The Ice Seduction (Ice Romance) (14 page)

43

Mrs Calder drops
the lid back on the teapot with a clunk. ‘I have things to attend to. Do excuse me.’

She marches out of the room.

Daphne turns to me, the smile back in her soft brown eyes. ‘I wish I could say Mrs Calder’s bark is worse than her bite,’ she says. ‘But the truth is, Agnes has some power in this castle. For reasons that you may discover over time. Neither Patrick nor I can do much about it.’ She sighs. ‘It’s a shame. Bertie really does seem to like you.’

‘I have no intention of leaving
,’ I say. ‘I want to stay with Bertie for as long as he needs me. Maybe by the end of the week he’ll eat something.’

Daphne
shakes her head sadly. ‘So many of us have tried and failed. Bertie is … a troubled boy. Something happened to him. We think when he stayed with his father – Anise’s first boyfriend.’

Beside me I feel Be
rtie tense up.

‘Bertie, is that true?’
I ask.

Bertie looks at his hands.

‘He won’t talk about anything,’ says Daphne. ‘That’s the trouble. So nobody knows for sure. All we know is that he did talk once. And eat. But now he doesn’t. Here. Have some tea.’

She pours tea from the pot, and mixes in milk and a little sugar. Then she hands me the cup
and saucer.

The door clicks, but I’m so busy wond
ering about Bertie and his past that I barely notice it.

It’s only when
Daphne says, ‘Patrick!
Enchanté
!’ that my head snaps up.

T
he cup and saucer rattle in my fingers.

Oh
good god, what is he doing here?

‘Hello
Mama,’ says Patrick, his eyes locking on mine as he strides into the room. He stands, hands on hips, by the fireplace. ‘So you’ve met Seraphina? I knew you’d manage that, one way or another.’ His lips flick into a little smile.

‘Yes
,’ says Daphne, smiling back. ‘And so far I thoroughly approve.’

I grip my cup and saucer so they stop shaking. ‘Hello Patrick,’ I say, trying to be all formal and professional and in no way think about that kiss
yesterday …

What on earth has Patrick told
Daphne about me?

‘Did you know that Bertie will be shipped off to boarding school at the end of the week?
’ Daphne asks Patrick. ‘Unless he deals with this eating problem of his. Dirk’s idea, of course. But Mrs Calder is happy to go along with it.’

Patrick’s jaw ti
ghtens, and he grips the mantelpiece. ‘That man … he needs dealing with once and for all.’

‘Patrick, no.’ Daphne shakes her head, her eyes going all soft and sad. ‘You
know what will happen. For my sake …’

Patrick frowns. ‘This has gone on too long, Mama.’

‘But what can be done? Nothing. We just have to bear it. And you never know. Maybe Seraphina can get Bertie to eat.’

‘I
’ll try,’ I say. ‘But helping him may take longer than a week. There’s really not much I can do to force things. I just have to keep trying and he’ll eat when he’s ready.’

‘Enough is enough, Mama,’ says Patrick. ‘My father needs dealing with.’

‘No Patrick, please.’ Daphne’s eyes widen. ‘Please. If anything happened to you …’

Patrick sighs. ‘And so we’re back here again.’

Daphne reaches for a spoon and stirs her tea. ‘Yes.’

‘But if I just talked to him …
’ says Patrick, glaring at the fireplace.

‘No.’
Daphne raises a hand. ‘You know how that will end. Threats and god knows what else. Right now, he holds the winning hand.’

Patrick taps the mantelpiece
with a long, athletic finger. ‘Yes. I know.’

Daphne
sighs. ‘Well. I’m going to take Bertie out to the village for a little grandma time. Come on Bertie. It was wonderful to meet you, Seraphina.’

She leaps up with the grace of a much younger woman and takes Bertie’s hand. ‘See you both very soon.’

‘Wait,’ I say. ‘What about Bertie’s lunch?’

Daphne
pats her beige handbag. ‘I have three bags of liquorice in here. I carry them everywhere with me, just for Bertie. You needn’t worry. I’ll bring him back after supper.’

She and Bertie head out of the room.

I feel my heart beat faster.

There’s a weight to the air, now Patrick and I are alone together. A heavy, heavy weight. The room is practically crackling.

‘I … I should go,’ I say, about to stand up.

‘Wait a moment,
’ says Patrick.

‘I
—’

‘There’s something I want to ask you.’

44

My heart beat doubles.

‘Did you like my mo
ther?’ says Patrick.

‘
I … very much,’ I say, my fingers plucking at the flowery patterns on the sofa.

‘I’m glad
,’ says Patrick. ‘And I’m glad you met her. She wanted very much to meet you.’

‘S
he said you’d told her about me,’ I say.

‘Yes,’ says Patri
ck.

‘What did you say?’

‘That I’ve finally met the woman I want to be with.’

My
eyes begin to swim. ‘Patrick, is this some sort of game? You hardly know me.’

Patrick laughs. ‘Have you neve
r heard of instinct? When you know, you know.’

I blush
and get to my feet. ‘Patrick, I should go.’

‘Running
again, Seraphina?’ Patrick takes two strides towards me, and I feel the electricity as his body comes closer.

My mouth has gone dry and my stomach is flipping over and over. ‘I …’

I want to tell him to take pity on me. Because I don’t know how much longer I can be strong. And I need to resist him. Me and the lord of the manor … it can just never be. It’s impossible. But my throat is so tight the words just won’t come out.

‘
You don’t need to speak,’ says Patrick, his voice low. He’s moves nearer, his face inches from mine. ‘You don’t need to say a word. I know what you feel.’

He takes my hands, and
this time I don’t pull away. Then he pulls me towards him so our bodies touch.

I feel like
I’m falling into his eyes.

‘You have to stop running now
,’ Patrick growls. ‘Don’t you understand? You’re meant to be mine.’

‘Pat
-rick,’ I murmur, the word soft and broken. ‘Please.’

In one strong movement, Patrick scoops his hands under my backside and lifts me up, into his body.

‘No more excuses,’ he says.

He wraps my legs around his wa
ist one at a time, and holds me tight to him as he carries me to the sofa and lowers me down. Then he crouches, pushing his body between my legs.

H
is lips find mine, kissing me with such heat and passion that for a moment I don’t know where I am … even who I am.

God.
God
. I feel like I’m burning. Melting. But at the same time, cold little shocks run through my whole body.

I hear myself let out little murmurs and moans
as his hands move to my legs, pulling off my boots, tugging down my leggings and panties, pushing up my skirt.

‘
Wait—’

‘No more waiting,’ he growls.
‘There’s nowhere left to run.’

I feel hi
m freeing himself from his trousers, and gasp as the weight of him presses along my thigh.

God good. Oh sweet Jesus. I need to be strong. I need to be …

His hands push my legs further apart, and I see the glint of a condom packet before he plunges into me so quickly and deeply that I let out a startled cry – somewhere between shock, pain and pleasure.

‘Patrick. Oh Patrick
,’ I murmur, all resistance gone. I can barely think, let alone protest.

He begins to move and I moan.

‘Oh god, oh god.’

He pushes
me hard into the sofa, rocking me back and forth into him, and I melt beneath him.

His eyes a
re locked on mine, and I know he’s right – there’s nowhere left to run right now. I can’t escape him. This had to happen.

And
I don’t want to escape him. I don’t want to be anywhere but here, under Patrick’s huge, strong body.

There’
s no tomorrow. No future. Only now, now, now. All I can feel, think,
breathe
, is Patrick inside me.

My han
ds grasp at his backside, and I let out another long moan as I pull him deeper.

He responds by pumping harder and faster, pulling all the way out, then plunging in over and over ag
ain.

He groans an animal groan with every thrust into my body.

We move together, harder and faster, and I’m overcome with pleasure.

‘
Oh. Oh
,’ I moan, feeling my body being pounded into the sofa.

Just as heat builds up and up, Patrick pulls out.

I feel cool air between my legs and a throbbing, aching feeling that cries out for him to be back inside of me.

‘Don’t stop,’ I cry. ‘Please.’

Patrick flips me over so my face presses right into the sofa, and my backside sticks up in the air.

‘Please Patrick …’

He rubs a rough hand over my buttocks, squeezing and releasing, and then I feel cool air as he steps away.

‘Patrick,’ I moan
, almost panicking. ‘I need you. Don’t stop.
Please …
’

‘Tell me now that you don’t want this,’ says Patrick. ‘And I’ll walk away.’

‘Patrick,’ I beg, still pulsing between my legs. I’m literally aching for him to be back inside me. ‘I do. I do want it.’

‘Maybe in future you’ll reali
ze I know what’s best for you. And take orders a little better.’

I’m just about to protest, when he pulls my legs wide open and plunges so dee
ply inside me that I scream with pleasure.

I clamp down
hard against the cool fabric, my screams turning to stifled moans as he pumps harder and faster.

I feel Patrick pushing
his weight right against my backside so I’m rubbing and rubbing against the sofa. Every few strokes he pulls my legs wider and wider apart, going eye-wateringly deep.

I bite my lip
and moan, my fingers tightening and tightening on the sofa cushions. I’m so near to coming now that I want to scream out. To shout, ‘don’t stop!’ To beg him for more. But all I can do is make muffled moaning sounds as Patrick pounds away.

Patrick picks up my backside
and hips and puts my knees on the sofa so he can get even deeper, then moves a firm hand around to rub my clit.

He does everything
expertly. Like he knows my body so well. Like we’ve had sex a million times before. And within seconds of moving like that, a huge orgasm sweeps over me, going all the way from my shoulders to my toes.

I bite my lip so hard
that I honestly think I might draw blood, and I grab great handfuls of sofa cushion.

I can still feel Patrick moving inside me, and every stroke mak
es my orgasm longer and stronger.

Just as the waves are easing off, I hear Patrick moan and thrust extra hard into me, pulling me onto him, grasping my thighs to his and resting his face on my back.

I feel his chest moving up and down against my back as his breathing slows. He’s grasping my thighs so tight that I know I’ll have red finger marks.

After a few moments of bliss, Patrick
slides free of me, and I roll over to face him, feeling oddly shy all of a sudden.

I p
ush my skirt down and look around for my panties and leggings.

Patrick laugh
s. ‘Whatever you’re trying to hide, I’ve seen it already.’

‘
That’s the trouble,’ I say, reaching down for my panties. ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen. You do realize that, don’t you?’

‘Of course i
t was,’ says Patrick.

‘Maybe once. To get it out of our systems. But …’
My words trail away. ‘I should go.’ I climb into my panties.

Patrick grips my
arm. ‘Go where?’

45

‘Anywh
ere. Away from here. Away from …’ My voice falters.

‘Away from what
?’ says Patrick.

I shake my head at him. There is no answer to that.

Patrick runs a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first moment I met you. And I know you feel the same way about me.’

‘You’re pretty confident
,’ I say, climbing into my leggings. ‘But even if you’re right, how many times do I have to say it? This can never work. I’m here to do a job. Not to have sex with my boss.’

‘Is that what you think this is?’ says Patrick. ‘Just sex?’

‘What would you call it?’ I ask, standing.

Patrick stands with me, his grip still tight on my arm.

‘It was more than that.’

I laug
h. ‘Patrick, you hardly know me. You don’t know anything about me or my life. If you did, you’d run a mile.’

‘
This isn’t about knowing. It’s about feeling. Are you telling me you feel nothing?’

‘I … maybe I feel something, but …
’ I swallow, finding my strength. ‘No. Patrick, what just happened was sex. Nothing more, nothing less.’

‘It was more
.’

‘No
,’ I say, pulling away from him. ‘You have to leave me alone now Patrick. Please. For my sake.
Please
.’

God knows how, but I manage to stumble across the
room, tear the door open and rush out into the corridor. I run down hallways and up stairs until I reach my bedroom.

Once my bedroom door is slammed closed, I pac
e around.

Oh shit, shit, shit.

For a moment, my mind wanders to my motorbike parked up outside.

I could jump on it
and just leave. Get the hell out of here and forget all about Patrick Mansfield.

But I can’t leave Bertie. I know that.

I’m just going to have to bear it. It’s as simple as that.

My body throbs at the
thought of Patrick’s touch, his body, his lips … but what I said to him was true. He and I … no matter how amazing we feel together, this is the real world. And the two of us can never be in the real world.

He’s lord of the manor
and I’m a poor girl from Camden. The only thing that could ever happen between us is throwaway sex. And that’s over and done with.

As I’m pacing my bedro
om, I hear a vehicle outside and watch a battered green Land Rover creep over the gravel.

I see the familiar an
d beautiful shape of Patrick’s broad shoulders in the front seat, and those long, strong fingers tapping the dashboard.

As the car reaches the little lane that leads to the main road, the
engine revs and the Land Rover goes shooting along it, dust flying.

So he’s gone then.
For now.

I wonder where?

Thank god
, I tell myself.

It should be a relief, but … the truth is, I feel a little cold knowing he’s left the castle.

Just be glad he’s left. Be glad that you have some space.