Oxford Shadows (6 page)

He checked the time on his limited edition Omega. “Monty should have packed by now. It’s not as if he can take a lot with him to jai—where he goes. I’d better be off.” He stood and grabbed his jacket.

A shadow had spread over Rupert’s face. Madison knew what he was thinking. When would Monty be back? Would he return to Oxford once he had finished his sentence? Monty was the brother Rupert had never had. She jumped to her feet and pressed herself into his arms. He welcomed her within his embrace, and his head rested over hers.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered against the cotton of his shirt. For the first time they would be apart and a core part of his support system would vanish.

“I’m off, too.” Ollie was standing beside them. The dark under his eyes was now more pronounced, while his mouth had the bitter twist Madison kept trying but failing to erase.

“I’m coming with you,” she offered.

Ollie shook his head as one of his trademark curls fell over his forehead. “I need some time on my own.”

Madison hid her disappointment with a flat “Okay.” Rupert squeezed her hand to soften the blow Ollie’s indifference had caused, and she faked an improvement in her mood by perking up her voice. “I’ll knock at your door when I’m back and tuck you up in bed.”

“Sure.” Ollie headed toward the exit and dived back into his own little grieving world.

“It’s going to take time, Maddie.” Rupert dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.

Before he could stand up straight, she had taken hold of his shirt collar and clung to him. She wanted to keep him with her longer, even for a few minutes. His hands cupped her cheeks as he always did to strengthen his words.

“I’ll help with Ollie. Between the two of us, he’ll get back to full-on geek mode. I promise you. Can we see each other tonight?” Rupert asked.

“I can’t. I have to finish my paper for a tutorial tomorrow. Medieval art and feminism.”

Rupert faked a shudder of fright. “Oh dear.”

“You go to Monty. I’ll give Ollie thirty minutes, then I’ll check on him back at Christ Church.”

His gaze lingered on her, testing the truth in her smile. Satisfied, he parted with one last kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the cricket.”

Madison’s shoulders dropped a couple of notches when she found herself alone in the middle of the laughing pub crowd. Her skin tingled when she felt the eyes of the girl Rupert had talked to in the courtyard. She was giving an order, her massive boobs spilling out of her cleavage all over the bar.
Gross.

Slapping the burning jealousy back into control, Madison lifted her chin. She wouldn’t let the herds of sluts who would happily toss her into hell to sleep with Rupert slide under her skin. No paranoia here. Not. At. All.

The girl turned her focus back to her drink and Sam’s arms delivering it. Madison couldn’t see her face but registered her hungry grin and her silent “Yummy” squeals.

Sam was a dark and dangerous male package. His testosterone-filled stare and wicked grin moved over Cleavage Girl and targeted Madison. He gestured for her to join him at the bar. She took a step forward, but hesitated. Rupert didn’t like the guy. But Rupert couldn’t stand any guy coming within a yard of her, period. Correction, comma:
except
Ollie. But Sam had saved her butt big time two days before. She owed him a chat and another thank-you. Besides, in her heart and in her head, she knew Rupert had nothing to be jealous about. She was his.

“Wanna taste some of that bourbon?” Sam pointed toward the bottles lined up next to the crowded rows of Scotch. “On the house.”

Madison climbed onto the bar stool and supported herself with her elbow to screen the collection lining up on the other side of the galley. The brands were all familiar. God knew she had served enough of those when working—under-aged—at Le Perroquet, her mother’s honkytonk.

“Southern Comfort will do just fine.” Her choice dripped with homesickness.

“With this wet-cat face of yours, a double shot is what you need.”

On her right, the girl with the big boobs released a bitter sigh before strutting away, her curvy bottom swaggering through the recently arrived cricket team.

“Fraternizing with English girls, huh?”

“They’re friendly enough.”

Sam poured out the Southern Comfort and handed it to Madison. She knew girls would be friendly toward Sam, wherever they came from. His gaze escaped to the pretty blond who served behind the bar with him. Cassie. Madison had talked to the girl before. Cassie was from Kansas, very nice … and she was totally ignoring Sam.

Throwing her head back, Madison knocked down half of the drink, shut her eyes, and let the soft burning heal … and comfort. Cleanse and repeat. When the therapy session was over, she reopened her eyes and met Sam’s dark brown ones.

“Better?”

“Much, much better.” A giggle betrayed her alcohol-induced good mood.

“You didn’t tell your boyfriend about what happened the other night.”

His statement cancelled the benefits of the drink, and the last gulp of bourbon got stuck mid-throat. She swallowed and coughed. “I don’t want to worry him for nothing. No damage done.”

Sam refilled her glass. “You’re pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Do you often get attacked in dark alleys?” The weight of his gaze on her contrasted with the teasing tone in his voice.

“You have no idea, my friend.” She exhaled, and her whole body deflated over the bar.

White-trash rapist in the Louisiana swamp, cloaked figure in the Oxford night, her best friend in a goddamned crypt … The thugs after the dinner at the Randolph would make the list only one item longer.

A sexy laugh burst from behind her, grabbing her heart and twisting it. Madison swiveled on the bar stool; hope awakening the part of her heart she thought had died with Pippa. The rush of excitement crashed when she saw the girl who had laughed. No flaming red hair, no curvaceous hips and boobs. No Philippa Connelly. Pippa was very much dead. With a downcast gaze, Madison turned back to face the bar. A knot of guilt tightened in the pit of her stomach.

With a gentle push from the tips of his fingers, Sam delivered her another remedy. Madison grabbed the glass and killed it in one straight swallow.

“Good heavenly days.” She shook her head to diffuse the rush of alcohol that was shooting through her veins.

“Go easy on it, Pumpkin.”

The bittersweet taste of nostalgia replaced the sour tang of the liquor.

“Let’s notch it up in a way that won’t have you puking all night.” Sam headed toward the stereo system, perused a pile of CDs, picked one, and slid it through the panel. Dolly Parton’s voice exploded throughout the pub, her childlike and effervescent tone causing the crowd to pause momentarily.

Sam lowered the volume and returned to Madison. “‘Tennessee Mountain Home.’ Close enough to Louisiana, hey?”

His gaze warmed Madison up, and she let a grateful smile break through her gloomy expression. “Thank you.” What she really meant was:
I’m so glad I met you.

He gave her a fake military salute. “You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.”

After humming along with the song, Madison warned, “A piece of advice though: if you want to attract girls your own age you should reconsider your choice of music.”

Sam threw his head back and let out an all-male laugh. “Thanks for the advice, buddy.”

The drawl in his words eased some of the tension that had been pent up inside Madison since the concert at Christ Church Cathedral.

8

RUPERT HIT THE HARD leather cricket ball and it raced through the outfield. He and Monty managed to make three more runs. Rupert faced the next ball and smashed it through a gap in the field, then watched it cross the boundary at great speed to bring them victory. The applause of the crowd drowned the cheers of the winning side. The half-day was over.

Rupert took off his batting gloves and tightened his hand into a winning fist. Monty’s last day of freedom would end with a victory. Mission accomplished. Still, worries for his friend tempered any satisfaction he derived from one of his best batting performances.

“You were on fire, man.” Monty slapped Rupert on the back in congratulations.

“I wasn’t bad at all, I must say.”

They crossed the rectangular field toward the back of Blenheim Palace. A short ride from Oxford, Blenheim was the seat of the dukes of Marlborough and the birthplace of Winston Churchill. It made Magway Manor, the Vance family estate, look like a country cottage. But Rupert had never been a fan of Blenheim; to him, the palace looked like a mausoleum.

“Well done,” Madison called.

She was strutting in their direction, a glass of Pimm’s in her right hand. She was celebrating the sunny day with a dress Rupert had seen her wearing in Pierre Part during mid-term. A dress he had lifted in one of the scarce intimate moments they had shared away from her family. Shutting his eyes, he killed the lust building up inside him. He hadn’t touched Madison since the brief fumble before the concert at Christ Church, and this three-day drought was the longest he could survive without sex with her. Planting a kiss on her lips, he tasted the minty flavor left by the Pimm’s.

“I still can’t understand the rules, but it looks like you gave the other team a good ol’ thrashing.” Her arm circled Rupert’s waist, and she leaned against him. “You both look irresistible in your whites. This game makes baseball look so—”

“American.” There was no jesting to Monty’s tone. The word had fallen sharp and humorless.

The crease between her eyebrows showed Madison hadn’t missed the nuance. “You guys deserve a cold drink. They have some lemonade in the marquee. I’ll go and get some for you.”

She slid away, while Rupert appreciated the swaggering of her hips.

“Nice ass she has,” Monty commented while staring in the same direction as Rupert.

Rupert’s grip on his cricket bat tightened. Anyone else but Monty and the bat would have flown straight into the moron’s head. “I’m lucky,” he managed to answer instead.
Monty’s last day, Monty’s last day,
he repeated silently, like a mantra.

“Not really Hugo Vance’s idea of a suitable match, though.”

“Since when are you in my father’s confidence?” Rupert immediately regretted the scorching tone to his question.

“I’m not. My parents are. And your dad’s been rather open about what he thinks of your new girl.”

Rupert’s father sure didn’t make it easy for him to build bridges and forgive. But no matter what he thought about his stepmother Camilla, Rupert had never shared his opinion with anyone. With a wave of his hand, he brushed away Monty’s concerns.

“He’d better get used to it. Madison’s the one for me.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Monty burst out.

“What do you mean?”

Monty took two steps forward and hammered his index finger into Rupert’s chest. “You’ve just met this girl and you’re both at it like rabbits. Stop thinking with your dick.”

“Enough.” Rupert grabbed him by the wrist. Conscious of the anger that threatened to explode inside him, he released his grip. “I didn’t know I could love anyone like I love her.”

A shake of the head and a few mumbled words showcased Monty’s doubts.

Rupert didn’t want to part on bad terms. He wanted his friend to keep the memory of today through his time in jail. “Come on, mate. Let’s not argue today.”

“You’re right. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid while I’m away, like marry your Yank.”

Rupert nodded and turned his back on Monty to hide his face. Madison was his future. His father, Monty and the rest of the bloody world would have to get used to the idea.

The ice cubes rattled inside the lemonade glasses, while Madison’s fingers turned numb holding the freezing surface. From the marquee she had had a good view of Rupert and his friend and didn’t need to be a mind reader to notice the tension between them. They had been buddies when she left them to get their drinks, but now it was all finger-pointing and turning their backs on each other.

“Here we are. I had a sip from Rupert’s and I can confirm it’s freshly made.” She handed the glasses to the guys and got a mumbled “Thank you” from each in return. Something was up.

Monty brought the glass to his mouth and swallowed half of it in one gulp. “I’m going to say my goodbyes to the people here. I want to keep my connections alive for when I come back.”

Madison shifted her gaze from Monty’s retreating silhouette to Rupert’s closed profile. A vein pulsated on his temple, a sure sign he was POed about something. Best to wait a bit before questioning him.

One. Two. Three.
Damn, she had to ask. “What did you two argue about?”

Rupert returned his full attention to her and frowned. “We didn’t argue.”

She leaned her head sideways and remained mute, like her mom did when Madison had been blatantly lying to her.

He gave a defeated shake of his head. “I can’t hide anything from you.” He stepped closer to her so that his full height towered above her. His free hand brushed her hips, encircled her waist and settled on the small of her back. He applied pressure in his usual swoon-enabling way so she had to lean against him.