Page 3 of Gifted

Chapter Two

~ Poppy Kerrigan ~

Getting left behind on the school trip wasn’t the most brilliant thing I’d ever done. I didn’t care. What did I have to go home to? Unlike my classmates who were busy buying souvenirs for family and friends while they bragged about their plans for the rest of Christmas break, I didn’t have anyone waiting for me.

Poor little orphaned rich girl and all that.

I could have graduated the end of last year, finishing high school in three years rather than four, but school and these people were all I knew. They were the only people in my life. I hadn’t turned eighteen until this month, which had severely limited my options. And, okay, lame as it might sound, I had a massive crush on Mr. Kessler. Noah.

I called him by his first name in my fantasies. Sometimes, though, when I thought about more taboo things—more taboo than sleeping with my trigonometry teacher—I called him Mr. Kessler or even Daddy. Those were the times when I thought about him tying me up and doing whatever he wanted with me. I wanted him. More. I craved him.

And here he was, like the perfect Christmas gift. The snow fell heavily around us, the beam of light we stood in making me feel as if we were in a snow globe and contained in our own little bubble.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath when he pulled out his phone. He immediately shoved it back into his pocket. Probably a good thing since it was snowing so hard.

He looked up at me. “No bars. Let’s see if we can get rooms.” He jerked his head down the street. “The hotel is that way, I think.”

Since the universe was granting wishes, would it be greedy to pray they only had one room available? Or none and we had to scrounge some little corner to huddle into where we had to use body heat to keep warm. No, not that. Frostbite was not sexy.

I startled when he wrapped his gloved hand around my mittened one. I glanced down as he pulled me that way. My red knit with white snowflakes seemed lost in his much bigger gray-wool grasp. Did his large hands indicate something else was sizable. I’d heard talk about certain body parts being of corresponding endowment. Was he long? Girthy? Would I feel as if he were splitting me open?

My teeth sank into my bottom lip as I added fodder to my fantasy bank. Heat flooded through me, and I was far warmer than I should be in the middle of a blizzard.

“Let’s see about rooms, little lamb,” he said at the doorway of the brightly lit hotel. We’d checked out of here hours ago, but I’d seen a bunch of people come off the train earlier when my group had been exploring the town. The lodging was small, which made me concerned for what they might have left. As far as I knew, it was the only one here, too.

I guess we’d find out. I followed Noah into the festive lobby and across the wood floor to the desk that was decked out with evergreen garland and red ribbons.

No one was there, and Noah had to ring the bell.

“Hello, how can I help ya?” the man asked when he emerged through a door behind the reception area, his thick Scottish accent making me happy in a way I couldn’t explain. White bearded with equally white hair, wearing tan corduroy pants and a Christmas sweater—or jumper as I’d heard them called around Britain—he made me think of an off-duty Santa.

“We missed our train, so we got stranded here. We’d like to get a couple rooms.”

The man winced, sucking in air through his teeth. “I’m afraid we don’t got no rooms. Had a group come in today to book us up through the new year.”

Drawing in my bottom lip, I glanced over at Noah. My guilt weighed heavily on me. This was my fault. If I hadn’t gotten caught up in looking at the holiday windows, I would have been on the train. Part of me didn’t feel bad. I was here with Mr. Kessler. The other part of me, the more sensible part of me, regretted my irresponsibility.

“Is there someplace else in town or town nearby where we might find a room?” Noah asked, not seeming as freaked out as I was. All I could envision was the locals finding frozen Americans in the springtime.

The man shook his head. “Next nearest is twenty-five kilometers from here.”

“Fifteen miles isn’t too far. Is there a car rental?”

“Not much call for that ‘round here.”

I would suppose not. It wasn’t a blink and you’ll miss it place, but it didn’t seem big. Colorfully painted houses, a main street with quaint, equally colorful shops, a train station, a medieval castle and a church. That was what we’d seen as tourists. Our guide had said the place had a population of around ten thousand, so I guessed there was a lot more than we had seen.

“Maybe, the church could help us?” I said quietly to Noah.

“When we booked here for last night, there was a hotel not that far away. I think I remember it being about eight miles. It’s cold, but if we bundle up, we could head there,” he told me.

Eight miles? In a blizzard? Was he crazy?

“Naw,” the man at the hotel desk protested. I’d been so caught up in Noah and the problem, I’d almost forgotten him. “Ya can’t do that. Look, why don’t ya head on over to the pub and have a pint? We have a small room that didn’t get redone when the rest of it was. People complained it were a wee small, ken like? Tis, I’ll admit. So we don’t book it. Whilst you have some tea, we’ll get it ready for ya.”

“That would be perfect,” Noah sighed, and I about wilted into him, so relieved not to hike through the storm. I didn’t lean into him, though, since he was my teacher and that would be completely wrong. For right now, anyway. Someday, I’d figure out a way to have him. To be his. Somehow.

He arranged for us to leave our bags there, and Niles, the hotel owner we’d been speaking to, assured us they’d be delivered to our room by the time we returned.

Our room.

Our single small room.

I bit my lip trying to hold back my grin while I thought of it. That could be perfect. Just perfect.

Noah turned to me and held out his hand. “Time for tea, Miss Kerrigan. Let’s see what we can eat—and if I can get some bars on my phone, so I can report in that I have you in hand.”

The breath left me at his heavy-lidded suggestive look. It was gone almost before I could clock it. Did I really see him looking at me as if he could eat me, or was it my hopeful imagination?

I put my hand in his. Whether I saw it or not, one thing was true. We were stuck together until we could get the train to London then fly home.

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