With His Kiss. Laurey Bright
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“He’ll live. Nothing broken.”
“Has this happened before?” Steve asked.
Zed shrugged. “There’s been the odd fight, you know how they are. They don’t usually all get into it at once.”
Triss said, “They’ve been through a trauma, and all of them have been trying to be on their best behavior for too long. They’re emotionally off balance.”
Steve looked at her sharply. “You can’t let them get away with it.”
Wearily she wiped a trickle of water from her forehead before it reached her eyes. The last couple of months had been no picnic for her either. “I’ll talk to them after dinner.”
“I’ll do it.”
Her head lifted. “No.” Did he think he could just walk in and take over? “They don’t know you.”
“They’re going to. I might as well introduce myself, and make it clear that from now on we don’t tolerate any violence.”
“We never have! I’m sure this won’t happen again.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Young men are pack animals. They’ve lost their alpha male, and they need to know there’s someone around to take his place. Until they accept there’s a new chief there’s going to be a lot of testing going on.”
“And you’re telling me you’re going to be the new chief?” She didn’t even attempt to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
Steve leveled an iron-gray gaze at her. “I don’t say it’s a good thing, but it’s the way young males operate, especially in groups. Remember, I used to be one.”
“They’ve been perfectly fine with me!” In fact most of them had been rather sweetly protective. Although a couple of tutors had complained about a lack of attentiveness and decreased motivation, with the occasional outburst of defiance and foul language.
“You’re a woman,” Steve said, as though that explained everything.
“So?”
“The first phase is over. They won’t challenge you directly, but they’re getting restive, and the next step will be to see how far they can go.”
“Then I’ll deal with it.”
“We will deal with it,” Steve said. “We’re in this together, Triss.” In his tone she heard the rider, And I don’t like it any more than you do. “If they’re not given the message about who’s in charge here now, one of them will emerge as kingpin and we’ll have a hell of a job on our hands. They’re barely out of childhood and some of them are only half civilized.”
“You’ve been reading Lord of the Flies,” she accused, surprising a half smile out him.
“Not lately,” he said. “But we don’t want someone’s head stuck on a stake around here, and I’d certainly prefer it not to be mine—or yours. We have to make this work, Triss.”
He was right about that, she supposed. Zed gave an approving nod, and Triss sighed. The men were closing ranks. Magnus himself had believed that boys needed strong male role models. Perhaps that was why he had inexplicably failed to alter his will, despite the long estrangement between him and his protégé. “Do you think it’s a good idea,” she queried Steve, “to start your…tenure by giving them a telling off?”
“If I stand by while you do it, they’ll think I’m a wuss. Then we’ll both be in deep trouble.”
Unwillingly she capitulated with a small shrug, knowing that however unpalatable she found it, he was probably right. “I’m not the only one who needs a change of clothes,” she observed. Casting a glance over his own wet shirt and trousers, she couldn’t help noticing he looked as fit and leanly muscular as ever despite his presumably easy lifestyle. “We’ve put you in the annex.” It was a self-contained one-bedroom unit adjoining the main house. “I’ll take you—”
“I know where it is.”
Of course he did. “We’ll see you at dinner, then,” she said. “Six-thirty in the dining room.”
Triss and Magnus had always eaten together with the students and any tutors who chose to live in. Most of the current tutors preferred to commute from the city, and Arthur had taken his swollen nose home for his wife’s ministrations. Zed would be giving his children their evening meal in their own cottage while his wife fixed dinner at the house, helped by two of the boys rostered for kitchen duty.
One of the helpers looked the worse for wear, and all the boys were subdued. Triss saw that an extra hand in the kitchen was needed, and was ladling soup into bowls at the pass-through counter when Steve entered and took his place in the small queue.
“Thanks,” he said when she handed him a steaming bowl. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere,” she confirmed. The tables were round, and as Magnus had made a point of sitting at a different place each evening, Triss had been relieved of any awkwardness over a special chair after his death.
She still missed his presence though, and was sure the boys did, too.
Steve chose a table and she assumed he was introducing himself, but before she sat down with her own bowl of soup at another table she rapped a spoon on the glass and waited for the subdued hum of talk to stop.
Some of the faces turned toward her were apprehensive, a few belligerent, and several showed swellings and bruises. She’d held an ice pack to her own cheekbone until it stung and then numbed, and used a cover-up makeup, but the spot was tender and slightly swollen.
“Some of you will have met Mr. Stevens,” she said, nodding toward Steve. At least a few had “met” him under less than friendly circumstances. “He’s a trustee of the House now, and he’ll be living here and helping out for a while.” She didn’t look to see what Steve made of that last bit. “I’m sure you’ll all make him welcome. After dinner he’d like to speak to you in the common room. So be there. Thanks.” They knew it was an order, not a matter of choice.
Triss didn’t have much appetite. The day had been stressful, and she discovered that her cheek throbbed when she chewed. She left the crusty bread on her plate and, after the soup, settled for potatoes, mashed carrots and gravy.
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