‘What document did you want me to read?’

  Orsino leaned forward and took the laptop from her hands, clicking through files.

  Trying not to react to his beckoning heat, she stared at the screen. All the documents were enlarged for easy reading.

  ‘You can’t read that?’ Poppy looked at the large font and her heart sank. She’d thought his vision was improving. He seemed so capable now, able to move about with ease. Though it struck her that she rarely saw him anywhere but in bed or the bathroom.

  A cool little ripple cascaded down her spine.

  ‘I can read those.’ After a little fumbling he opened a document and passed the laptop to her. ‘But following the lines and footnotes on this spreadsheet is beyond me.’ He paused and she felt his breath warm on the back of her neck where she’d piled her hair up. ‘My sight is still distorted and it makes this stuff too difficult.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Vast rows and columns of figures filled the page. ‘You really need to do this now?’ Surely it was better for him to rest and recuperate.

  ‘If you’ve changed your mind—’

  ‘No. Of course not. Which worksheet do you want?’

  ‘Might as well start at the first. Can you start at the top and work your way down?’

  It didn’t take long to realise the report had nothing to do with blue-chip investments or property. Nor was it about climbing or rally car racing or any of the extreme sports for which Orsino was feted.

  ‘Can you go back a line?’ She heard the scratching of pen on paper. He could see enough to write then. The tightness in her chest unravelled a little.

  She recited dates and figures. ‘What is this, Orsino?’

  There was silence for a few moments apart from the scratch of his pen and the soft thunk of embers in the fire.

  ‘Expenses. Medical treatment. Food. Maintenance.’

  ‘I gathered that.’ She peered at the figures again. ‘But for whom?’

  ‘For an establishment I deal with. Now, if you’d—’

  ‘What sort of establishment?’

  Orsino’s reluctance to talk intrigued her. What was he hi
ding? And even more intriguing, what had happened to the man who barely stood still long enough even for a wedding photo? Who now found the patience to sit churning through reams of figures?

  ‘Orsino?’

  He shifted behind her as if the chair was no longer comfortable.

  ‘It’s a rehabilitation centre.’

  ‘For …?’ This was like drawing a tooth.

  ‘For people who’ve been injured by landmines.’

  Poppy put the laptop down and swung around.

  He ignored her while he scrawled another note in large capitals.

  ‘And?’

  Finally the pen stopped and he looked up, his face unreadable.

  ‘Why are you going through these reports?’

  He shrugged those mouth-wateringly broad shoulders but this time Poppy kept her eyes on his face, sensing this was significant.

  ‘You know my expeditions raise money for charity.’

  ‘I do.’ Her heart had been in her mouth more than once as she’d watched him succeed at some daredevil stunt, filmed from a distance and broadcast on television. ‘But what’s that got to do with this—’ she waved her hand ‘—administration?’

  She didn’t need to spell it out. He wasn’t a desk jockey. He was action man, always on the move, always with new conquests to make.

  ‘Careful administration is what keeps these enterprises ticking over. Without oversight they could face disaster. This way we know the money is going where it’s needed.’

  ‘We?’

  He sat back and rubbed his eyes. Poppy’s chest tightened in sympathy. Perhaps she should back off, but she sensed if she didn’t pursue this now she’d never learn more. Those impenetrable steel walls would slam down, shutting her out.

  She didn’t stop to question why she needed to pry his secret loose.

  ‘The board that manages them.’

  ‘You’re on a management board?’

  ‘Several of them.’ His lips twisted in a wry grimace. ‘Unbelievable, huh?’

  Poppy stared at the man she’d once thought she knew. Strong, determined, energetic, focused to the point of single-mindedness, a man who made things happen instead of sitting on the sidelines.

  ‘Not at all. I can see that you’d be a valuable addition.’

  His eyes widened and his dark brows shot up.

  ‘How did you get involved?’

  Orsino sat back, his gaze sliding towards the gathering darkness outside. Obviously this wasn’t something he often spoke about. The fact that he shared with her created a warm jiggle in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘I did a favour for a friend. He wanted a companion to paddle across the Timor Sea.’ Orsino paused, his mouth flattening. ‘I had time on my hands and agreed.’

  Poppy frowned. ‘Paddle? As in canoes? That’s harebrained.’

  ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’ Orsino’s lips curved up in a smile that bared his teeth and flashed her a look she couldn’t interpret.

  ‘That was my first visit to Timor-Leste, one of the world’s poorest countries. But the people couldn’t have been friendlier.’ He shrugged. ‘I stayed and got involved supporting a little hospital that’s understaffed and underfunded and does the most fantastic job.

  ‘I promised myself then that instead of just pursuing thrills, each of my trips would raise money for local people in need. The press was already following me and I’d done a couple of awareness-raising stunts for larger charities, but there was something about getting personally involved that appealed. As if I could make a difference.’

  His head jerked up and his eyes met hers. ‘A god complex, maybe?’

  Poppy shook her head, reeling as the import of his words sank in.

  All those death-defying adventures of Orsino’s were planned specifically with the idea of raising funds?

  The room dipped and spun. She’d assumed Orsino had simply done what he always had, finding new challenges for purely personal enjoyment. That the charity angle was a later addition—a happy coincidence. Of course it hadn’t been. Why hadn’t she realised?

  How often had he risked his life for others?

  She cleared her throat. ‘That’s a far cry from moving onto a management board.’

  Orsino waved his hand. ‘Some places had the need but not the on-the-ground help, so I set about discovering how to get that started.’

  Poppy stared. ‘You started your own charities?’

  ‘I prefer the word enterprises. The emphasis is on local people finding long-term solutions for themselves, with a bit of assistance.’ When she didn’t respond he spread his hands wide. ‘It wasn’t me alone. I was connected with people who knew what they were doing. I was just a cog in the wheel.’

  She looked down at the complex sheets before her.

  ‘Some wheel. There must be scores of enterprises here.’ No wonder he had a full-time secretary.

  Poppy had the weirdest feeling, as if she’d turned around and the man she’d known—surely she had known him?—had revealed himself as someone different.

  Orsino had always been charming and at ease in any social situation but there’d also been a sense of distance. A feeling he withdrew into himself sometimes, even when faced with an adoring throng.

  Or his young, adoring wife.

  Her heart stuttered then took up a tattered beat.

  He’d always been self-sufficient and selfish. He’d wanted her with him when it suited him, yet turned his back with never a second glance when opportunity for adventure presented itself. And as for him fitting with her work priorities …!

  Yet here was proof he felt strongly for others and connected with them in ways she’d never imagined. That he fitted his life around them.

  He’d changed.

  She banished the wish that he’d changed sooner. There was no going back.

  ‘As I said, many of them are small-scale, to fit local needs.’

  Poppy’s gaze went to the computer. She returned to the index page and scanned the list of abbreviations. She stopped at one, blinking.

  ‘I know this one. The women’s shelter.’ It wasn’t in some far-flung place but a mere thirty miles from where she grew up. Learning about it had evoked a cavalcade of mixed emotions, primarily regret for the past that couldn’t be altered. ‘I hosted a fashion show fundraiser for it just two weeks ago.’

  Poppy swung round. Instantly he was distracted by the sultry curve of her Cupid’s bow mouth, shimmering like ruby satin, and by the waft of tousled curls that trailed loose from her upswept hair.

  She was so beautiful. How could he ever get enough of her?

  Then he saw the curiosity on her face and cursed himself for letting her into this part of his life.

  There were things she didn’t need to know. Like the fact he’d thrown himself into more dangerous challenges, like the sea crossing she called harebrained, to fill a void that had cracked wide open the night she betrayed him.

  Adventure had always been solace for him in a world devoid of love. For a time he’d almost believed he’d found something different and precious with Poppy.

  Until he discovered Poppy’s ‘love’ was fake. That’s when the urge for thrills had turned darker—into a need to dice with death.

  Old pain slashed with razor-sharp claws.

  ‘You hosted a charity event?’

  The woman he’d married had been so focused on her career, following her beloved Mischa’s advice to the letter on how to raise her profile, that Orsino had never imagined her working for nothing.

  ‘You’re not the only one with a social conscience, Orsino.’ Her head angled higher and her bottom lip jutted belligerently, emphasising her natural pout.

  Heat roared up, consuming Orsino. For four nights he’d had his fill of her. He’d taken her urgently, hungrily, slowly, tenderly. Every way he’d wanted. And she’d wanted, too. His heart crashed against his ribs as he remembered her passion.

  For a pulse-beat fear battered him. Fear he’d been wrong to b
ed her. That it would be too hard to sever the link between them now they were lovers again.

  Then logic reasserted itself. This sexual hunger resulted from prolonged abstinence. Once sated he’d move on and not look back.

  He leaned forward, brushing the hair from her face, pushing it behind her delicate ear then trailing his finger over the sensitive spot just below her earlobe.

  ‘I’m sorry, Poppy. I shouldn’t have spoken like that.’

  Her tongue swiped her lip and he almost groaned aloud. That mouth.

  ‘Let me make it up to you.’ His hand drifted to her shoulder then down to skim the hard nub of her nipple. He swallowed a sigh of satisfaction as she quivered. He couldn’t have stood being the only one affected by desire.

  ‘How will you do that?’ Her voice was a throaty purr as he stroked her again.

  ‘However you like.’

  ‘Anything?’ Her fine eyebrows arched.

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘In that case …’ Poppy rose to her knees and shuffled forward between his legs. One pale hand shoved at his chest and he let himself slump back into the chair. Her other hand touched his belt, dragging it undone before reaching for the button on his jeans.

  Her eyes gleamed. The look of a woman who knew her own power. That sensuous mouth curved in a knowing smile as he felt the slow tug of his zip dragging down.

  ‘You’re going to kill me,’ he whispered, already rock hard.

  Her smile widened. ‘And we’re both going to enjoy every minute of it.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  IF OPULENCE AND GLAMOUR could sell jewellery then the House of Baudin was onto a winner, Orsino decided.

  The long ballroom jutted out from the chateau forming a bridge over the river. The black-and-white floor was a perfect counterpoint to the swirling, wide-skirted ball gowns of another century as dancers glided from one end of the room to the other. Discreet portable lights added to the illumination from hanging pendants and massive candelabras in each window embrasure.

  The scene was rich, exotic and glamorous, a taste of luxury in the style of long ago.

  At its heart, vibrant in a dress the colour of garnets, was Poppy. She stood out from the rest like the moon surrounded by faded stars.