With His Kiss

Whatever the boys were expecting, it didn’t seem to affect their need for food. Afterward they trooped into the room next door, where they lounged on chairs and a sofa or sprawled on the floor, with or without the cushions and bean bags provided.

Steve took a stance where they could all see him and simply waited in silence for them to stop shoving and joshing each other and fall quiet.

“When I arrived this afternoon,” he began, “I thought I’d entered a war zone.”

Uncertain laughter came from some of the boys. But Steve’s face was stern, his voice uncompromising. “Magnus would never have stood for that kind of thing and you all know it. If it happens again, anyone who takes part will be asked to leave. Is that clear?”

Shuffles and muttered acknowledgments.

“At least one of you owes Triss an apology,” Steve added grimly. “In fact it might not be a bad idea if you all apologized to her for your behavior this afternoon before you leave. But don’t go yet.”

He paused. One boy, arms folded, was tipping his chair dangerously far back, apparently ignoring Steve. After a few seconds the boy looked up, locked gazes with the man for a long moment, then let the chair thud into place.

Steve’s glance swept the room. “Magnus made both me and his wife trustees under his will,” he said. “That’s why I’m here, to carry out his work. You guys are lucky—you won’t know how lucky until after you leave. A lot of you haven’t had it easy up until now. We don’t promise you ever will, but we’ll do our damnedest to make sure you have the skills to make the most of what you have.”

Magnus’s creed, Triss thought, watching Steve catch each boy’s eyes in turn.

“I’m an old boy of Kurakaha myself, so don’t think I can’t understand your problems—and don’t think you can get away with anything either. I know all the tricks because I’ve pulled most of them myself.”

That drew another reluctant laugh and some assessing looks.

“I’m not going to bore you with long speeches. Anyone wants to talk to me, I’ll be around. I’m going to be around for a long time.”

Triss guessed that last was aimed at her.

Steve had impressed the boys, not so much by what he said as the way he said it, with unmistakable authority, his manner firm but approachable. Even the easy way he stood as he talked to them, neither parade-ground straight nor slouching, proclaimed confidence in his control of any situation. They’d reserve judgment but he’d made a good start.

The students began filing out, each one stopping to mutter an apology to her. “You’d better apologize to Mr. Gill,” she told the one who had punched the tutor. “If he comes back after what happened to him this afternoon.”

“Yeah, awright. Didden know it was him.” The boy slouched off.

When they had all left, Steve looked across the room at Triss. “How did I do?”

Surprised that he’d asked, and trying hard not to sound grudging, she said, “Very well. You don’t think we might have asked what started them off?”

“A disputed goal, the guys at my table told me. Any excuse to let off steam.” He grinned faintly. “Tears are shameful, but a good brawl can have a cathartic effect.”

Triss wondered if the forceful way he’d helped Zed break up the fight had been cathartic for him, too. She recalled the way he’d looked when he approached her afterward, his hair sleeked to his scalp and the wet shirt molding powerful shoulders and a broad chest. His face had been taut and energized, his eyes glinting like new metal, even before they’d taken in the revealing nature of her own wet clothes. When the glint had altered to a very specific and personal appraisal.

She swallowed, shaking off a ripple of disturbing sensation.

“Thanks for the intro at dinner,” Steve was saying.

“We always introduce guests…or new staff.” She paused. “You might have consulted me before threatening to throw them out.”

“Only if the same thing happened again. However,” he added, “point taken.”

And no sense in laboring it. Politely she asked, “I hope the annex is okay? If there’s anything you need let me know.”

“It’s fine. When can we go over the books?”

“The books?”

“Annual reports and balance sheets. I’d like to know what’s been happening over the past few years, and what exactly our financial situation is.”

“I can tell you that.” He knew she had been keeping the accounts ever since arriving at Kurakaha. She was just about to graciously concede that of course he could see the records if he wished, when he added, his voice unmistakably hardening, “I’d like to see them, all the same. And I’ll be bringing in an independent auditor.”

Triss went cold, then hot. The skin over her cheekbones burned, the bruised one throbbing painfully in time with the thudding of her heart that seemed to be hurting, too. “You don’t trust me.”

“I didn’t say that.” But he wasn’t saying he did, either.

“The books are audited every year.”

“I’m sure. Who chose the auditor?”

She wouldn’t dignify that with an answer. “You’re welcome to go through them,” she said stiffly. “You and your auditor.”

She felt like flying at him, starting a small private brawl of her own. Instead she wheeled and left him, not trusting herself to stay any longer in the same room.

After checking that the boys on kitchen duty were clearing up and laying the tables for breakfast, she made sure the cook didn’t need any other help, and marched out into the gardens. Already a couple of pale stars hung in the sky, and a gleaming sickle moon had risen over the trees.

Moving away from the house and avoiding Zed’s cottage, she took a path under the trees. It was darker here but she knew every inch of the grounds, and her stride didn’t slacken as she followed a winding course up a slope, until the path ended at a tiny stone building covered in climbing vines and holding a wooden seat just big enough for two.

Once, she supposed, it had been a spot for lovers, before Magnus bought the house and grounds from the descendants of the man who had built it at the beginning of the twentieth century.

She came here when she needed a break from the constant demands on her time and energy. The boys were interesting, always stimulating, sometimes riotous, sometimes poignant and often exhausting. A few moments to herself were rare and precious. Sometimes lately she’d felt it was all too much—the house too big, its inhabitants too volatile, and everyone expecting too much of her.

In daylight the arched doorway of the grotto allowed a glimpse through trees of the farmlands beyond, and cars streaming to and from Auckland along the motorway in the distance. There were moments when she longed to join them, escape from the tyranny of responsibility that had fallen on her shoulders. Steve was here now to share it, but his hostile presence only imposed more stress.

It was getting dark, the cars intermittent flashes of light, far away, and she closed her eyes, leaning her head against the cool stone and trying to think of nothing.

Which was difficult, because Steve’s strong, handsome features and condemning, metallic scrutiny kept getting in the way.

After a while she opened her eyes, and immediately sat up straight with a gasp that was almost a scream.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure loomed in the narrow arched doorway, blocking what remained of the fading light.

Chapter Three

“Were you asleep?” Steve said.

Recognizing his voice should have reassured her, but instead Triss’s heart was hammering, her body rigid with tension. He added, “I thought you’d have seen me coming up the path.”

“I wasn’t asleep, but I didn’t see you. What are you doing here?”

There was a pause before he answered. “Renewing my acquaintance with the place. What about you?” He raised an arm, his hand resting on the stone arch.

“I come here quite often. To think.”