by Maxine Barry
‘Oh, I was, I was,’ she huffed, grunting a little in the effort of pulling down his trousers. He obliged by lifting his hips off the sofa.
‘Well, if you don’t mind my saying so,’ he teased, ‘you don’t seem to be making a very good job of it.’
Then he gasped as she suddenly sat down on him, trapping him inside her.
‘Oh no?’ she said, clenching her inner muscles and grinning wickedly.
Gideon sighed. ‘Are you always going to want the last word?’ he asked long-sufferingly, then moaned. ‘Oh, yes, do that again.’
So Laurel did.
That night they slept upstairs entwined in each other’s arms, totally forgetting about the chalice, which stayed downstairs on the coffee table.
Luckily, it was still there when they got up again the next morning.
Laurel blamed Gideon for forgetting about it.
Gideon took it like a man.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was Christmas Eve.
Laurel Van Gilder awoke and the moment she opened her eyes, she was alert, aware, excited.
This was her wedding day!
She got up, aware of a strange quality of quietness all around her. Puzzled, she walked to the window, which was frosted over and flung it open, drawing in a gasp of surprise.
Snow!
It must have snowed persistently during the night, for now Oxford was layered in tiers of white. On the bare branches of the trees, on the road, on the gardens and houses and roofs. On the domes and pergolas and crenellated walls of the colleges.
Snow everywhere!
It was barely eight o’clock and, over in the east, the rising sun was casting a warm orange glow in contrast with the wintry scene.
Laurel caught her breath again at the sheer beauty of the spectacle, as Oxford’s many snow-covered dreaming spires, domes, turrets and towers began to glow orange as if someone had iced the city like a cake.
Everywhere she looked, layers of snow clung to clock faces, shrubs, railings and drainpipes.
As if on cue, a bell-ringing group practising for the traditional midnight service began to peal the bells in a nearby church.
Suddenly the morning rang with the sound of celebratory bells. Although she knew better, she could easily imagine that those bells were ringing just for her and Gideon!
Back in Boston, she supposed without regret, they probably would have been, but Laurel had wanted to get married in England.
In Oxford, to be exact.
And Gideon, who would have gone to Lapland to get married if she’d wanted, had arranged for them to be married in the chapel at St Bede’s.
Rex Jimson-Clarke had agreed to be their minister.
Laurel shivered in the freezing air, but was reluctant to move away from the winter wonderland outside her window.
In the next room, she could hear the sound of movement, and realised that her mother was now awake too. She’d flown in to the UK the moment Laurel had telephoned her a month ago and told her that she’d met the man she was going to marry.
At first, Laurel had been a little nervous about how her mother and the rest of the family and Gideon would get on, but in the event she’d had no reason to be.
Her mother had been bowled over by Gideon at first sight when they’d picked her up from Heathrow Airport.
A small, dark woman herself, Laurel’s mother had been instantly struck by Gideon’s height and fairness. She’d also been much impressed by his intellect and even more impressed by St Bede’s.
Although he was not an American and not a businessman, she had to admit that he would probably do!
And when Laurel had told her that she wanted to have a Christmas wedding in Oxford, it was as if she had let loose a whirlwind!
Quickly getting over the disappointment of not having the wedding back home in Boston, she’d set to with a vengeance.
The phone lines across the Atlantic had buzzed for weeks. Valentino had been commissioned to make the wedding gown. Top chefs had been flown in from France, Italy and the States to cater for the wedding reception, which was to be held in Hall.
Her mother had also engaged the services of the top wedding planner on the East Coast, a tall, painfully thin man with a nervous habit of giggling, and a finicky personality that quickly drove Laurel wild.
But not even he had been able to find fault with the huge, high-ceilinged impressive Hall, with its ancient wooden floorboards, highly burnished wooden panels, impressive chandeliers and imposing set of portraits of past principals that hung on every wall.
He’d been equally dazzled by the centuries-old chapel, and had gone into raptures over its elegant simplicity and beautiful stained-glass windows.
Galvanised and inspired by the ancient college, he’d gone in for a vaguely Elizabethan wedding theme that suited everybody concerned.
Of course, her mother had insisted that they raid Asprey and Harrods for silverware, dining ware, flowers, gifts, and the million and one things you needed in order to throw a proper wedding fit for an heiress!
Gideon, after one bemused session with the hyperactive, sartorially elegant wedding planner and over-the-moon mother-in-law, had backed off in goggle-eyed alarm and Laurel had done the same.
They’d laughingly (and cravenly), agreed to everything and anything her mother and the wedding planner wanted, their only contributions to the wedding and reception being the choice of venue.
Gideon had chosen the destination of their honeymoon, opting for a nature reserve in the Seychelles. After the madness of the wedding arrangements, Laurel could understand why a deserted island had appealed to him — and to her!
Sin-Jun had been both delighted to turn St Bede’s over to the wedding party and appalled at the thought of losing Gideon Welles. For Gideon had told him that Hilary Term was to be his last at Oxford.
Laurel sighed now and reluctantly shut the window on the snowy scene and jubilant bells, and walked to the bathroom to run her bath.
The ceremony was due to begin at one thirty.
All her relatives had now flown in from the States, and were being housed in both St Bede’s itself and the Randolph Hotel. The older generation of Van Gilders, of course, were at the Randolph, where the rooms were bigger and they had room service.
The younger members of her family, however, had preferred to stay in the college rooms, be they ancient, sloping-floored and utterly self-service.
It took Laurel back to her own student days to visit her cousins in Webster or Walton and gossip about this, that and the other.
The college itself had been transformed, both for the wedding and for the Christmas season.
A huge Christmas tree stood in the main entrance way in Webster and wreaths of holly, ribbons, fir cones and golden bells hung on every door.
Gideon’s room was bedecked with greenery and tinsel, for Laurel loved this time of year, which was why she’d chosen it as the date for her wedding.
Since their engagement, of course, she’d been practically living in Gideon’s rooms anyway, and had been responsible for the decorating of the Christmas tree that Gideon had never previously bothered with.
She’d only slept in the villa last night in order to observe the proprieties. And because, of course, she didn’t want him to see her before the ceremony.
All around her, as she soaked luxuriously in the tub filled with gardenia bath salts, the day began to marshal itself into some sort of order.
Laurel’s mother, in a state of high nerves, had decided to leave the last-minute detailing to the wedding planner and, even now, he was checking out the famous St Bede’s chapel, ensuring that all the flowers were arranged and placed correctly, strictly as ordered.
The cake had already arrived and was being guarded zealously by St Bede’s chef in the college kitchens, and vans carrying crates of champagne were already unloading in the college car park.
Laurel, idly lifting one leg to soap her calf, wondered tenderly what Gideon was doing.
&n
bsp; With a sigh, she got out of the tub and began to dry herself.
Time was marching on.
As if reading her mind, her mother chose that moment to tap on the door and tell her that the hairdresser had arrived.
Laurel still found it hard to believe it was her wedding day!
And yet, it was already the most magical day of her life.
She dressed in gossamer-fine white silk underwear and slipped on a dressing gown.
In just over an hour’s time, she would be Mrs Gideon Welles.
* * *
In his room in St Bede’s, Gideon too was dressing. His tailor had just helped him put on the grey silk jacket of his morning suit, and he was now busy brushing him down with a clothes brush. Gideon had hired him from Oxford’s oldest bespoke tailor’s shop. His best man had arrived last night, an old friend of his from school days, and when he tapped on the door and walked in looking chipper and innocent, Gideon grimaced at him good-naturedly.
The stag night his old friend had arranged for him last night had been one of the more outlandish affairs he’d ever been to.
When everyone had been well lubricated with whisky, a strippergram girl dressed as a WPC had arrived and nearly turned the pub on its head. So far, everybody was denying commissioning her!
Gideon returned to stand in front of the mirror and glanced at himself wryly. The silver-grey morning suit did devastating things to his fair hair, and the bespoke tailoring fitted his long, lean length to utter perfection.
He accepted a red carnation from his tailor and fixed it in his buttonhole.
Philip, his best man, slapped him on the back. ‘You sure you know what you’re doing, mate? That Laurel is a major package to have to handle.’
Gideon laughed. ‘That Laurel is a big-mouthed, big-hearted, major pain in the neck!’ he corrected.
He met his own blue gaze in the mirror. ‘And I couldn’t live another day without her,’ he added so softly that Philip didn’t catch it.
‘Got the ring?’ Gideon asked crisply, turning away from his reflection with a nod of determination. He felt a bit like an astronaut, about to go into space for the first time — elated and scared stiff at the same time!
Philip patted his pocket reassuringly. ‘Right here. Don’t worry — everything’s under control.’
He himself had been married for four years and had moved away from Oxford a year before that. But he and Gideon had always stayed in touch, and he’d been delighted to be asked to be best man.
Gideon nodded and took a deep breath. They had only to walk across the gardens and quads to the chapel which was opposite the main lodge, and that would hardly take a minute.
They had plenty of time yet. He walked slowly to the window and looked out across the snow-spangled lawns.
Dr Ollenbach had resigned from her college and had returned to the United States only last week. He didn’t think Clive had gone with her. He knew that the man had left the hospital after ten days, but that was all.
Neither he nor Laurel had felt vindictive, even if he had tried to run them off the road. They’d just been too happy, too caught up in themselves, to want to go through a court case.
Besides, they’d both felt profoundly sorry for Dr Felicity Ollenbach. As Laurel had said, they’d got the chalice back in one piece and avoided scandal for everyone concerned — and had found each other into the bargain.
That was enough for anyone. Why be mean and make another woman’s life miserable?
Sin-Jun had been suitably grateful and impressed when they’d walked into his office the next day and presented it to him, but hadn’t been surprised, and he’d asked no questions.
So that was that.
This was now.
‘It’s hard to grasp the fact that this is my wedding day,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘There was a time when I never thought this day would ever come. That like Rex, or any other number of men I could mention, I would live out my life here into a sedate and dignified old age.’ He shook his head. Impossible to think now how he could have regarded such a loveless, tame life with such equanimity.
‘Well, there’ll be nothing sedate about America, mate,’ his best man said cheerfully. ‘I hear you’re going into private practice over there?’
Gideon nodded. ‘Yes, I am. I received an offer to teach at Harvard, but I think it’s time I put my knowledge to some more practical use. I thought I’d find a practice and go into partnership. Perhaps specialise. Child psychology, maybe.’
‘Well, there’ll be no shortage of people over there who could use a good shrink,’ his best man said prosaically. ‘I can’t say I envy you.’ But, in truth, Gideon was looking forward to it.
A new life beckoned. A new life with Laurel. What more could he ask?
* * *
In her house on the Woodstock Road, Laurel, helped by her mother and the two cousins who were her bridesmaids, stepped into her wedding dress.
It was a creation of white lace, silk and real pearls, and had a high neck and a heart-shaped panel of lace over the valley between her breasts that was just see-through enough to hint at her creamy décolletage. It had a pinched-in waist that tapered to a diamond panel, and then full, voluminous skirts underneath.
Her bouquet was comprised of orchids, flown in especially from Hawaii.
With her raven tresses piled high on her head, and a string of pearls looped through the swirls of hair, she looked breath-taking.
A short, filmy veil did little to hide her radiant face. A Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost pulled up outside, ready to take her the short distance to the chapel.
Her mother was in tears.
At St Bede’s, the guests were beginning to file into the chapel. Gideon came in a few minutes later and walked to the front.
The St Bede’s choir was assembled in the stalls, ready to sing the heartbreakingly lovely hymns that Laurel and Gideon had chosen.
Gideon stood facing the altar and feeling good. All traces of fear and uncertainty fell away.
He was about to marry the most wonderful, aggravating, beautiful, opinionated woman in the world. And she was just what he’d always needed.
Or would ever want.
As the organ began to play the Wedding March at last, everyone turned to watch the bride walking down the aisle.
She was so beautiful, the whole chapel seemed to make a collective gasp.
Gideon’s eyes glowed like Ceylon sapphires, as far removed from ice as it was possible to get, as she moved towards him.
With her favourite uncle by her side, Laurel walked slowly towards the man she loved.
Gideon felt tears smart in his eyes and quickly blinked them back.
Outside, just as Laurel reached his side, it began to snow harder as if in honour of the iceman and his lady.
THE END
ALSO BY FAITH MARTIN
DI HILLARY GREENE SERIES
Book 1: MURDER ON THE OXFORD CANAL
Book 2: MURDER AT THE UNIVERSITY
Book 3: MURDER OF THE BRIDE
Book 4: MURDER IN THE VILLAGE
Book 5: MURDER IN THE FAMILY
Book 6: MURDER AT HOME
Book 7: MURDER IN THE MEADOW
Book 8: MURDER IN THE MANSION
Book 9: MURDER IN THE GARDEN
Book 10: MURDER BY FIRE
Book 11: MURDER AT WORK
Book 12: MURDER NEVER RETIRES
Book 13: MURDER OF A LOVER
Book 14: MURDER NEVER MISSES
Book 15: MURDER AT MIDNIGHT
Book 16: MURDER IN MIND
Book 17: HILLARY’S FINAL CASE
Book 18: HILLARY’S BACK
JENNY STARLING MYSTERIES
Book 1: THE BIRTHDAY MYSTERY
Book 2: THE WINTER MYSTERY
Book 3: THE RIVERBOAT MYSTERY
Book 4: THE CASTLE MYSTERY
Book 5: THE OXFORD MYSTERY
Book 6: THE TEATIME MYSTERY
Book 7: THE COUNTRY INN MYSTERY
MONICA NOBL
E MYSTERIES
Book 1: THE VICARAGE MURDER
Book 2: THE FLOWER SHOW MURDER
Book 3: THE MANOR HOUSE MURDER
WRITING AS MAXINE BARRY
THE LYING GAME
AN OXFORD REVENGE
AN OXFORD SCANDAL
More coming soon!
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DISCOVER FAITH MARTIN’S SERIES OF CLASSIC WHODUNITS!
THE BIRTHDAY MYSTERY
UK www.amazon.co.uk/BIRTHDAY-absolutely-gripping-whodunit-million-selling-ebook/dp/B07L7C6R53/
USA www.amazon.com/BIRTHDAY-absolutely-gripping-whodunit-million-selling-ebook/dp/B07L7C6R53/
These classic-style mysteries will have you scratching your head to work out who the murderer is, and look out for some real twists and turns.
Meet Jenny Starling: travelling cook and reluctant amateur detective.
DI HILLARY GREENE BOOK 1
MURDER ON THE OXFORD CANAL
UK www.amazon.co.uk/MURDER-OXFORD-gripping-mystery-twists-ebook/dp/B0763RXLRV/
USA www.amazon.com/MURDER-OXFORD-gripping-mystery-twists-ebook/dp/B0763RXLRV/
MEET DI HILLARY GREENE, A POLICE WOMAN FIGHTING TO SAVE HER CAREER.
Not only has she lost her husband, but his actions have put her under investigation for corruption.
Then a bashed and broken body is found floating in the Oxford Canal. It looks like the victim fell off a boat, but Hillary is not so sure. Her investigation exposes a dark background to the death.
Can Hillary clear her name and get to the bottom of a fiendish conspiracy on the water?
DI HILLARY GREENE BOOK 2
MURDER AT THE UNIVERSITY
UK www.amazon.co.uk/MURDER-UNIVERSITY-gripping-mystery-twists-ebook/dp/B076CQSYMM/
