The Ice Seduction (Ice Romance) (6 page)

19

‘Yes, Mrs Calder told me that too,’ I say. ‘But I wouldn’t worry. I don’t even know where the West Tower is right now.’

‘It’s above the main entrance.’

‘Oh.’ My brain starts tick tocking.

Above the main entrance … where I saw that flash of something in the window yesterday …

Patrick walks around the desk, resting one hand on the walnut wood.

‘Ready to be put to the test?’

‘Yes,’ I gulp, feeling my skin sigh at his nearness.

He goes to t
he door and opens it. ‘Ladies first.’

‘Tha
nk you,’ I say, slipping by him. I feel his strong, hard body against my shoulders.

Oh good lord, he’s a dangerous man. He must know
the effect he has on women. Is he toying with me? Does he know that my heart is beating like a rabbit’s?

In the corridor,
I stand a little taller – trying to look all cool and calm. Which is a bit of a joke right now. I’m nothing of the sort, especially when Patrick joins me outside the office.

‘This way,’ says
Patrick, stalking out and away at a fast pace.

I half walk, half run after him, struggling to keep up.

We stop outside a closed door – another office by the looks of things – and Patrick turns to me.

‘
Agnes will take over from here. I—’ Patrick turns to me, his blue-green eyes nearly knocking me over. ‘It’s good that you’re here, Miss Harper. Bertie needs someone strong.’

‘I won’t leave him,’ I say. ‘No matter how tough things get. That’s something you won’t need to worry about with me. The only reason I’d leav
e is … I guess if you asked me to.’

Patrick
’s eyes burn into me. ‘Why would I do that?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Why did all the other nanni
es leave? Didn’t you lose patience with them or something?’

Patrick laughs, and I’m knocked sideways by the handsomeness of his smile, all strong white teeth, square jaw and twinkling eyes.

‘Is that what you think?’

‘I … I guess I sort of assumed …’

‘You think I’d want Bertie to have a different nanny every week?’

I blush. ‘No, I guess not.’

‘The nannies all chose to leave. They couldn’t handle Bertie so they packed their bags.’

‘That won’t be me,’ I say. ‘I don’t leave when things get tough.’

Patrick’s face moves closer to mine, and for a moment, I feel my lips burning.

‘Is that so?
’

Oh shit, shi
t, shit. Stupid body! Blood is rushing all around, from my forehead all the way down my chest. I should step back, but I feel my body pulling towards him.

But m
y god, he’s beautiful. And so commanding.

‘Yes
,’ I manage to say.

Our faces are inches apart now, and my breathing is getting quicker and quicker.

‘Seraphina Harper,’ says Patrick, playing with the words. Trying them out. ‘There’s something …
intoxicating
about you. Do you know that? You’ve been running around my mind since I found you yesterday.’

I can see his strong, thick eyebrows and the little muscular creases either side of his mouth.

‘Intoxicating?’ I whisper. ‘Is that something you say to all the nannies?’

‘No.
’ He reaches out a hand, and runs a knuckle gently down my cheek. ‘I’ve never said that to anybody before.’

My body is in turmoil.
A crazy part of me wants to throw myself into his arms. The sensible part of me wants to run away as fast as I can. This is so dangerous. Our bodies are way too close …

S
uddenly, something like anger burns in my chest.

No way am I falling for the boss. I have a job to do and a little boy who needs me.

I’m stronger than this.

I take a step back.

‘I’m here to do a job, Mr Mansfield,’ I say, my voice as firm as I can manage.

Patrick
doesn’t take his eyes from me. ‘I know,’ he says, his voice going low. ‘And for Bertie’s sake, as well as mine, I’m glad you’re here.’ With that, he stalks away, and I’m left watching his long, strong body bound like down the corridor.

20

It takes me a moment to realize that I’m not breathing.

God damn it! God damn you Patrick Mansfield.

Who on earth do you think you are?
I let out a long breath. I bet he chats up all the nannies. He probably shags them, then ditches them and they leave the castle heartbroken. Maybe that’s why they have such a high staff turnover.

Well not me. I’m not falling for it. Like I said, I’m here to do a job.

I knock firmly on Agnes Calder’s office, and in response the door is pulled open.

Agnes
’s eyes are all red and watery, but her face is stern.

‘Yes?’

‘Mr Mansfield sent me down here. I guess to meet Bertie.’

Mrs Calder gives a little no
d. ‘Come with me.’

Once again, I find myself led down corridor
s, twisting and turning.

Finally, Mrs Calder throws open
a door that leads outside to a little vegetable garden and a patch of lawn, all fenced off from the rest of the castle grounds.

Stiff winter wind whooshes
in, and I hold a hand up to stop snow rushing at my face.

There’s a little boy outside, but he doesn’t seem to notice the snow.
He sits on the snowy ground with a stick in his hand, carving symbols into the freezing white.

His hair is a sort of pale blond colour – but so pale that it
almost has no colour at all. Like his face. His lips are blue, and his eyes are browny-black.

My heart pulls tight when I see him, and the smile I’d plastered on fades away.

Oh my word.

I’ve never seen a little boy look so sa
d. So empty. His face breaks my heart.

He’s wearing a wax jacket, corduroy trousers and wellies, but no gloves.

‘This is Bertie,’ Mrs Calder announces.

Bertie
doesn’t turn when the door opens – it’s as though he’s in a world of his own.

A cold, sad world
.

I guess he must be about five
years old, looking at his face, but his body seems much younger. Kind of malnourished, actually. Like he hasn’t been fed properly. But I guess that can’t be right. I mean, this is a really rich family. Maybe he’s just naturally skinny.

‘Your first task is to give him breakfast
,’ says Mrs Calder, holding the door wide open and ushering me out. ‘And then you’re to keep him busy until he has his home tutoring. Any questions?’

‘I
—’

‘Good.’ Mrs Cal
der moves back into the house. She checks her watch. ‘I’m not expecting great things of you, Miss Harper. In fact, I’m very surprised Patrick let you stay.’

‘Maybe he was thinking that you need a nanny, and I might be
able to do the job,’ I say.

Mrs Calder’s eyes narrow. ‘I’m not sure he was
thinking
at all. You seem to have had … an
effect
on him, judging by this morning. You’re a very pretty girl, Miss Harper. But Patrick Mansfield is spoken for.’

‘Is he?’ I blurt out, wanting to stuff the words back into my mouth as soon as I say them.

‘Indeed he
is
,’ says Mrs Calder. ‘It’s long been expected that he’ll wed my daughter Margaret. Our families have been friends for many years, and Margaret went to one of the best private schools in the country. We’re patiently waiting for him to set the date.’

‘Sounds like a good match,’ I say.

Certainly a better match than
me
and Patrick, at any rate …

I turn to Bertie.
‘Hey Bertie,’ I call out. ‘Nice to meet you.’

The wind whistles, but Bertie doesn’t turn his head. Instead, he carries on digging symbols into the snow, his skinny little fingers all blue.

‘I’ll leave you to get to know each other,’ says Mrs Calder. ‘Bertie doesn’t talk. So I wouldn’t waste your breath speaking to him.’

‘Excuse me
?’

‘Are you deaf as well as inc
apable of getting up on time?’ says Mrs Calder. ‘I said, he doesn’t talk.’

‘He … do you mean he’s mute?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘
Why wasn’t this mentioned before?’ I say. ‘It’s important I know if children have a medical condition. I like to do research. To make sure I know—’

‘Bertie doesn’t have a medical condition,’ Mrs Calder snaps. ‘He
used to talk. He just … stopped one day. So we know he could speak if he wanted to. He just doesn’t.’

‘Why not?’ I ask.

‘We don’t know. No one does. He can read and write. But he refuses to talk. I’ve told you. He’s a difficult boy.’

She slams the door shut, leaving Bertie and
me alone in the cold.

Bloody hell, it’s
freezing
.

Snowflakes settle on my
sweatshirt, and I wrap my arms around myself, shivering.

I watch Bertie for a moment, feeling sadness cloud my heart.

He’s scratching at the ground like he hates it, and his little body looks so skinny and tense.

‘Hi Bertie,’ I say again
. ‘You must be cold out here.’

I move closer
, standing over him. ‘What are you writing out here in the snow? It looks like symbols or something. Do they mean anything? Or are they just patterns?’

Bertie ignores me.

‘I guess you must like maths and things like that. Numbers. That’s what all these symbols remind me of. Like some sort of puzzle.’

He turns to
look up at me then, his eyes sad. There are huge grey circles under them. His black-brown eyes sweep over my face, and he leaps to his feet and throws his skinny little body at me, pushing me away with a force I wouldn’t have guessed he would be capable of.

I tumble
backwards and fall onto my backside, my palms slamming painfully into the snow.

Ouch.

Bertie turns back and carries on digging at the snow.

Rubbing my backside, I get up.

‘I get it,’ I say. ‘You don’t want me here. Why should you? I’m just one more nanny who’s going to reject you a few days down the line.’

I dust my red palms
together, let out a long breath and come towards him again.

Gently, I sit beside him.

I sense his body tense, but he carries on scratching at the snow, ignoring me.

I wait a moment.

Then I
pick up a stick and begin scratching something myself.

Bertie ignores me at first, but as my words take shape, I see his dark eyes flick over to my part of the snow.

When I’m finished writing, I put the stick down and look at him.

He looks at the words I’ve written.

They say:

‘I won’t leave you.’

21

Bertie looks at me – a really long look this time. Then his eyes cloud over, and an ugly frown pulls at his forehead. He leaps to his feet and kicks out the words I’ve written, stamping at them like they’re wasps that just stung him.

H
e turns and charges into the house.

I leap to my feet and run after him.

Okay, so I would have preferred him to jump into my arms. But that was never going to happen. This is one unhappy kid, and that isn’t going to change with a few words in the snow. At least he’s noticed me. That’s a start. Kind of.

‘Bertie.
Bertie
.’

I race after him, along corridors and round corners.

He’s fast, I’ll give him that. Who’d have thought a kid that thin would have so much energy?

My ankle is still a little sore from yesterday, but I’m giving good chase, the tapestries flying out from the walls as I dash past them.

‘Bertie!’ I call.

‘
Miss
Harper!’ I hear the shrill voice of Agnes Calder as I round a corner, and see a struggling, wriggling Bertie held in her bony fingers. ‘
What
do you think you’re doing?’

I stop, out of breath, putting a hand to my chest. ‘Chasing Bertie,’ I say. ‘He ran away.’

I see Mrs Calder’s fingers tighten on Bertie’s arm, and he goes limp and gives up the struggle.

‘He ran away?’ says Mrs Calder. ‘
Already
? You’ve been with him less than five minutes.’

‘
Yes,’ I say, through gritted teeth. ‘But Mrs Calder, the reason he ran away—’

‘Come along with you Bertie,’ says Mrs Calder, dragging him by the arm along the corrid
or. ‘To the great hall. Let’s see if Miss Harper is any less useless at getting you to eat breakfast.’

‘
I forgot to ask, why hasn’t he had breakfast yet?’

Mrs Calder ignores me.

We turn down a few more corridors, and arrive at a grand hall laid out with three long tables.

It looks like a sort of posh can
teen.

On the walls are lots of huge oil paintings. They’re all dark and gloomy looking. I think maybe they’re pictures of the Mansfield family.

There’s one of a tiny old lady with white hair and a small half smile. And another of two young boys on horseback.

I
t really is weird that Bertie hasn’t eaten his breakfast yet. I mean, it’s gone eight and I’m guessing he’s been up for a while.

I decide to try again.
‘So, um. Why hasn’t Bertie eaten yet?’

Mrs Calder raises a thin ey
ebrow. ‘Bertie doesn’t eat. At least, not real food. I don’t force the issue. Not any more. It’s pointless. But for the nanny, well … that’s part of your role. Part of the challenge of looking after Bertie.’

I glance
at Bertie’s thin body and gaunt face. ‘Looking after Bertie won’t be a challenge,’ I say. ‘It will be a pleasure.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ says Mrs Calder. ‘If he’s run away from you within a few minutes of meeting him, I very much doubt you’re going to do any better than the other nannies. In fact, I’d hazard a guess that you’ll do a lot worse. Well. I’ll leave you to try and feed the boy.’

She closes her eyes a little and puts her hand to her forehead. ‘Lord knows I’ve tried to get food down him, but he won’t have it. Bertie has been a bad child ever since he arrived here.’

I put my hands on my hips. ‘There are no bad children,’ I tell her.
‘Only adults who don’t understand them.’

Mrs Calder laughs. ‘
No. Some children are just born bad. Troublesome.’

Oh that does it. Nothing
makes me madder than that whole ‘born bad’ bullshit, and telling Bertie he’s bad and troublesome – when he’s standing right next to us … no wonder the poor little boy is miserable.

‘That’s so not true
,’ I say. ‘Children aren’t born anything. They’re a blank slate. They become who you tell them they are. And if you tell them they’re bad, they’ll act bad.’

I turn to Bertie. ‘B
ut you’re not a bad kid Bertie. I promise you that. There’s no such thing.’

‘Well.’ Mrs Calder pulls her lips into a nasty smile. ‘
It seems we don’t see eye to eye. But it’s no matter. You won’t be here long, anyway.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I say. ‘I’m not like the others. I won’t quit.’

Mrs Calder laughs. ‘Quitting has nothing to do with it. I spoke to Bertie’s grandfather this morning. He’s decided that Bertie will start at a military boarding school at the end of this week. Run by a friend of Bertie’s grandfather’s. So your services won’t be needed as of next Monday.’

My mouth goes dry. Oh no, no
, no. I need this job. But more importantly, this kid needs me. More than any of the others. They can’t pack him off to boarding school. They just can’t. But then Mrs Calder throws me a bone.

‘
That is, of course, unless the boy eats a decent meal before then.’

‘
What?’ I hear a brightness in my voice.

Mrs Calder
nods. ‘The purpose of the boarding school is to beat this spoiled behaviour out of the lad. Get him eating properly before he becomes an embarrassment to the family. So if you can get him eating, I suppose he won’t need to go.’ She laughs. ‘But of course, that’s never going to happen.’

‘Why not?’

‘You really are a very stupid girl, aren’t you Miss Harper? If some of the best doctors and nannies in the country couldn’t get him to eat, what hope do you have? So you may as well get your head around packing your bags next Monday.’

I pull my shoulders back. ‘
I’m not going to pack my bags just yet. I’ve helped plenty of children. You never know. I may help Bertie too.’

Mrs Calder laughs
. ‘Unlikely. He
only
eats milk and liquorice sticks. That’s all he’s eaten in years. A proper meal hasn’t passed his lips in a long time. I must say that I’m
especially
looking forward to throwing you out, Miss Harper.’

With that, she stalks
away.