Rebel's Bargain

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 bed 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.