Rebel's Bargain

Unbidden the memory of her mother surfaced. She’d tied herself to a man who didn’t care about her, and worse, was set on destroying her. She hadn’t had the strength to walk away no matter how bad the abuse.

Old creeping fears stirred, whispering a familiar warning that love made you weak.

Poppy shuddered. She was not like her mother. She refused to be weak like her, clinging to the wrong man.

Swallowing a knot of emotion, she made her voice cool and businesslike. ‘Since they’ve cut your sleeve away I’ll just take the sling off then slide the shirt over your bad arm. Can you hold it still until I tie it up again?’

‘Of course.’

Poppy’s hands were steady and her movements swift as she stripped the shirt and retied the sling. She showed Orsino the en suite bathroom, put a glass of water on the bedside table and made sure he had everything he needed. She didn’t offer to help him out of his trousers.

As she left she congratulated herself. Her moment of weakness had been just that, momentary, no doubt due to shock at being confronted with those bruises.

She could do this: deal with Orsino and put the past behind her. She wasn’t susceptible to him. Not any longer.

Poppy squashed the tiny voice that told her life wasn’t that simple.

She’d make it simple. It was past time she did.

CHAPTER SIX

ORSINO LET HIMSELF out the tower’s big wooden entrance door and stepped into a morning chill with the promise of winter. He drew his coat close.

He’d had enough of being cooped up in luxurious isolation.

His plan had backfired. Instead of having Poppy on tap he was alone most of the day. She left before dawn and returned late.

She couldn’t be working all that time. She was avoiding him.

To his chagrin he’d been unable to follow her. He hadn’t been nearly as fit as he’d hoped.

Surprisingly, she’d not abandoned him entirely. There’d been short phone calls each day to check he hadn’t fallen down the stairs or otherwise damaged himself, and she’d arranged for the catering staff to bring his meals.

All very efficient. Very civilised. Very annoying.

It wasn’t some wide-eyed cook he wanted lingering in his presence, or even the curvaceous, sloe-eyed nurse who’d recently removed the sling, leaving the cast on his forearm and fresh bandages on his hand.

He wanted Poppy.

Orsino grimaced. With his strength returning his body made it embarrassingly clear how much he wanted her. With no extreme sport to indulge in, without his usual outlets for rising frustration, Orsino had spent the week in a state of semi-arousal.

Listening to her moving about in the bedroom overhead, smelling her scent on the stairs, hearing the rush of water when she showered and imagining her naked, glistening and beautiful … It was enough to drive a man to drink.

Orsino had no intention of resorting to a bottle to cure what ailed him.

Not when there was another, more pleasing solution.

He peered ahead and noticed activity at the end of the formal rose garden.

Gripping his despised walking stick, he took his time. He could walk without it but he’d learned to his cost that his faulty vision meant he didn’t always see obstacles. The last thing he needed was to fall flat on his face in front of Poppy.

It had been a mistake, asking her to help him undress that first day.

What had he thought? That the sight of him half naked would have her desperate for his body?

He grunted and turned onto the riverside path. Serve him right for his inflated ego. She’d taken one look and gone green around the gills. His bruises had repulsed her.

But he had enough experience of women, of Poppy, to know she wasn’t impervious. Even after all this time. After how many lovers?

His gut clenched and he faltered midstep. How long had she stayed with Mischa? How many had there been since?

Orsino gritted his teeth. He didn’t care. Not any longer. Fortunately his interest now was purely skin-deep.

He slowed, approaching a cluster of people and equipment. Everyone seemed busy, bustling about their various jobs, so he stood unobserved.

At the river’s edge a rowboat was pulled up and two people got in. One was a fair-haired man in evening clothes. The other was Poppy. Even from here he recognised her engulfed in that enormous neck-to-ankle coat. Her hair was up but he saw its dark red gleam. Something flashed as she moved in front of a light and he realised she wore a glittering circlet in her hair.

There was a murmur of voices then Poppy shrugged the coat off and Orsino caught his breath.

Her whole dress, what there was of it, danced and sparkled. Knee length, with a deep V neckline at front and back, it caught the light in spangles of silver and blue-green. When she stepped into the boat he saw the skirt was a series of strands that shimmied provocatively around her thighs. Colour glinted at her wrists and throat and high on one arm sat a wide, bright band that looked like a slave bracelet.