Oxford Shadows

by Croslydon, Marion

  “Make love to me, Rupert.”

  “I am.” His eyes implored her to let go. “Please, trust me.”

  She did with a nod and Rupert’s lips brushed against the skin at the top of her thighs. The tingle stole a tiny moan from her. He slid two fingers beneath the cotton of her panties. They teased her lips, entered her. The jolt of pleasure had her hands clutching the duvet. When his thumb found her soft spot, she cried out his name. The twin touch—inside her and on the most sensitive parcel of skin—shot pleasure through her. She begged him to continue, to take her further up.

  He stopped. She was about to come … and he freaking stopped.

  Rupert didn’t let her crash, though. He kept her flying by blowing hot breath on her inner thighs. The respite was temporary, as the invisible pressure triggered a new smoldering heat inside her belly. Slowly, he pulled her lingerie down her legs and threw it away, then buried his face in her. His tongue licked her flesh.

  A begging “God …” escaped from her mouth. She sucked in a mouthful of air.

  Rupert straightened up, squatting between her parted legs. Without warning, he flipped her body so she lay on her belly and undid her bra. She heard the rustling noise of him getting undressed, then a drawer opening and the tearing of foil as he got a condom. He nestled his naked body against hers, his hard-on throbbing against her buttocks.

  “I need you to go on the pill, baby. This thing between us …” He lifted her chest so his hands could cup each of her breasts. “It drives me crazy. I want to feel you completely.”

  She might have mumbled a promise. She didn’t know because at that moment he entered her from behind and pleasure detonated throughout her. The come and go of his hips made her arch against him. His magic finger slid again underneath her and found the same spot as before, rubbing it. More harshly this time.

  The ache exploded and she came. She shouted his name. He didn’t pause or let her recover but grabbed her shoulders and made her squat against him. With a few shoves from his knees, he managed to shift her against the headboard of his bed. He directed her hands so they lay at the level of her shoulders, flat against the wall.

  And Rupert showed her that once was never enough.

  My son is driving our car through the pitch dark of the night. His anger permeates his entire demeanor: his hands clenching the steering wheel, the vein pulsing on the side of his forehead, the biting of his lower lip. I know him so well. Almost eighteen years have passed since I gave birth to him.

  My happiness did not survive long afterwards. His father revealed himself to still be the cheater he had been so long ago, in a different century. I did not always remember that past life. Lately memories wake me at night. Nightmares. Frigid water engulfing me. Drowning.

  I have to shake myself. Right now I should concentrate on my child, on his well-being. He is the reason I did not give up on life this time around. He is almost a man now. Maybe, maybe, I can turn the page on Henry and our ill-fated love. I will be the one walking away. For the love of my son. For him to be proud of me.

  Fat raindrops splash against the windshield. Concern makes my hand grab the edge of the passenger seat. “Please slow down. I don’t like you driving so fast in the rain.”

  “How can you let him treat you like that?” The palm of his hand hits the steering wheel. “Again and again, he humiliates you.”

  “ Don’t believe all the gossip you hear.” But they are not rumors; they are the truth. I try and spare my son. I do not want him to give up on real love. On trust. On marriage. His father is setting the most disastrous example.

  “His mistress is the mother of one of my closest friends!” His gaze tears away from the road to shoot its pain at me.

  “That’s not a conversation I want us to have. You know that.”

  “As long as that bastard still rolls you in the mud, I won’t let it go away. I swear I’m going to kill him.”

  “Don’t talk about your father like—”

  An abrupt jerk of the car makes my body crash against the door. Pain radiates through my hip. My eyes reconnect with the road ahead, but lose sight of it right away. We are gliding and flying toward the unknown.

  The last thing I hear is my scream.

  The last thing I feel is the burning of the broken glass tearing at my face.

  The last thing I see is my son, unconscious and bleeding next to me.

  Rupert.

  “Rupert!” Madison opened her eyes in the darkness of her room, the room she now shared with him. With Rupert.

  “Baby, what’s going on?” he asked in a sleepy moan.

  They had both fallen into sleep after making love.

  “Nothing. Get back to sleep.”

  She didn’t want to tell him what she’d seen, not until she had figured out what it actually meant. Voodoo ritual or not, that last vision had been acutely clear. She had lived through it as if it were happening to her, Madison, live. And that made the latest discovery even more hope shattering.

  Liliana had not only lived in sixteenth-century Italy. She had lived in another country and another century altogether. And she had still been alive not so long ago, no more than four years ago. Could it be true? Or was she reading too much into a vision? Maybe it had only been a dream, a figment of her imagination.

  Liliana and Laura Vance were one and the same.

  30

  RUPERT PRETENDED he was paying attention to Ollie’s nerdy rambling on about Henry the Eighth’s artistic achievements. Ollie walked ahead of them, up St. Helen’s Passage, the cobbled path leading out of the Turf into New College Lane. They had celebrated Madison’s move into his house earlier that day and Ollie had indulged too much in the champagne Rupert had paid for.

  The downside of Ollie recovering from his heartbreak was twofold. Firstly, he had returned to his geeky self. Secondly, he had started enjoying alcohol again. And the guy couldn’t take his booze.

  “Henry the Eighth really could’ve been anything he wanted to be, in addition to ruling a kingdom.” Ollie was marching backward while talking. His back hit the wall of the alleyway. “Whoo-hoo.”

  Rupert rushed toward him and helped straighten him up. “Try to watch where you’re going.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I guess I enjoyed the sparkling wine a bit too much.” Ollie sucked in some air and blew it out, his cheeks rattling.

  “That was a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, Ollie, not some sparkling wine,” Rupert mumbled.

  He noticed Madison biting her lower lip, while her gaze was wracked with concern about Ollie’s silhouette. Since they had woken up from their nap she had seemed worried, as if her mind wasn’t really there.

  “Come here,” Rupert whispered, pulling her against him. “He’s going to be fine.” He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head and rubbed her arm. “We’ll drop him at Christ Church, then let’s get back home. I’m exhausted.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Have I asked too much from you today?”

  “Maybe …” but he couldn’t prevent his lips from curling. “I’m always ready to push the limits. And anyway, if I remember correctly you were the one who wanted to stop because you felt sore.”

  She gave him a faint slap on the forearm.

  They entered New College Lane. A black four-wheel drive with darkened windows was parked illegally at the corner of the narrow road. That in itself would have peaked Rupert’s interest, but Madison stopped suddenly, standing still by his side, her eyes glued on the car. He stepped forward protectively.

  “What’s wrong?” He didn’t want to panic, but with all that had happened he expected the worst from any situation now.

  Madison shook her head. He saw her eyes widen at the same moment the car door slammed. Rupert reinforced his stance, squared his shoulders. Whoever was in the goddamned car, Rupert meant business.

  The elegant black woman facing him wasn’t what he expected. She was tall, almost six foot, regal, her head wrapped in bright material, her body covered in a dark woolen coat that
almost reached the ground. She headed toward him, her hands buried in the pockets of the coat. Not once did her gaze waiver from his. She let it be known she wasn’t there to bullshit.

  “I’m here to talk to Madison.” French accent, thick and low. Aurélie. The woman who had lured Madison into her obscure cult.

  Rupert’s fingers flexed and he felt a twitch in his cheek, a sure sign he was getting pissed. He was blocking the woman’s view of Madison, so Aurélie leaned her head forward, staring up at him, silently making a point: Rupert had to step aside.

  “Whatever you want to say, Rupert can listen.” Maddie had overtaken him. She entwined her fingers with his. Their slight trembling contradicted the steel in her voice.

  “He’s not one of us,” Aurélie said.

  “Madison isn’t either,” Rupert snapped.

  Ollie chimed in, “What’s going on, guys?”

  Next to Rupert, Madison sucked in a short breath through her teeth. Her stare swung between Ollie and Aurélie. Rupert could see she clearly didn’t want the boy involved. He had to intervene.

  “Ollie, why don’t you wait for us in front of Hertford College? We’ll catch up in a minute.”

  Madison thanked Rupert with a tight smile.

  Aurélie waited for Ollie to be at a safe distance before returning her attention to Madison. “You ignored my calls all day. I was waiting for an answer. We need you tomorrow ni—”

  Rupert cut her off. “We’re busy tomorrow night. Actually, we’re taken for the rest of the term.” He had kept his tone mundane, but when he stepped closer to Aurélie, his full size outmatching hers, he had ice in his voice. “From now on, you will leave Madison alone. She has no interest in attending your sick parties anymore.”

  Aurélie sized him up, letting her eyes wander up and down the length of his body. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and licked her lower lip. Blatant desire blurred her gaze. Rupert recoiled, her hungry eyes making him feel cheap, but he waited for her to finish her sexual assessment.

  “Madison is mine, not yours,” he said. The woman had no claim on either his sexual life or Madison.

  Aurélie’s attitude flicked back from sexual predator to cold business. She swiveled and headed back toward the car. A buffed-up man in full bodyguard mode opened the door for her. She was about to climb into the car but turned back, staring straight at Madison.

  “It’s too late to change your mind, child. The dice have already been rolled.”

  Madison launched herself toward Aurélie. “What do you mean? I’m fed up with people talking in riddles.”

  “Then come and join us, because that’s the only way for you to understand.”

  Madison stamped her foot. “Answer me now.”

  “All I can say is that it has already happened. I can see it in you.”

  Without another word, Aurélie entered the car and the chauffeur closed the door behind her. They left the illegal parking place and drove away.

  Rupert came and stood behind Madison. He circled her waist and pulled her against his chest, his head resting in the cradle of her neck. “Don’t let her get to you. We’ll figure out what her gibberish is all about.”

  Madison didn’t lean against him and she didn’t answer. Rupert knew they weren’t done yet with Aurélie.

  Rupert parked his Morgan on the gravel driveway in front of the house Louise LeBon shared with other members of her order. He stepped out the door and wrapped his scarf closer around his neck. The gravel had frozen overnight and the ground crunched under his weight. He enjoyed the earthy scent of the early morning and the frigid quality of the air. After last night, he needed its wake-up effect. Crossing paths with that Aurélie woman had triggered an acute sense of foreboding within him.

  He knocked on the door and ran his fingers through his hair to tidy his just-out-of-bed look. Hopefully Louise would not yet be on her way to school. He could have called to announce his visit, but he counted on surprising her. Nun or not, Rupert intended to give the woman a warning. No more messing about with Madison. No more Aurélie.

  A plain-looking woman, stick-thin, with rounded glasses perched on the tip of her nose, greeted him. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” Rupert bowed slightly, summoning his manners. “I’m here to see Sister Louise. I’m a friend of her niece.”

  The woman blushed and her eyelashes started to flutter. Clearly she was flustered. “I … I’m Sister Madeleine,” she babbled. “Come inside.”

  Rupert accepted the invitation and entered the warmth of the house. He rubbed his hands together to get the blood circulating again after the cold early morning outside.

  “Sister Louise is in a prayer room.” Sister Madeleine realized Rupert couldn’t know where it was, so she indicated with her arm and added, “Follow me, please.”

  He did so without paying much attention to the bare corridor leading to the back of the house. Instead he focused on how he’d tackle Madison’s aunt. She had to stop screwing up his girlfriend’s life.

  The door of what must have been the prayer room was half open and Sister Madeleine gestured for him to enter. He stepped into the austere-looking room and heard Sister Madeleine’s steps retreat. Three tight ranks of chairs separated him from Louise. She was kneeling at the pew that stood at the foot of the wall, a crucifix hanging above it.

  Rupert was a born-and-bred Church of England boy. For the first time, he gave serious thought to Louise’s status within the Catholic Church. He hoped his next actions wouldn’t send him rotting straight to hell.

  With a few paces, he stood behind her. She hadn’t heard him coming and he understood why. Her shoulders were shaking. Heavy sobs emanated from the hands covering her face.

  Uh-oh, what’s going on here? He shuffled his feet, not sure anymore what he should do next. He had come to straighten out Madison’s aunt, but seeing her like this … she didn’t look like the evil queen he had thought she was. With care, he laid his hand on her shoulder.

  She jumped and cried out as if she had expected someone was there to kill her. Realizing it was her niece’s boyfriend and not a hit man, she placed a hand over her chest in relief. “What are you doing here?” Louise LeBon wasn’t one for small talk.

  “I wanted to talk about Madison with you, about Aurélie and the fuc— the dangerous connections she seems to have.”

  Louise broke into more sobs and buried her face in her hands.

  Is it because I nearly swore in a place of worship? He grabbed one of the chairs from the front row and sat next to where Louise knelt.

  “Aunt Louise, you must open up to me. I want to protect Madison and I’m sure you want the same thing.” He kept his voice low so as not to break the solemnity of the room. He hoped the woman would be able to read in his eyes the depth of his love for Madison.

  She focused her bloodshot eyes on him and sniffed. After assessing him for a long time, she gave him a faint nod. “I misjudged you.”

  Halleluia. Rupert gave a quick glance at the Christ figure above him and addressed a silent prayer of gratitude to him.

  “I was left with no choice. Either they were getting to her directly, or I could be involved. I thought I could help her, make sure she could stay safe. As safe as possible.” Louise’s gaze detached from Rupert, her mind reliving the past. “In the process, I might have started believing it too.”

  “You’re talking about Aurélie?” Louise nodded and Rupert forged on. “Why do you think Madison’s in danger? Do they want something from her?”

  “They believe we’re descended from a sacred line. One of our ancestors, the one who was enslaved and taken from Africa, was a princess, someone from a holy line … in our religion.”

  “By religion I take you’re not referring to …” He looked quickly at the crucifix.

  “I mean voodoo. Although sometimes the lines with Christianity become blurred.”

  “So these people, they believe Madison is some kind of messiah?”

  Louise tilted her head s
ideways. “Not her. Her child. A child they’ll take away from her as soon as it’s born.”

  If he hadn’t been sitting down, Rupert would have tumbled to the floor. This wasn’t what he had expected.

  At all.

  31

  RUPERT FORCED HIS hand through his hair. He swallowed several times in a row, shut his eyes and opened them again. Louise had taken hold of his other hand.

  “I know how it must sound. I wasn’t convinced at first, but you need to understand, they believe it. And because they believe it, it puts Madison at the center of a web. Aurélie isn’t the only one after her. Others want to keep an eye on her too, in case the prophecy comes true.”

  “Are some of these people already in Oxford?” His brain cells went into overdrive and snippets of conversation echoed in his head. “Is Jackson McCain one of them?”

  Louise nodded and bit her lower lip.

  Rupert’s mouth fell open. McCain wasn’t his best mate, but knowing he was now the enemy was a harsh blow to the solar plexus. “Who else? That guy Sam from the Turf?”

  “I’m not sure,” Louise answered with a shrug. “Maybe I’m being paranoid. His tattoo.” She brushed the side of her arm, where Sam’s tattoo was. “I’ve seen it somewhere before. Although it might be a coincidence.”

  “We shall see.”

  “I’m so sorry.” A torrent of tears burst forth again. Louise leaned forward, and because she was already on her knees Rupert felt she was begging him. “I always wanted to protect her, but I haven’t. If anything, I used my influence to make her trust dangerous people. Madison always wanted to please me and I betrayed her.”

  Louise had been wrong. But who was he to judge her? His track record with Madison wasn’t spotless either. Awkwardly, he took the lady in his arms and patted her frail shoulders. Madison had to keep her promise to him not to go back to Aurélie. He had to make sure she did.