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  THE ICE AROUND MY HEART

  By Marian Tee

  About The Ice Around My Heart

  A young ordinary girl falls for a rich, handsome duke. If this were an ordinary love story, she would have been his bride. Instead, she becomes his mistress.

  In taking the eighteen-year-old Mary Ashton with him to London, Rathe Wellesley - the 5th Duke of Flanders and England’s #1 Heartthrob – knows that his most cherished woman would become the talk of the town for all the wrong reasons.

  Even so, Rathe is unable to keep himself away from her.

  Mary used to think she had the power to change the duke’s outlook on love. But when someone starts spreading lies about her, making Rathe and the whole world believe that she’s too young for him—

  When she looks into Rathe’s eyes now, she fears that no matter what she does, the duke will ultimately choose…to leave her.

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  THE ICE AROUND MY HEART

  By Marian Tee

  Copyright 2015 by Streak Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Even seated at the back of the class, Mary still didn’t feel comfortable, doing her best to slouch as low as possible in her seat. It was utterly imperative she didn’t draw any attention to herself. Right now, most of the girls seemed to be talking about—

  “Did you see the feature on him last night?” The words were spoken in a dreamy tone, which just about everyone used when describing England’s #1 Heartthrob. “He was so beautiful. And the way he didn’t smile at all?”

  “I know what you mean. It’s not like those American men who keep grinning all the time. At least the Duke of Flanders knows when to be dignified.”

  “Good thing he didn’t have that cheap American tramp with him.”

  The gagging sounds and nose wrinkling that followed made Mary slowly cover her face with her notebook. To distract herself, she checked her iPhone, clicking on the CCTV app that Rathe had installed. The application was like being given keys to the Duke of Wellesley’s empire, with access to cameras installed in all his offices and estates around the world, his private jet, and his favorite cars.

  Mary scanned the list of channels in the app, clicking on the one with the most recent activity detected by the camera’s motion sensors.

  A second later, the display showed the enormous bedroom she shared with Rathe, helpless longing filling Mary at the sight of her lover. She could stare at him forever, and she doubted she’d ever lose interest.

  He had just come through the bedroom door and was working on his cuff pins, removing them one by one. Dressed in a sleek dove-grey suit, he looked every inch the powerful, wealthy duke he was – a man so impossibly used to authority he was able to issue commands with a mere lift of his brow.

  Her heart slammed against her chest as Rathe faced the camera, revealing his entire profile. His face was classical in its perfection, his eyes vividly blue, his cheekbones so nobly high it made the duke appear like a sculpture come to life.

  Mary’s throat beg
an to dry as she watched Rathe take off his coat and toss it to the love seat across their bed. The snowy white shirt he wore underneath was of thin silk, emphasizing the well-defined muscles of his arms and chest.

  When Rathe slowly started working on the buttons of his shirt, Mary pressed her legs together, an involuntary reflex as she felt moisture begin to gather between her thighs.

  On her phone, Rathe had released the first two buttons already, revealing a magnificent expanse of chest.

  Xjisdfmweth.

  This was like a private striptease, and the thought turned her mind into mush.

  Around her, the girls were still talking about Rathe, discussing every little thing about him, from the style of his hair to his taste in food. It felt surreal, knowing how all of them would happily give half of their lives just to see him in person.

  And yet here she was, able to see Rathe undress himself in the privacy of his bedroom.

  Their bedroom.

  Her eyes drifted back to her phone, which showed Rathe halfway done in unbuttoning his shirt. Why was it taking so long for him to undress, Mary wondered uneasily. It was as if he really was doing a striptease—

  Her eyes widened.

  A moment later, and she was busily typing on her iPad, sending a message via FaceTime.

  Mary: You know. Don’t you?

  Her eyes moved back to her phone, and she saw Rathe pause before retrieving his phone from his pocket. When his face softened as he read her message, it was like seeing the sun starting to shine, a marble statue becoming flesh and blood.

  That. Smile. Mary swallowed. She didn’t care if his fans seemed to prefer him cold and unsmiling, didn’t care if they thought him as impossibly cool because of his reserve. For her, a smiling Rathe was the most beautiful sight in the world because it was proof he was…happy.

  She almost jumped in her seat when Rathe suddenly looked straight at her through the camera. His gaze burned so brightly, like a blue flame that could penetrate past the distance that separated them.

  She watched him type on his phone, her heart speeding up when she heard her iPad beeping a moment after.

  Rathe: Did you enjoy the show?

  Color stole into her cheeks at the question.

  Gah. So. Wicked.

  Her iPad beeped another time.

  Rathe: Want me to continue?

  She bit her lip in hesitation. The wetness between her legs was answer enough, but it was just so embarrassing—

  Rathe: I won’t continue if you don’t want me to.

  Her gaze strayed back to her phone, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of Rathe smiling ever so wickedly at her, his fingers frozen at the button of his shirt.

  Slowly, her fingers started to move.

  Mary: Yes, I want to.

  Rathe: As you wish, little pearl.

  Mary found herself holding her breath as she watched Rathe toss his phone away, joining his discarded coat on the love seat. His next movements felt extra slower, as if deliberately drawing out every movement, torturing her with anticipation.

  Finally, he was done unbuttoning his shirt completely, and his entire chest was on display.

  Rqejrewibm.

  Mary’s usually stellar vocabulary failed her once more at the sight of Rathe’s muscular form, and the noise her heartbeat made drowned everything else when Rathe walked slowly towards the camera. He crouched down, his face filling the screen.

  I want to see you, he mouthed.

  She hesitated. Through her phone, she saw Rathe already moving towards the bed. When he picked up his iPad from the bedside table, Mary found herself succumbing.

  With a few clicks, both of them were able to see and hear each other.

  Rathe’s smile widened. Hi, he mouthed, aware of the fact that she was still in class.

  Hi, she mouthed back. Before she could say something else, she heard shuffling noises and upon looking up, Mary caught sight of their professor entering the room.

  “I have to go,” she whispered.

  Rathe grimaced.

  Touching her lips, she brought her fingers to the screen, sending him a virtual kiss. “I love—”

  “Oh my God, it’s her!”

  The words had her freezing. A second later, she recovered and quickly turned the displays of both her phone and iPad off, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of Rathe.

  When she glanced up again, everyone was staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and distaste. They would have kept staring if not for the teacher in front clapping her hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

  She really had been foolish, Mary thought, believing that she could finish her three-month course without being recognized. Even though the university was a good three hours away from London, Rathe’s popularity was definitely not to be underestimated.

  As the other students claimed their seats, the innuendos took a nastier turn.

  “I heard she sold her virginity to the Duke, like that girl did before on YouTube. You remember that?”

  “You have it all wrong. It’s her stepfather who clinched the deal. The one she killed in the end because he was asking for too much money?”

  Her fists clenched on her lap.

  Beside her, a wry-sounding voice asked, “Is it true then?”

  Mary turned towards the voice, and found a slender girl staring at her with a raised eyebrow. Pink streaks ran through her boyishly cut hair, and she had about five studs glinting on each ear.

  The other girl asked, “Are you really the Duke of Flanders’ American mistress?” Before Mary could answer, the girl added seriously, “The one they say is a shameless Lolita and the reincarnation of Lizzie Borden, only this time with a Marilyn Monroe figure?”

  All Mary could do was gape. Everyone really thought all that?

  The girl suddenly covered her mouth, muffling her laughter. She said under her breath, “Sorry, I couldn’t resist pulling your leg.” She stuck out her hand under the table, out of view from the other students who were still constantly turning their heads around to look at Mary.

  “I’m Bee, by the way.”

  “Bee?” she repeated uncertainly even as she took the offered hand and felt herself relax at the girl’s genuinely friendly expression.

  “Don’t ask what it’s short for. Seriously.”

  Mary’s lips curved into a small smile. “Okay.” A thought occurred to her, and blushing, she stammered, “O-oh, and I’m…Mary.” Deciding it was best to bring everything out in the open from the start, she added in an awkward mumble, “I really am the duke’s mistress, too.”

  Bee only nodded. “Cool.”

  For a few moments, there was only silence between them, both girls aware of how everyone kept glancing their way – their own professor included.

  As the lecture dragged on, Mary debated whether to say something else. In the end, she did, unable to help it, not wanting her newfound friend to have any mistaken assumptions.

  “Bee?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s n-not like w-what they say, t-though.” She took a deep breath. “T-there’s nothing lewd o-or obscene about us. I d-didn’t choose to be with h-him because of m-money or w-whatever.” Looking at Bee, Mary whispered, “I love him. I’m with him because I love him.”

  ****

  A few miles away, alone in a vast bedroom decorated in understated elegance, Rathe slowly lowered his iPad on the bedside table. The words Mary spoke with such quiet dignity rang in his mind.

  I love him. I’m with him because I love him.

  He quelled the urge to smash something, knowing that unleashing his rage would not help the situation. It wouldn’t make the tabloids stop spreading lies about him, wouldn’t stop the masses from talking trash about the most important woman in his life.

  How could someone so young be so damn strong, Rathe thought bleakly. Even though Mary had switched her iPad’s display off, Rathe had still been able to hear what everyone was saying about them. About her. Even hearing all that, ho
w could she still love him?

  The betrothal ring inside his pocket suddenly weighed like a ton. He had taken it out of the safe the first night they came back to England, but he had never gotten around to giving it to Mary.

  Rathe’s lips twisted.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. The damn truth was, he still wasn’t sure if it was right to tie Mary to him that way.

  His hand slipped inside his pocket, his fingers tightening around the ring. What the fuck was the right thing to do? Chain her to him…or let her go?

  Chapter Two

  Eldrige and Meredith Townsend, the Viscount and Viscountess of Waverly. She closed her eyes, repeating the names and title several times in her mind while trying to commit their faces to memory. Bald guy, woman with a mole on the right cheek.

  Mary moved to the next name, her brows furrowing when she realized how far she still had to go. The sun was setting down, the sky already a dark shade of orange but she was nowhere near to clearing her list halfway. It was unfortunate, the way her mind appeared to have more difficulties remembering the names and titles of the peerage compared to memorizing the periodic table.

  Forcing herself to concentrate, she brought her list up to her eyes.

  Jason and Noreen Adley, the Marquis and Marchioness of Rockwell. Adjusting her glasses, she stared hard at their photos. Tall, lanky guy, tall lanky woman. A match made in heaven.

  She closed her eyes, repeating their names over and over before flipping to the next page. And so it went on, and she was already on the fifth page when the sound of galloping hooves reached her.

  By the time she lifted her head, Rathe was a few feet away, seated astride his favorite stallion.

  Viking was the largest Thoroughbred she had ever seen, but it was the sight of the duke that mesmerized her into speechlessness. She couldn’t help smiling when she observed Rathe’s d oh-so-proper attire for riding, with his white long-sleeved shirt, tan-colored breeches, and field boots. For most men, shirts and jeans would have sufficed. But then, Rathe was not like most men.