The Ice Seduction (Ice Romance) (16 page)

49

I spend the morning playing my guitar and
pushing thoughts of Patrick away by focusing on Anise. The poor girl seems so broken. She needs love and support just as much as Bertie does. But it doesn’t sound like she gets much of that, especially not from her father.

In fact,
Dirk Mansfield doesn’t sound like a very nice person at all. And I wonder what hold he has over Patrick and everyone else in this castle.

I’m just slotting my guitar away and
am about to head down for lunch, when I hear a fluttery, light knocking on my door.

I know it’s not Patrick – it’s just not his sort of knock. And it doesn’t sound like Mrs Calder
either.

Curious, I open the door and find Anise,
her eyes wide and frightened, wringing her hands together. Her face looks even whiter than it did this morning.

‘Oh! Thank goodness you’re
here,’ she says. ‘Please. Please help me.’

‘What is it?
What’s happened?’ I look around and my heart catches in my throat. ‘Where’s Bertie?’

‘I don’t know.’ Anise’s eyes fill with tears. ‘He ran off. Into the woods.’

‘Oh lord.’ I grab my sheepskin jacket and head out the door. ‘Show me where he ran to.’

We hurry downstairs and
Anise shows me the path.

‘I didn’t know
what to do,’ Anise stutters. ‘He just ran.’ She begins to cry.

‘Anise, y
ou go inside and call the police. I’ll go into the woods and look for him. Okay?’

Anise looks back at
the house. ‘We need Patrick. He knows these woods better than anyone.’

I bite my lip. ‘Okay. If you think he can help, then okay.’

‘He might be the
only
one who can help,’ says Anise.

‘Go get him, then,’ I say, heading into the woods. ‘I’ll start looking for Bertie.’

50

I run down the path into the woods, looking up at trees and around thick fern bushes.

Onwards I run, searching, searching, but Bertie is nowhere to be seen.

‘Bertie!’ I call. ‘Bertie!’

Pretty soon I near the stream – the one Patrick told me never to cross.

I stop when I reach it, looking back to the woodlands near the castle. There’s nowhere else Bertie could have gone. He must have crossed the stream and run into the dangerous part of the woods. The part where the poachers are.

Shit, shit, shit.

I have to find him.

I
splash through the shallows, feeling icy cold water against my legs.

‘Bertie!’ I call
as I run onwards.

Then I hear the crack of a gunshot.

Oh holy shit.

I
run on, craning my neck at trees and shoving my hands into thick bushes to push them apart.

Soon
I see a black shape at the top of a tall ash tree.

I get closer
and look up into the branches.

‘Bertie?’

I see him, clinging to a branch at the very top of the tree.

Bertie is
so high up that my knees go to jelly just watching him, and I can see his eyes are wide and his whole body is shaking.

The wind whips the tree branch
back and forth, and Bertie clings on for dear life.

‘Sta
y where you are, Bertie,’ I yell. ‘Stay exactly where you are. Don’t move. I’ll go get help.’

Ber
tie shakes his head, and the branch wobbles even more.

‘Okay! Wait.’ I hold my hands up.
‘It’s okay. I’ll stay here. Okay? I’ll wait with you until help comes.’

Bertie nods
hard and clings tighter to the branch.

‘I guess there must be a b
ird’s nest up there, huh?’ I call.

Bertie nods.

‘Don’t worry. I promise we’ll get you down.’

His body stops shaking.

I shield my eyes as I look up at him. ‘How about I tell you a story? I think I can remember some of
Just William
. Okay?’

Bertie nods again, and I shout a story up to him – at least the parts I can remember.

Just as I’m telling him about William playing a joke on his father, I sense someone nearby and turn my head.

51

I see a shadow, and then hold my breath as
Patrick stalks into the clearing.

He moves
quickly and silently, wearing a green combat jacket, black trousers and boots. There’s a rifle strapped to his back.

I feel
like we’re deer being hunted by a wolf.

‘Patrick.
’ I try not to let myself notice his body – how loose and relaxed it is, like a prowling tiger. Or how tall he is. How broad and muscular. Or his beautiful light stubble, fierce eyes and strong eyebrows over that tight jaw.

‘Can’t you follow a simple instruction?
’ Patrick growls. ‘I told you not to go past the stream.’

‘I had to get Bertie
.’

‘You should have come and got me
,’ says Patrick. ‘Get back to the house. Now.’

I hear the crunching of footsteps and see Gregory the garde
ner coming through the trees. He has a ladder over his shoulder.

‘
Dear oh dear,’ says Gregory, as he sees Bertie. ‘Come on lad. Let’s get you down.’ He rests the ladder against the tree.

‘I’m
staying here,’ I tell Patrick. ‘Bertie needs me.’

‘Get back to the ho
use,’ Patrick growls again.

I shake my head
. ‘Bertie was so scared when I got here. He was shaking. I need to be here when he gets down.’

‘B
ack to the house!’ Patrick barks, standing up. ‘Right now. Before I carry you back myself. It’s not safe out here.’

I shake my
head, sticking out my lip. ‘I won’t leave him.’

‘Oh yes you
will.’ Patrick throws his rifle to Gregory, who catches it in both hands. ‘Gregory. If you hear any poachers, fire a few warning shots. That should scare them off. Get the boy down. He’ll be safe with you. I need to take Seraphina back.’

‘NO
!’ I shout. ‘I’m Bertie’s nanny and I’m staying here with him. I’m not leaving him all alone.’

‘He won’t be
alone,’ Patrick fires back. ‘He’ll be with Gregory.’

‘I won’t go
– oh!’

Patrick
lifts me by the waist and throws me over his shoulder.

The movement is so quick, so effortless that I don’t know what’s going on until it’s too late.

‘Hey!’ I cry, as the world turns upside down. ‘Put me down! Patrick, put me down RIGHT NOW!’ I beat my fists against his back, but he pays no attention.

I watch
the ground bob up and down as Patrick carries me through the trees.

‘Put me DOWN!’ I scream, struggling aga
inst him. But it’s no good. He holds me firm and no matter how I struggle, I can’t get free.

O
h god I am FURIOUS!

‘Who do you think you are Patrick Mansfield?’ I shout
, as we cross the stream. ‘Who the hell do you think you are? Put me down NOW!’

But Patrick ignores me, carrying me through the woods,
over the lawns and towards the castle.

‘Stop
!’ I yell. ‘Where are you taking me? Patrick?’

‘T
o your room,’ says Patrick. ‘You can wait there until Bertie is safely back in the castle. I’m not risking you running back out into those woods.’

‘I won’t,’ I lie
.

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Ooo!’ I scream in frustration.

Patrick
marches into the house and carries me down corridors and up a flight of stairs.

When we reach my bedroom, he
strides over to the bed and flings me onto the soft mattress.

‘Wait there,’ he barks. Then he stalks out of the room, and I hear the turn of a key in the lock.

‘Oh my god!’ I jump up from the bed and run to the door. ‘You didn’t just lock me in. Tell me you didn’t.’ I try the handle, but the door is locked. ‘Open this door Patrick! OPEN IT!’

I beat my fists against the door.
‘Let me out right now. RIGHT NOW!’

I hear Patrick’s voice through the door.
‘Not until Bertie is back at the castle. I don’t trust you not to run out into those woods again.’

Oh, the nerve of him
! How dare he! To carry me off like a caveman. ‘You’re keeping me against my will!’ I shout. ‘It’s against the law.’

‘So
is trespassing,’ says Patrick. ‘Which is exactly what you were just doing in the woods.’

I hear a
clank outside my window and turn my head.

To my relief, I see Bertie walking slowly across the lawn with Gregory
, the ladder clanking over Gregory’s shoulder. Bertie looks happy enough, actually. I can tell he likes Gregory.

‘He’s back now,’ I shout at the door. ‘Bertie’s back. You can let me out. And then you can apologi
ze.’

I hear the key turn in the
lock, and the door opens.

Patrick stands before me, one hand placed casually on his hip, an infu
riating smile on those sharp lips.

‘Apologi
ze?’ he says, his voice smoulderingly low. ‘You want me to say sorry? For quite possibly saving your life?’

‘You did no such thing
,’ I say. ‘If there were any poachers around, they were miles away.’

‘No they weren’t
,’ says Patrick. ‘Hawk Turner was in those woods today. And he shoots at any movement. Any movement at all. If he’d seen you in the trees, you could be dead by now.’

‘You had no right,’ I say, my voice
losing some of its heat. ‘It was my choice to make …’

‘No it wasn’t
,’ says Patrick. ‘I won’t let you risk your safety.’

‘You
shouldn’t have dragged me off like that,’ I yell. ‘What do you think this is, the Stone Age?’

‘
Maybe I should have clubbed you over the head,’ says Patrick. ‘It would have saved me having to listen to your nonsense.’

‘
Nonsense
?’ Oh, now I’m mad. ‘Don’t you ever carry me off like that again. Ever.’

‘I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you,’ says Patrick. ‘Whether you like it or not.’

‘I don’t need your protection,’ I say. ‘I’ve looked after myself my whole life.’ For some stupid reason, tears spring to my eyes. ‘And I always will. I … I need to find Bertie.’

‘Gregory will take him to
his mother. He’ll be fine.’

‘No, I
—’

I try
to walk past Patrick, but he grabs my arm.

‘Stop
,’ he says. ‘You need some time away from Bertie. You’re too emotional right now.’

‘No Patrick.
I can’t—’

‘Don’t you ever stop talking
?’

B
efore I even know what’s happening, Patrick is kissing me. Angrily. His firm lips pressing against mine and his arms locking around my body.

I know I shouldn’t respond to him
, especially after what he just did. But my body has a mind of its own. I just can’t help kissing him back, passionately, urgently, my fingers finding their way into his thick, blond hair.

Patrick
lifts me into his arms, carries me to the bed and lays me down on the mattress.

‘You’re too used to being in charge
, Seraphina. It’s time to let someone else take a turn.’

‘
You want to take charge of me?’ I say, trying to get my breathing under control. ‘Which decade are you from, Patrick?’

‘None of them,’ says Pa
trick.

I’m just about to protest when he leans forwards and
flips me onto my stomach.

52

My face presses into the duvet and I yell a muffled, ‘
Oh!’

‘You’ve met your match
with me,’ says Patrick, placing a heavy hand on my backside. ‘And the sooner you realize that, the better.’

‘Maybe you’ve
met your match with me,’ I say, my words turning soft at the feel of his fingers on my buttocks.

Patrick laughs. ‘Maybe. But
not for long. I’ll have you following orders if it’s the last thing I do. Around this place, it’s for your own safety. Understand?’

‘I couldn’t today
,’ I murmur, so turned on by the teasing weight of his hand. ‘You know I couldn’t.’

‘This isn’t the city
,’ barks Patrick. ‘Make one wrong move out here and there are consequences. I told you not to go into that part of the woods. No matter what.’

I shake my head into the duvet.
‘I couldn’t have left Bertie.’

‘So
you’re saying you’d do it again?’ Patrick’s words are hot and angry.

I swallow
and whisper, ‘Yes.’

‘
Then you haven’t learnt a thing.’ Patrick’s hand closes tightly on my backside, and I let out a low moan. ‘You
will
do what I tell you. Do you understand me?’

‘I
make my own decisions Patrick,’ I murmur. ‘I can take care of myself.’

There’s a hint of laughter in Patrick’s voice now.
‘Keep still.’ I feel the weight of his palm leave my backside.

I fidget against the bedclothes, desperate for him to touch me again, but dammed if I’m going to tell him so.

Whack!

Patrick’s hand comes down hard on my buttocks, and before I can stop myself, I moan deeply into the pillow.

Oh good god, I wasn’t expecting that.

If I’d have known what he was going to do I would have bitten my lip, stuffed my face into the pillow – anything to hide
the fact that his hand slapping my backside just totally, totally turned me on. And I was turned on already, just by being close to him.

‘What do you think you’re doing
?’ I murmur into the pillow.

Whack!

His hand comes down again, and I let out a long moan of pleasure.

God! Ge
t it together Sera! This is all wrong.

Patrick
and I are wrong. His carrying me back to the house like some bloody caveman is wrong. And him smacking my arse without asking me is definitely wrong. But …

‘Don’t do that
again,’ I manage to murmur, my eyes closed, my mouth dry.

‘
Only if you stop pretending you don’t like it,’ Patrick replies, his voice laughing a little. ‘This is just how it’s meant to be. I command, you obey. And if you don’t …’

Whack!

His hand comes down again. Harder this time.

I try to stuff my mouth into the duvet to stop from moaning, but I’m too late and a little ‘Mmm’ sneaks out.

Oh god. He’s a total, sexist pig and yet his words are doing things to my body …

‘I’ve never seen myself as the obeying type …’
I stammer, as the ringing on my backside subsides.

‘Say that agai
n.’ Patrick’s hands yank down my leggings and panties, and he places his hand on my bare backside now. It’s a hand of possession. Of ownership.

M
y mind is saying get the hell away from this man. But my body has other ideas.

I moan again, totally
without meaning to, and feel wetness building between my legs.

Oh god, be quiet Seraphina! You can’t let this caveman know how much he’s getting to you …

‘I’m not the obeying type,’ I say, louder and stronger this time.

WHACK
!

He slaps my backside again, th
is time with such force that the mattress under me wobbles.

‘Oh
god
,’ I moan, shoving my face into the duvet.

He issues three more hard slaps on my backside, one, two, three, and I moan after every one, my legs twitching, my fingers grabbing and squeezing the pillow. Then he pushes my legs apart with one hand and I feel his weight on top of me.

‘Patrick, please—’

He must have loosened himself from his trousers, becaus
e I can feel him, long and hard against my glowing backside, and it’s almost too much to bear.

‘I’m going to fuck you now
,’ Patrick growls, moving himself so I feel his hardness slip between my legs.

I hear a crumpling sound and then the rip of a condom packet.
Then Patrick edges slowly inside of me, little by little.

‘Oh god,’ I cry out. My stinging backside makes me
so desperate for him that I need all of him. Right now. ‘More. Give me more.’

Patrick inches in further.

‘Will you do as you’re told from now on, Seraphina?’ says Patrick, taking my hair and wrapping it around his fist.

‘Oh Patrick. More. Please. I need more.’

Patrick grips my hair tightly and pushes himself all the way inside me, sliding his free hand under my hips and lifting me towards him.

As my backside meets his hips, I cry out with pleasure, and carry on crying out as he rides me back and forth, back and forth, hard and fast, not letting up.

‘God. GOD!’ I cry, gripping the pillow for dear life, feeling my whole body move with his.

Patrick
lets go of my hair, moves his hand under my sweater and shoves my bra up out of the way. Grabbing one of my breasts, he kneads and squeezes as he pumps back and forth into me, and I hear stifled, low animal groans coming from his throat.

The friction and heat building between my legs is unbelievable, and I honestly think I might come, just from hi
m riding me like this. But as everything is feeling soft and amazing, Patrick spins me over again so I’m facing him.

A powerful jolt of passion
passes between us as our eyes meet.

His eyes are primal, unafraid, commanding. A hunter who’s caught his prey. And I’m just falling into
them. There’s no saving me.

Patrick pushes
my legs up so both my feet rest against his firm chest.

T
hen he begins to move again, slow at first, and then with such control and fierceness that I can hardly speak.

His hand finds my clit and his thumb rubs
in circles.

‘Oh god. Oh Patrick. Oh god, oh god.’

He slams into me and I come, crying out with the pleasure of it, melting into his body.

Patrick carries on
moving, his eyes closing a little, his jaw still tight and deadly.

My hands reach up to g
rab at his strong arms, and I cling on for a moment as waves of pleasure wash over me. Then I grab his backside and pull him so deep inside me that there’s nowhere else to go.

Patrick moans, his eyes flick
ering open for a moment, looking almost alarmed. He grabs my backside tight, then thrusts inside me with an almighty moan. I feel him throb inside me, then soften.

Pushing my legs aside, Patrick
pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me so I’m pushed right up against his chest.

I don’t think I’ve ever been held so close or so tight. And he’s still inside me. This feels amazing. Totally, totally amazing.

Maybe we shouldn’t be together. But right now, I can’t do anything other than fall right into Patrick Mansfield’s arms and worship his body, his eyes, his soul … everything.

Oh good god. What have I got myself in to?