by Bowes, K T
The room was opulently dressed with swagged curtains and rich furnishings. Logan sat on the bed and watched his new wife as he kicked off his ever-present cowboy boots. Hana’s silhouette was framed in the window, elegant and slender, her hair rapidly escaping from the emerald clip. Hearing him sigh, she turned suddenly and her face was anxious as she bit her lip. “You’re not sorry, are you?”
Logan exhaled and shook his head. He ran trembling fingers through the fringe of his hair. “I’m just scared.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and looked so wrong-footed, Hana felt pity for him. “I’ve spent my whole life wanting to be sitting here looking at my gorgeous wife; at you. It just hit me now I’ve got you, I have to work out how to keep you.” He made a sound like a half laugh, but it was aimed only at himself.
Hana walked to him, placing her feet like a dancer and causing her dress to shimmy around her thighs seductively. Straddling his lap, she sensed the emotional weight in Logan’s heart and brushed his cheek with her hand. “Let’s not worry or plan anything today then, like you said.” Her voice was a whisper as she casually loosened his tie and began to undo the stiff shirt buttons. As each button came free, Hana kissed the space where it revealed dusky, olive skin, until she trespassed into unknown territory, exploring further than propriety had ever allowed her to. Logan’s legs shook underneath her body and his muscular chest was taut and rigid, as Hana concentrated on chasing worry from his mind. “I’m not Mrs Du Rose yet,” she teased him, “according to you.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed and he smiled, caught up in the excitement and importance of the moment. He laid his new wife carefully on the bed while his shirt gaped open, revealing a muscular chest with a dusting of dark hair across his pectorals. He freed himself from the rest of the white material, casting it carelessly on the floor. Logan’s eyes were the colour of grit, attraction making his pupils huge as he lay down next to her and ran a lazy finger down the zipper of her dress. “Ok then,” he whispered. “Let me marry you properly.”
Hana was astounded at her own brazenness in the face of such a handsome man. He was loving and energetic and encouraged a different side of her to blossom, a teasing, sensual personality who took Hana by surprise. Emerging from the room over five hours later, it was evident their relationship had changed. The couple walked closely together, arms wrapped around each other and happiness and contentment radiated off them in waves. There was an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. During the late evening meal in the restaurant, Hana and Logan barely took their eyes off each other but ate heartily. They disappeared off to their room quickly afterwards. The next morning, after a breakfast delivered by room service, they lay entwined in the king sized bed, Hana’s head on her husband’s downy chest and his fingers tracing the line of her shoulder and arm gently as they whispered to each other. Logan was gorgeous and Hana felt as though she couldn’t get close enough to him.
“What about Tiger though?” Hana half sat up, the white sheets slithering provocatively down her body and revealing part of a breast. “He’s all cooped up in the house. He’ll get up to mischief.”
“No, he won’t. Trust me, I’ve sorted it,” Logan reassured her, distracting her again for a while. His eyes danced and sparkled as he caught up on twenty-six wasted years and worked hard to learn every single freckle and beauty spot on his new wife’s body.
“You say ‘trust me’ a lot,” Hana commented as she lay underneath him, a carpet of auburn hair covering the pillow. “Should I be worried?”
“Definitely.” Logan pulled her in close to him. Hana traced a vein down his large bicep and followed it with a kiss.
“Sounds dangerous,” Hana whispered, her eyes teasing and Logan laughed and pressed his lips to hers. He rolled so she was on top of him and wrapped his fingers in her beautiful hair.
Getting dressed proved difficult as every item Hana donned, Logan worked hard to get off. “Put the green dress on again and do your hair the same as yesterday,” he encouraged, kissing a spot on her neck which he just discovered he liked. A lot.
“I’ve been nearly dressed twice!” Hana complained. “That poor dress won’t cope with your savagery. Anyway, it’s squished where you dropped it last night!” Hana giggled as she picked the dress up and felt Logan’s strong arms around her again. “Look, it’s all creased.”
“There’s no savagery!” Logan sounded hurt. “I’m just making sure you know whose wife you are. Do you feel like Mrs Du Rose yet?”
“I would say definitely yes,” Hana turned to him, naked but for the dress dangling from her fingers. “Why can’t I wear my jeans?”
“Please?” Logan kissed her neck again and Hana shivered. “I’m taking you somewhere special this evening and then we can leave whenever you like. Promise.”
He once again donned the suit trousers and dress shirt, producing the suit jacket from his bag this time. Hana was reluctant, but consumed by the haze of being so loved up with this man she went along with it, especially when he asked her again to trust him. They had lunch in the restaurant under the smiling gaze of the staff, who had worked out they were honeymooners. It made a nice change from the demanding business golfers and retired couples and the staff gave them space, whilst being more attentive and considerate than usual.
After lunch, having already vacated their room, Logan took Hana for a walk around the grounds. They stopped intermittently to sit on the benches dotted around the complex and to give Hana a break from teetering on her heels. “It’s a shame you sold Vik’s old golf clubs. You could have used them here. Pete let slip you have an incredibly good handicap.”
Logan looked away guiltily, fully aware they were at the back of the garage at the Gordonton house, but Hana misread his glance as annoyance. “Sorry, it’s probably inappropriate to mention my dead husband on our honeymoon.”
Logan kissed Hana on the side of her face and shook his head. “It’s ok. We’ve both had a previous life. It’s bound to invade sometimes.”
Hana squeezed his hand with gratitude.
At four o’clock, after a sumptuous afternoon tea, the couple climbed into the Honda with Logan driving and Hana prepared to go wherever he took her. Sometime later, Hana recognised a few key landmarks and realised where they were going. A knot grew in her chest, making breathing almost impossible and she squirmed in the passenger seat. As they pulled onto the bumpy track, sickness added itself to the mix, curdling the beautifully cut sandwiches she had enjoyed. The huge sandstone house came into view and no longer able to control herself, Hana grew fractious and upset. “Why are we here?” Her voice sounded strangled. “Please, Logan, not yet.”
Logan stayed silent, resting his hand over Hana’s trembling fingers which twisted the new wedding ring round and round her finger nervously. Too soon the Honda swung around the driveway and pulled up in front of the attractive staircase up to the hotel’s front door. There was a buzz about the place and Hana hoped fervently there were guests in, reducing the chance of an angry exchange with Logan’s parents. Logan strode round to open up her door and offered his hand so she could climb out. She had taken her shoes off in the car and only remembered when she felt her bare feet in the sharp gravel. Hana stalled, taking ages to get the shoes on, wondering if she could successfully run away in them.
Leading his bride carefully up the steps, Logan was alarmed to find her getting slower and slower. In her mind, she had gone back in time. She was eighteen and about to face the wrath of angry family members, demanding, questioning and disapproving. Vik had sheltered her from much of their spite, refusing to translate the barrage of words she didn’t recognise and allowing her to cower pathetically behind him, while he faced their anger and abject disappointment in their flagship son. In the present, Hana stopped halfway up the steps, bending double and feeling unutterably sick. An unexpected sob caught in her throat as terror got the better of her and the Indian women in her past pointed and whispered at her shameful belly.
Logan, feeling the sudden
yank on his arm, homed in on his wife’s naked emotion and pulled her upwards and into a firm hold. “Hana, what’s wrong? What have I done?”
Hana was comforted by the scent of him and the softness of his shirt as her cheek lay against his chest. She struggled to ground herself in his love. The day grew cold and fear froze Hana’s blood in her veins until she was bone-tired with it. Logan stroked her hair, trying hard to avoid the complicated flower thing trapped at the back and held her tightly. “What on earth is wrong, babe?”
His voice was soft and soothing but when he dropped his hand and stroked her cheek gently, he felt the wetness of her tears and became alarmed. He grappled in his pocket and produced a handkerchief which Hana took gratefully and dabbed at her eyes. Logan said nothing, waiting for her to speak...to explain...to break his heart possibly. Hana’s words when they came, were pitiful and stilted. “What if they’re angry? What if they hate me? What will we do?”
The last came out as a wail, a cry for help, for rescue. Logan’s relief was almost tangible as he understood, simultaneously releasing the breath he held in terror. He recognised he needed to stop doing this, expecting Hana to behave like Caroline. Hana wasn’t confident or hard-faced and didn’t brave things out. She felt deeply and cared what other people thought. It mattered to Hana and that was what made her so lovely. He held her, rubbing her back and letting her calm down so she could hear and understand what he was going to say. Then he said it, hoping fervently she wouldn’t run out on him. “It’s just a party Hana. Everyone thinks it’s for your birthday next week. It was an excuse to get everyone here. Mum and Dad will be thrilled for us. They love you. Come inside and see?”
His tone was tender, questioning and after a few seconds of hesitation he moved up to the next step and held out his hand, “Please?”
Hana swallowed hard and dabbed at her eyes again. “Do I look like I’ve been crying?”
It was the inevitable question tender women always asked. Their eyes could be like Jaffa oranges, red and puffy, but the dutiful male would always reply, “No, you look fine.”
Logan exuded mana and authority as he slowly led his new wife up the steps of his family home and into the giant hallway. He was the chief, the rangatira returning home with his long-awaited bride. Nobody would dare challenge him outright and he knew it.
Unaware of what she had stepped into, Hana’s shoes clip-clopped across the floor towards the great double doors of the ballroom. Logan pushed the doors open one-handed and Hana took a huge breath inward, gulping for air as though it was possibly her last.
HANA DU ROSE
The Hana Du Rose Mysteries
Book 3
K T BOWES
Acknowledgments
This novel is dedicated to my family, to those who have listened and supported, endlessly and tirelessly read, critiqued and made suggestions. Your faith in me has made it all worthwhile.
One day, Andy, the Audi R8 will be yours…
Hana Du Rose
Chapter 1
The noise inside the room rose from a gentle hum to a roar as the couple appeared in the doorway. The scene inside the ballroom overwhelmed Hana. The huge open space was decorated in shades of cream and lightest blue. Swags of cloth hung from the ceiling, creating a scene reminiscent of a Jane Austen style banquet. She and Logan stood paralysed in the doorway, Hana clutching her husband so hard her nails dug into the back of his hand. A ‘Happy Birthday Hana’ sign hung over the double doors, making Hana’s conscience pang with sickening guilt.
First to greet her was her daughter Izzie, who flew to her side and hurled herself at Hana. She gripped her mother in a suffocating bear hug and wouldn’t let go, behaviour most uncharacteristic of the usually collected woman. Then came Marcus, balancing a sleeping baby Elizabeth over his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed Hana, squeezing his face past his wife’s shoulder in order to get to his mother-in-law. “Hey there, he said, with a smirk which told Hana he knew what she had done. She looked nervously across at her daughter and Marcus shook his head slightly. Turning to Logan, he shook his hand with enthusiasm and Hana narrowed her eyes with suspicion. When both men looked back at her, Hana’s heart quailed. What were they up to?
Meeting and greeting their guests took Hana and Logan a little while. Hana’s boss and school principal, moved forward to hug her. “Hello my dear, congratulations on reaching your mid-forties.” He smiled at Hana’s obvious discomfort. “Now, now. You grow more beautiful with age, so we’ll have none of that. Don’t you agree Mr Du Rose?”
Logan smirked at Angus and nodded, flicking an appreciative glance at his beautiful elfin wife. Hana pursed her lips, feeling the blush rise to her cheeks at the memory of their passionate lovemaking and Logan turned his attention back to the other guests. Hana saw the twinkle in his grey eyes and knew he read her mind far too easily for a new husband. “Thank you, Angus,” she smiled graciously at her employer. “You’re very kind.”
The school principal gave a magnificent bow and moved away, his brightly patterned Scots kilt swishing around his hairy knees as he made his way towards another knot of familiar people.
“Happy birthday, Hana.” She winced as Peter North’s garlic breath assailed her in a sloppy wet kiss on the cheek. Hana fought not to swipe her hand across her skin. He pressed a badly wrapped gift into her hands and she almost dropped it. “Henri bought it,” he admitted without shame. “I dunno what you chicks like.”
Hana heard Logan snort next to her as Pete delivered his greetings. Then she saw her husband’s face disappear into the folds on Henrietta’s voluptuous neck in a bear hug. Hana shuddered, knowing it was her turn next. “Hana, darling! How wonderful to be invited. Peteepoos was so excited. When was the last time you were here my sweet?”
“Couple of months ago.” Pete scratched at a spot in his head. “Boris and me brought Loge’s other vehicles back. I wanted to drive the Triumph but I got the truck instead.” His face dropped into an ugly pout and his girlfriend bellowed out an unholy laugh.
“Oh you sulky baby!” She ruffled Pete’s remaining hairs with a meaty hand and led him away, enfolding him into her giant armpit.
“Gosh that was close,” Hana hissed out of the side of her mouth to Logan. “Did you like your hug from Henri?”
“Loved it,” Logan commented and shot Hana a sideways look of mischief. “I didn’t realise the word enfold was actually onomatopoeic.”
“Ugh! English teachers!” Hana scoffed as she greeted another wave of colleagues and friends. She felt a twinge of guilt as she welcomed guests who travelled miles to wish her well, in what until moments before had been a surprise birthday party.
“You look like ze bride and groom greeting ze wedding guests,” Boris joked, in his thick German brogue and Hana cringed. Logan reached sideways and touched her fingers and the single tantalising stroke across her flesh was enough to galvanise her. Nobody knew. Nobody needed to know, not tonight. It would be fine.
Henrietta bustled her large frame around, admiring the ballroom, the toilets and the hotel. “It’s magnificent,” she breathed to Pete. “Logan’s family owns all this? But he never said.”
Pete looked shifty and shot a nervous look at his imposing friend. Henrietta nudged her small boyfriend and spoke behind her hand. “Peteepoos, this would be a wonderful place for our wedding reception. We must get a brochure on the way out.”
Pete buried his face in his wine glass and looked frightened.
Logan cheerfully greeted a man and woman who were undoubtedly relatives. “Hey, bro’, how’s life in the fast lane?” Logan asked and the other man laughed. They hugged, their grey eyes and regal bearing like a familial uniform. The woman was austere and didn’t smile as she air kissed Hana, expensive perfume wafting round her like a haze, but her embrace of Logan seemed sincere. The pair dominated the room with their tall figures and striking good looks.
Logan’s parents, Alfred and Miriam, were attentive hosts. They ran around amongst other uniformed staff,
fetching drinks and opening the buffet which occupied much of the far end of the room. Izzie stayed glued to Hana as the party got underway, making it difficult for anyone else to get near her. “I’m so pleased to see you, Mum,” she gushed for the fifth time. She seemed emotional and overwhelmed and Hana grew worried by her unusual clinginess, putting it down to the arduous journey from Invercargill with a baby with special needs. Marcus drifted up still carrying Elizabeth and took his wife gently away, persuading her to go with him and get some food. He winked back at Hana over his shoulder and she cringed.
Searching for Logan, Hana spied her son Bodie. She smiled at him, noting his strange reluctance to come towards her. He looked nervous, making her wonder if something had happened between him and Izzie. It would certainly explain Izzie’s anxiety. Henrietta’s large frame was in the way as Hana moved towards her son, cutting her way through the crowd. The floor cleared suddenly as spotting the buffet, Pete grabbed Henrietta’s hand and yanked her eagerly towards it. “Quick, food,” he whooped and set off. The couple’s absence opened up the route between mother and son.
It was then Hana saw him. Holding Bodie’s hand was a small boy around four years old. His black hair was tousled and dark skin covered a slight, delicate body. With thin little wrists sticking out of his shirtsleeves and enormous brown eyes, he stood sucking his thumb and staring around him, uncomfortable in the adult surroundings. Occasionally he glanced up at the slender, pale skinned woman next to him, seeking reassurance from her presence, popping his thumb out of his mouth and taking hold of her dress between his fingers. Touching the fabric gently, he seemed comforted and the thumb went back into his mouth with a flicker of satisfaction.