I see a woman: her legs, her naked back, her bare hips. They undulate in a sensual rhythm I recognize well. Beneath her lies Henry. His expression is of utter rapture, so close to the one he gives me when we make love.
The lovers have not noticed my presence. I step back and hide again behind the door.
Pain rips through my heart and stabs my belly. Over and over. I break to pieces and a warm liquid flows down my legs.
Blood.
I am losing my child.
36
LOOKING BACK AT THE past twenty-four hours, Rupert gave himself a pat on the back for asking one of his dad’s men to take care of his car … and the snakes.
Chief Inspector Crawley—who now led the investigation into Louise LeBon’s murder—was already suspicious enough. He was the one who had been in charge of finding Miss Lindsey’s murderer not even two months ago in Madison’s college room. By some bizarre twist of fate, the same man had covered the death of Rupert’s own mother in the car crash four years earlier …
Yeah, there was really no need to draw Crawley’s attention to the sick joke Aurélie had played on him and his car. There was no doubt in Rupert’s mind that Aurélie was also behind Louise’s death.
He replayed again and again his encounter with the woman outside the Turf. The way Aurélie had blatantly undressed him made him sick to the stomach.
She was vicious, and her plans had nothing to do with voodooism. Madison's aunt had understood that truth too late, and it had cost Louise her life. Rupert was sorry for her death. He truly was. But Louise’s blindness had put Madison’s life on the line.
Madison shifted under the duvet. She lay on his bed after finally surrendering to sleep in the late afternoon. After her fall at Louise’s house, she had refused to go to the hospital. Instead she had answered Crawley’s questions right away. Her determination might have paid off. Crawley had left them alone afterwards.
Rupert rubbed his hand over his itchy eyes and stretched. He sat on the antique chair next to the bay window in his bedroom. Sleep eluded him but he didn’t want to keep tossing and risk waking Madison up. She needed to recover.
Another rustle warned him his wish might not be fulfilled. He turned his gaze back to his bed where Madison had sat up, her hair tousled around her sleepy face.
“What time is it?” she asked with a yawn.
“One A.M. You need to get back to sleep.”
“You too. You spent all day sorting things out for Aunt—”
Madison didn’t finish her sentence. She hadn’t been able to pronounce her aunt’s name since they had found the body in the prayer room. Giving the news to her mother and grandmother, which had been worse than the blow to her head, had finally broken Madison.
“Don’t force yourself to say her name. In your own time.” Rupert hadn’t been able to pronounce the word “Mum” until a year after the car accident. His own experience of grief was still vivid in his mind and his heart.
“I’d never have been able to handle all the red tape the way you did today.”
“Don’t mention it, Maddie. That’s what I’m here for, to help you. You’d do the same for me.”
She didn’t answer but she didn’t have to. If there was one thing Rupert admired about Madison, it was her loyalty. That same loyalty—to her family, her heritage—was the reason he feared for her life now.
In a kitten-like move, Madison extracted herself from the bundle of the duvet and came to stand in front of him. She wore one of his shirts. The top buttons were undone, revealing the valley between her breasts.
Desire shot through him, the feeling soon mixing with guilt. He crossed his legs to hide the bulge twitching inside his jeans. Once he’d regained sufficient control, he took hold of Madison’s waist and lowered her so that she sat on his knees.
“I’ll book the flights tomorrow. We’ll be with your family in a couple of days, I promise.”
She nodded. They didn’t say anything more for a couple of minutes, while his fingertips caressed her bare thighs.
“What about Camilla?” Madison asked. “The twenty-fifth is only ten days away.”
Yeah, there was that as well. Guilt seeped through him again. Rupert had no idea how long they’d stay in Louisiana and the ghost had warned that Camilla would die before the child was born.
He exhaled and buried his face in the nape of Madison’s neck. What was he supposed to do? His stepmother might be in danger, true. But deep down he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the threat came from a … ghost. The ghost of Henry the Eighth.
On the other hand, his girlfriend faced real grief, real death in the hands of a very alive psycho.
“You’re still not convinced Camilla’s in danger.”
Rupert shook himself under the scrutiny of Madison’s gaze. “I don’t want to leave you alone. Not with Aurélie still roaming around. She might follow you back to the States and strike when you’re at your weakest. Or even use your grandmother as leverage. Next time she won’t warn you with a few snakes.”
“I might have to play along with her plans, let her believe I’m still in that crazy prophecy of hers, at least until Sam’s back in the picture with my … dad. And her text message seems to give us some time to figure out what to do.”
Earlier that afternoon Madison had received a text from an unknown number: TAKE THE TIME TO GRIEVE YOUR AUNT, CHILD. I’LL BE IN TOUCH SOON. A.
The “A” had given the mystery away.
Rupert let out a sad laugh. “That’s a lot to digest in a short amount of time. Are you ready to believe in what Sam said?”
“I could reverse the question. You trusted him enough to let him go before the police arrived.”
“He was clearly set up to take the fall for …” Rupert avoided referring directly to Louise’s death. “It means Aurélie considers him a threat. That kind of convinces me we’re fighting on the same side. At least until further notice.”
Another silent pause stretched between them. Her arm circled around his shoulders and her face brushed against his, the point of her nose nuzzling against his.
“I think you should stay here,” she whispered. “I want you with me, but I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to Camilla and the baby while we’re away.”
The thought of abandoning Madison at such a difficult time—of letting her down—crashed against his protective instinct. He started opposing her suggestion, but she stopped him by laying her finger over his mouth.
“You’re not letting me down by staying here.” She dropped a light kiss on his lips and rested her forehead against his. “Plus, the university agreed to give me a short leave to attend the funerals, but they won’t do that for you. Your absence will cause you problems.”
“In the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t really matter. We’ll stay in London tomorrow night and see how things are with Camilla and my father. He shouldn’t be back from Asia for another three days. In the meantime maybe we can convince Camilla there’s real danger.” His voice betrayed his lack of faith in the prospect of turning Camilla’s mind around. “Tomorrow I’ll call the guy who sorted out the … snakes for me. We’ll discuss a way for him to look after Camilla in my absence.”
That was the best compromise he could offer Madison. She nodded, and her lips started teasing his lips. His hands moved upwards to reach the top of her thighs and the edge of her underwear. His tongue searched for hers. When they found each other, she gave a gentle bite on his lower lip. He groaned and forced himself to lean back and remove his hands from under the material of her knickers
“I shouldn’t do that to you now. You’re hurt and—”
Madison hushed him with her mouth. Supporting herself on his shoulders, she straddled him in one swift move. His legs were now set apart and there was no way for him to hide how much he wanted her, or how hard. She arched when his fingers teased the dimples at the bottom of her back. He loved that part of her body. His hands slid from there down to underneath he
r underwear. He palmed her bottom firmly, pressed her against him. She made a soft sound, like a mew, and leaned back. She started undoing the buttons of the shirt and he released a sigh of relief. When she opened the shirt and let it slip along her arms down to the floor, the urge to be inside her took over.
“I need you.” His mouth teased one of her nipples then flicked it. Next, he applied the same attention to the other nipple.
Their breathing became louder.
Madison unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans to free him. He slid one finger in her knickers and pushed them aside so that he could be inside her. She was tight around him. When her hips started moving over him, he knew he wouldn’t last long. He let her take charge and ride him.
“I love you,” he said in a loud rasp.
She didn’t answer, but showed him instead with the rocking of her hips. There was no way Aurélie or anyone was taking that away from him.
37
THE TRAFFIC FROM Oxford to London was like something out of hell. It took Rupert twice the normal time to reach his townhouse. Madison had spent the last hour listening to the frustrated tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel of the Morgan. The sight of Jasper-the-Butler—as Madison had nicknamed the Vances’ chief-of-staff on her first visit to Magway—didn’t cheer her up either. Could the man manage to be even a tiny bit more pompous? Surely not.
“I thought he was based in Magway,” she whispered to Rupert when they were inside and the man walked away with their coats.
“He’s helping out here around the time of the birth.” Rupert’s strained voice was another proof of his exhaustion.
Guilt seeped through Madison. The bright hallway lighting revealed the dark circles under his eyes. He had slept even less than she had over the last two nights. His days had been focused on managing the police and arranging for their departure and Aunt Louise’s … Madison’s thoughts stalled. She forced herself to continue. She had to face the truth, the new reality of her life.
Aunt Louise wasn’t there anymore.
Aunt Louise had passed away.
Aunt Louise was dead. She had been murdered.
Rupert had ensured that Louise’s remains would be flown back to Louisiana in time for the funeral, but the post-mortem had to take place first. A shiver of disgust rushed through Madison. Doctors foraging through her aunt’s tiny body … This can’t be happening.
“Come here.” Rupert pulled her against him and she relaxed within the warmth of his body. “In just over a day, we’ll be in Pierre Part.”
She tipped her head back to look at him. “You should stay here, for Camilla.”
Stubbornness hardened Rupert’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Maddie, but I’m coming. My dad’s still in Japan anyway.”
“Promise me you’ll be back here right after the funeral.” Madison slid her hand along the collar of his shirt, caressing the nape of his neck. His muscles relaxed under her touch.
“I promise you. And if everything goes according to plan, that means I should be here before the birth.” His lips caressed her forehead. “Let’s check if Camilla’s still awake.”
Clutching her hand tightly in his, Rupert led the way through the townhouse. While Magway had kept its old-fashioned charm, the Vances’ townhouse in London was all modern, clean lines and shiny white. Camilla had spent indecent amounts of time and money redecorating the house—and erasing the personal touches Rupert’s mother had left behind.
They checked the drawing room and the reception area. No sign of Camilla.
“She might already be in her bedroom.” Rupert gave a distracted look at his wristwatch. “It’s only nine P.M. Let’s go and see her.”
They were heading toward the marbled staircase when good ol’ Jasper emerged from the kitchen.
“Jasper, please take our bags to my bedroom while we talk to my stepmother,” Rupert said, with one foot already on the lowest step.
Madison was about to offer to carry her own bag—thank you very much—when Jasper-the-Butler answered through pinched lips.
“Sir, I’m afraid it won’t be possible for you to talk to the countess.”
“And why not?”
“Lord Vance and Lady Camilla left for the hospital earlier tonight. Apparently the labor started prematurely.”
Madison swore she heard thunder slice through the room. Her brain whirred to catch up with this latest piece of news. Camilla was at the hospital. Hugo wasn’t due back in the U.K. for another three days.
“And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning it to me earlier?” Anger bled from Rupert’s voice.
Under any other circumstances, Madison would have enjoyed the show immensely. Right now, she just kept staring at the stuck-up servant, desperate to know more.
“I-I assumed you’d …” the butler stammered. “I thought your father, Lord Vance, had called you. He arrived back earlier this afternoon, unexpectedly.”
“When did they leave?”
“Half an hour ago.”
Madison had followed the quick tempo of their exchange and her eyes had now settled on Rupert. His expression was neutral, but she could almost hear his thoughts; she could see the revealing twitch of the vein on his forehead.
Without another word to the butler, he rushed up the stairs, two at a time. Reacting after a few seconds of delay, Madison followed his lead. He didn’t stop at the second floor, where his own bedroom was, but shot straight to the spacious top floor shared by Camilla and Hugo.
“What are you looking for?” Madison said. “She’s not there, he told you.”
Rupert had already stepped inside the room. Madison lingered at the door, her eyes glued on him. Since the night he had rescued her from Peter in St. Giles crypt he had never looked so focused. His body moved swiftly, his head leaning forward, set on his goal.
“What are you looking for?”
“My father’s revolver.”
Good heavenly days. “What for?”
Her question managed to stop Rupert right in his tracks. He spun toward her and she shrank under the harsh light of his stare. “What for?” He shook his head. “You’ve been warning me about this moment for weeks now. So here we are. I have to be prepared for anything.”
Like shoot his own father.
38
MADISON HAD TO THINK, to retrieve what she had learned from her last vision. Louise’s death had obliterated her need to analyze what she had seen, blurring the lines of her memory.
At Louise’s house, Madison had had another vision. Like the one next to the statue of Mercury in Tom Quad and the car accident, the scene she saw was set in modern days. At least not in the sixteenth century and Italy. Henry had been unfaithful again. Well, no big surprise there, since nowadays his name was Hugo Vance …
Liliana-slash-Laura had been unhappy again and had lost her second chance at keeping her husband for herself. She had also lost her unborn child.
Liliana had been the one who had led Madison to the edge of the jetty in Magway, the one who had lured her to take that extra step into the void. Not Henry. Giving a hard look back at all her visions since the concert, unease crept inside Madison’s chest. Liliana was the wronged party. The victim. That also made her the one with motives. Not Henry.
“Rupert, please slow down.”
He ignored her plea and kept rummaging through the fitted closet along the wall of his father’s bedroom.
Frustration made her stamp her foot. “Just stop.”
Madison’s thoughts were upside-down and she had to talk them through or she would explode. “Maybe Henry wasn’t threatening Camilla after all.”
Having tossed Hugo’s tailor-made shirts all over the plush carpet, Rupert came to an abrupt halt. “Explain.”
“That night at the concert Henry could only have been warning me about the danger Camilla’s facing.” Rupert waved his hand in a get-to-the-point gesture. “When I witnessed Anne’s execution through his eyes—the night I fell into the lake in Magway—I felt this sens
e of despair in him, of guilt. As if he hadn’t wanted to kill her, as if he wasn’t the one in charge of his own actions.”
“So Camilla could be safe with him … with Henry … with my dad?”
The pleading Madison saw in Rupert’s eyes made her next words even more painful to say. The lump in her throat tightened, but she forced herself to continue. “Your dad might not want to hurt her, but if Liliana possesses him, as she might have possessed Henry, she won’t let Camilla give him a child. The same way that Liliana directed fate to deprive Henry the Eighth of a male heir, and—”
“Stop, please stop, this is getting insane.” Rupert rubbed his face and let out a frustrated groan. “Let me get this straight. We still have my father and Camilla as a reincarnation of Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn. We still have that Italian girl Liliana who wrote ‘Greensleeves’ and who kind of was your buddy until now …” Madison nodded and he continued. “But you’re saying that sweet Liliana wasn’t that innocent after all. In fact, from beyond the grave she possessed Henry and made him kill all the women he loved and married throughout his life.”
“That’s a possibility.” Now was the moment to tell him about Liliana’s real identity. But Madison was too much of a coward and she kept her mouth shut. As long as she wasn’t entirely certain, she would postpone breaking Rupert’s heart by telling him his own mother was involved.
He finally reacted with a stiff nod. “We have to find out the truth. And for that we have to find my dad, Camilla … and the baby.” Resolve hardened his spine and he launched himself back into the search for the gun. “He keeps the thing in an antique wooden box somewhere.”
While Rupert busied himself, Madison summoned up every ounce of strength in her brain—the brain that had got her into Yale. Now was the time for that same brain to reveal its true worth.
Her fingertips massaged her temples. She shut her eyes. If—how she prayed for this “if” to be true—Liliana merely possessed Hugo against his will, Madison would be treading in known territory. That scenario was similar to what had happened between Peter and Pippa. Hugo could be saved with the same prayer Madison had used against Peter-slash-Pippa: the prayer from Mamie’s little book. She could free souls provided they had fought against the possession.
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