Oxford Whispers (20 page)

Chapter
39

OXFAM, THANK YOU for saving my butt today.” Madison checked her reflection in the full-length mirror.

The British charity shop had made her dream come true. She wore a designer dress for a fraction of its original price. This was the most superficial outcome the good-works organization had achieved,
ever
.

Surrounded by luxury in one of Magway’s twenty-something bedrooms, she caressed the black satin of the bodice and brushed her hands over the skirt. Why couldn’t she be taller, bustier … blonder?
Yeah, why not?
Chewing at her lower lip, she passed her fingers through the jet-black hair she’d almost lost her sanity shaping into tidy curls.

Madison had no illusions, though. A redneck like her would never fit into Rupert’s family. Like Harriet probably had. That bitch had been invited today. But in the words of her mother, LeBon women always held their heads high and their
ninnies
even higher. She always said that while hiking her ample torso upward, a hand on the underside of each well-shaped breast, after one shot too many of bourbon.

A knock at the bedroom door made her heartbeat quicken and caused searing heat to pulse through her cheeks. She stole a last glance at her flushing face in the mirror and opened the door.

Rupert stood right in front of her, and
never
had she been so close to melting. Sexual hunger consumed her.

The dress code for gentlemen was morning suit, and Rupert’s single-breasted tailcoat complemented the gray of his waistcoat and striped trousers. She wanted to tear the suit from his shoulders and feel his skin under her fingertips.

“As we say in the South: ‘You look good enough to make me wanna smack your granny.’”

“Good luck with that. They both died when I was a kid.”

Madison grimaced.

When he entered the room, a smile remained stamped on his face, but his eyes had a fierce glint to them. “You take my breath away.”

A giggle caught in her throat, and nerves made her hands knead the material of her dress, as if it had been a cooking apron. Embarrassed, she kept her eyes downcast. “I’m no lady, I’m afraid.”

“You’re a lady to me.”

“You sound so corny,” she laughed. A delicious, warm sensation settled in the lower part of her anatomy.

When they left the haven of her room, Madison didn’t hold her
ninnies
very high. All she wanted was to make herself even smaller and reduce her exposure to any social danger. They stepped into the hallway, and she squared her shoulders anyway. In the distance, she heard voices, and her heart hammered.

Rupert was by her side and he took her hand. The solid feel gave her strength, more than she had on her own. She breathed deep, determined to do him proud.

“Rupert, don’t forget the seating plan.”

The voice had come from behind Madison, low but inflexible, resonating in her ears.

Rupert’s hand released her as he swiveled around. “Father.”

Hugo Vance.

Madison lowered her chin, but managed to turn and face a middle-aged man who looked nothing like his son. Compact, dark, with “obnoxious” written all over his full-lipped face, the aristocrat glared.

The Earl of Huxbury didn’t want her there. No psychic powers were needed to interpret what his compressed lips and flared nostrils shouted out loud.

“Let me introduce you to Madison LeBon. She’s a fellow student at Christ Church.” Rupert extended his arm and pulled her toward him. As a sign of ownership? Of protection?

Madison thanked Hugo for his hospitality, but he cut her off with a hand gesture and a half-hearted shrug. “You’re my son’s guest.”

Rupert tightened his grip on Madison’s shoulder. She looked up at him. His jaw was clenched, and a vein pulsed on his temple when he answered, “She’s very much is.”

Without another word, Hugo Vance left.

“I’m so sorry,” Rupert said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t go off with your pistol half-cocked. He’s nervous about the ceremony. I don’t care at all.” But she did, very much so.

“Your father mentioned the seating plan?” she asked to divert his anger.

Rupert shook his head and waved his hand as if his father’s demand was nothing.

“Please, tell me,” Madison pushed nevertheless.

“During the ceremony, he wants me to sit in the front row, on my own. My father insisted on it.”

Of course when a couple jumped over the broom back in Pierre Part, etiquette was much simpler. You could sit wherever you damned well pleased.

“Oh, I see,” Madison failed to hide her disappointment. Coming here had been a huge mistake.

“I’m just telling you so that you’re not surprised if my father glowers at me while saying his vows.”

“What do you mean?”

Rupert slid his hand behind her neck. He took a step forward and narrowed down the space between them. His gaze hunted hers. She didn’t want to look back at him and betray her insecurities.

When he finally grabbed hold of her eyes, he had never sounded so serious, “Madison LeBon, there’s only one place for you in my life, and it’s the front row.”

WHEN CAMILLA WALKED down the aisle, a solo pianist played Pachelbel’s
Canon in D
. The new countess wore a beige silk dress, the double-sided draping reminding Madison of a sari, and concealing Camilla’s pregnancy.

Judging by the new Lady Huxbury’s controlled face, Madison doubted Rupert’s stepmother could be prone to any “accident,” like getting knocked up by mistake.

Swallowing a giggle, Madison shuffled on her seat. But on the other side of the aisle, a few rows behind, Harriet threw her a murderous stare.

Don’t you make eyes at me, missie.

Gathering all her inborn Cajun dignity, Madison acknowledged her enemy with a quiet nod, then shifted her attention away. She could still feel Harriet’s hatred burning at her skin.

Madison’s throat tightened, and she hugged her clutch like a shield. Rupert—next to her—hadn’t missed her shuffling on the seat. He gave her his trademark arch of the eyebrow
alla
James Bond. She answered him with a tight smile that didn’t seem to convince him. He intertwined his fingers with hers and reverted his attention to the couple standing in front of the minister.

And that had only been the wedding ceremony, she psyched herself up for the cocktail party and dinner later in the evening.

However, a dinner of roasted scallops, beef wellington, and praline mousse made up for the adversity Madison had faced in the afternoon. The champagne bubbles tickled her tongue and the warmth of the room relaxed her tense muscles. A few more glasses and she would be higher than a Georgia pine.

“Do you want to dance?” Rupert asked, his thumb stroking her palm.

From their dining table, she scanned the couples on the temporary dance floor, and her stomach churned. On the exposed stage everybody would see her clumsy steps, starting with the hyper-vigilant Harriet. Not an option. She shuffled and fiddled with her clutch, which was already creased.

“We can go somewhere more private.” Rupert had received the unspoken message. “Somewhere we’ll be sure not to meet my father or my stepmother, or my ex.”

They left their table without a word. Madison followed Rupert through deserted hallways, the sounds of the wedding fading away with each of her footsteps.

Their retreat was cut short when Hugo Vance stepped out of a room into the corridor.

“Father,” Rupert moved so that he stood between his dad and Madison. “Congratulations again.”

Lord Vance savored a cigar in silence. The smoky aroma reached Madison so did his reptilian gaze over Rupert’s shoulder. Her body shrunk in defense. Vance smiled, and Rupert’s body tensed.

“I will not even mention how you disobeyed my order with regards to the seating plan. It would be too little, too late.” Hugo released a cloud of smoke. “I will only be true to my word. You provoked me, Rupert, and now has come the time for retaliation.”

“We’re not at war, Father, and I don’t appreciate being threatened.” Rupert’s voice could have slashed through ice.

“Does your girlfriend mind being with someone who has blood on his hand? His mother’s blood?” Hugo’s words stunk of his hate.

“Threats won’t work anymore. Madison knows all about the circumstances around Mum’s death, and I talked to the police.”

Hugo’s expression widened in surprise.

“Is that so? And she doesn’t mind.” Rupert’s father took a step sideways so that his stare could hit Madison right in the face. “Why would she? Her morality—or lack of it—won’t stand on her path to your trust fund.”

Madison recoiled. “That’s not—”

But Rupert had launched himself against his father, grabbing him by the crisp collar of his suit, and pinning him against the wall. Shock…and fear was sketched over Hugo’s face.

“Don’t ever disrespect her? You can say whatever you damn want about me, I don’t care anymore, but never,
never
, disrespect her.” Rupert released his father and started readjusting his sleeves and collar. He wasn’t finished though. “You touch her with your venom ever again, and I’ll kill you.”

Rupert spun around, grabbed Madison’s hand firmly in his, and led her away from a very angry Earl of Huxbury.

Rupert didn’t pronounce another word until they entered a wood-paneled room where the aroma of cigars and whiskey lingered. Rupert closed the door behind them. Two lampshades in opposite corners barely lit the thick, ancient rug in the center.

Although the shadow hid Rupert’s features, Madison could feel him, not just his heat but the electricity racing between their bodies. Her arms folded themselves around her lower chest. Rupert narrowed the distance to her side.

“I’m sorry about what happened. I should have done that a long time ago. That way you’d never had to witness what a fucked-up family I have.”

Madison wanted to reassure him but he asked out of the blue, “Do you like Sinatra?”

“Yes.”

Her brain struggled to come up with anything more elaborate, while he flicked through a lacquered box and extracted an old-fashioned record. Fascinated, she watched him set the disk on a gramophone, and the needle descend onto the revolving plate. The room filled with the smooth tones of the 1950s crooner. He sang about Witchcraft.
How ironic
.

She took the hand Rupert had extended and focused on keeping her feet from kicking each other. But he was a smooth dancer, and she forgot about choreography, her body swaying against his.

“Sorry, I’m not very modern. My grandfather, Charles Vance, he’s the one who was fascinated with the family’s history. He donated his vinyl collection to me.”

“I like it better than standard Cajun wedding bands, French accordions, violins, steel guitars. Altogether, they suck.”

When they laughed, her breasts brushed against his chest. His hand followed the curve of her back, and her head tilted backward.

He kissed her. His tongue touched her lips, opened them. Her breast tightened against the material of the corset. They begged for a touch. Sparks of desire ignited her senses from the pit of her stomach to her fingertips.

But Rupert held off. He stepped away, the space between them now a void Madison could have fallen into.

“Have I done anything wrong?” Dizziness threatened to make her lose her balance.

Grabbing her hands in his, Rupert took them to his lips for a light kiss. “I don’t want to push too far.”

Too far
… Pent-up yearning had rendered her insane for the last three weeks.

“I want it to be right. I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.” Rupert kept his eyes down.

She wanted to scream:
I’m
the virgin here. At freaking twenty-two.

Staring at Rupert, his arms dangling at his sides, Madison understood tonight wasn’t about her and her need for fulfillment. Tonight was about sharing and giving, not taking by force—like that night on the bayou when Tarquin had attacked her.

Madison was ready. She yielded, voluntary and out of love.

She snuggled her way back into his arms, where she belonged. “I’ve waited a long time too, and I’m glad I did. I want it to be you.”

Chapter
40

SHE SWITCHED ON THE antique bedside lamp, and a halo of light appeared on the ceiling of her bedroom. Behind her, Madison heard rustling as Rupert removed his jacket and his waistcoat. A warm glow expanded throughout her body.

His fingers brushed her shoulders, which the strapless dress had left uncovered. Never before had she wanted to be touched and held with this intensity. She wanted to be his.

This was why she had waited so long for the right moment. For him. For tonight.

When she faced him, his mouth pulled in a sharp breath. Then she reached out, unbuttoned his crisp shirt, and spread her palms across the taut skin of his chest. His heart beat like a drum. She bent and let her lips moisten the pulsating spot. Rupert shivered. Her teeth gave a light bite on his nipple and he let out a faint moan.

“It was meant to be,” she reassured him.

He gave her a short nod. “Funny, how the roles are reversed. The virgin reassuring the rake.”

But his hands were steady and strong when they wrapped around her waist, then caressed their way up to the zipper pull between her shoulder blades. The zipper opened. Her dress fell to the floor, and her nipples hardened, not due to cold, but to the closeness of his skin.

Rupert grabbed her hips and pulled her toward him. He was hard, and the knowledge made her feel like a queen.

With a smooth movement he made her sit on the silk cover of the bed and knelt at her feet.

He parted her legs and leaned to kiss her down there through the lace. She shuddered. The thin material of her lingerie sharpened the effect of his tongue on hers. His fingers slipped underneath the edges of the lace and teased her lips. His thumb replaced the tip of his tongue, skimmed her soft spot. The heat spread from her core to her belly, to her breasts. Frustrated pleasure piled up inside her, heightening her need for release.

“Touch yourself,” his eyes had flicked back to her face, “I want to see your hands on your breasts while I make you come.”

His voice was hoarse and demanding. She obeyed him. The sight of Rupert kneeling between her spread legs, her feet still encased in her stilettos, her hands kneading her breasts, and his fingers thrusting under her lacy number was… decadent. Her head jerked backwards and she leaned on her elbows to ease the waves of pleasure through her, savor them, surrender to them.

The orgasm climbed through her, burnt through her and wrapped around her body and soul. She collapsed against the bed, her arms thrown over her head.

“I had no idea, no idea it could be that good” she confessed in a gasp.

Rupert stopped paying attention to the lower part of her anatomy while he got rid of the rest of his clothes. His erection sprang free, glorious, delicious, all hers. She shivered.

Unclasping the shoe straps around her ankles, he placed aside the stilettos. For the first time since they’d entered the room, the force of emotion made Madison feel exposed. Her arms covered her breasts.

He laid his hands on each of her forearms and slowly unclasped them. “You’re so perfect.” His eyes burnt with desire and obsession. He brushed her hard nipples with his knuckles, made his way down to the top of her thighs in a caress, then up again. He ignored the lace of her panties and circled her waist in a possessive grip. There was no hesitation in him. He was her man. She was his woman.

“I don’t deserve you, Maddie, but I’ll do my damned hardest so that you cherish the memory of this night… us… for the rest of your life.”

Slowly, he pulled her panties down, shifting her bottom so that the material could slide underneath, then along the length of her legs. He straddled her and crawled between her legs, settling, hard and pulsing, against her crotch.

His hands cupped her face and his gaze drilled into her. “Tonight will stay with me forever… I want to remember this until the day I die.”

His index finger trailed its way down from her face, to the tip of her breasts, along her ribcage, between her fold. Deliberate kisses touched her closed eyes, her forehead, her nose, her mouth, her chin. While his mouth worshiped her, his finger pumped her. The contrast sharpened the turmoil of emotions inside her.

“You’re so wet and tight. You’ll make me get off so easy,” he groaned, his breath caressing her swollen lips.

While his thumb returned to the spot inside her fold, he entered another finger inside her, stretching her a bit more.

“I’m going to enter you without a condom first… It might hurt less.” He was searching for her approval. “I got tested. I’m clean.”

She was so far beyond thinking. So she nodded. Rupert would never put her in danger.

The head of his erection eased into her. His hips circled around her entrance sending ripples of pleasure deep inside her.

“Ahhh…”

Alarm flashed in his eyes. “Am I hurting you, baby?”

“No, it’s amazing. Don’t freaking stop.” She hadn’t meant to beg, but, heck, she just had.

He chuckled, dropped a kiss on her lips, and pushed deeper.

It did hurt, like a burn, then the pain vanished. Rupert had stopped pressing further. His face was buried in the crack of her neck, and with each one of his breaths against her skin, she let him expand inside her and stretch her further.

When Rupert lifted his face over hers, his eyes glistened and his forehead came and lay on hers, their lips brushing against each other. The words—those three marvelous words—hammered in her head.

“I love you,” she said. There was no tremble in her voice. She wanted him to know, to share herself with him. She didn’t need to hear the words back.

There was a shadow over Rupert’s face. “I’m not sure I believe in God, Maddie,” he shut his eyes and one single tear appeared and tracked down his cheek, “but the day I met you, He was looking after me. I’ll be forever grateful.”

Rupert grabbed a squared foil from somewhere hidden in the pleas of the sheet, untangled himself from her, and fixed the condom over him. His return inside her was a relief because she hadn’t breathed the whole time he had been outside her.

His hand lifted her knee and spread her wider to open her to him. The thrusting was a delicious pain, a tantalizing tease. Rupert was silent, the clench of his jaw and the fire of his eyes, the only betrayal of his emotions.

“I’m going to come. Please, please know,” his voice trailed off, and his gaze went blurry, “it has never meant so much to me.”

Their eyes locked.

They could see into each other’s souls. This was why she had been born.

HER TOES SANK into the deep carpet of the room. Her eyes opened. Madison was neither awake, nor asleep.

Grabbing the shirt Rupert had worn earlier that night, she slid into it and her fingers buttoned it up. He remained immobile, lost in his sleep.

Around her, objects started moving by themselves. The doorknob turned and the door opened.

Unfamiliar voices whispered words into her ear, their volume increasing and decreasing, until soon the voices morphed into howls. Her feet took the direction of the mezzanine, driven by an intimate knowledge of a place she had never seen.

The temperature dropped and the hairs on her arms rose. Ahead of her, shadows moved against moonlit walls. Were they the outlines of people? Were the people alive, or dead?

The smell of melted candle wax flamed into her nostrils, reminiscent of the night at the ball not so long ago.

She had reached the mezzanine. From a hidden corner, her Cavalier— his image at least—shouted a mute warning.

Fear coated her tongue. Danger dried her mouth.

Madison—or was she Sarah?—followed the curve of the banister to stand at the top of the grand staircase, the central point of the manor’s entrance hall.

Peter stood by her side. He took hold of her hand with a steel-like grip.

“You cannot belong to him. It will all be over soon, my love.”

His presence should have terrified her. The void that gaped below her should have made her step back. But she didn’t. Her soul was so tired, she couldn’t fight the battle. The Puritan had taken over her consciousness, numbed her senses. He had won, because she had lowered her defenses.

Longing for the final lethal freedom, Madison spread wide her arms.

“Like an eagle,” he whispered without voice.

Her body weight shifted forward and she began the long descent.

Powerful arms grabbed her waist and dragged her backward to crash with a thud on the wooden floor. The shock stole her breath.

“Madison, Madison. Wake up.”

Rupert’s hands held her head, his thumbs putting pressure on her temples. She had to open her eyes.

“My God, you’re nuts. You scared the shit out of me.”

Judging by the fear on his face, he was telling the truth. Reality returned. She had tried to kill herself.

The mechanism of insanity had clicked in, as she had always feared. Her DNA was claiming her and, soon, she would follow in the footsteps of her ancestors.