Rebel's Bargain

She remembered her pain and disbelief then, her anguish when Orsino hadn’t let her talk. Her unanswered phone calls and emails. The fruitless attempts to locate him in person. She’d tried and tried to get through to him, but he’d been intractable, uncaring of her fragile state. And through it all the press, intrusive and inquisitive, pestering her for more, snapping photos and revealing her pain to the world.

Dragging herself through those black days of grief, despair and disbelief had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. For a while she’d thought herself fatally wounded. That she’d never recover.

Her eyes narrowed on the dark glasses less than an arm’s length away. It wasn’t her fault he didn’t know the truth. He hadn’t wanted to know. And she didn’t care any more.

Deliberately she tossed her head back. ‘Convince you I was innocent? I wouldn’t waste my breath.’

Already she’d spent too long trying to do exactly that. Why bother now? What she’d thought they’d shared had been an illusion.

Besides, there was no way she could convince him of the truth now. He’d judged her guilty then. His attitude now confirmed nothing had changed.

Vertical lines furrowed his brow and Poppy felt a moment’s triumph that at least she hadn’t been as predictable as he expected. Had he wanted her to plead and grovel? Her days of doing that were over. Orsino didn’t want to know the truth. He’d made up his mind that night before he’d even confronted her.

‘Why should I? I have no interest in your forgiveness, Orsino, or in trying to pick up the pieces.’

How could you reassemble something that hadn’t been broken but pulverised into dust? She tasted it now, like ashes on her tongue, and grimaced.

‘Think what you like, by all means. But keep your thoughts to yourself. If I hear you so much as breathe a comment about my love life you’re out of here, deal or no deal.’

Orsino surveyed the disdainful woman who stared him down as if he wasn’t half a head taller than her. Even with his damaged vision she was remarkable.

Her pale skin flushed, colour washing those slanted cheekbones, accentuating the elegance of her spare features. Her violet eyes blazed and her lips were lusciously dark where she’d bitten them in her fury.

She was like a defiant queen at the head of an army. He’d never seen her so sexy.

He felt the blood pound, his muscles tightening, testosterone surging. Despite his maimed state he knew the rapacious impulse of a marauding warrior. He wanted to reach out and take her, conquer that feminine hauteur and make her his.

The need for her was a primitive pulse in his belly. His hand clenched on his cane as he forced himself to stand his ground.

He inhaled through his nose, sucking in the rich, berry scent of her skin.

Mad. He must be mad. She all but flaunted her infidelity in his face and he was turned on!

Orsino had regretted his thoughtless words as soon as they were out. Reminding her of her faithlessness was no way to get into her bed. What about his plan to seduce her?

Excitement throbbed through his body as he watched her struggle to hide the way she panted for breath.

Maybe seduction wasn’t the way. Maybe he could infuriate her so much, rouse her animal instincts, that she’d take it out on him physically. He’d gladly weather her nails on his skin for the pleasure of sex with Poppy when she was like this. Urgent, angry, hate-you sex would be amazing with this woman.

He shook his head.

He couldn’t believe what he was thinking.

Orsino cleared his throat. ‘I apologise. I didn’t speak intentionally.’

She shifted as if getting ready to defend herself.

‘And believe me, I have no intention of discussing your sex life with anyone.’ That was something he intended to be between the two of them. He watched her fury fade. ‘Now we’ve covered that—’ he used the firm tone that worked so well when chairing difficult meetings ‘—I suggest we move on.’

Her eyes widened and her mouth sagged. For a perilous instant Orsino hovered on the brink of leaning across to taste her mouth again.

He gestured to the foyer and the ancient stone staircase. ‘Perhaps you’d show me my room so I can settle in.’

Poppy said nothing but after subjecting him to a long stare turned and scooped up one of the bags the chauffeur had delivered. She headed up the stairs without a backward glance.

Orsino stood at the bottom, watching her pale trousers tighten over her buttocks with each step. Slim and toned, his wife was nevertheless rounded in the right places, not abundantly voluptuous but sexy and all woman.

His wife.

Did he really intend to go through with this? After all the lacerating pain she’d inflicted?