Rebel's Bargain. Annie West
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but their shouted questions about a reconciliation with Orsino jarred like physical blows. Every strident call was a lash on tender skin.
Once inside she paused, barely resisting the need to lean against the wall for support.
Reconciliation with Orsino? No way!
He’s still your husband, a tiny voice chided.
All at once she felt like the Poppy she’d told herself no longer existed. The one who’d responded to Orsino’s shivery deep voice yesterday as she had all those years ago. The Poppy whose pulse had leapt into a jittering rhythm when he’d touched her. The Poppy who’d been devastated when he’d turned on his heel and left her bereft.
A shudder of unadulterated terror ripped through her.
She wasn’t that girl any more.
She’d rebuilt herself into someone stronger. Into the woman she’d wanted to be for as long as she could remember—independent and successful. No man would ever take over her life again. She’d seen that side of the coin with her mother. For an awful time she’d been there herself. She wouldn’t let herself be so vulnerable again.
Her relationship with Orsino had been an aberration—proof she’d been right in not wanting romantic love.
Love made you weak.
Poppy straightened, her tattered confidence growing.
She could deal with Orsino. Besides, for all his faults and the anger that stirred when she remembered the past, she pitied him those injuries.
Setting her shoulders she knocked and entered Orsino’s room. He wasn’t there and for one heart-stopping moment Poppy wondered if he’d taken a turn for the worse.
‘You’re late.’
Hand to chest, she spun around, her heart catapulting.
Orsino sat in a wheelchair, surveying her. The bandages around his eyes were gone, replaced by glasses so black she caught no hint of his eyes behind them.
‘Your eyes.’ It was more question than statement, but he said nothing, merely sat statue still, facing her.
Was he blind? Infuriatingly he said nothing, shutting her out completely.
Her belly cramped. He was an expert at that.
Most of the bandages on his head had been removed, except for one at a rakish angle that made him look like a stranger. A tough stranger you wouldn’t want to mess with.
Yet she’d know the angle of that cheekbone, the strong thrust of his nose and that square jaw even in her sleep.
Poppy told herself it was natural to remember so much. He’d been her first lover, after all.
Though the plan was to leave for France today, it was a shock to see him in street clothes. The image of Orsino buried in bandages had haunted her through the long, sleepless night.
Now a casual jacket hung loose from one shoulder, partly covering his sling, and he wore a pale chambray shirt. Jeans clung to his long, solid thighs. Hiking boots encased his feet on the wheelchair’s footrest.
Poppy worked to smother unwilling sympathy.
‘They must have cut the sleeve to get that shirt on.’ Her voice emerged just right, even and easy.
‘Trust a model to consider the clothes first and foremost.’ The words were an accusation that sliced straight through her. And the way he said model as if it was a euphemism for something ugly …
Her lips firmed as indignation ignited. Did she really want to deal with Orsino in condescending mode?
Being with him was an outrageously bad idea. Every instinct screamed at her to walk away. He could spill his version of their break-up to the press and she’d survive. He could make divorce difficult but he couldn’t stop it.
It wasn’t too late to back out.
Except she was determined never to reveal vulnerability before him again. If she reneged on the deal he’d know it for weakness.
She had to face him and prove these feelings were mere phantoms of memory.
Poppy squared her jaw. She was woman enough to cope with him. After what she’d been through a few jibes were nothing.
‘You’d prefer if I made a fuss of you?’ She stepped closer, watching for some sign he could see her but his face remained impassive. Deep in her stomach tension swirled at the possibility he couldn’t see, and worse, he’d never see again.
She cleared a knot in her throat. ‘If you’re after someone to simper and sigh over you you’ve picked the wrong woman. Call one of your girlfriends instead.’
‘The claws are out, I see.’
Poppy shrugged, meeting that blank, reflective stare. ‘No claws. That implies I have a personal, emotional interest.’ She paused to let that sink in. ‘The only reason I’m allowing you to impose yourself is the prospect of a gloriously Chatsfield-free future.’ Poppy let her mouth curve in a smile that she knew didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Besides, no matter what you think of me I’m not the sort to kick a man while he’s down.’
No matter how much he deserved it.
‘So tell me, Orsino, what do the doctors say? I need to know if I’m going to help you.’
The sight of that wheelchair did nothing to dispel her concern. Had he damaged his spine? The idea chilled her to the marrow.
His lips twisted and she sensed his impatience.
‘They counsel patience.’
No wonder he was moody. Pain would be bad enough, but for Orsino, waiting to recuperate would be even worse. ‘I see.’
‘I’m glad someone does.’ He spoke under his breath but his bitter tone cut through the still air.
Poppy stepped closer, her gaze on those dark glasses. ‘You can’t see at all?’
He expelled a breath in a rush of air. ‘Let’s just say I won’t be driving a car any time soon.’
Poppy sucked in a sharp breath. Words of sympathy rose on her tongue but she forced them away, knowing he’d reject them. Instead she aimed for brisk and pragmatic.
‘If you’re blind, Orsino, I need to know. We’re returning to a photo shoot.’ She stumbled over ‘we’re’ and had to force down a pang of doubt. ‘I’ll be working long hours so I’ll be on-site but not always at hand. If you can’t see you’ll need a full-time carer.’
His lips turned up in a smile that showed his teeth. He looked like he wanted to snap a bite out of her.
‘God forbid that I should interfere with your exalted career.’ His drawl made the hairs on her nape rise and her jaw clench.
She refused to fight that battle again. Orsino had lost the right to an opinion years ago.
Poppy waited till her riotous pulse subsided before answering. ‘I refuse to be goaded, Orsino. I understand you’re hurting and scared but if you think you can take that out on me you’re mistaken.’
She ignored his hiss of indrawn breath. It was about time someone made him face the truth. ‘I’m not your whipping boy.’ She folded her arms, glaring down at him. ‘If you can’t understand that then the deal is off. I’ve already disrupted a very expensive shoot to be here, so don’t try your high-and-mighty attitude on me. I don’t expect gratitude.’ A sour laugh escaped at the very idea. ‘But I do expect common courtesy and politeness.’
Orsino leaned forward as if reading her features. ‘You’ve changed,’ he said finally. Poppy wasn’t sure if that was approval or regret in his voice.
‘I should hope so!’ She’d been unbearably naive when they’d met. You’d