Oxford Whispers (3 page)

Chapter 5

“
I’VE SEEN HIM BEFORE.”

Good heavenly days
. How could she have forgotten? She was surprised her brain could still function in spite of the testosterone flaunted before her.

“Where?” Pippa didn’t take her eyes off her prey.

“We exchanged a few words at the ball last week. He’s a total jerk.”

“I know, but he’s wonderful in bed.”

“Have you …” Madison stopped, not wanting to hear the details. “His name is Rupert?”

“Rupert St-John Vance, future Earl of Huxbury,” Pippa articulated, one syllable at a time.

“I’ve never seen an earl before.” True to her country roots, Madison whistled. “He appears pretty normal to me, though. Apart from being totally gorgeous.”

The object of their attention chose that exact moment to turn toward where they stood. His gaze wrapped around Madison. A warm sparkle lightened up in his eyes.

“Gosh, he saw me,” Pippa was getting all flustered by Madison’s side, giving a sexy wave with her manicured hands.

It didn’t have the desired effect. Except for a slight rise of his eyebrow that lasted for a second, Earl Boy stopped paying attention. His lips pressed together in a tight line, and he began helping one of his teammates.

But his presence a few feet away was enough to make the riverside as steamy as a Louisiana swamp.

Pippa smiled at Madison, and her Irish lilt gave a bounce to her words. “This guy is one of a kind, believe me. I was already hearing about him when he was at Eton. One of my roommates in boarding school went out with him. He was the first guy she slept with.”

“Nice.” Madison tamped down her sarcastic tone. Pippa never had any problem with full disclosure. She always told it like it was, and Madison liked that about her. Most of the time.

“Rupert delivers totally. We had a one-night stand last year, before he started going out with his girlfriend. We were pretty drunk.”

Madison struggled to control the jealousy tweaking her heart. Rupert had a girlfriend, and had slept with her own BFF. And here she was, a twenty-one-year-old virgin, a statistical anomaly. Half the girls her age had slept with a guy by the time they graduated high school. She was now a
college
graduate …
Let’s keep the V-card buried deep in my pocket.

Madison turned her eyes back to where Rupert had stood, but he had already disappeared into the boathouse. The air around her had lost its electric edge. She was back to cold, gray-skyed London.

THE ANCHOR INN was nothing fancy, but Rupert’s memories of the riverside tavern were of good times, like drinking beer with friends on the terrace overlooking the Thames. Today, he went only because the rest of the team was heading here.

His performance at the race had been utter shit. The last thing he needed was a drink with his teammates. They thought he was a fraud, with the coach being his father’s mate. He wouldn’t contradict them on that front.

Then he saw her, and forgot about the race, the team, and the walking failure he was. The tension inside him went away. A warm glow took central stage. Just like earlier, after the race, on the bank when he had seen her.

She sat at the end of a large wooden table next to last year’s Ginger Girl and a bespectacled guy Rupert had seen around a few times. Her hands were hidden in her duffel coat.

Its woolen hood covered her heart-shaped face. The sun had replaced the earlier wind, but she had her arms tightly wrapped around her upper body to keep herself warm. The heating lanterns on the terrace weren’t enough for the girl from Louisiana.

She was as he remembered her, and Rupert wanted to take away the shadow in her eyes. He wanted to jump on the table, clown around, behave like a fool, and put a smile on her face.

Shaking off all the schmaltz, he waited for the American girl to turn her face in his direction. As soon as she noticed him, his mouth broke into an inviting smile. That usually did the trick.

She glanced away.

Okay…

When she stood and moved back inside the pub, he knew he had to talk to her. The girl was a tease.

Inside, the tavern was old-fashioned and warm, but the low beams made the place dark. The only light came from ships’ lanterns and an open fire.

She stood in front of the bar. Aside from the barman, they were alone.

“We always seem to meet while in need of a drink.”

She jumped. Her cheeks took on a rosy flush, and he saw tension mounting inside her.

“I’d like a hot chocolate,” she said to the barman, ignoring Rupert. “With some marshmallows?”

The girl played hard to get, and it grated his already wounded ego. To look relaxed, he placed his thumbs in his trouser pockets.

“We do only tea or coffee here,” the barman answered.

“A tea then.”

Rupert ordered a pint of Guinness. Then, to the American girl, “I hope you enjoyed the race.”

“Not impressive for your team.” She didn’t avert her gaze anymore.

“It’s your team too.”

She looked for change in her red purse but didn’t answer.

“He stopped her by putting his hand on hers. Allow me. You didn’t let me treat you last time.” Her skin was cold, but its touch was enough to reignite the heat he had felt outside.

She dropped her hands to her side, and her expression was blank when she thanked him. Rupert regretted invading her space. He didn’t want to scare her but he had to know who this girl was. She was cute, but there was more to her.

He paid for the drinks and gestured toward one of the oak tables next to a lattice window. She sat down opposite him.

“Let me introduce myself properly this time. I’m Rupert Vance.” He extended his hand.

“Madison LeBon.” Her hands were small, and her skin slid like silk against his.

“So you’re at Christ Church too?”

She let a small grin appear and brought the steaming cup up to her lips.

A stereo started playing a pop tune, and Rupert resented the intrusion. He raised his voice.

“Yes, but I haven’t been around much lately. I’ve had to miss a few tutorials because of training.” He massaged the crinkle lines near his eyes. But time to change the subject and learn more about the brunette sitting in front of him. “Where are you from in Louisiana?” He took a sip of Guinness, savoring its coffee-like flavor.

“A small place near Baton Rouge.”

Rupert watched her twist a silver ring on her index finger, turning it counterclockwise. Maybe she wasn’t as cool as she looked. The thought reassured him but not for long.

The door of the pub had opened, letting a cold draft in, and his girlfriend made her entrance. After her eyes had swept the room, Harriet stared at him and his companion. Her anger was splashed all over her face when she strutted toward their corner table.

By the time she sat next to him, she had managed to disguise her feeling.

“My darling, I’m so sorry. I missed the race,” she purred.

Annoyed by her arrival more than he had been by the loud music, Rupert introduced the girls to each other and added, “Madison is studying at Christ Church. She comes from the States.”

“I see.” Harriet touched his rumpled hair, trumpeting her ownership. “Maybe you can share stories about that horrible American tutor of yours.”

Rupert interrupted. “McCain isn’t worth talking about.”

Madison folded her arms across her chest. “You’re talking about Jackson McCain?”

“Yes, he wasn’t very happy about my missing a few tutorials. The guy is a moron.”

“Jackson McCain is a great guy,” she snapped. “He’s worked hard to be where he is.”

“Calm down. I have the right not to like the man.”

Rupert held his hands in a peacemaking gesture, but she was on her feet and had grabbed her tea. “Anyway, given today’s bad performance, it wasn’t worth missing his tutorials.”

Ouch, that hurts …

And like that, she left the pub.

“Is that girl for real?” Harriet asked, her lips pursed. As always she was groomed from head to toe and wore that fur coat Rupert loathed.

Rupert clenched his jaw. He wasn’t used to being lectured to by a stranger, or by anybody. Except his old man, and Coach Bartlett.

“She’s a nerd.”

“Maybe, but a nerd with a serious crush.” His girlfriend gripped his shoulder while stroking his hip.

Rupert wanted to shake her smothering hands off his body. “We just met. I’m not that irresistible.”

Harriet burst out laughing. “Not on you, you idiot. On this McCain chap.”

“Good luck to her. They’ll be a perfect match in Geek Land.” That was the best retort he could think of. He grabbed his beer and finished it in one quaff.

Nobody had ever stuck up for him, not the way Madison had for McCain. Maybe nobody ever would.

And that sucked.

Majorly.

Chapter 6

MADISON HAD A PLAN. She would play the sleuth and investigate Sarah, or whatever the name of the girl in the painting was. But one thing was damned certain. She would use her brain, not any magical powers inherited from the LeBon female line.

Doctor McCain was the first step in solving the mystery of
The Wounded Cavalier
. Given his fascinated look during his tutorial, he had to know something about the painting, more than
Wikipedia
had already told Madison.

She was on her way out from Christ Church to see him when a woman stepped onto the stone path underneath Great Tom. Startled, Madison jumped.

“Miss LeBon, I’d like a word with you.”

Madison tried to smile at the senior censor. “Yes, ma’am.” With Hillary Lindsey, she enjoyed using going Southern. God knew she worked hard to hide her drawl at Yale.

“The other day you sent me an email regarding the college job center,” the bony woman said over her thin-rimmed glasses. “I thought you should know it isn’t normal in this country for students to work during term time. Opportunities for paid employment are very limited.”

Madison wanted to snap back. The woman was about as mean as a gator fighting a bull. Normal or not, Madison needed to make a few bucks for her plane ticket back to the States for Christmas.

“I’m sure Doctor McCain will be happy to give you more information,” Miss Lindsey continued. “After all, he’s been taking good care of you.” With a smile bordering on a sneer, she strolled away.

As soon as she had passed a safe distance, Madison rolled her eyes and headed to the Faculty of History building on George Street. She checked her watch. Her pulse quickened. She was going to be late, and Madison was never late.

Zigzagging between the pedestrians, she sprinted through St. Aldate’s and Cornmarket Street, rushing to cross the roads. When she climbed the steep circular staircase leading to Doctor McCain’s office, she was out of breath but on time.
Yeah
.

A man descended quickly and brushed past Madison. Her books spilled from her arms, and she almost cascaded right down the steps.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled and cursed herself for her habit of always apologizing, even when she wasn’t at fault. She looked up at the tall guy. And wouldn’t you know, it was the last person she wanted to see. Judging by the pissed-off look in his almond-shaped eyes, Earl Boy wasn’t used to life getting in his way.

Tough.

Rupert walked down a few steps and helped pick up her scattered books.

After handing them back to her, he answered in his now-familiar, low-toned, freaking sexy voice. “No problem. We’re going to bump into each other more often anyway, or so it seems.”

His eyes lingered over her and their expression softened. Madison could have sworn he shook himself. After a stiff nod, he turned his back and disappeared at the turn of the staircase, giving Madison one last glimpse of his lean silhouette.

What did he mean by that? She shook her shoulders, determined not to spend even one more second thinking of Rupert Vance. Climbing the rest of the stairs, she composed herself and focused on the coming meeting.

On the second floor she knocked at her tutor’s door. Getting no reaction, she was about to knock again when the door opened to reveal Jackson McCain.

He flashed his megawhite smile. “Madison LeBon, welcome.” His voice had a rich velvet tone.

“I hope I’m not late.”

“Not at all. I just finished with another student.” He frowned and signaled for her to enter his packed office.

Could the other student have been Rupert?

McCain’s desk, with mountains of books piled on top of it, stood in front of a French window that overlooked George Street. He lowered himself into a leather chair on the other side of the desk and asked Madison to take a seat.

“I hope you had time to settle.”

The professor’s hazel eyes provoked a rush of heat throughout her body. The dude was
totally
gorgeous, in a sexy-but-reliable kind of way. Madison approved of it. Very much.

“Miss Lindsey told me you helped with finding me such nice accommodations. I’m very grateful.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure Hillary made you feel right at home. She’s a bit of a cliché, but apart from that she’s very efficient and runs the place like a Swiss clock.”

Understatement of the year …

Today’s priority should have been kicking off her investigation. But, after talking to the senior censor, securing her financial future had to come first.

“She told me that it’s very rare for students to work during their studies here.”

“There aren’t that many jobs available here for students. It’s not like the U.S.”

She felt her mouth dropping into a downward smile.

Doctor McCain looked absorbed in his own thoughts and then leaned over the desk. “Listen, I might have a way to sort out this problem. I’ve started researching a book. The subject is close to your heart as it’s about the English Civil War, but I intend to approach it with history of art in mind. I’ve heard so many good things about you from your teachers at Yale, I’m sure I could use your help finding some source material.”

Good heavenly days. A-dieu boring barista job. Bon-jour working for the hottest PhD ever to walk the earth…

“It won’t be well paid,” he warned, “but it should match what you would get in more trivial work.”

Madison didn’t hesitate and accepted the offer. Confident in her good star, she pushed her luck.

“Will
The Wounded Cavalier
be part of the book?” She could have sworn Jackson’s expression froze.

He overcame his reaction and answered, “That’s a very good idea. I can’t help feeling emotional each time I look at it.”

His gaze seemed lost for a moment, fixed on a faraway point behind Madison. “The lovers seem very much like the Romeo and Juliet of their time. They probably were …” He halted, leaving the sentence unfinished.

She prompted him to continue. “I wonder if Shakespeare Burton drew inspiration from real people.” She didn’t
wonder
. She
had
to know.

“He was a Pre-Raphaelite, a group of English painters in the mid-nineteenth century.” He tossed off the answer—without answering her question—then met her gaze, the haunting expression on his face fading. “So we have a deal.” He came back to his proposition and named a wage that made her cringe. It was half of what she had hoped for.

“Yes.” She might be able to earn enough to return home over the holidays.

Jackson—she supposed she could call her new boss that—nodded and smiled. “Great. Let’s celebrate this new collaboration with a decent lunch. My treat.”

He stood and when she nodded, he grabbed a brown jacket hung behind his office door.

When Madison reached the doorstep, her right hand brushed Jackson’s by accident. The world opened underneath her feet. Thunder rolled and echoed between her ears. An energy wave empowered every cell of her body, then gathered in the pit of her stomach, ready to strike.

Jackson took a step back …

… And Madison crashed back on Planet Earth.

Air reached her lungs, giving back to her spatial awareness and connection to the here and now.

What the hell was that?

The professor signaled for her to take the lead out of his office. Had the guy not felt anything? Anything at all?

She stumbled, rather than walked, into the corridor. They had reached the top of the steep staircase when Jackson stopped and turned toward Madison. Maybe he was going to mention the super-weird episode of ten seconds ago.

“I know the perfect starting point for your research on the book. Magway Manor.”

“Okay …” She had no idea what this place was but figured she shouldn’t appear clueless after her promotion to “research assistant.”

“I can arrange a visit. Vance owes me that.”

Eeek, that was not the name she wanted to hear. The morning had gone so well right up until now, or rather until that “Superman” moment.

“Rupert Vance?” She kept a poker face.

“He’s your study partner, by the way, and his family owns the estate.”

Rupert as her study partner? Nice joke. No way she could concentrate on homework if she had to be in the same room as he. Not even worth mentioning sitting next to him, breathing the same air, staring at his lips …

She understood now what that English douchebag had been talking about.

Jackson must have noticed her confusion. “I’m not the one deciding on the partnerships. The faculty does. But if it’s a problem for you, I can have a word. Vance is a bit of a challenge to deal with.”

“No. I have no problem with him.”

As much as she dreaded having to speak to that jerk again, deep inside her stomach rumbled a little tremor of excitement.