Albert narrowed the gap between them. “You’re smart enough to know Aurélie Laurent wouldn’t have murdered your aunt.” Madison flinched, but he continued. “She wouldn’t have murdered your aunt if she was ready to give up on you and the prophecy.”
Madison nodded. Take your time to mourn your aunt. I’ll get in touch. Those had been Aurélie’s words. What would happen when that psycho decided that the grieving period was over?
Albert reintroduced space between them. “You need some time to assimilate all we’ve told you today. Once you have, you can find me at the Randolph. I’m staying there for an undetermined period of time.”
He would stay for her, his daughter? “What about Sam?” She failed to cover her need to keep her half-brother close.
“We won’t be leaving until we’ve seen things through, one way or the other.” Albert leaned forward so he could leave a kiss on her forehead, but she stepped back. She couldn’t let her guard down so easily. Albert might be her father … or not. Jackson worked for the CIA, the FBI or some crazy shit like that. And Sam, well, Sam was Sam. Always a bit of an enigma. But she was his Pumpkin.
Her emotions—and hormones—were taking over her brain. She couldn’t let that happen. Her life might be at stake, and the lives of those closest to her.
Rupert … Rupert and … Her brain still couldn’t wrap around her new reality.
“I want you to submit to a paternity test.” She tried to sound as authoritative as she could. “And not in a month or two, but tomorrow.”
Ballantyne nodded. “Come to the Randolph tomorrow, and we’ll clear that up.”
He seems awfully confident.
Madison watched the three men retreat into the belly of the cathedral and disappear through a side door. She was left alone to welcome the quietness of the holy place. Darkness had settled inside the church. She knew she should make her way back to the party, to Ollie and Rupert. They would probably be worrying already. Instead, she walked toward one of the wooden benches lined up to welcome visitors. She sat and leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. Tears would come as a relief; the tears she had managed not to shed at Louise’s funeral so she could comfort her mom and Mamie, the tears she hadn’t allowed herself minutes earlier.
Her eyes remained dry but a lump settled in her throat. How long she stayed immobile there, her brain vacant of any sensible thoughts, she didn’t know. She lost track of time until a hand on her shoulder startled her out of her coma.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” There was no reproach, only concern, in Rupert’s voice. He came and sat by her side at the edge of the bench. “In need of some spiritual guidance?”
Madison released a small sigh. Rupert hadn’t witnessed her impromptu meeting and unexpected “family” reunion. She should share the news with him right away, but she couldn’t. She had to digest those revelations first. She had to decide if Rupert should be dragged along the dangerous road that lay ahead of her, the road leading to a future free of Aurélie and her crazies. The “Greensleeves” drama had shattered his belief system. He hadn’t backed out, though, and had followed Madison to Louisiana. She had needed him then. How more selfish could she be?
“I was planning to take you to Christ Church Meadow after the ball and do it there.”
Madison felt her eyebrows arch. Had she missed something?
Rupert explained. “I wanted somewhere special, somewhere romantic, but it couldn’t get any grander than this place.”
He laced his fingers with hers and pulled her toward him. She twisted on the bench and their knees brushed each other. The pressure he applied through his hand was stronger than usual and his eyes burned with a mixture of excitement and … fear.
“What’s going on, Rupert?” Madison managed to ask through the lump that blocked her throat. After the evening’s drama, she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
“Nothing ghostly, so don’t worry,” he joked. “Nothing voodoo either.”
Madison’s shoulders relaxed. Well, those two things were out of the way. Two very important things. “So what’s up then?”
Rupert’s gaze fell downward, as if he was looking for inspiration in their intertwined fingers. The muscle on his temple started twitching, a sure sign something was up.
“Please, Rupert,” she begged him. “I’m worried now.”
His gaze shot back to her. “Don’t. I never want you to worry because of me. I want to be the thing you rely on in your life, your strength …” He glanced around the cathedral. “I want to be your pillar, like those holding this church together.”
“You already are,” she reassured him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.
“Forever.”
Forever was something Madison couldn’t ask from Rupert. She had to give him the choice to break free, free from her and from the threats weighing on her life: Aurélie, the prophecy, but also all the angry spirits who would surely come after her.
“I love you more than life itself,” Rupert said. “I’ll choose you above anyone else. I chose you over her …” His voice broke off at the mention of his mother. Madison was acutely aware of what—who—he had sacrificed for her sake. “I need to know you’d do the same.”
Rupert had shifted from a sitting to a kneeling position. Their hands were still linked, but hers had started shaking. The tears that had eluded her before had found their way up now and gathered at the corners of her eyes. Rupert leaned forward to kiss the back of the hand he held in his. When he straightened up, his gaze captured hers and a smile broke across his solemn face.
“Madison Louise LeBon, will you be my wife?”
A faint sob escaped from the lips she had kept tight until then. She forced herself to breathe again. When she had, and was certain her voice wouldn’t break, she gave him the only answer she could.
“I can’t.”
The hope in Rupert’s eyes vanished. “You can’t? I don’t understand. We’ve been through so much together already. I know, you know, that what we have is worth a lifetime.”
“A lifetime of threats and fears. Is that what you want?”
He nodded fiercely. “Yes, if it means being with you.”
It wasn’t safe being with her. Aurélie wouldn’t stop until she got what the prophecy had promised. Madison’s mouth opened, the words begging to be said, the secret she had kept for a week longing to be shared. But telling Rupert now would bind him to her forever. She couldn’t do that to him. Her carelessness had already condemned another life to her full-time drama.
She laid her hand on her still flat stomach. She spoke. “There are too many challenges ahead. Everything is so complicated. I must sort out my life first, take care of …”
“How long will that take?” Rupert wasn’t letting it go.
“I … I don’t know.”
“Does this mean you’ll say yes someday?”
Madison wanted to say yes, but she simply couldn’t promise anything. Silence hung between them.
“I see.” Rupert got up quickly and walked away, not looking back.
She sprang to her feet. “Rupert, wait! I love you …” But he was already gone. Her last words fell to the floor in a whisper. “That’s why I have to say no.” For now. Maybe for always.
Madison collapsed back onto the wooden bench and hid her face in her hands. She couldn’t break. It wasn’t just about her anymore. Through the painted windows, she watched the dying light of the day. At least Rupert would be safe now, away from her. Protecting him was an act of love, wasn’t it? And she had a new family: a father, a brother … and soon more, so much more.
Her hands curled into fists. Aurélie could come. Madison was waiting for her, ready to fight.
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Acknowledgements
PEOPLE TOLD ME I’d need a thick skin to be a writer. That was very true. Writing a book and publishing it is very much like in those awful dreams when you walk down the street and everyone is staring at you … because you’re stark naked. Nothing can really prepare you for the one-star reviews. Nothing! They suck and they sting. They always will.
But next to them there are so many perks, starting with the amazing encounters I’ve made on my writing journey, people who have been kind, supportive, and helpful.
I’d like to say thank you to:
Penny Springthorpe and Anthony Puttee, for their help right from the start.
Claudia McKinney and Teresa Yeh, for being my angels and sharing their creativity with me.
Bianca Palumbo and Ryan Patrick, for giving a (very sexy) reality to Madison and Rupert.
Julie Macomb at ATOMR Book Tours, for showing what true professionalism means and giving me such valuable advice.
Megan Allen at Studio 22 Productions, for giving a Hollywood feel to the book trailer.
Chris Eboch, for redlining me right from the first words of the first book.
Mary Buckham, for teaching me, and so many others, what a good story is and what the romance genre should be all about.
Steve Parolini, for sharing my love of Before Sunrise/Sunset/Midnight, and truly caring about my words.
The team at Peques, whose warmth, energy, and kindness makes motherhood almost guiltless.
Cornelia, my cousin and beta reader, my old partner in crime and co-lover of all things Buffy.
Juliette Sobanet, Tracy Hewitt Meyer, and Sophie Moss, for remaining my friends despite that damned Atlantic Ocean and understanding the writer in me.
The blogging community who, for no other motive than sharing their love for stories, give away so much of their free time and energy. You are truly inspiring.
My readers, simply for giving Oxford Whispers a chance, and giving me the opportunity to continue Madison and Rupert’s adventures.
And, as always, for Hector and Juliette, who make everything possible. I don’t say it enough, so I’ll write it: I love you both so much.
About the Author
I AM A TRUE citizen of the world. I was born in West Africa, grew up in the south of France, and studied in Vienna, Paris, Berlin, Cape Town, and Oxford before finally settling down in London. This wide variety of cities has provided lots of inspiration for my writing. Talk about culture exposure!
In addition to being an author, I work as an entrepreneur, wife, and mother of one, but spend a good deal of time with books, DVDs and listening to my MP3 player—all for the sake of inspiration, of course. My debut series, the Oxford trilogy, is a blast to write because I can indulge in my favorite types of music: country and English rock.
My main goal as a writer is to make readers dream bigger and cause their hearts to beat a little faster. Since my writing is all about sharing dreams and stories, I love connecting with fellow readers and authors. Don’t hesitate to contact me! You can reach me at:
MarionCroslydon.com
Marion on Twitter
Marion on Facebook
Marion on Youtube
Table of Contents
Dedication
Author’s Note
Prologue
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Acknowledgements
About the Author
Oxford Shadows Page 23
