Nigel dug inside his jacket and pulled out a long envelope. “This isn’t exactly a reading of the will,” he said, “but—” he glanced from Steve to Triss “—I don’t know if either of you know how Magnus…um…disposed of his affairs.”
Triss seemed to pale. She must be anxious about her inheritance.
Steve gave a faint shrug. “No idea.”
“I’ve made two copies so you can both peruse it at your leisure, but essentially, the bulk of his personal estate has been left to his wife, with—ah—conditions attached to some of it.” Nigel nodded toward her. “A portfolio of stocks and shares and investment monies is reserved to maintain Kurakaha in its present form as an educative facility for disadvantaged young men, to be administered as a trust—”
Steve gave a silent sigh of relief, relaxing against his chair back, only to straighten abruptly as the lawyer continued “—by the two of you jointly.”
“What?” Steve snapped.
“The two of…us?” Triss had definitely whitened, her eyes darkening as the pupils enlarged. For a second Steve thought she might be going to faint. Then two smudges of color scorched her cheekbones. “When did Magnus make that will? There must be another one!”
“I’m afraid not.” Nigel looked down at the pages as if checking the date. “He never lodged another with us.”
“But…he had plenty of time.” Triss leaned forward, frowning. “Let me see that.”
Nigel handed it over and passed another copy to Steve, who scanned his quickly before looking up.
Triss looked up, too, the tight set of her mouth failing to disguise its lush femininity. “You drew this up?” she asked Nigel.
“At his request, of course. If you have questions…”
“No questions. It’s very clear. Insultingly clear. And watertight, I suppose.”
Nigel looked unhappy. “I pointed out to Magnus that if he made the whole of his bequest to you dependent on your continuing to live at Kurakaha—because that was his first thought—you might have grounds for contesting. As it stands now he has adequately provided for his widow, although if you leave the House there will be considerably less than if you stay. The actual monetary value of the bequest may have altered over the years, but his accountant will fill you in on that.”
“I know exactly what my husband was worth, thank you.” There was a brittle note in her voice.
I’ll just bet you do, Steve thought. And she hadn’t expected that he’d attach strings to her enjoying what he’d left her.
She held the papers so tightly the edges were crushed. Steve realized that her hand was trembling. Perhaps coming to the same realization, she placed the papers on the table, smoothing them out. She hadn’t looked at Steve. “We’ll have to come to some arrangement.” Her voice was unsteady, too, he noted. She paused, and said more strongly, “I don’t suppose Steve will be moving back to New Zealand, so I hope he won’t feel the need to interfere with—”
“Interfere?” Steve cut across her.
She opened her mouth, then paused again, apparently aware of a tactical error. “There’s no need for you to become involved,” she said carefully, still not looking at him directly, “just because Magnus never got around to updating his will.”
“I am involved. This—” Steve lifted his copy of the document “—makes us joint trustees. I can’t say I was expecting it, but I won’t let Magnus down.”
With a flare of temper Triss said, “Do you think I will?”
Their eyes met, and he wondered how a woman who looked all peaches and cream could have such a steely blue stare. Not that his iron-gray one was probably much different.
Nigel intervened. “I think Magnus believed the two of you had complementary talents and strengths. That’s why he wanted both of you—”
“He didn’t want it!” Triss argued, returning her attention to him. “He just never got around to changing his will. He was always so busy, but he must have meant to. And you—” she rounded on Steve “—you know that!”
“As you said,” Steve pointed out, “he had plenty of time. And he’s not here to explain. I intend to take my responsibility seriously.”
“An absentee trustee?” she scorned.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Steve advised her curtly. He hadn’t had time yet to give thought to the implications of this. “And don’t think you can get away with anything just because I’m not breathing down your neck every minute of the day.”
He knew he’d scored a hit when her eyes flashed blue fire at him for an instant before she let her lids briefly fall. Then she looked up again, her face once more a composed, icily perfect mask. “Naturally I’ll consult you over any really important decisions—and I would hope that you’ll be reasonable and not veto my suggestions out of hand.”
“Now why,” Steve asked her, hiding his own anger under a deceptive gentleness, “would I want to do that?”
Her look told him she wasn’t fooled, but Nigel took the question at face value. “I’m sure both of you have the best interests of the House and its aims at heart.”
“Are you?” Succumbing to temptation, Steve knew that Triss hadn’t missed the mockery in his voice.
Rather than responding, she picked up the papers she’d placed on the table and rose gracefully to her feet. “I must get back to my guests,” she said. “Thank you, Nigel.” Reluctantly turning to Steve, she added, “I suppose we should talk before you leave again for the States. Give me a call in a day or two.”
Without allowing him time to reply she made for the door. Steve got there just before her and paused for a moment with his hand on the knob while she waited, stiff with impatience.
He wasn’t a man who usually gave women a bad time, but this one had always got under his skin, and her brusque order to call her nettled him. Yielding to a desire to bring her down a peg, he swept a measuring glance over her, scouting the enemy, silently inspecting the admittedly stunning feminine outline of her figure while making it clear he wasn’t impressed.
His reward was an infinitesimal lifting of her chin, even as her answering glance told him he was despicable.
The trouble was, after he’d pulled open the door and allowed her to sweep past him, he was inclined to share her opinion.
Not that it made any difference to his opinion of her, he reflected hours later, nursing his third whiskey in the bar of his Auckland hotel, almost an hour’s drive north from Kurakaha. Triss had been furious at having to share the trusteeship. There must be a lot of money tied up in the trust and he was damned sure she’d been hoping to milk it for all it was worth, if she couldn’t break it.
Maybe Magnus hadn’t been dazzled clean out of his mind after all. He seemed to have retained a grain of common sense—enough to not quite trust his wife to carry on his work without someone to keep an eye on her.
Steve was that someone and, although it had certainly surprised him, he didn’t mean to take the old man’s wishes lightly.
A smile touched Steve’s firmly etched mouth. Always larger than life, with the charisma of true genius, Magnus had been a brilliant, world-respected conductor until the early onset of arthritis curtailed his career. As the crippling condition progressed he’d devoted increasing amounts of his time to giving talented but socially disadvantaged young musicians the chance to excel, while filling in other gaps in their education. Taking no more than thirty-five students at a time, for periods of up to four years, Magnus had spared no expense.
Until