Hana Du Rose Read online

  Yet she sensed her attraction to him ripped out her insides every time she looked at his strong profile or stared into his bottomless grey eyes. Logan used his good hand to squeeze the point at the bridge of his nose and Hana saw pain written in the action. “They didn’t care, did they?” she asked, imagining Logan’s family going back to their breakfast like nothing happened. She sighed. “I’m amazed you’re not more messed up than you seem. I’d sleep in a padded cell if they raised me.”

  Logan squinted against the sunshine filtering through the dirty window and smiled. “I’m guessing that’s a compliment. It just doesn’t sound like it.”

  “Sorry.” Hana gave him a flicker of a smile. She held out her hand. “I’ll help you into bed, you look shattered.” She placed her empty cup outside on the hall floor to grab later and held Logan’s hand, leading him into their bedroom with the beautiful four-poster bed. She intended to leave him to sleep while the doctor’s painkilling injection did its job, but hadn’t figured he could still undress her with such skill, using only one hand.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hana sat at the kitchen table watching through the window as hawks soared above the trees, hunting. They seemed tireless, hovering and waiting. Their delicate, fluttering feathers resembled fingers at the end of their wings as they rode the up draught from the canopy, absurd patience on display. They plunged through the fauna like missiles and didn’t reappear.

  Hana’s gaze strayed to a wooden ornament sitting on the windowsill. Bodie plonked it there during the move. The word HOME arched from the wood in calligraphy script. Hana sighed and picked at a knot in the table. “I’m a walking disaster,” she whispered. “What am I doing?”

  Her cup of tea cooled as she pondered the error of her ways. Common sense berated her for marrying a man she didn’t know and joining a family which terrified her. Tiger plonked himself on the windowsill, eyeing the sparrows on the fronds of a Nikau palm near the house. He glanced at Hana as she sipped her drink. “You’re not meant to be up there.” The cat licked the delicate pads of a paw; his claws extended to form a furry fist. He knew she wouldn’t get up to remove him. “Logan’s a man of many personas,” she whispered to her bored audience. Tiger yawned. “He’s an English teacher, loved and respected by the boys and swooned over by the mothers. Good at his job, he’s running the faculty like a sergeant major.” Hana buried her face in her hands. “So who’s the man I watched with Tama. He wasn’t afraid, despite the strength and sheer angry power of the kid. It’s Tama who showed fear and then attacked him from behind. I can’t believe his family watched that play out and did nothing.” Hana exhaled. “Why do I get this feeling Logan’s in charge there? And driving home I felt I couldn’t take any more of this Du Rose crap. Then he touches me and I can’t get enough of him.”

  Tiger narrowed his eyes in a glare of rebuke and Hana bit her lip. “Yeah, sorry old man. You probably heard. What did I get myself into? It’s a big mess.” Hana reached across for her phone and weighed it in her palm. Her relationship with Logan cut her off from Anka. Cilla’s reaction meant she froze out her church friends. That left nobody to complain to, nobody to tell. Except Bodie.

  Hana ran through the possible conversation. “I’ll say, Bo, they’re weird. They watched Tama beat Logan with a crowbar and refused to call the cops.” She sighed and stroked the edges of the device. “He’ll say he tried to tell me and ask what I expect him to do about it. Then I’ll say nothing. But he’ll know he’s right and never let me forget it.” Hana dropped her phone onto the table, enjoying the dull thud. “I can’t believe that damn lawyer took my phone!”

  The cat jumped in fright, pitching sideways into the empty sink and scrambling out with his hair on end. “Serves you right,” Hana told him. “You shouldn’t be up there. Nobody listens to me.” Self-pity shrouded her in a welcome cloak and she rested her chin on her forearms with a groan. “I bet Bodie’s checked Logan out and that’s what he wants to talk to me about.”

  A sound from behind made her sit up in shock. She clutched her chest. “Geez, Logan. You scared me.”

  He stood in the doorway rubbing his eyes with his good hand. The sling hung slack around his neck. His bare chest looked inviting and his navy cotton pyjama bottoms drooped on the side he couldn’t pull up. “Who’s checking me out?” he asked, his speech slurred from sleep.

  “Me.” Hana stood. “I’m checking you out. You look adorable.” She stood to help him, slipping his head through the small space in the stretchy sling. As her fingers lingered on his bare skin, she fought to stop her mind wandering. Logan snagged her with his good arm around her shoulder, smoothing the back of her neck and kissing her temple. “Hey,” he whispered into the silence.

  “Hey,” Hana replied and despite herself, lifted her mouth to respond to her husband’s addictive kisses. Every nerve ending in her body fired and though her brain screamed out warnings, she ignored them all. “You’re a conundrum,” she whispered against his lips. His eyebrows quirked upwards in question. “One minute you’re this gifted, capable teacher and the next, you’re a farm boy riding a horse.”

  “Which do you prefer?” Logan asked, his fingers working their way into her robe.

  “Both,” Hana breathed, realising her own dilemma and sympathising with some of Caroline’s. Where the other woman failed, Hana determined to learn to love both sides of Logan Du Rose.

  “Good,” he breathed into her neck.

  Sunday evening seemed peaceful after the drama of the day. “I’m not hungry,” Logan maintained, eating nothing to replenish his energy. He slept on the painkillers, napping on the sofa next to Hana as she read a book. The TV played in the background, a rugby game which she muted as Logan dozed. “Oh, what?” He pushed himself upright in confusion and snatched the remote. “I was watching that.” The All Blacks stood on the podium collecting their medals and hoisting a coveted trophy. Logan rubbed his eyes looking disoriented. “But it only just started.”

  “No, it didn’t. I muted it and you kept turning it up. You slept through more than you watched.”

  “What’s the score?” Logan’s bleary eyes searched the screen for clues.

  “No idea. I’m not interested.” Hana closed her book with a snap. “And the picture’s too fuzzy. It jerks like an out of control fruit machine.

  Logan rested his head on a cushion and closed his eyes. The cat stretched out in front of the blazing fire like road kill. Hana’s first attempt at a decent blaze failed, only reviving under Logan’s careful tutelage. A standard lamp illuminated the room, driving the shadows against the walls and back into corners. She tried to fix the moment in her memory, supernaturally aware a storm approached and not the meteorological kind. “What’s wrong?” Logan muttered. “I can hear you sighing.”

  “Just worrying about tomorrow.” Hana stroked the cover of her book. “I can’t battle someone who wants to kill me when I don’t know who they are or what they want, can I?”

  The early morning alarm clock sent Hana diving back under the covers with a groan. “No!” she wailed in misery. “I can’t do this anymore.” Her fingers raked the mattress next to her, discovering it empty. She padded to the bathroom and found Logan shaving one-handed. He swore as the razor slipped and nicked his skin. “I’ll get you a plaster,” she sighed and looked for the first aid kit in the kitchen.

  Hana’s despondency increased as the moment for departure loomed. “Do we have to go?” she asked, dragging her feet and delaying. “Can’t we stay here?”

  “You can, but I’m supervising soccer trials at lunchtime.” Logan wriggled into his jacket and buttoned it over his sling.

  Hana attempted to herd Tiger into the lounge and failed. As she bent down to grab her handbag, she saw his black and white shape squeeze through the narrow gap between the door and frame. Logan jumped back. “Sorry. I thought you put him in the lounge.”

  “He wouldn’t go!” Hana stamped her foot, watching as Tiger shot down the porch s
teps and into the bushes. “Fine then!” she shouted to the retreating fluffy tail. “I was trying to protect you.” She scowled at the amber eyes peering from behind a kaka beak bush. “If you get squished on the road, don’t come crying to me!”

  She set the burglar alarm, locked the front door and deactivated the central locking on the Honda. Every action felt laboured and stole too much energy. Logan yanked at the passenger door, trying not to drop his briefcase full of marking. It tipped as he inserted himself into the car and papers flooded the foot well. “Oh, bloody hell!” Logan tugged at the stretchy sling and leaned forwards to retrieve them.

  “Don’t be daft, leave it.” Hana leaned forward, gathering the sheets together and trying not to bend them. “Were they in alphabetical order?” she asked, slipping them back into the case and zipping it up. She stretched across him, her breasts resting against his knees and heard him inhale.

  “Yeah,” he replied, his tone edgy. “You know that offer of staying home?”

  Hana sat up and shook her head, her lips close to his. “Rescinded,” she said and kissed his lips with a slow, sensuous action. Logan groaned.

  “What happens if I see you at work?” he grumbled. “I might disgrace myself.”

  Hana snorted. “You didn’t before.”

  “Are you kidding me? Everyone noticed me staring at you, only now I know what you look like naked. It makes it worse.”

  Hana rubbed a hand across his thigh and smirked at his look of discomfort. “Stop!” she told her husband as she clicked her seatbelt in and his puppy-dog eyes begged for attention.

  “But I’m hurt,” he replied, pleading with his eyes.

  “Tough!” Hana started the engine. “I wanted to stay home in bed but you made me get up. So now you have to suffer.”

  Hana enjoyed driving the Honda. It seemed an age since her test drive. She belted down River Road, jumping when Logan touched her hand to stop her indicating left into Powell Street. “No,” he said. “Not that way. Go to the bottom and turn left. If we park off Frey Street, we can walk through the back of St Veronica’s School.”

  Hana did as she was told, finally pulling up to the curb in a quiet street she didn’t recognise. Getting out, she looked around. “Is there a parking restriction here? The last thing I need is to have my car towed away.”

  Logan shook his head. “There are no signs. It’s a regular residential street. I checked online.”

  Hana locked up and followed Logan. She wanted to hold his hand, but the work case occupied his only free one. She made do with walking next to him. Coming to the end of a short alley, she halted and peered at the muddy floor of the gully. She turned to Logan with her upper lip curled back in a snarl. “Are you serious?”

  He looked down at her high-heeled boots and winced. “Sorry. I’m not used to worrying about footwear.”

  Hana stamped. “I’ll get to work filthy.” She pouted, adding, “You’ll have to carry me.”

  Logan’s brow narrowed as he considered the briefcase and his broken arm. Hana watched his mind working through the problem and he wrinkled his nose, looking for a solution. She stepped forward and rested her fingers on his sleeve. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

  “I would’ve worked it out,” Logan replied, his lips turning up in a smirk. “You didn’t give me long enough.”

  Hana snorted and shook her head. “You’re gorgeous.” She reached up and kissed his lips. “It’s one thing knowing you’d carry me and another letting you.” She patted his arm and held her hand out for the briefcase. “I can’t carry you but I can help.”

  Logan shook his head and directed her around his other side. “I’ll carry the case but you hold onto my arm,” he offered. He cringed at the leather boots on her feet. “And I’ll clean your shoes at home tonight.”

  Hana stiffened as a group of students approached them in the alley, talking and laughing. Their uniforms looked defective, shirts untucked and jumpers slung around necks. One boy wore the wrong socks. They exchanged a series of smirks at each other, jerking their heads towards two staff members hiding in a city alley. Their eyes sparkled with the promise of gossip. “Hi, miss,” a tall boy said, sizing her up from head to toe. His gaze roved over Logan and the expression dropped. Swallowing, he hurried past, the other boys putting their heads down and following. Logan cleared his throat and Hana watched the collective crowd tense and speed up.

  “Boys!” he called and they stopped and turned, feet scuffing against the silty ground. “Uniforms.” He raised an eyebrow and Hana watched in amazement as shirts disappeared into shorts, jumpers slipped over heads and the boy with the incorrect socks fixed a helpless look on his face. Logan groaned. “I don’t care mate. Sort it out before I see you again.”

  They hurried away and Hana stared up at him. “How do you do that? Nobody else can control them.”

  Logan shrugged. “I bent all the rules at school but good men straightened me out.”

  “How?” Hana double-timed her footsteps to keep up with him as he set off.

  “Boundaries. Kids need them. I set the rules out at the start and they know not to cross them. Then we’re all good.”

  “Give me an example,” Hana demanded as they rounded a bend in the gully and she tried not to slip.

  Logan paused while she righted herself. “I don’t know how I do it, Hana. I just do.”

  “So, how did you introduce yourself on the first day?” she asked, turning to face him.

  “I wrote my name on the board.” He shrugged. “Then I marked the register and stared at each boy until I knew his name. If I couldn’t work it out from reading it, I asked him to say it until I got it right.”

  “That sounds a bit freaky.” Hana’s brows narrowed. “I’d feel self-conscious if someone did that to me.” She concentrated on her footing. “But it worked with them.”

  “Yeah.” Logan’s face creased in a smile which produced crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes. “Then I put my foot up on the desk of the one I identified as a troublemaker and leaned my elbow on my knee. I kept it there until I saw him back down.” He laughed as Hana gaped. “It’s not rocket science, babe. They might be stronger, faster, cleverer or wittier, it doesn’t matter. My will is unbreakable as far as they’re concerned and it puts them at ease. The good kids know I’ve got their back and the bad ones know not to bother. Simple.”

  “Did you do that for every different year group?” Hana gaped up at him and Logan nodded.

  “Course. Not much point otherwise.”

  Hana contemplated a particular science teacher who spent six hours a day screeching at the top of his lungs. “Grunge could use lessons,” she said with a sigh. “They moved the whole learning support department away from his lab because the boys couldn’t concentrate.”

  Logan snorted. “Yeah. Good job I don’t run that department. Angus needs to cull a few dead branches.”

  “Maybe I’m a dead branch,” Hana mused and Logan smiled.

  “If you’re considering it as a possibility then it’s highly unlikely.” He gripped her fingers tighter in the crook of his arm. They parted outside the music room at the back of the site and Hana watched Logan stride away. Glancing down at her cold fingers, the wedding band twinkled in the early morning sun and gave her comfort.

  She missed the early staff briefing owing to the mysterious absence of Sheila. A tower of mail on her desk distracted her and made her miss the warning bell. Hana reached for the telephone and dialled reception. “Hi,” she said, not waiting for an answer. “It’s Hana from the student centre. Has Sheila called in sick? She’s not here and you’ve put all her post on my desk.”

  “I just do as I’m told,” the receptionist grumbled. “The principal told me to give everything to you. So I did.” Hana heard a click and the line went dead.

  Caroline came in, dumped a pile of folders on her desk and left. Hana swallowed her nerves in a loud gulp. “Thank goodness, because I don’t want to hear a
nything that comes out of your mouth,” she whispered to the empty room.

  The bell sounded for registration and staff dispersed to their tutor groups. Peter North blasted in through the common room whistling. Seeing Hana leaned over her desk, he grabbed her by the waist and swung her round. “Henrietta agreed to marry me!” His kiss on her cheek sounded wet and Hana hid her wince beneath a smile of congratulation. “Your wedding gave me the idea. It got me thinking.”

  “Well done!” Hana hugged him. “I’m pleased for you. What did Logan say?”

  Pete bounced on the spot for a moment and then let her go. “He said we could have it at his hotel.” His eyes danced. “Oh, well not his hotel.” He twirled a finger in the air. “His parents’ place.” He stopped speaking, his excited face morphing into an ugly sneer.

  Alarmed, Hana turned to face the direction of his gaze. Caroline occupied the doorway, her cheeks pink and her lips twitching. Her fingers clenched in and out of fists. “I hate you!” she hissed at Hana. “I bloody hate you. You’ll pay for this.”

  The smile of congratulations slipped from Hana’s lips and she glanced sideways at Pete. Caroline exuded such venom, Hana felt unsafe in her proximity. Pete pushed Hana behind him, showering her with a storm of dandruff. “Leave her alone!” he snapped. “And leave Logan alone. You made your choice and now he’s made his.”

  Caroline let out a peal of evil laughter which echoed around the empty common room and bounced off the walls. “What’s in a ring?” She sneered. “I’ve got something she can’t give him.”

  Hana left via the rear door, not wanting to hear the rest of Caroline’s bile. Doubt crept into her vulnerability, comparing her to the other woman’s lithe body and blonde beauty and finding herself lacking. Life could be good without Caroline in it. Something told her a long line of people believed that.