Rebel's Bargain

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?