by Bowes, K T
Leslie nodded and waved her away and Hana left the room, still feeling as though something was amiss.
She crashed into her room with a huge sigh, falling through the door with exhaustion after a disturbed night and an uncustomary ride. The reason for the nervous women downstairs lay on the king sized bed in his jeans with the telly playing. His motorbike jacket and helmet were on the floor in the corner. He already had the remote in his hand as though about to change channels but flicked the whole thing off instead.
Logan’s black hair was glossy from the shower, the damp fringe flicking into his eyes. His torso and feet were bare, the muscles in his biceps ticking as he flexed his hands and turned to fix grey eyes on his wife.
The confidence and resolve Hana found on the mountain top trickled into her stomach, giving her a pain as it passed her belly button. She stood in the doorway as Logan unwound himself from the bed and planted his feet on the floor, saying nothing. A moment of pure panic drove Hana into stupidity and she turned and ran. Her feet skidded on the rimu floorboards in her socks but Logan’s bare feet and longer legs caught her before she got very far. He wordlessly snatched her up in his strong arms and carried her wriggling body back to the bedroom, opening the door with his hip. “I’ll scream,” Hana threatened through gritted teeth as he laid her on the bed, chaff falling from every crinkle and crease in her clothing.
“Go on then,” he said smiling, his sparkling grey eyes daring her to. “They know I’m good and that will just confirm it!”
Hana pushed at Logan’s muscular chest, not sure why she fought anymore. His eyes flicked over her borrowed riding clothes and deft fingers separated her checked blouse from the cream coloured jodhpurs with ease. “I missed you, wahine,” he whispered, growing frustrated with the buttons of the blouse and pinging them off with a single rip. Logan spread the blouse open, his touch producing electric sensations across Hana’s skin. She stopped fighting and swallowed all protest, her green eyes studying her husband with the same apprehension as the women downstairs. On home turf he was invigorated and formidable, a commander of a Māori army and Hana felt her belly flutter at his mastery of her.
His lips felt soft over hers, trembling as Logan pressed into Hana’s mouth and ran his tongue over hers. Unable to stop the heat of excitement she gave in, just like she always did.
Logan smelled good, his cheeks and chin smooth from a recent shave and his kisses were tender and insistent. Hana tasted aftershave and inwardly cursed her complete lack of willpower, as her husband stripped her naked and set to work, reminding her why they were so good together.
“Did my horse get any chaff?” Logan asked later as he brushed dust and grains from the bed with a dustpan and brush from under the sink. “Or did you just roll in it and tease her?”
“How do you know I rode your horse?” Hana asked, pulling a face which showed her open disdain for the stroppy mare.
Logan snorted and pursed his lips. “I went to see her and Jack said she’d gone out with you and Flick. He can’t ride her; she only carries Du Roses. That’s the way I trained her and that’s the way she’ll stay.” He walked to the bin in the corner to empty the dustpan but Hana plunged into another volley of sneezing.
“Don’t put it in there.” She grabbed it from him and carried it onto the balcony, watching with satisfaction as chaff flew away on the breeze. Logan smirked as he heard her shout apologies to the knot of Japanese tourists just getting onto their bus, being showered in natural grain.
“How does she know?” Hana asked as she closed the sliding door. Logan looked at her in confusion, his brain already onto the next thing. “The horse,” Hana repeated. “How does she know whether you’re a Du Rose or not?”
Logan bit his lip and looked sexy, masking a smile as he pulled his tee shirt over his head. “I don’t know,” he replied. “She just does. I broke her in after I came back from England to stay and she’s bucked everyone else off her whole life.”
Hana gulped and shook her head. “So she thinks I’m a Du Rose? Is it because I wore Liza’s clothes?”
“No, Hana!” Logan’s eyes bore into her face, reading her sense of inadequacy; the small fish in a massive pond, drowning. “You are a Du Rose and she knows it.”
Hana shook her head and her expression was sceptical. “Whatever,” she muttered. She’d insulted the mare from one end of the property to the other and the horse couldn’t even tell a real Du Rose from a...whatever Hana was.
Logan’s brow furrowed. “I’m not letting you go, Hana, so get used to it. You’ve belonged to me since I was fourteen so you were a Du Rose even before you knew it. Stop doubting yourself, wahine. You’re mine.”
Hana felt her heart pounding in her breast and a sense of violation eking across her flesh. Somehow Logan understood the root of her problem as though he possessed a secret route into her psyche. Her fear emerged as anger. “I could have been killed!” she exploded.
Logan’s smile made her feel foolish instead. “Na, babe. I’m never that rough with you. I know just how you like it.” He enfolded her in his arms and planted a sensuous kiss on her neck and Hana heard the moan escape her lips, feeling like the biggest pushover in the North Island.
They went downstairs to reclaim Phoenix and release Leslie, but he old woman was reluctant to hand her back. “Youse two have more time,” she insisted. “I love having this little moko.” Logan looked at the housekeeper oddly as she used the word for ‘grandchild’ and Leslie relinquished the baby and disappeared up to her apartment with more speed than Hana credited her with.
“Don’t you like Leslie?” Hana asked, as she fed her daughter at the dining room table.
Logan shrugged. “We’ve never liked each other,” he replied.
“Why?” Hana asked, watching Logan’s eyes darken. Her heart sank. “Don’t bother, Logan,” she said spitefully. “It seems I’m only a Du Rose when it suits you.” She ignored his awkward protests and fell silent. Phoenix produced another horrendous nappy half way through her feed and Hana made Logan deal with her. He was gone a long time.
Hana sat at the table enjoying a cup of tea and listening to the steady clatter of metal food trays and crockery in the industrial kitchen next door. It felt nice to be still for a little while. The women called to one another as they set up for afternoon tea and loaded trays for the restaurant dining room.
Logan returned with a happier baby and handed Phoenix over. “Leslie’s been introducing her to boil-ups!” he exclaimed, disappearing to the outside bins with the reeking nappy.
“What’s a boil-up?” Hana asked when he returned and Logan shrugged.
“It’s everything boiled up.”
It sounded logical but without details left the Englishwoman no wiser. Hana fed her baby for a while longer, silent as her brain worked. Logan paced the room, examining the builders’ work in opening up the dining room and forming the archway to the kitchen. Logan scrutinised the cornice and skirting boards, nodding with approval. Hana shook her head, wondering how she ever passed muster in his perfectionist world or if he examined and picked at her faults when she was sleeping. She sighed and Phoenix popped out from her tee shirt and grinned. Hana smiled back and tickled the soles of her baby’s feet. Phoenix laughed. “Use it or lose it, baby,” Hana whispered and her daughter raised an eyebrow in an uncoordinated movement.
“S’up?” Logan asked, pulling out the chair next to Hana and plonking himself on it as though it was a horse. He needed a haircut and his fringe was permanently in his eyes, shuddering with the motion of his eyelashes. His striking looks melted Hana’s resolve and she forced herself to look away.
“Nothing.”
Logan waited with infinite patience, his grey eyes calm and peaceful like a smooth sea, hiding the danger beneath which could suck Hana in and crush her without mercy. The scar under his right eye looked messy but added to his sex appeal.
“The thing with Amanda,” Hana began, as the silence addled her nerves. Her eyes flicked to Log
an’s face, seeking denial but getting none. “I don’t know how to deal with stuff like that. I feel so threatened but you’re gorgeous and other women like you.” Hana swallowed, feeling an uncomfortable constriction in her chest as her pulse rate increased. “If I stay married to you, I have to relive the Caroline nightmare over and over again but with different women. Caroline’s determination to get you back was traumatic and she made my life a living hell. I don’t know how to cope because of Vik’s affair. I freeze and do nothing because it doesn’t matter what I do, I still lose. With Vik I believed I was the last one to know but was I? Did I see it happening like with Amanda and just ignore it?” Hana ran her free hand over her eyes. “I know I can’t live like that; it messes with my head too much.”
Logan waited for her to stop wrangling and then stroked his fingers down her cheek. “You said if you stay married. Are you thinking of not staying married to me, Hana?” His grey eyes bore into her soul, searching and leaving a trace of white light over the delicate surface. “Hana, don’t you trust me?”
Hana thought about her answer, certain he would know if she lied. Logan seemed to understand her better than she did. She told him the truth, shaking her head with emphasis. “No, I don’t know if I can live with women throwing themselves at you. And no, I don’t trust you, Logan.”
He nodded, understanding and compassion pouring through his eyes. He inhaled and smiled sadly at his wife. “Then there’s nothing for it, is there?”
Hana’s pupils dilated in fear at her husband’s words. Was there no point continuing a marriage without trust? She wondered that herself often, not wanting to admit her worst fear. Worse than being widowed again was the nightmare of a partner’s infidelity and living through the aftermath. Her brow furrowed and she tipped her head like a little bird sensing danger. “What do you mean?” she asked bravely, wishing she’d lied her damn head off.
“I’ll have to earn your trust, won’t I?” Logan said, taking her free hand in his, kissing the gold band on her ring finger and effortlessly making it seem highly erotic. “I’ll show you how much I value our marriage, even if you never believe me. I personally prize honesty far above trust. Trust is earned, not given by right but honesty can be as hard to give and accept. I love your honesty, Hana. I’m satisfied with that for now.”
Hana nodded and focussed on the baby, not wanting to fall into Logan’s grey eyes without sealing over her vulnerability first. Logan took his index finger and pulled her head up, forcing her to allow him access to her soul. He smiled, mocking her bashfulness with a joke. “But I’m such a handsome devil there’ll be more Amandas. I guess we need to work out a plan for you to cope.”
Hana slapped Logan’s leg, swearing at him and clapping her hand across her mouth looking mortified. “You’re so bad for me!” she chastised. “But you’re right. What should I have done about Amanda?”
Logan grew serious. “I needed you to react like I would if another man chased you. I don’t leave you in any doubt I love you. I won’t tolerate anyone muscling in on our marriage.” Hana’s mind drifted to the image of Logan picking Amanda’s ex-husband up by the throat and splatting him against the window for standing too close to her. A guilty slice of her consciousness flicked to the tennis player’s kiss and she kept her eyes away from Logan.
“I knew what she was up to,” Logan continued. “I don’t understand why she’d mess with our marriage when her husband wrecked theirs with his affairs, but lonely people do desperate things. It was harmless, flirty, needy crap and nothing physical. I should have spelled it out, but I thought you could see her game; it was so obvious. She refused to leave that night, insisting she needed to see you and short of throwing her out, I put up with her. I couldn’t lay hands on her, Hana and I couldn’t leave without taking Phoe. When I walked to the bedroom she followed me and that’s all you saw; me trapped in the lounge with her because I daren’t go anywhere else in the house. I wanted you to defend me - us. You needed to tell her to back off, not run away and leave me with the problem. When you finally got mad, you got mad at me and I did nothing wrong. I want you to stand up for yourself. You always jump onto the back foot and assume you can’t compete, that you’re not good enough. It’s crap, Hana. I’ve told you I only ever wanted you but you don’t hear me. You build this I’m-not-good-enough-wall and shut me out.”
“Sorry,” Hana whispered. “I did it again, didn’t I? Just ran off without standing my ground.”
She looked wretched and Logan pulled her in close, whispering into her curls, “At least this time it wasn’t a plane ride, just a run up the highway home. But I wish you’d stop it. I never know whether to come after you or not.”
“I never know whether I want you to either,” she conceded and Logan laughed.
“Not much hope for me then is there?”
“Logan?”
“What?” his voice was soft and alluring.
“Am I meant to pick people up by the throat and splat them on windows?”
His laugh was low and melodious. “Na, babe. Your arms are way too spindly. I did that with good reason. I don’t need you to be like me; one bull in our china shop is enough. Speaking to Amanda is fine; cat fights are ugly and a real turn off.”
Logan jumped to his feet and held his hand out to Hana. “Come on, let’s raid the chiller while the women are in the restaurant.”
He emerged with the spoils of his mission and two spoons and carried the feast up to the bedroom. With Phoenix in the travel cot, they demolished the sherry trifle between them while the kitchen girls searched for it downstairs, blaming each other for misplacing it.
Chapter 14
Sunday arrived far too quickly. Hana woke feeling tetchy in anticipation of the drive back to Hamilton, resenting Logan’s insistence she leave the relaxed environment of his hotel. Logan rode up to the new house on Sacha and returned in half the time it took his wife and stock man. Hana laid in bed feeding the baby as a veiled protest.
“That driveway’s awesome isn’t it?” Logan commented, laying a sleeping Phoenix in the cot. “I made it there and back in a fraction of the time it usually takes.”
“Did you stop to pay homage to your name on the kauri tree?” Hana asked facetiously, snuggling into the sheets with her back towards him.
“Oh, you mean the symbol next to my name, the one with the big ure.”
Hana turned and clapped her hand over his mouth as he mentioned the large phallic symbol on the tiki under his name. He laughed and scooted behind her, putting his hands underneath the tee shirt she wore to bed. “Actually,” he said, his voice sultry. “I’m putting it on the trek for riding tours. The foreigners can photograph it.”
“What it must be,” Hana interrupted, “to have such a big...ego!”
“Harsh,” Logan replied, pushing his face through her hair and kissing her neck. “Now be a proper Māori wife and please your husband.” He bit his lip, teasing her breasts out of her bra and dodging Hana’s slaps.
“You arrogant man!” she shrieked, giggling as Logan eased her knickers down and smothered her lips with his.
Hana felt maudlin an hour later in the shower. “I don’t want to go back,” she complained, shouting over the sound of the water.
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “I know, Hana.”
“Well, don’t make me then,” she muttered and his handsome face appeared in the doorway.
“I am making you,” he said. “You’re my wahine and I want you with me. If you stay here you’ll get bored and distract my housekeeper and leave me vulnerable to the lovely Amanda’s charms.”
Hana scowled and turned her back on him, bending to soap her thighs. “Last year you talked about coming back to run the hotel and farm yourself; why can’t we do that?”
Logan snorted and pushed his hands into his front pockets, his naked torso sexy as he leaned against the doorframe. “You didn’t want to, babe.”
“What if I’ve changed my mind?” Hana ran her hands through her wet hair,
pushing if off her face and lifting her chest, deliberately manipulating her husband. He smirked and studied her lithe body.
“Are you serious?” he asked, distracted.
“Why not?” Hana replied. “I live in a city and am as isolated as if I was here in the absolute middle of nowhere.”
Logan’s brow furrowed as he processed her statement, looking sceptical. “Ok,” he answered. “But today you come back to town.”
Hana rolled her eyes and turned her back, denying him any more pleasure when he wouldn’t agree to her staying at the hotel. Logan smiled and returned to the bedroom, clumping around as he stripped the bed. Realising the battle was lost, Hana changed tack. “How come you missed the soccer match yesterday?” she called.
“Wasn’t gonna happen,” he shouted back. “The other team couldn’t raise a full squad so forfeit. Just as well as I didn’t want to play and with Collins gone, we don’t have a good defender.”
Emerging from the bathroom towelling her hair, Hana considered the stroppy groundsman who consistently berated anyone abusing his pristine sports ground. That included walking on it, running on it or even playing on it. Home games were a trial in the wet weather as Collins spent more time fitting clods of precious earth back into their slots than watching the ball. His skill as a defender came from a burning urge to keep the penalty boxes free of gouges or skids and at half time he always got into a temper, realising everyone would change ends. Sliding tackles were the source of instant outrage.
“It’s been a week.” Hana’s brow creased as she squeezed water out of her long tresses into the towel. “Haven’t the cops said anything about how he died or why he was in the trench?”
“Not to me.” Logan stared at Hana’s shapely body and bit his lip.
“No,” she said, raising a finger in warning. He sighed and looked sulky.
“The last cop said they’re having trouble reaching Collins’ family, so can’t release his name. It’s a pity your son’s giving me such a wide berth; he was usually a good source of information. Never mind. We know who died because I saw him and we’ve inexplicably been a groundsman short all week; people will have drawn their own conclusions. Somebody must know something.” Logan continued stuffing his belongings into a backpack.