from the house, until the breeze wafting uphill from the river rustling and rattling the manuka and flax and occasional tall, lacy ponga fern covering the slope, made her shiver.
Rubbing at her bare arms, she got up, stopping with a small gasp as she saw the dark bulk of a man standing rock-still a few feet away.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Chase Osborne said.
“How long have you been there?” Her tone was sharper than she’d meant it to be.
Perhaps that was why he didn’t answer straight away. “Your father sent me to find you.”
It didn’t answer her question, but after a half second’s reflection she decided not to pursue it. “How did you know where to look?”
“It took me a while.” He paused. “Are you all right?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” He hadn’t guessed, had he, how nearly she’d invited humiliation? Her cheeks burned and she was thankful for the dim light.
Chase said, “You seemed to be knocking back your drink in there as if you needed a fix.”
“I can handle my liquor. It was one glass of gin and lemon and I didn’t even finish it.” Or had she? She couldn’t remember now what she’d done with it in her blind need to escape. Anyway, she was an adult. How much she drank needn’t concern him. “I’m fine,” she asserted.
She had an uneasy feeling he didn’t believe her, but after a moment’s silence he changed the subject. “This is quite a sight, isn’t it?” He came to her side, looking down at the lights and the invisible river. The sleeve of his jacket brushed her arm, and she involuntarily flinched away.
Chase turned his head, and even in the dark she sensed his air of amused curiosity before he switched his attention back to the view.
“You must have seen it before,” Alysia said.
“Never at night. Kingsley’s kingdom.”
Something in his tone made her defensive. “It’s only a town.”
He turned to her again. “Your family’s town.”
“We don’t own it. Not anymore.”
“In your great-great-grandfather’s day—”
“That was a long time ago.” Jasper Kingsley, only weeks off an immigrant ship from England, had bought land from the local Maori tribe, milled the standing timber that covered it, raised a settlement on the banks of the river—in those days a navigable water-way—and leased the cleared land to small farmers, making himself a sort of unofficial squire. He’d built the big house, at that time the only house on the hillside, from which he could survey his creation. But in over a century and a half the town had grown and times had changed.
“All we own now is the house and the newspaper,” Alysia pointed out. “And a few old buildings,” she added punctiliously. Plus various stocks and shares.
“Those old buildings are on prime sites,” Chase reminded her. “Worth quite a lot in today’s market.”
She had no doubt he was right. Not that it was any of his business.
His voice butter-smooth, he added, “And one day they’ll all be yours.”
“I hope that day is a long way off,” she told him tightly. And hoped he understood that she found discussing her father’s death—even indirectly and only in theory—distasteful.
Chase turned, altering his stance so that he appeared to loom over her. He was blocking her way to the path. When she stepped forward he didn’t budge.
Alysia raised her eyes to his face, half-lit by the blue-white moonlight. She’d never thought him a particularly good-looking man—his strong features were too well-defined, the bone structure too obvious. But he was striking, and close-up he presented a formidable air of masculinity.
She didn’t recall that they had ever been alone before, unless she counted occasions when he had come to the house and she’d let him in to her father’s study.
She smelled a faint aroma of clean clothing, soap and an underlying pleasant tang that reminded her of the sea. Aftershave? As he looked down at her the planes of his face seemed angular, the chin jutting and the straight black brows almost merged in a frown.
The noise of the party suddenly seemed very distant. The moon slipped behind a high cloud, deepening the darkness.
Alysia stepped back and felt her legs touch the wall. “By the way, congratulations.” She hoped her voice sounded casual.
“Thank you. Do I get the feeling you aren’t thrilled about my promotion?”
“What my father does at the Clarion, whom he appoints, is entirely up to him…at least for some years yet.”
There was a telling silence while he absorbed the subtle warning. Then Chase enquired smoothly, “Looking to the future, are you? To when your father retires?”
“Are you?”
They remained staring at each other, the gloom making it difficult for her to see his expression.
Chase said, “I’m not a Kingsley.”
“You needn’t worry about your job yet.” It would be years before she was ready to take over the business. Embarrassment at her brief earlier assumption crawled in her stomach.
“Did I say I was worried?” Chase sounded confident, amused. As though he saw her as a puny threat, at best.
“By the time my father retires I’m sure you’ll have found yourself some wider, greener pastures. I promise I won’t hold you back.”
He rocked a little on his heels, his head slanted to one side, hands sliding into his pockets. “You won’t?” he said very softly. She knew he meant: You think you could?
Alysia’s chest felt constricted, her cheeks hot. “You’re ambitious,” she said. “My father may think you’ll stick around out of loyalty to him, but…”
“What do you think?” he challenged her. His voice deepening, he added, “Are you telling me this town isn’t big enough for both of us?”
“Is it big enough for you?” She’d never thought so. Surely this job with a provincial, family-owned paper, however respected and prosperous, was a mere stepping stone in his career path.
He said, “That depends.”
“My father won’t give up control for a long while yet. It’s always been a family concern.”
“And you’re the last of the family.”
Alysia discovered that her hands were clenched. She loosened her fingers, flexed them secretly. “Within the next five, ten years…”
“You think you’ll be ready to take over?” Chase queried.
Alysia’s teeth hurt,
