The Ice Seduction (Ice Romance) (25 page)

82

I manage to turn my head to face Margaret. ‘Are you Anise’s mother?’ I say.

Mrs Calder’s eyes widen, and she kneels down and slaps me hard around the face.

I bite my teeth together. The slap makes my head spin and my ears ring.

I shake
the slap away. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? Margaret is Anise’s mother.’

‘Who told you?’ Agnes hisses.

‘Bertie,’ I say slowly. ‘He knows. Doesn’t he? That you’re Anise’s mother.’

‘Yes he does, the little ear
wigger,’ says Margaret. ‘He listened in to a conversation he shouldn’t. When he was staying with his granddad. But nobody can know. So Dirk had to do something to stop him talking.’

‘A simple matter of punishment and reward,’ smirks Mrs Calde
r. ‘If Bertie was silent, he was allowed food. If not, Dirk beat him and didn’t allow him to eat. Or threatened him with poisoned food. I suppose somehow, when he left Dirk’s care, Bertie learned to trust only liquorice and milk. Who knows why.’

‘Why is it such a big secret?’ I say. And then the penny drops. If Anise is twenty
-one years old, that would make Margaret
very
young when Dirk slept with her. Very, very young. Like thirteen.

I turn to Mrs Calder. ‘Did you know about it when it was going on? That
Dirk Mansfield had sex with your underage daughter?’

‘I arranged their
meetings,’ says Mrs Calder. ‘In a hotel near here. It was for the good of our family.’

‘
Margaret, what happened to you … it’s awful,’ I say. ‘You were too young to know what was going on. You can still press charges …’

Margaret
looks at me then, her eyes clouding over. ‘We all agreed to it,’ she says. ‘It was a business arrangement.’

‘And it set us up for life,’ says Mrs Calder, fold
ing her arms. ‘When Margaret’s father died, we had nothing. No hopes. No prospects. And now I have a place at this castle for the rest of my life.’

‘And I’ll get Patrick,
’ says Margaret. ‘Finally. When
you’re
out of the way.’

Mrs Calder checks her blac
k leather wristwatch. ‘We should go. We don’t want to be caught in the crossfire.’

‘Yes
,’ says Margaret.

‘Wait!’ I
shout. ‘Please. You don’t have to do this. You don’t want this on your conscience.’

Mrs Calder looks over her shoulder and laughs. ‘Consci
ence? It’s a dog eat dog world. Eat or be eaten. It’ll be quick. Just be thankful for that.’

‘What if you get caught?’ I say
. ‘It’s just not worth it.’

‘We won’t be caught,’ says
Margaret. ‘Mother and I thought it through very carefully. You’ll be disposed of, and Bertie will be sent back to his grandfather’s.’

Oh my god.

‘No!’ I call, finding more strength in my throat. ‘Please, no. Dirk tortured him.’

‘So he’d learn not to talk,’ says Mrs Calder.
‘You needn’t sound so upset about it. The lad shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. It was all his own fault. And now it’s time for him to go back to his grandfather’s. This eating business has unsettled us all. If things go on this way he’ll be talking next. It’s made us think that Bertie needs to relearn a few things.’

‘God.
You are disgusting people. All of you.’ A bolt of sickness hits my stomach.

‘The secret has to be kept,’ says Mrs Calder. ‘And if that means Bertie has to suffer a little more, then so be it.’

I struggle to sit up, but my body just won’t do it. ‘No!’ I scream. ‘You can’t. Please. Don’t do this …’

‘It’s too late,’ says Mrs Calder, turning away.
‘Plans have been laid. There’s nothing you can do.’ She turns to Margaret. ‘We should go now. He’ll be here soon.’

Mrs Calder and
Margaret walk away.

I turn my head to one s
ide and throw up onto the ground.

83

As dusk
falls, I get colder and colder.

M
y body aches against the freezing ground.

The snow carries on falling, and soon I’m covered
in it – a white snow woman shivering on the ground.

I try t
o move, but I just can’t get my muscles to work. It’s like having one of those dreams, where you try to run away, but you can’t move. But this isn’t a dream. It’s real.

I think about Bertie, all a
lone – and if they find him, god knows what will happen. Then my body is shivering so badly that I’m sick again.

Oh god. Please god, help him. Don’
t let anything bad happen to Bertie.

I try to send a telepathic message to Patrick.

Find Bertie. He needs your help

And then
I hear something – the sound of someone moving through trees.

Oh my god.

It’s not Patrick. Patrick moves so lightly in these woods that he hardly makes a sound. No, it’s somebody else. A man.

My whole body feels numb with fear, and I try again t
o push myself up, but I flop back to the ground.

Shivering, te
eth chattering, I manage to move myself around so I can at least see who’s coming. But then, I wish I hadn’t.

The man coming through the trees is short and wiry – sort of young, but with a face that looks like it’s seen lots of things. Bad things. He wears a dirty baseball cap, a puffy nylon coat and has a rifle under his arm.

I guess this must be Hawk Turner.

The moon lights up his narrow, mean-looking eyes as they scan the trees and the ground.

He sto
ps and his eyes drift down to where I lay.

‘There you are,’ he says, taking off his baseball
cap and whacking it against his arm to beat off the snow. He drops the cap back on his head, and crouches down beside me.

‘They didn’t mention how pretty you were.’

He dusts the snow from my face and hair and gives me a horrid wonky smile. ‘I can see why she wants to get rid of you.’ His hand moves down and dusts snow from my legs.

I shiver and tense up.

‘Don’t do this,’ I say, my voice all gargley and afraid. ‘If you get caught, you’ll be in a lot of trouble.’

‘Who’s going to catch me out h
ere, do you think?’ says Hawk.

‘P
atrick,’ I say.

Hawk
laughs and lays his rifle on the ground. ‘He left for London hours ago. I saw his Land Rover. It’s just you and me. The two of us.’

His hands
go to my waist.

84

I try to twi
st and turn my body, but Hawk’s hands lock firm against my waist and hold me down.

‘What are you doing?’ I scream.

‘May as well have a little fun before the big event,’ says Hawk. ‘I mean, who are you going to tell, once you’re dead?’

‘Get off me.’

‘Keep still and it won’t hurt so much. You might even enjoy it.’

‘Get … off me,’ I say, as loud as I can.

‘Or else what?’ Hawk says, his fingers stroking back and forth.

‘GET AWAY FROM HER!’

Oh my god.

I’d know that voice anywhere.

Patrick.

A
flock of birds takes off from the trees.

I try to turn my head.

‘I said get away from her!’ Patrick booms, stalking into the clearing.

Hawk
falls backwards, stumbling over his feet. He picks up his rifle and takes aim, but Patrick is quicker.

Patrick fires at Hawk
’s chest, and with a mighty CRACK! the poacher goes flying backwards.

He falls
a few feet away, smoke twirling off his chest in the silvery moonlight.

Patrick crunches across the
ground and stands over him.

‘
Look away, Sera,’ says Patrick.

‘Patrick
—’

‘Look away
.’

BANG! I he
ar a rifle fire, then smell smoke and something else – like metal.

‘Is he dead?’ I
whisper, squeezing my eyes shut.

I hear Patrick walk
back towards me and crouch down.

‘Probably
,’ he says.

I let my eyes flutter open, and find myself staring into Patrick’s beautiful eyes, all silver and icy in the moonlight.

His rifle rests over his thighs. I notice deer carved onto its silver handle.

‘How did you find me
?’ I ask.

‘Call it hunter’s instinct
,’ says Patrick, sliding his rifle into the holder on his back.

‘Meaning?’

‘We need to get you warmed up,’ says Patrick, struggling out of his green hunting jacket. He pulls me up and wraps the jacket around me. I shiver and shake against him. Then he lifts me into his arms.

‘Bertie …
’ I say, my words all wobbly, tears swelling around my eyes. ‘He ran away. Mrs Calder and Margaret are looking for him. If they find him, they’ll take him to your father’s house. Your father hurts him, Patrick. So he won’t talk. So he wouldn’t tell his secret.’

I se
e Patrick’s jaw tighten. ‘What secret?’

‘That your sister’s mother isn’t
really dead. She’s Margaret Calder. Your father slept with her when she was just thirteen, and Anise was the result.’

Patrick stands
up, lifting me with him. ‘God.’ He frowns in disgust. ‘I’ll kill him. But first things first. I need to find Bertie.’

He begins striding through the trees
, carrying me in his arms.

‘He … tried to keep Bertie quiet,’ I stammer. ‘Your father did. He
starved him so he’d stop talking.’

Patrick grips me tighter.
‘I’ll kill him. I’ll
kill
him.’

‘We hav
e to find Bertie,’ I say.

‘
You
are not finding anyone,’ says Patrick, hopping over the uneven ground, with me bumping around in his arms. ‘I’m taking you somewhere safe, and then I’ll go find him.’

‘Please, Patrick. Let me come with yo
u. He must be so frightened. He needs me.’

Patrick doesn’t say anything for a moment, and the only sound is the
soft crunch of his feet over the forest floor.

‘
No,’ he says eventually. ‘It’s too dangerous. I’ll find Bertie. You’re going somewhere safe.’

‘What if … they’ve already taken
him to his grandfather’s?’ I say, my words choking with tears.

85

‘They haven’t,’ says Patrick.

‘How do you know
?’

‘There were no fresh car tracks when I arrived back.
Or footprints. Nothing to indicate that anyone has been or gone.’

‘They told me you’d gone to London.’

‘I did. But I got a feeling on the way. Like I said. Hunter’s instinct. So I turned back.’

‘But how did you know I was in the woods
?’

‘I tracked you.’

‘The snow covered everything …’

‘I’ve known these woods a long time,’ says Patrick. ‘I
know how things should look and when they aren’t right. When a leaf is pointing the wrong way, or the wildlife have been startled.’

‘I’m glad you found
me,’ I say, with a weak smile.

‘So am I.’

As Patrick carries me across the lawn, I feel blood returning to parts of my body, and my muscles feel lighter.

‘I think the sedative is wearing off,’ I tell him.

‘It should do. In the next hour or so. Was it Agnes Calder who drugged you?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘T
hen she and Margaret carried me into the woods.’ I notice that Patrick is carrying me around the castle, to where the cars are parked. ‘Patrick, where are we going?’

‘
I told you. I’m taking you somewhere safe. You’re going to stay in my Land Rover until I’ve found Bertie.’

‘
But … I can help you. I know Bertie. I know where he might hide.’

‘Seraphina
—’

‘Please Patrick.’

‘You’re staying in the car with the doors locked,’ says Patrick. ‘For once in your life, do as you’re told.’

He strides to his green
Land Rover and slides a key fob from his pocket. Then he clicks the lock, opens the door and lays me carefully on the back seat. He takes a tartan blanket from the floor and pulls it over me. Then he slots the key fob in the ignition and turns the heater on.

Warm air begins to swirl around the car.

‘Stay here,’ he whispers. ‘When I close the door, the car will be locked. I’ll be back soon. It’s dark out here. No one will see you. But if anyone comes, beep the horn and flash the lights, and I’ll be out in seconds.’

He
kisses me on the lips and lays a hand on my cheek. ‘I’ll be back,’ he says, slamming the car door closed.