“Your wit matches your beauty, my dear.” He accompanies his compliment with a bow.
My wit does not prevent me from blushing, so pleased I am by his praise. “Have you seen my father lately?” My lover is a visitor here, but he mingles in the same political circles as the men in my family.
“We exchanged a few words two days ago. He is a temperamental man. I have pity for those who stand in his way.”
The sparkle of humor in his eyes worries me, for he will have to fight for my hand. My dowry is substantial enough to support us, but he will have to convince my father of his valor and connections before he can take me away to England.
“Do you have news of your own family? They must miss you greatly.”
His gaze flutters and escapes the hold of mine. “We are not close.”
“Surely your siblings must miss the banter.”
“My sister is married, and my brother has died.” His voice quavers.
I am ashamed at my lack of sensitivity. My hand on his forearm, I beg him, “Forgive me for intruding. You never mentioned you lost your brother.”
“It happened so long ago. The sweating sickness took Arthur away when he was barely fifteen.”
Clouds mask the sun, and shadows bring a chill to my skin. “Did he have time to marry?” I should not be forging ahead with my indiscretion. Curiosity does not let me rest the subject, though; I must know more about the family I intend to join.
“He left a widow but no progeny.” The man I love turns his face away to hide his frown from me.
“This is a sad story.” I walk and bridge the distance separating us. “Your family must cherish you even more dearly and await your marriage with impatience.”
He does not mind my bluntness. In fact, his thoughts have escaped my control and have returned to his faraway kingdom. “Indeed. They were eager for me to marry.”
My heart hops in excitement, for I am confident that soon I will be the wife of this mysterious Englishman. Soon I will be sailing to a new kingdom and a new family.
“Don’t forget to breathe.” Professor Jackson McCain sat cross-legged, his Coca-Cola eyes challenging Madison.
She focused on the book that lay midway between where they sat on the polished wooden floor of his living room. Her shoulders had to relax, the tight muscles of her stomach to unclench. Moving books around with her mind was 101 in her fast-tracked training. Madison had always known she could see ghosts. However, the telekinesis—moving things around—and mastering elements like fire had been recent developments she had discovered here in Oxford one day when she had to save Rupert from Peter. Later, they had come in handy in saving herself from Peter-slash-Pippa. As far as she knew, none of her ancestors, starting with her grandmother, had such ability.
Dickens’ Great Expectations didn’t move an inch, though, and she released the gulp of air she had captured in her lungs. When she inhaled again, the scent of the jasmine candle shot up her nostrils.
“Madison, I’m talking breathing, not panting.”
Dammit, nothing escaped him.
“Once you learn to find your balance inside, your powers will have much more impact outside.”
Jackson stood and, after a few paces, knelt by her side, placing one hand on her stomach, the other on her back. The pressure applied to her spine straightened her posture. She had been able to move heavier objects than a simple book in the past. Sometimes with these new powers of hers, it was one step forward and two steps backward.
“Have you joined the yoga class I mentioned?” Jackson was in one of his Spanish Inquisition-like moods.
Nope. Studying, exams, a boyfriend, you know, being at college … If a psycho tried to kill her again she’d better opt for kung fu instead of the downward dog anyway.
“I have.”
Ollie—her dorm mate, her best friend—lifted his head from the fluffy cushion on the sofa. The dark curls of his hair softened the angles of his face.
“I found out about muscles I never knew I had. How can you practice every day? It’s pure torture.”
“Strength lies in regular practice.” Jackson stared at Ollie, although his answer was directed at Madison.
Who was he playing? Obi-Wan Kenobi? She knew—she knew—how rough the path ahead of her would be. She didn’t need Jackson to remind her of this hard truth every single time they met. Since her return from Louisiana he had been bossy and would rather turn a blind eye to a late paper than miss their bi-weekly “magic-magic” sessions. Not that she had been late or skipped any of those. Once a nerd, always a nerd.
As proof of her goodwill, Madison conceded. “I’ll try next week. I promise.”
His eyes were back on her, and he leaned his upper body forward. His focus drilled through her resolve, assessed her commitment. “You look tired.” This time his voice had more concern than judgment.
She jerked her head in surprise. Jackson never commented on her physical appearance. Just like he never, ever mentioned Rupert anymore. Those subjects were outside the parameters he had set for their recently renewed friendship. Jackson had promised he would get over her. Maybe he had.
“I didn’t sleep last night.” She rubbed her itchy eyes and her fingertips scratched her eyelids. “Or rather, I did for a bit. And after that I didn’t want anymore.”
Ollie sat up and placed his forearms on his thighs. Jackson didn’t move, but the deeper crease between his eyes betrayed his interest. After Rupert and Louise’s failure to pick up on Madison’s need to confess, the attention of today’s captured audience came as a relief.
“If I sleep, I’ll dream … and really that’s not something I want to do at the moment.” She lowered her gaze and tried to shuffle, the hard floor adding to her discomfort. Despite what the three of them had gone through together, despite the fact that they knew everything there was to know about her, sharing this new secret made her cringe.
“Is he back? Peter?”
The two-syllable name crashed in the center of Jackson’s living room. Madison shook her head. Jackson breathed out, his shoulders lowering like a deflated balloon.
Madison’s gaze shifted away from her tutor to Ollie, and her heart contracted. Memories had drawn his facial features into a mask of raw pain. Through the round shape of his glasses, she saw the tears glittering in his puppy eyes. Guilt crashed through the door to her conscious. If she hadn’t been so freaking useless, he wouldn’t be sitting there, teary and heartbroken. If she hadn’t failed miserably, Pippa would be gossiping while painting her toenails in the brightest red for sale and Pippa and Ollie would still be together.
Pippa had drugged and abducted Madison, and hidden her in the crypt of St. Giles, one of Oxford’s oldest churches. Jackson, Rupert, and Ollie had joined forces to find them, and when they had, Madison had managed to vanquish Peter. The prayer she used had sent the vengeful spirits to hell, but it had also killed Pippa. The girl had accepted the possession in her plan to get rid of Madison and keep Rupert for herself. When Peter had fallen, Pippa had too.
Those were the rules of the exorcism Madison had learned from Mamie’s little book of magic. Still, she kept wondering if there had been something she could have done, something else, something more … and maybe Pippa would be alive now.
“Did you see …” Ollie’s question was left hanging in the air.
“I didn’t see her, Ollie. I’m sorry.”
He nodded and leaned against the back of the sofa.
“It was something, someone new,” she said. “There was no warning, no premonition, nothing. I was at this concert two nights ago, I turned my head and he was there.”
“How do you know he was really dead?” Ollie emphasized the “really.”
“His clothes were from another time. The sixteenth century, I’d say. And his face was covered with blood.” The last detail was the closing argument. The guy had been totally dead. Unless it was the blood of his previous victims …
Jackson geared up to full whacky-magic speed. “
Did he do or say anything?”
“Yeah …” Madison swallowed hard. The saliva slithered along her constricted throat. “He threatened Camilla, Rupert’s stepmother.” She saw the ghost again, his body overpowering Camilla’s silhouette. “He said she would die before the baby’s born. He even knew it’s supposed to be a girl.”
Silence bounced between the paneled walls. Staring back and forth between Jackson and Ollie, Madison took stock of their frozen expressions.
“What did Rupert say?” Ollie shifted his glasses up his nose.
Needles started prickling along Madison’s legs, and she uncrossed them in an attempt to halt the tingle in its tracks. “I haven’t yet told him in detail what happened.”
Jackson sprang to his feet, causing her to jump. He began pacing the room, his muscular legs clad in well-fitting jeans. He might be a yoga addict, but most guys she knew wouldn’t take him on in a fight.
“Did he even want to know the details?” His resentment for Rupert hadn’t gone away.
“Don’t hold that against him. If someone’s to blame, it’s me.” Here we go again.
“Stop, please. Both of you.” They turned toward Ollie. “We should concentrate on finding out more about this ghost. Madison, can you tell us anything specific about him? Does he have a name?”
The pronoun “we” instilled warmth in Madison’s heart. This time around, she wouldn’t be alone.
“Last night I had a dream. The same man with a young woman. I can only remember a few glimpses of what happened. Somewhere in Italy. Florence, I think.”
Jackson remained stock still on the other side of the room. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring at her.
She shut her eyes and rummaged through her memories, calling upon the images buried in her subconscious. “He gave her a flower.” She squinted as if the gesture would help sharpen her memories. “A lily, he offered her a lily.”
Neither man reacted, but she knew the lily was important. It mattered.
“Shouldn’t you warn Rupert’s stepmother?” Ollie asked. “But what good will that do? She’ll think you’re crazy.”
“No, don’t tell her. Not yet anyway.” Jackson straightened up. “We need to find out more about the man and why he appeared to Madison at that precise moment.” He checked his watch. “I have a class in half an hour, and I’m in London tomorrow. Let’s reconvene in two days, same time.” Pointing at Madison, he added, “If anything happens—and I mean anything—call me on my cell right away.”
He chastised her as if she was a ten-year-old and she stood in reaction. Her gaze met his in a challenge. A challenge he ignored.
“I’m leaving. Knock yourself out, guys. The fridge is yours in the meantime.” Jackson grabbed his jacket and keys and left.
“He shouldn’t make that kind of offer. I’m starving and his housekeeper keeps the fridge full of yummy stuff, like Nutella.” Ollie loved Nutella. He came up on his feet. “Should we treat ourselves?”
Ollie’s appetite was a fair match for hers, but where he hid the calories on his willowy frame remained unclear. Madison wanted to eat, but first she had a present for Ollie. She wasn’t sure if the moment was right. She wasn’t even sure the gift was appropriate.
“There’s something I’d like to show you first.”
6
WHAT DID YOU HIDE from Jackson this time, Maddie?”
Ollie’s question pricked her ego. She wasn’t a naughty kid causing mischief.
“It’s nothing to do with what we discussed.” She took a few steps toward her satchel that lay at the foot of the sofa and extracted a leather-bound volume. Holding it tightly against her chest, she fought off her last doubts and prayed for Ollie not to freak out. “I have a present for you.”
The monoline of his eyebrows raised two notches on his forehead. She gestured toward the sofa and they both sat back down on it. Her hands lay flat on the front cover of the book.
“I went through all the pictures I’ve taken since I arrived in Oxford.” She stalled. He stared at her, and his scrutiny prevented her from forming fully blown sentences. “I made … I made a selection”—she hesitated—“of pictures of her.”
Ollie recoiled, and his face turned as white as an aspirin tablet.
Maybe this was a bad idea. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have.” She jumped to her feet, eager to get over the awkward moment.
Ollie grabbed her hand. “No.” He pulled her back to sit next to him. “I’d like to see it.”
The book now on his lap, he opened the cover and Pippa’s bright, sensual smile welcomed them. While he turned the pages, memories banged against Madison’s heart. Christ Church ball last November, the Fours Head race they attended together, Madison’s twenty-second birthday at Freud’s … moments that were only a few months old. They could have belonged to another lifetime.
“I can’t believe she’s gone.” There was no anguish in Ollie’s voice, but grief bled from the tears in his eyes.
Madison bit her lower lip. She lay her hand on his, giving it a gentle stroke. “I can look after the album if you like … until you’re ready to take it.”
Her friend shook his head and planted his gaze on her. “No. I need it. I want to remember all the good times, when we were friends, and then once we started …” The words stuck in his throat.
She nestled her head on his shoulder. No matter what Ollie had said in the past about not holding her responsible for Pippa’s death, it didn’t matter. Madison was guilty as charged.
Rupert hadn’t visited the Turf Tavern since his return from Louisiana. The last two weeks had been crammed: exams, handing out papers—to good ol’ McCain, supporting Monty …
Rupert’s chest tightened. The car crash had happened way back in January. Monty had screwed up by driving after one too many shots of tequila. How the two of them had survived the accident was a miracle. Over the next months, Monty, Rupert’s best friend and housemate, had benefited from bail, but the court had finally charged him with DUI and dangerous driving. Since it wasn’t Monty’s first struggle with the law, his past had played an aggravating factor. This time, Monty wasn’t going to walk away with just a driving ban. This time, he was going to the slammer.
On the night of the accident, Rupert had climbed into the car to prevent a wasted Monty from driving in a last-ditch attempt at damage control. But risking his life hadn’t been enough. That knowledge ate at him. He would have been a better friend if his head hadn’t been buried deep up his own ass.
“Hi, Rupert.”
He startled. A busty blond greeted him in the courtyard. The late April daylight faded away, but the chilly air wasn’t enough to discourage students from standing outside for a pint or, in her case, a glass of Pimm’s. Rupert’s eyes settled on the girl’s face. Blurred memories flashed across his mind, forcing him to gaze down at his boat shoes. He had slept with her. But when? At school, in the aftermath of his mother’s death, when shagging unnamed girls seemed like an effective way to dull the pain. He had been so full of shit then.
“Hi …” His voice trailed off. Amanda? Kate?
“Ella.” She filled in the blank.
Schmoozing girls used to be a hobby. Now he could only shuffle his feet and search his brain for an excuse to bail.
“Rupert?”
The call came from behind him. Ella’s eyes left him to fix on the intruder.
He swiveled around and the sight of Madison punched him right in the guts. It always did. There was lust, sure, but also longing and belonging. This girl rocked his world.
“I’m inside with Ollie.” Madison gestured for him to follow her through the door.
Once she had stepped back inside, Rupert spun toward Ella. “Sorry. It was good seeing you again. All the best.” He patted her shoulder and waved at her. Clumsy was an understatement: he had lost his mojo and didn’t mind at all.
After retreating into the pub, he headed toward Madison, who was leaning against the bar, her e
yes perusing the menu. He wrapped his arms around her waist, brushing a kiss on the back of her neck. She shivered, and a muffled moan escaped from her lips.
He hadn’t completely lost his touch after all. “I missed you,” he whispered for her benefit only.
She shifted so her back pressed against his chest, her pelvis molded against his hips.
Bang. His body’s response was automatic. “You’re killing me.”
His voice was hoarse and annoyed him, and she giggled. When did he turn back into this horny teenager? His hands circled her waist. He buried his face in the thickness of her hair and breathed in the perfume of her shampoo. The herbal scent she had left on his pillow. Good Lord.
Ollie appeared by their side. “Get a room.”
My point exactly. Anyone else and Rupert would have told him to bugger off, but Ollie was different. The dude had lost the girl he loved. Rupert wasn’t enough of a jerk to twist the dagger in Ollie’s heart by showing him what a lucky bastard he was to have Madison … alive.
“Can I get you a drink, mate?” Rupert tapped Ollie’s shoulders. They were becoming friends. Weird.
“I’ve already got a lager. Thanks for the offer, though. Get yourselves some food. I’m not hungry. I got through half of Jackson’s fridge earlier.”
“Bangers and mash?” A cute arch of her eyebrows punctuated her question. “Still your favorite?”
Rupert smiled. “It hasn’t changed since the first time we came here together.” The night they kissed before parting for Christmas break.
Madison placed the order and fished for her wallet.
He grabbed her arm to push the red purse back into her bag. “Please, let me treat you.”
She shook her head and resolve flickered in her eyes. “No way. You always pick up the check. My turn.”
He took a step back. All the excitement down there had thankfully died down. “I want to take care of you.”
She swiveled so that they now faced each other, her head failing to reach his shoulders. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, with her lips set in a stubborn pout. “There’s a difference between taking care of me and caring for me.”
Oxford Shadows Page 3
