The Ice Seduction (Ice Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to stop myself from shivering and rest my face on my knees.
    I’m still singing to myself, but even more quietly now.
    Maybe I should lie down in the corridor and try to get some sleep.
    Just as I’m thinking that over, I see something that makes my eyes widen.
    A muddy pair of men’s boots. Right in front of me.
    I rub my eyes. No, I’m not dreaming.
    They’re black army boots with black combat trousers pushed into them.
    I look up and see cargo trousers covered in show, and a trail of icy water down the corridor.
    I hear a man’s voice, deep and fierce with a hint of a Scottish accent.
    ‘ What are you doing down there?’
    The words send shivers all the way down my arms.
    I blink and look up. And up. Oh good god.
    The man towering over me … he’s a mountain – all broad shoulders, strong limbs and a firm jaw.
    And … he’s not wearing a shirt.
    His chest is toned, muscular and tanned, with streaks of mud over his abs and an eagle tattoo on his left collarbone.
    Fucking hell! Why the fuck is he walking around bare-chested like some kind of caveman?
    ‘What happened to your shirt?’ I stammer, then wince at my stupid, embarrassing question. Now he knows I’ve been gawping at his chest.
    The man frowns. ‘I asked you a question first. What are you doing down there?’
    I glance at his long, muscular arm and see he’s holding a snow-wet jumper. I guess he must have taken it off to get dry.
    I blink at his wet sandy -blond hair and the smooth, toned skin of his chest, glowing browny-white under the low castle lights.
    I blink harder and see light brown stubble, a strong nose and hunter’s eyes – blue-green and angry.
    ‘Did n’t you hear me?’ says the man, using his jumper to wipe melted snow from his face. ‘What are you doing down there? It’s freezing.’
    I pull myself up straigh ter against the wall. ‘I … I fell. I’m Seraphina Harper,’ I say, trying not to wince as pain shoots through my ankle. ‘The new nanny. I was … it was …’ But my brain just won’t work.
    H e’s almost too attractive to look at. From his strong face, with its angry, primal eyes, to the flashes of white teeth I can see behind curved pink lips, right down to his huge, toned body, he is just … there are no words.
    There are scars on his face – one through his eyebrow, and another on his cheek. But they’re not usual scars. They look like burns. Shrapnel burns. It gives him a rugged, dangerous look.
    H e watches me, eyes darting over my face.
    Even from down here, I can feel the warmth of his body, and smell a crisp, manly smell that takes my breath away.
    O ur eyes meet and the castle walls seem to shudder.
    We stay staring for a moment, him regarding me angrily.
    I’m unab le to pull away from his glance. But after a moment, I manage to speak, saying in a voice twice as high as usual:
    ‘I … um. So what’s your name?’
    ‘You don’t know ?’ comes the response.
    A little smile pulls at those tough lips.
    When he speaks again, a shudder passes through my whole body, warming me from head to toe.
    ‘ I’m Patrick Mansfield,’ he says. ‘Master of the house.’
     

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    It’s a commanding voice. A voice that’s used to being in charge. He has a slight Scottish accent, but he also sounds English – his words are hard and firm.
    M y eyes accidentally drift back down to his chest, and I think of Wila and her friends, laughing and giggling.
    Patrick Mansfield. A god.
    God is a pretty good description.
    When I manage to tear my eyes away from his huge body and back up to his face, I see he’s still watching me.
    T his is so embarrassing. Not just because he’s gorgeous, and I’m lost for words. But because he’s just found me in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and I asked that stupid question about his shirt and I can’t seem to stop staring at him …
    O h shit, shit, shit.
    Reality hits me like a punch in the stomach.
    This is the man I want to give me a job tomorrow. If he’s looking for