by Sk Quinn
‘Stop it!’ I order, squirming a little in my seat. I can feel my cheeks flush, and I’m holding my spoon oddly in mid air.
‘I never was good at following orders,’ says Patrick, sliding his hands around the cut out parts of my boots and rubbing his fingers up and down my skin.
‘I mean it,’ I say, lowering my dessert spoon to the table.
‘So do I,’ says Patrick, looking me straight in the eye.
My stomach flips over.
‘You know what you were saying earlier,’ I say. ‘About times and places …’
‘I remember.’
‘Maybe we should head back.’
‘Excellent idea,’ says Patrick. He holds up his hand to the waiter. ‘Cheque please.’
15
In the limousine, Patrick closes the privacy glass between us and Minnie. He straps me into the leather seat. Then he sits beside me.
When the car starts moving, he says: ‘I didn’t realise how hard it would be. Taking you out in public like that.’
My heart starts to yammer. ‘Why?’
‘I kept wanting to rip your dress off and spread you out over the restaurant table.’
I blush bright red. ‘Patrick!’
‘What? It’s the truth.’
‘You don’t have to be so blunt all the time.’
‘It’s how I’m made. You should know that by now.’
I sigh. ‘Actually, it’s one of the things I love most about you. Most of the time.’
‘Is it indeed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know what I love most about you?’
‘What?’
‘Everything.’
I laugh. ‘You can’t love everything about me. There must be some things you don’t like. What about the way I talk back to you?’
‘Love it.’
‘The sequins I sew on my clothes?’
‘I love everything you wear. I prefer what’s underneath your clothes, though.’
He lifts the skirt of my dress.
I slap his hand. ‘Patrick!’
‘You needn’t worry. We’re driving back down country roads. There’s no way I’m letting you out of your seatbelt. You’re safe from the big, bad wolf. Until I get you back to the castle.’
‘Oh Mr Mansfield. What will you do with me back at the castle?’
‘Tear off all your clothes and have my wicked way with you. I’m not even sure we’ll make it to the bedroom.’
‘Really?’ I raise an eyebrow.
‘It’s a long way between the main entrance and the West Wing.’
16
We don’t make it to the West Wing.
In the entrance way, Patrick pins me to the stone wall and kisses me passionately. Then he flings me around so my palms slap against the wall.
He unzips my dress, kneeling to kiss my bare skin as it’s exposed. Then he pulls the dress from my shoulders so it falls to the floor, pooling around my ankles.
I stand in nothing but underwear, gloves and boots, with my back to Patrick.
My chest heaves up and down.
Patrick stands up behind me, and I feel his hard breathing.
I wait for his next move, the anticipation lifting up the hairs on my neck.
‘I like these gloves,’ he breathes, taking my left hand and tugging at the glove fingers until the glove works free. ‘But they need to go.’
He drops one glove to the floor. He places my hand back up on the stone wall.
‘I like you in this position,’ he says. ‘Very submissive. A wife in training.’
‘Very … funny,’ I say, the words thick and heavy.
‘You think I’m joking?’ Patrick works the other glove free, but I don’t see it drop to the floor.
‘Yes,’ I murmur.
‘Think again.’
I feel a sting on my backside as he whacks me with the glove.
‘Oh!’
Patrick caresses my buttock with his hand. Then he tears my panties down, and I obligingly step out of them.
‘You know a good wife obeys her husband,’ says Patrick.
‘Not this wife,’ I say.
‘Oh no?’ Patrick whacks me again with the glove, and I feel the sharp, pleasant sting on my buttock.
‘Oh.’
Patrick unhooks my bra, and I bring my arms down so he can help me out of it.
‘Put your hands back against the wall,’ he orders. And I do.
‘I never knew obeying could be so much fun,’ I say.
Patrick laughs. ‘I never knew you’d enjoy it so much either.’ He whacks me with the glove again, this time on my right thigh.
‘Oh, Patrick.’ I sink against the wall, my cheek pressing cold stone.
‘Turn around,’ Patrick orders.
I do, and we stand facing each other – me, completely naked except for my boots.
‘You know, I think this is a little unfair,’ I breathe, tearing at his shirt buttons. ‘Me naked and you fully dressed. We should even things up.’
Patrick shrugs off his suit jacket as I undo his shirt. He kisses my neck with force and passion as I reach down to undo his trousers.
Patrick kicks off his shoes as I pull down his trousers and underwear.
Whoa.
I’m face to face with the hugeness of him again.
He’s rock hard, completely ready for action.
Patrick kisses me passionately, forcing me down against the stone staircase, his hands protecting my back.
He pushes my legs roughly open with one strong hand, then forces himself inside me with a long moan.
I gasp at the ferocity of him as he begins to move.
His eyes are hard and set on mine. Determined. Unrelenting.
He pulls my hips up so I rub against him as he moves.
I try to be quiet at first, remembering where we are. Someone could walk in at any minute.
But then I can’t help myself. And I begin to moan, louder and louder as our bodies move together.
Patrick picks up my left thigh so he can get even deeper, and moves faster and faster until the friction is just unbearably good.
I shout out his name and run my fingers into his hair and around his backside, pulling him as close to me as I can.
He watches me sternly the whole time. Eyes cold. Determined.
I feel the coolness of the stone stairs on my body. I barely notice how hard they are as I’m buffeted into them. I’ll have bruises tomorrow. But I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything right now.
Just how good this feels.
I drop my head back and hear myself moan as an orgasm takes over me. It feels SOO good. I know I’m calling out Patrick’s name. And he’s still watching me. But then his head drops forward and his eyes go soft.
He lets out a long moan and says: ‘Seraphina. Seraphina.’
We collapse into each other, my leather boots wrapped around him.
I start to shiver.
‘You’re cold.’ Patrick picks me up and puts his evening jacket around my shoulders.
He carries me up the stairs.
‘Are we just going to leave the rest of our clothes down there?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ says Patrick.
‘Don’t you think that will look a little suspicious?’ I say. ‘That we decided to undress right in the entrance way?’
‘I couldn’t care less what it looks like.’
‘But whoever finds them … they’ll know. Won’t they?’
‘So?’
‘So … I don’t want people to know that we didn’t even make it to the bedroom.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just don’t.’
‘Ah. This embarrassment of yours. Rearing its ugly head again.’
‘It’s not embarrassment,’ I say, clinging to him as we reach the top of the staircase. ‘It’s just common decency.’
‘What’s indecent about having sex? Everyone does it.’
‘Oh the stairs?’
‘Maybe not everyone. But I’m sure plenty of people do.’
‘Well. It’s bad manners leaving clothes on the floor like that for someone else to clear up.’
‘I’ll arrange for the laundry people to collect them tomorrow.’
‘Patrick! From the entrance way?’
‘Look, if it bothers you so much I’ll pick them up myself tomorrow. Okay?’
We’re in the West Wing hallway now, heading towards our bedroom.
‘Not okay,’ I say, squirming around in his arms. ‘Put me down. I’ll go get them.’
‘No you won’t, Miss Harper. I’m not having you running around the castle naked. I’ll get them. Okay? After I’ve put you safely in the bedroom.’
‘So you get to run around the castle naked and I don’t?’ I say with a smile.
‘Absolutely right.’
‘Is it something you do often?’ I ask. ‘Taking your clothes off and parading around the castle? I seem to remember you had your shirt off. The first time we met …’
‘I’m not parading. I like being naked. It’s natural. I’d be naked all day if I could.’
‘I bet you would.’
‘And I’d have you naked too,’ says Patrick, barging open the bedroom door with his shoulder. ‘But you’d have to stay out of sight, of course.’
‘Hang on. Everyone could see you naked but not me?’
‘That’s right.’ Patrick drops me on the bed, taking my boots off and dropping them onto the floor.
‘Ooof!’
‘No one gets to see you naked except me. Ever again. I might even have that written into the wedding vows.’
He throws the duvet over me and kisses my forehead. ‘Wait here. I’ll be back.’
‘Hang on a minute!’ I sit upright, pulling the duvet around my cold body. ‘What about people seeing you naked? If no one can see me naked, then they can’t see you either.’
‘What about the doctor?’
‘What about the doctor seeing me naked?’
‘If it’s a female doctor, I could allow it.’ He winks.
‘Patrick!’
‘I’m joking! Sort of …’
‘Mmmm.’
I sink down into the warm bedclothes, thinking that we’ve probably rowed enough for this evening. This discussion can wait for another day. Besides, maybe he really is joking …
Patrick vanishes, then reappears with an armful of clothes and shoes.
He folds the clothes carefully over a clothes stand, then lines shoes and my boots neatly underneath.
‘Did you learn that in the army?’ I yawn.
‘Yes.’
‘That’s a good skill to have. Being neat and tidy. Maybe I should join the army.’
‘Never,’ says Patrick, jumping into bed beside me and pulling me into his arms. ‘Never, never, never.’
17
In the dark hours of the morning, I’m woken by knocking on the bedroom door.
‘Patrick?’ I murmur.
‘It’s okay,’ Patrick whispers into my hair, his arms pulling me to his bare chest. ‘It’s only Rab. Stay here, okay?’
‘Are you sure it’s Rab?’
‘Positive. I know the way he knocks. Stay in the bedroom.’
I hear the sheets slide around as Patrick jumps out of bed, and I see him dressing in the moonlight.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know yet,’ says Patrick, climbing into cargo trousers. He drops a kiss on my forehead. ‘Stay here.’
I hear the clunk of the door and Rab say: ‘She’s gone sir—’
Then the door slams closed and everything becomes muffled.
My heart begins to beat fast. Who’s gone?
I think of Bertie. All alone down the corridor, and creep out of bed. I dress in the only thing I can find in the dark – Patrick’s red towelling dressing gown. It’s heavy and long enough to trip me over.
Creeping to the door, I listen to make sure Patrick and Rab aren’t still outside.
Yes, yes – I know Patrick told me to stay in the room. But I don’t know what’s going on and Bertie might need me.
I sneak down the dark corridor, seeing the pale grey of dawn spilling from under the doorways.
Bertie’s bedroom door is closed.
I creak it open carefully and hear an alarmed shuffling in Bertie’s bed.
‘Bertie?’ I whisper.
The shuffling stops.
‘It’s only me,’ I say. ‘Sera. I just came to check you’re all right.’
I go and sit beside the bed and see a shivering lump hiding under the duvet.
‘Bertie?’
‘Go way.’
‘It’s just me Bertie. How come you’re awake?’
‘Mummy’s gone,’ says Bertie, his voice high and afraid. ‘She’s gone back to them.’
I put my arms over the duvet lump, trying to give Bertie a cuddle.
‘Shush,’ I say, soothingly. ‘It’s okay. Really. It’s okay. Don’t be scared. Tell me what happened.’
‘Mummy came to my room,’ Bertie whispers. ‘She said I should go with her. But I didn’t want to. She said that she and my daddy would come back for me. Then she left.’
Oh my god.
‘Bertie. Are you sure about this?’
I feel him nod under the duvet. It was a stupid question really. I can tell just from the tone of Bertie’s voice that he’s not lying. Maybe confused. But not lying.
‘Anise came in here?’ I ask him.
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Don’t know. It was dark.’
‘And what did she say?’
‘She said she was going to be with Regan. She said I should come with her. That we should be a family. That Regan would take care of us.’ Bertie’s voice gets louder. ‘But he hurt her! I saw him.’
‘It’s okay Bertie,’ I say, hugging him tighter.
‘They’re going to come and get me!’ says Bertie. ‘And you too! Mummy said so!’
‘No one’s going to get anyone,’ I say, although I feel sick and scared.
‘They will!’ says Bertie.
‘Mummy’s wrong,’ I say. ‘No one is coming to get anyone. And you did the right thing not to go with her.’
‘I don’t want to go back there!’ Bertie says, his voice suddenly a screech.
‘And you won’t have to,’ I say, in a voice calmer than I feel. ‘Listen. It’s hard for me to hear you with that cover over you. Can I take it off?’
I feel the duvet shake as Bertie nods. Then he pulls it back.
I see his pale, little tear-stained face in the moonlight.
‘You’re safe Bertie,’ I say. ‘Patrick will keep us safe. And we’ll find your mummy. And help her.’
If we can.
I stay with Bertie as the dawn breaks and the birds start twittering.
He clings to me and I cling to him.
By the time the sun rises, I have such a crick in my neck I can barely turn my head. But it’s worth it. To have Bertie know I care.
When the whole window is yellow with sunlight, there’s a sturdy knock on the door.
Bertie tenses and grasps at me with his little white fingers.
‘It’s okay Bertie,’ I say. ‘It’s Patrick.’
‘How do you know?’ Bertie asks.
I smile. ‘I just do. Something about the knock.’
The door creaks open and Patrick fills the doorway.
‘My ears seem to be burning,’ he says. ‘I think someone must be talking about me.’
‘Anise came to see Bertie,’ I say.
‘Ah. I was afraid of that.’
Patrick leans against the doorframe. ‘Bertie? We’ll find your mammy. Okay?’
Bertie gives a stiff nod.
‘But Patrick!’ I say. ‘She’s with …’
I don’t want to say the name out loud. In case it frightens Bertie.
‘I know who she’s with,’ says Patrick.
�
�They’re dangerous.’
‘Not as dangerous as me.’
‘There are three of them.’
‘And I have Rab and Grey.’
‘But Patrick … what if Anise doesn’t want to come back? You can’t force her.’
‘I know that,’ says Patrick. ‘But I can try to persuade her.’
‘Please Patrick,’ I say. ‘There has to be another way. What about the police?’
‘It seems pretty clear my father has bought off the police. I don’t trust them. Rab and I will visit Anise. And you will stay put. You and Bertie aren’t to leave the castle.’
‘What about the castle grounds?’
‘No. You stay indoors. Grey will be here.’
‘Oh great.’
‘He’s a good man, Seraphina. He’ll take care of you while I’m gone.’
‘Where has this trust come from all of a sudden? Not long ago you didn’t want me anywhere near him. You even sent him out of the castle so I couldn’t—’
‘We’ve spoken about that. He knows what you mean to me now. I trust him with my life.’ Patrick looks at the floor. ‘And I trust you too. It was … foolishness on my part. The jealousy. I trust you. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘There’s a cinema room near the gym. And Vicky has offered to turn the kitchen over to Bertie. Let him have a hand in baking bread. Plenty to keep you all amused until I get back.’
‘Is Wila awake yet?’ I ask.
‘Yes. She’s having breakfast with Grey.’
I know Patrick said not to worry about Wila and Grey. But I can’t help it. I don’t like the idea of Wila being alone with him. He’s too much of a flirt. Maybe he won’t do anything, but Wila might get the wrong idea. And she’s vulnerable.
‘Come on Bertie,’ I say, tugging him out of bed. ‘We need to go to breakfast. Right now.’
18
I throw Bertie into his clothes, then pull him down to the great hall.
I know I look a sight, dressed in Patrick’s big red dressing gown, tripping over my feet.
But I don’t care.
Wila beams when she sees me. ‘Pheeny! We were just talking about you.’
Grey sits next to her. A little too close for my liking. ‘Very fetching attire, Lady Mansfield. I hope this isn’t a dress rehearsal for the wedding.’
‘Don’t you have friends your own age?’ I ask Grey pointedly.
‘Many of them,’ says Grey. ‘And one very special one, in particular.’ He looks towards the kitchen.
