After the clash, his squad lost momentum, settling into an irregular rhythm to inch forward. Rupert's attention was now all helter-skelter.

His mind registered details that had nothing to do with the race or with winning: the troubled sky, the choppy river, the back of his teammate in front ...

He focused on the sound of his own breathing, but failed.

They pa.s.sed the finish line, a shadow behind the Cambridge boat.

Seconds after the arrival, his head buried between his knees, Rupert blocked a strong wave of nausea. The heavy pounding of his heart resonated across his ribcage.

I screwed up. I screwed up again.

FIFTY CREWS IN the Fours Head, and Madison braced herself for a long morning. She was already bored from looking at boats crossing the finish line.

She sat between her friends, desperate to steal some of their human heat. She tucked her hands underneath her thighs, but the cold surface of the wooden bench they sat on didn't provide much comfort. Pippa kept shifting next to her. Oxford wasn't doing well, and the school's supporters were still waiting for their first boat to arrive. "I can't believe Cambridge is going to win," Ollie repeated.

How could the rowers not freeze their b.u.t.ts off wearing only s.k.a.n.ky shorts? Okay, the whole race seemed a pretty grueling effort, but watching it wasn't much fun, either.

Looking at the fog caressing the Thames, Madison shivered. It was thicker than any she'd seen on the bayou. The whole scene could have come straight from a Victorian novel. Jack the Ripper wasn't too far off.

Ollie walked briskly toward the riverbank. The first boat of the Cambridge Light Blues was finally in sight. The Oxford Dark Blues' crew was closing in as well, and the final result would be embarra.s.sing. Oxford was fifteen long seconds behind Cambridge's winning boat.

Commotion exploded around Madison. Students screaming, booing, laughing, shouting.

"Open your eyes," Pippa whispered. Like a hawk, the Irish girl stared at the Oxford boat.

As soon as the athletes made it to the finish line, they labored over to the sh.o.r.e and climbed out of their boat. The sight of the crew was impressive-all tall, healthy-looking guys.

Madison now understood why Pippa was ready to face polar conditions.

"So which one is your victim?"

"All of them, but the blonder the better. See the one I mean?" Pippa looked like a kitten about to lap up a saucer of creamy milk.

Her target towered well above six foot and stood out amid some pretty appetizing male samples. Instead of looking like he had been rowing h.e.l.l-bent, he could have stepped out of some Regency salon. A rogue, a d.a.m.ned attractive rogue.

No amount of sweat or messy hair could take his att.i.tude away.

And Madison found him annoying. Again.

Chapter 5.

"I'VE SEEN HIM BEFORE."

Good heavenly days. How could she have forgotten? She was surprised her brain could still function in spite of the testosterone flaunted before her.

"Where?" Pippa didn't take her eyes off her prey.

"We exchanged a few words at the ball last week. He's a total jerk."

"I know, but he's wonderful in bed."

"Have you ..." Madison stopped, not wanting to hear the details. "His name is Rupert?"

"Rupert St-John Vance, future Earl of Huxbury," Pippa articulated, one syllable at a time.

"I've never seen an earl before." True to her country roots, Madison whistled. "He appears pretty normal to me, though. Apart from being totally gorgeous."

The object of their attention chose that exact moment to turn toward where they stood. His gaze wrapped around Madison. A warm sparkle lightened up in his eyes.

"Gosh, he saw me," Pippa was getting all fl.u.s.tered by Madison's side, giving a s.e.xy wave with her manicured hands.

It didn't have the desired effect. Except for a slight rise of his eyebrow that lasted for a second, Earl Boy stopped paying attention. His lips pressed together in a tight line, and he began helping one of his teammates.

But his presence a few feet away was enough to make the riverside as steamy as a Louisiana swamp.

Pippa smiled at Madison, and her Irish lilt gave a bounce to her words. "This guy is one of a kind, believe me. I was already hearing about him when he was at Eton. One of my roommates in boarding school went out with him. He was the first guy she slept with."

"Nice." Madison tamped down her sarcastic tone. Pippa never had any problem with full disclosure. She always told it like it was, and Madison liked that about her. Most of the time.

"Rupert delivers totally. We had a one-night stand last year, before he started going out with his girlfriend. We were pretty drunk."

Madison struggled to control the jealousy tweaking her heart. Rupert had a girlfriend, and had slept with her own BFF. And here she was, a twenty-one-year-old virgin, a statistical anomaly. Half the girls her age had slept with a guy by the time they graduated high school. She was now a college graduate ... Let's keep the V-card buried deep in my pocket.

Madison turned her eyes back to where Rupert had stood, but he had already disappeared into the boathouse. The air around her had lost its electric edge. She was back to cold, gray-skyed London.

THE ANCHOR INN was nothing fancy, but Rupert's memories of the riverside tavern were of good times, like drinking beer with friends on the terrace overlooking the Thames. Today, he went only because the rest of the team was heading here.

His performance at the race had been utter s.h.i.t. The last thing he needed was a drink with his teammates. They thought he was a fraud, with the coach being his father's mate. He wouldn't contradict them on that front.

Then he saw her, and forgot about the race, the team, and the walking failure he was. The tension inside him went away. A warm glow took central stage. Just like earlier, after the race, on the bank when he had seen her.

She sat at the end of a large wooden table next to last year's Ginger Girl and a bespectacled guy Rupert had seen around a few times. Her hands were hidden in her duffel coat.

Its woolen hood covered her heart-shaped face. The sun had replaced the earlier wind, but she had her arms tightly wrapped around her upper body to keep herself warm. The heating lanterns on the terrace weren't enough for the girl from Louisiana.

She was as he remembered her, and Rupert wanted to take away the shadow in her eyes. He wanted to jump on the table, clown around, behave like a fool, and put a smile on her face.

Shaking off all the schmaltz, he waited for the American girl to turn her face in his direction. As soon as she noticed him, his mouth broke into an inviting smile. That usually did the trick.

She glanced away.

Okay...

When she stood and moved back inside the pub, he knew he had to talk to her. The girl was a tease.

Inside, the tavern was old-fashioned and warm, but the low beams made the place dark. The only light came from ships' lanterns and an open fire.

She stood in front of the bar. Aside from the barman, they were alone.

"We always seem to meet while in need of a drink."

She jumped. Her cheeks took on a rosy flush, and he saw tension mounting inside her.

"I'd like a hot chocolate," she said to the barman, ignoring Rupert. "With some marshmallows?"

The girl played hard to get, and it grated his already wounded ego. To look relaxed, he placed his thumbs in his trouser pockets.

"We do only tea or coffee here," the barman answered.

"A tea then."

Rupert ordered a pint of Guinness. Then, to the American girl, "I hope you enjoyed the race."

"Not impressive for your team." She didn't avert her gaze anymore.

"It's your team too."

She looked for change in her red purse but didn't answer.

"He stopped her by putting his hand on hers. Allow me. You didn't let me treat you last time." Her skin was cold, but its touch was enough to reignite the heat he had felt outside.

She dropped her hands to her side, and her expression was blank when she thanked him. Rupert regretted invading her s.p.a.ce. He didn't want to scare her but he had to know who this girl was. She was cute, but there was more to her.

He paid for the drinks and gestured toward one of the oak tables next to a lattice window. She sat down opposite him.

"Let me introduce myself properly this time. I'm Rupert Vance." He extended his hand.

"Madison LeBon." Her hands were small, and her skin slid like silk against his.

"So you're at Christ Church too?"

She let a small grin appear and brought the steaming cup up to her lips.

A stereo started playing a pop tune, and Rupert resented the intrusion. He raised his voice.

"Yes, but I haven't been around much lately. I've had to miss a few tutorials because of training." He ma.s.saged the crinkle lines near his eyes. But time to change the subject and learn more about the brunette sitting in front of him. "Where are you from in Louisiana?" He took a sip of Guinness, savoring its coffee-like flavor.

"A small place near Baton Rouge."

Rupert watched her twist a silver ring on her index finger, turning it counterclockwise. Maybe she wasn't as cool as she looked. The thought rea.s.sured him but not for long.

The door of the pub had opened, letting a cold draft in, and his girlfriend made her entrance. After her eyes had swept the room, Harriet stared at him and his companion. Her anger was splashed all over her face when she strutted toward their corner table.

By the time she sat next to him, she had managed to disguise her feeling.

"My darling, I'm so sorry. I missed the race," she purred.

Annoyed by her arrival more than he had been by the loud music, Rupert introduced the girls to each other and added, "Madison is studying at Christ Church. She comes from the States."

"I see." Harriet touched his rumpled hair, trumpeting her ownership. "Maybe you can share stories about that horrible American tutor of yours."

Rupert interrupted. "McCain isn't worth talking about."

Madison folded her arms across her chest. "You're talking about Jackson McCain?"

"Yes, he wasn't very happy about my missing a few tutorials. The guy is a moron."

"Jackson McCain is a great guy," she snapped. "He's worked hard to be where he is."

"Calm down. I have the right not to like the man."

Rupert held his hands in a peacemaking gesture, but she was on her feet and had grabbed her tea. "Anyway, given today's bad performance, it wasn't worth missing his tutorials."

Ouch, that hurts ...

And like that, she left the pub.

"Is that girl for real?" Harriet asked, her lips pursed. As always she was groomed from head to toe and wore that fur coat Rupert loathed.

Rupert clenched his jaw. He wasn't used to being lectured to by a stranger, or by anybody. Except his old man, and Coach Bartlett.

"She's a nerd."

"Maybe, but a nerd with a serious crush." His girlfriend gripped his shoulder while stroking his hip.

Rupert wanted to shake her smothering hands off his body. "We just met. I'm not that irresistible."

Harriet burst out laughing. "Not on you, you idiot. On this McCain chap."

"Good luck to her. They'll be a perfect match in Geek Land." That was the best retort he could think of. He grabbed his beer and finished it in one quaff.

n.o.body had ever stuck up for him, not the way Madison had for McCain. Maybe n.o.body ever would.

And that sucked.

Majorly.