The Ice Seduction

by Sk Quinn

  ‘Oh, I’m going to come,’ I cry out, wriggling around so I sink down as far onto him as I can manage.

  Patrick moans too, and pushes himself up hard towards me, his eyes flicking closed for a moment, his jaw going firm.

  He moves a hand up to my chin and holds it firm so I can’t look away, his eyes looking so deeply into mine like he’s seeing into my soul.

  ‘I love you, Patrick,’ I hear myself cry. ‘I love you.’

  I come, my body melting into his, waves of warm pleasure washing all over my body, inside and out.

  ‘I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,’ says Patrick, his jaw still tense. He gives one last thrust into me, cries out, ‘God,’ and then I see his face relax and feel his arms come around me.

  ‘I love you too,’ he murmurs.

  He holds me tight against his chest for a moment, both of us breathing hard, in perfect rhythm with each other.

  After a moment, Patrick puts his hands on my shoulders and lifts me a little so I can see his face.

  ‘Stay here with me.’

  ‘Patrick, I’m not going anywhere right now.’

  ‘No. I don’t mean just today. I mean for good. Make this your home.’

  ‘Oh god. That’s a serious question.’ I bite my lip. ‘Patrick … you want me to … are you saying you want me to live here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s … kind of a big deal, don’t you think?’

  ‘No.’ Patrick throws me down on the bed and rolls on top of me. ‘Not to me, it isn’t.’

  ‘But it’s so soon.’

  ‘Why wait? I love you. And you love me. Everything else, we’ll work out.’

  ‘I … need to think.’ I stare up at his handsome, rugged face and those cool, clear eyes that have caught me so many times. ‘There are people I need to talk to.’

  Patrick laughs. ‘Funny. That’s what I thought you’d say. And as chance would have it, I had a text just before you woke up. You have a visitor today.’

  ‘A visitor?’

  ‘Yes. They should be here in time for lunch.’

  I frown at him. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Someone you might like to talk things over with.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

  I sigh. ‘And I guess you won’t stand for any argument about that?’

  ‘You know me all too well.’

  94

  That morning, Bertie and I head out to the woods, while Patrick drives to the city to take care of some legal things to do with his father.

  The more time Bertie and I spend together, the more Bertie talks. He tells me all the different names of trees and birds, and about Just William and his favourite colours. It’s magical to hear him getting his voice back.

  There are still police around the castle and the woods, and ex-army friends of Patrick’s patrolling the place. As Patrick says, better safe than sorry. But Bertie doesn’t seem to notice. His face looks soft and happy, like a great weight has been lifted from him.

  We don’t talk about him maybe testifying against his granddad. That can keep for another day. Today is about happiness and freedom.

  At lunchtime, Anise arrives in the great hall.

  ‘You must be my visitor,’ I say. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  Anise smiles back. Today, her body isn’t rigid. Her shoulders are loose and relaxed.

  ‘Your visitor?’ she asks, raising a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Yes. Patrick said I’d have a visitor today. You texted him this morning, right?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I frown. ‘Then I wonder who did.’

  Bertie looks up at Anise. ‘H-hello mummy,’ he says.

  ‘Bertie.’ She goes to him and hugs him tight. ‘They told me you’d started talking. Your voice is so beautiful. Everything’s going to be different now, Bertie. I promise.’

  She crouches down. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t know … I didn’t know that granddad hurt you. He was controlling all of us. But that’s going to stop now. Please forgive me. Things are going to be different. I promise you.’

  Bertie nods, his eyes going cloudy.

  ‘Oh Bertie.’ There are tears in Anise’s eyes. ‘I’m going to be seeing so much more of you. Okay? Granddad can’t stop me any more. He’s going to a place where he can’t hurt anyone.’

  ‘Okay.’ Bertie nods. They hug again.

  Anise turns to me. ‘Thank you Sera. For everything. Thank you for finding out what was really going on. And for helping Bertie to talk. And finding out my father’s secret. Thank you, thank you.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I smile. ‘I’m just glad to see Bertie so happy.’

  I take a seat on the bench, wondering, if Anise isn’t my visitor, who on earth is.

  We’re just finishing lunch, when I discover who texted Patrick.

  High heels click into the great hall, and I see Sharon, dressed in her usual eighties style – shoulder pads and red fingernails.

  ‘Sharon!’ I call out.

  ‘Sera, babe!’ she replies.

  Sharon must have just had her hair done because it’s even more poufy and brittle than usual.

  In a way, it’s weird seeing her here. I’d kind of forgotten all about London.

  ‘Good to see you Sharon!’ I call out, standing up so I can hug her.

  Sharon shakes me around in a hug, then lets go.

  ‘You’re looking good,’ she says. ‘Healthy. The fresh air up here must agree with you.’

  ‘I guess so,’ I say.

  ‘Anything else agreeing with you?’ she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  I glance at Bertie and Anise. ‘Um …’

  Sharon follows my gaze. ‘We should go for a walk.’

  I turn to Bertie. ‘Bertie, is it okay if I go for a little walk with Sharon? And you stay with your mum?’

  Bertie nods.

  95

  I take Sharon out the front entrance, and we walk along the lawns.

  ‘Wow. Amazing place,’ she says. ‘Oh Christ. My bloody high heels are sinking into this lawn.’ She wobbles around on her red shoes. ‘How have you survived out here? All this countryside? No sushi bars? No markets?’

  I shrug. ‘I guess I’ve kind of gotten used to it.’

  Sharon laughs. ‘Who’d have thought. The city girl getting used to country living. But I’m guessing a certain handsome Mansfield gentleman might have something to do with that?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I feel a smile creep onto my face.

  ‘Come on. Tell. What’s happening? Did you sleep with him?’

  ‘Sharon!’

  ‘That means yes. So. Is he all he’s cracked up to be?’

  I find that I’ve stopped walking.

  ‘I think I love him,’ I admit.

  ‘Oh Christ.’ Sharon grabs onto my arm. ‘Really?’

  I nod.

  ‘Well … I mean, I guess you could do worse. A lot worse. But … do you think this is such a good idea? I mean, he’s your boss for Christ sake.’

  ‘And a lord,’ I say. ‘And rich. And handsome.’

  ‘No need to rub it in,’ says Sharon. ‘Does he feel the same way about you?’

  ‘He’s asked me to live here with him,’ I say.

  ‘Oh holy Jesus.’ Sharon throws red fingernails to her mouth. ‘You’re kidding me? And what did you say?’

  ‘I said I’d think about it.’

  Sharon laughs. ‘What’s there to think about?’

  ‘I’ve got responsibilities in London. Wila—’

  ‘Oh she’s doing just fine,’ says Sharon. ‘I spoke to your brother. She’s top of the class. She asked me to give you tickets, by the way. For her school performance. It’s on this weekend.’

  Sharon rummages in her patent leather handbag. ‘Here.’

  She pulls out two tickets, and I see: ‘Beauty and the Beast, Starring Wila Harper’, embossed in gold letters.

  ‘Wow,’ I say. ‘She’
s starring in the school’s next production? That’s … amazing. She never told me. I’m so proud.’

  ‘You see?’ says Sharon. ‘She’s fine. She’s growing up. But if you do want to come back, I have another job for you. A good one. Good family. They know the Mansfield’s actually. They were impressed you’ve done so well here.’

  I look at the lawn. ‘That’s good to know.’ I sigh. ‘Because I have a feeling that staying here … as far as Patrick and I go, everything will go wrong.’

  ‘But what if it all goes right?’

  Before Sharon leaves, she jams the ballet tickets into my hand.

  ‘Come down and see this, okay? I promised Wila.’

  I smile. ‘Just try and stop me.’

  When I head back to the great hall, Anise and Bertie are still there.

  Anise smiles when I walk in. ‘Bertie and I were talking. We thought we might go on a trip together. With Bertie’s grandma.’

  ‘Oh?’ I say.

  ‘We’ve never taken a holiday before,’ Anise says. ‘My father wouldn’t have allowed it. But now … I guess the world is our oyster. We can do whatever we like.’

  ‘How do you feel about that, Bertie?’ I ask.

  ‘I’d like to,’ he says.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’re going to see Mickey Mouse,’ Anise grins.

  I glance at Anise. ‘Euro Disney?’

  ‘I think he’ll like it.’

  ‘Me too. When are you thinking about going?’

  ‘No time like the present.’

  ‘Today? Are you sure that’s not a little soon?’

  ‘I think maybe Bertie could use a break from this place,’ says Anise. ‘Especially with all the police around.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. How long are you thinking of going for?’

  ‘Not long. Just a few days. And then we’ll come back. And try and work out some sort of normal life for Bertie. With me in it much more.’

  ‘I’m glad about that,’ I say. ‘Very glad.’

  ‘What will you do when we’re gone?’ Anise asks.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I say truthfully. ‘I guess I’ll just have to figure that one out.’

  96

  Bertie and Anise drive to the airport in a hired limo, and I wave them off from the castle entrance.

  As I’m waving, I feel a heavy, familiar hand around my waist, and my body gives a happy, shivery response.

  ‘Patrick,’ I say, without turning around.

  ‘I take it your other visitor has been and gone too,’ he says, his voice a low whisper in my ear.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Did she convince you to go back to London?’

  I smile. ‘She wanted me to stay here. With you. She thought I’d be mad to go back.’

  ‘She sounds like a clever woman.’

  ‘Maybe.’ I feel in my pocket for the ballet tickets. ‘She gave me these. Wila is performing this weekend. I thought maybe, since Bertie is away, I might go back and see her.’

  ‘And am I invited on this trip?’ Patrick asks.

  ‘Would you even want to come?’

  ‘Of course I would. I told you. I want to meet your family.’

  ‘As long as it’s just my sister …’

  A dimple appears in one of Patrick’s cheeks. ‘So kind of you to let me tag along.’

  I laugh. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. It’s just … you meeting my sister. I’m nervous. Her opinion is important to me.’

  ‘Then it’s especially important I’m there,’ says Patrick, his lips dropping to my neck.

  Patrick books us a private train carriage to London, and the nearer we get to the big city, the more nervous I feel.

  It’s so weird having him beside me, all handsome in his tuxedo, his tough, toned body fitting the cut perfectly and his blond hair combed back behind his ears. He’s shaved, and the white scar on his cheek looks especially bright and jagged today.

  I’m wearing the smartest thing I own – a bright red dress with silver birds that I’ve sewn on myself. I’ve teamed it with my usual cowboy boots and a denim jacket.

  Patrick squeezes my hand as the train rumbles to a stop.

  ‘Nervous?’ he asks.

  ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘I can just tell.’

  I smile. ‘I can’t hide anything from you, can I?’

  ‘No. You can’t. So don’t even try.’ Patrick squeezes my hand tighter.

  At the theatre, I feel more nervous than ever. Even though it’s an amateur performance, I still want Wila to do well. And of course, having Patrick next to me makes everything even more nerve-racking.

  Everyone stares at us as we come into the auditorium, and a few people even take pictures. I guess they know who Patrick is, and are wondering who on earth his date is.

  We take our seats, and Patrick holds my hand so tight that I forget about everything except the two of us. At least, until Wila comes on stage.

  Wow.

  She does the most amazing performance. Just amazing. I mean, she’s always been good, but I can see how much she’s improved this year. She was born to be the lead.

  There’s a standing ovation when the performance is finished. Then an usher comes over to invite Patrick and me backstage.

  97

  We meet Wila outside the dressing rooms in a wide corridor stuffed with sofas and easy chairs.

  She’s changed into jeans and a loose jumper, and is glowing with happiness. With her pale little elfin face and her blonde hair swept into a tight bun, she’s as cute as ever.

  Sitting on the sofas and chairs are other ballerinas from Wila’s school, and an older lady who I guess is one of her teachers.

  The girls are staring at Patrick with big flirty eyes, giggling and nudging each other. The teacher is watching Patrick too, I guess trying to size up what he’s doing here.

  Wila and I run towards each other and into a hug.

  I pick her up and spin her around. ‘Lala, you were amazing. Just amazing. I’m so proud of you. I’ve missed you so much.’

  I put her down, and we smile at each other. Then she glances at Patrick.

  ‘Oh.’ I turn to Patrick. ‘This is … I mean … Patrick Mansfield, meet my little sister Wila.’

  Wila smiles and does a little curtsy before shaking Patrick’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you Lord Mansfield.’

  ‘Um … Patrick is here with me,’ I explain.

  ‘As her date,’ says Patrick.

  Wila’s eyes widen. ‘You’re my big sister’s date?’

  Behind Wila, I see the other girls start to giggle and nudge each other.

  ‘Yes,’ says Patrick, lowering his body so he’s at Wila’s height. ‘And I’m very honoured to meet the star of the show. You, young lady, were amazing.’

  Wila blushes. ‘Thank you.’

  Patrick stands tall. ‘May I take you two ladies out for dinner to celebrate a fantastic performance?’

  Wila squeals. ‘Yes please!’

  I smile, my eyes going soft. ‘Sounds great.’

  I feel Wila’s school friends watching us as we leave the backstage area, and Wila can’t stop giggling.

  ‘Sera’s date,’ Wila says over and over again as we walk through the auditorium.

  When we reach the box office, I’m just sliding on my jacket when something stops me dead in my tracks.

  ‘Oh god.’ I freeze, my arm half in a sleeve.

  Right ahead are the Carmichaels.

  What on earth are they doing here?

  And then I remember.

  Helen Carmichael’s niece goes to Wila’s school.

  Helen looks as beautiful as ever in a long, sweeping pink gown.

  Mr Carmichael looks short and piggy, in a suit that’s probably really expensive but doesn’t fit him well. His watery little eyes roam around the box office area.

  He and Helen aren’t ho
lding hands. In fact, the way they’re standing, you’d think they were two strangers.

  Just as I’m trying to force my arm down my jacket sleeve, Mr Carmichael spots me.

  He blinks in surprise, then turns to Helen and whispers something in her ear. They both turn and move towards the door.

  I’m not having that.

  I drop Patrick’s hand and march over to Mr Carmichael, tapping him hard on the shoulder.

  He stops walking and turns, pretending to look surprised when he sees me.

  ‘Oh, um … Sera,’ he says, his feet shuffling. ‘Fancy seeing you here. We were just leaving.’

  Helen Carmichael turns too. ‘Sera!’ Her face lights up. ‘It’s good to see you.’ She glances at Mr Carmichael and hisses, ‘You never said that’s why we were leaving.’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to the girls since I left,’ I say. ‘The new nanny always makes excuses. I’d like to tell them that I still care about them. That I didn’t want to leave.’

  ‘I …’ Mr Carmichael’s mouth opens and closes.

  Helen pushes her lips together. ‘Oh, Gregory. Come on. She cares about the girls.’

  ‘No. I don’t think—’ Mr Carmichael’s gaze lifts, and his mouth drops open.

  I feel Patrick’s great height and bulk beside me.

  ‘Gregory Carmichael?’ Patrick growls.

  ‘I … Lord Mansfield.’ Mr Carmichael gives a little bow. ‘To what do I owe this honour? A pleasure to meet you, sir. A pleasure.’

  ‘I wish I could say the same about you,’ says Patrick, his voice low. He takes my hand.

  Mr Carmichael glances at Patrick’s hand holding mine, and I can see the cogs turning. He realizes that Patrick is with me.

  ‘I … it wasn’t … whatever she said, it’s not true …’ says Mr Carmichael.

  ‘Seraphina hasn’t told me a thing about you,’ says Patrick. ‘But her agent has told me plenty. Especially about why Seraphina left your employment.’

  ‘Sharon Manning? I wouldn’t take the word of a woman like that.’

  ‘The words of a guilty man,’ says Patrick. ‘Seraphina wants to stay in touch with your children. She cares about them. Your wife has no objections. So I don’t expect you to stand in her way.’