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  Paige didn't even want to think about what Jeremy must have suffered. She knew Adam wasn't asking for pity, but she wasn't sure what he was asking for. Understanding? Patience? Distance?

  "I'm sorry," she said carefully.

  He silently applauded the understatement, considering that for once her face clearly showed her horror.

  "Now tell me what it has to do with me," she asked.

  "Tell me about Granger."

  "Granger is only part of my story."

  "I have time."

  She told him, hoping never to speak of it again. "I was married once. Only Sim didn't pick flowers for me, and I didn't cook for him. We saw each other at parties, mostly. Sometimes we'd leave together, sometimes Sim would leave with another woman. After a while, I learned to hope it would be the latter, because when we were together he didn't have the compassion to keep silent about his affairs or the fact that he'd married me because he had already gone through his own fortune. Finally my father bought me an uncontested divorce with a photo of Sim and a girl who was underage. He told Sim he could have the photo or the police could. For once Sim showed some sense."

  "Why did you marry him?"

  Paige shrugged. "My parents approved of him. I wanted something substantial in my life. And, of course, Sim gave me substantial problems, so I guess I got what I'd asked for. Then there was Granger." Her expression softened. "He was everything fine and good, only he still loved the woman he'd been separated from for ten years. I haven't heard from him since I got here, but I've heard from his wife. They're back together, and I think they'll stay that way."

  "And if they don't?"

  "Granger and I will never be anything but friends."

  He reached out for her, but not to give comfort. "Tell me what you felt when I kissed you this morning."

  Startled, she tried to resist, but he tugged her closer. "Let go of me, Adam."

  "Tell me you felt nothing."

  "I didn't feel as angry as I do now, that's for certain."

  "I'll tell you what I felt. You slipped inside me. I don't want you there."

  Her breath caught. She lifted her head proudly, emotions concealed. "I don't want you, but if by telling me your life story you're accusing me of being anything like Sheila..."

  He pushed her away. "You refuse to see what's in front of your eyes."

  "What are you talking about?"

  He took a deep breath and clamped his lips shut.

  She exploded. "I'm tired of your riddles. Shut the damn door inside you, Adam. I don't want to spend any time there, and I don't want to spend any time with you. I'll find somebody else to guide me through the thermals." She turned and started toward the house.

  His answer was the slam of his car door.

  Chapter 6

  The marae stood between two hills on a fifteen-acre reserve at Waimauri's edge. Adam parked his car beside a dozen others and walked back along the fence to the gateway. The marae proper was a long, brilliantly green expanse of grass leading to the whare hui or meeting house, a one-story, rectangular building of one room with a deep gabled porch across the front and a single door and window in the front wall.

  The meeting house in Waimauri was a more elaborate building than some in other towns. Built in the late nineteenth century, it had a steeply pitched roof and was richly decorated with traditional carving, reed paneling and rafter patterns. More important than its decorations, however, was what it symbolized. The meeting house was, in essence, the body of one of Adam's ancestors. Its ridgepole was his ancestor's backbone; at the junction of two bargeboard arms there was a carved representation of his face. The front window was his eye, and when Adam stepped through the door, he stepped into his ancestor's chest, enclosed by rafter ribs and held up by a poutokoman-awa, or heart post.

  Once the marae, both land and meeting house, had been the village living room, where Maoris gathered during their free time to socialize and conduct the business of the marae. Now, as well as for ceremonial occasions, it was used for many of the same purposes as other halls, for club and committee meetings, recreation and politics, and discussions of local issues.

  Today the marae was being used for the latter. Adam greeted other tangata whenua, or marae members who, like him, had the right of marae usage because of lineage. He counted fifty men and women, including two tribal elders who had come a distance for this meeting.

  Seated in the large hall, Adam listened to the official greetings given by several men. Although the purpose of the meeting was to discuss Hamish Armstrong's plans for the thermals, other subjects were dealt with first. Worldwide, the Maori people were recognized and saluted for their great oratory. Today, as always, grievances and disagreements would be brought into the open in a forthright manner. Nothing that was said in a marae was considered to be offensive. Disagreements were meant to be argued through to an amicable consensus.

  Adam waited until he was called on, then stood to make his presentation. He spoke in Maori, as the other speakers had. Succinctly he explained what most of them already knew: Hamish Armstrong, representing Pacific Outreach Corporation, was negotiating with one Paige Duvall from Duvall Development in the United States for the purchase of the geothermal property that had once belonged to Jane Abbott. Pacific Outreach's stated intention was to build an exclusive health resort using the thermals as both an energy source and an attraction for their guests.

  "And now, perhaps I should speak for a moment about Duvall Development and how they have come to own the property," Adam continued. "As all of you know, the thermals were originally Maori land, owned and cared for under the auspices of this marae. Then, more than a generation ago, the land was alienated, taken by the government, and sold to meet a tax debt. The land was purchased by the Abbott family and held by their descendants. The most recent descendant to hold title is Ann Abbott Duvall, whose American husband owns Duvall Development. As custodians of the land, the Abbott family has never sold portions or in any way developed the thermals. The land has been ours while not being legally recognized as such.

  "Now that relationship has been threatened." Adam paused to let his words settle a moment. "We have relaxed under the goodwill of the Abbott family, but now we must step forth and once more take control of something that belongs to us in every way but legally. Just as the thermals were sold away from us, we must buy them back. If we don't, we'll see destruction and defamation of something we view as sacred."

  Adam looked around and saw the nodding of heads. He also saw frowns. He knew those frowning probably had the best business sense. If they banded together to buy the thermals, it would take every penny each of them could beg and borrow.

  "There is an added complication," he continued when the silence had gone on long enough. "The woman who has come to negotiate is the daughter of Ann Abbott, and she has been raised an American. New Zealand is the country of her mother's birth, nothing more." Adam had been debating his next sentence, since he had known he would have to utter it. He was still uncertain whether he was handling this correctly. It was too late, however, to back away now.

  "Apparently, Paige Duvall doesn't realize her mother is Maori, and that by virtue of her own birth, she is Maori, too." He ignored the low buzz of voices. "Many of you know that her mother left Waimauri to return only once when her daughter was a small child. Many of you also know of her father's opposition to that trip." Adam knew that the elders, particularly, were reviewing that day almost a quarter of a century before when the child, Paige, had been brutally ripped away from the family she was just beginning to know. He remembered it all too clearly himself. He remembered the feel of his small, girl cousin's hand, the tiny perfection of her nose, the dancing darkness of her eyes. He remembered her screams as her father dragged her away. All too clearly he remembered his own humiliation.

  "Before you ask why I haven't told her," he went on, "let me assure you that keeping it a secret wasn't my idea. My grandmother, Mihi Tomoana, asked that it be that way. Now I'm asking e
ach of you to honor her desire in this matter. Miss Duvall claims to view us as an ancient and honorable culture, just as she views the Pakehas. But she feels no connection. My grandmother believes Miss Duvall will remember the past one day, and that if she doesn't, it's because she doesn't want to. Although I'm not sure I agree, I do know that nothing will be served by acquainting her with something that's been hidden for twenty-four years. If we do, it will seem that we are asking her to give us special consideration because of our blood ties. It will confuse the issue and possibly go against the best interests of all of us. Miss Duvall is a businesswoman. Negotiations must be carried out on that level." Adam sat down.

  As he had expected, discussion was strident and lengthy. He had proposed two controversial topics. Fortunately this wasn't the first time that buying the thermals had been discussed. In fact, it was almost the only thing that had been discussed since Jane Abbott's death. A final decision would be reached today, and Adam was sure he knew what it would be.

  He wished he was as sure about his second proposal, both whether it was the right thing to ask of the others, and whether it was the right thing for Paige.

  He didn't know if she had absorbed her father's prejudices or her mother's nearly fatal ambivalence, or whether she was simply unable to recognize the obvious. Whatever was behind the secret of Paige's ancestry, she was within inches of the truth, and yet she didn't seem able to take that final step and see what was right in front of her.

  Adam listened to the discussion and prepared to support whatever the prevailing opinion might be. For too long he had carried the problem of the thermals and Paige Duvall by himself. Now the problems belonged to them all.

  * * *

  Paige sat down to a late lunch of New Zealand cheese and a dark bread that tasted as if it had just come from the baker's oven. The small grocery store in Waimauri carried only the basics, but everything was fresh and wholesome. She didn't miss the greater variety available at home, but she did have to fight a craving for Cajun food.

  The day had meandered by at snail speed. She had phoned Hamish at his hotel to take him up on his offer to find her a guide, but he had been out. On a whim she had decided not to leave a message, and since she knew Adam was in town, she had driven back to Four Hill Farm to talk to Mihi about a guide. Mihi had been gone, too.

  Jeremy had been there, though, in the company of a middle-aged Maori woman who had immediately befriended Paige and told her stories about Waimauri people she seemed to expect her to know. The woman had been effusively warm with Jeremy, as well, and the little boy had looked like a rabbit caught in a snare. Each time he sidled away, the woman grabbed him for an overpowering hug. Paige had left quickly, knowing the last thing he needed was one more person to fuss over him.

  Until she found someone to take her through the thermals, Paige knew she was stuck in Waimauri. Yesterday that hadn't seemed so bad; today it seemed intolerable. Now she knew she didn't need the complication of Adam Tomoana in her life. If she was going to suffer through another doomed affair, she would do it on her own turf with a man she understood. A man who couldn't hurt her.

  Paige was just putting away the bread and cheese in the old-fashioned refrigerator when a howl like a coyote's split the air. She fumbled with the refrigerator latch, shoving it tightly against the door before she ran to the front porch.

  Adam's throwaway Huntaway sat on the steps, his bushy tail beating a staccato rhythm.

  "Cornwall."

  The tail beat faster.

  Paige knew as much about dogs as she did about children, and for a moment she just stared. "Go away," she said at last. "Go home, go back to work, go play with your sheep."

  Cornwall moved up to the porch, then rolled on his back and stuck all four legs in the air.

  "Fabulous." Paige slapped her hands on her hips and made her voice stern. "Go home, Cornwall." She wished she could whistle. Cornwall had seemed to understand Adam's whistles. She wished she spoke Maori for the same reason.

  Cornwall rolled back to his feet and sat up, extending one paw.

  "Who taught you all these tricks? Not Adam, that's for sure." Paige fought down the impulse to take the expressive paw in her hand. "Do you jump through hoops, too?"

  As if he had tired of the small talk, Cornwall trotted into the house through the still-open door.

  "Hey, come back here, you. You weren't invited. All I need is for Adam to find out I'm entertaining you." Paige followed the dog inside. "Shoo. Go away."

  Cornwall circled the room as if taking inventory, then, settling on the sofa as the most comfortable spot, jumped on it and lounged against the cushions.

  "Did you want tea, too?" Hesitantly, Paige approached the dog. "Or do you want a chunk of human flesh?"

  Cornwall closed his eyes.

  Paige stopped in front of the sofa, reluctant to try to move a sleeping dog. She knew her proverbs, too.

  "Make yourself at home," she said, shrugging. "I can always sit on a chair."

  Cornwall sighed.

  Adam would be furious if he discovered Cornwall was snoozing comfortably on her sofa. Paige smiled at the thought.

  The smile was short-lived. A car with the peculiar chug-snort engine she had learned to identify as Adam's was coming up her driveway.

  "Save yourself," she told the sleeping dog. "I've never seen you before in my life."

  As she expected, Cornwall slept on.

  She wondered how Adam would feel about being entertained on her front porch. Drawing her shoulders back to face the challenge, she went to answer the door.

  Adam hadn't come alone. The man standing on the porch beside him was as old as Mihi and as darkly wizened as a Greek olive. Power radiated from him, and when Paige's eyes met his, she felt strangely chastened, like a small child who's just been caught telling a lie.

  She might have found a way to leave Adam standing on the porch, but there was no way she could fail to extend hospitality to the old man. "Come in, please." She opened the door wider. "I'd better warn you, though, you may not like what you see."

  Adam raised an eyebrow. As always, he liked what he saw far too well. Paige was wearing trousers and a short-sleeved sweater of deepest turquoise; more interesting, her cheeks were flushed a becoming rose. He pulled his eyes from her and surveyed the room to see where the problem lay. They settled on Cornwall.

  "May I introduce Henare Poutapu?" Adam asked, his gaze returning to Paige. "Henare, this is Paige Duvall."

  Paige refused to look at Adam. She extended her hand and felt the old man's wrap around it momentarily. "I'm pleased to meet you. Won't you please sit down?" She gestured to the chair. "Adam, why don't you sit with your dog?" She stressed the last two words. "I'm sure he won't bite you."

  "He won't. He's leaving."

  As if he knew he had been given his cue Cornwall's eyes opened. He took one look at Henare Poutapu and the fur rose on his back in a belated threat. He growled.

  Adam called his name, then whistled a short series of blasts. With wounded dignity, Cornwall stretched, keeping his eyes on Henare, then proudly planted his feet on the ground. One more blast had him running full speed out the door.

  "Just brush the dog hair off the sofa," Paige said, trying not to smile. "May I get either of you tea?"

  Still standing, both men shook their heads. Paige lowered herself to a chair so that they could sit.

  "We've come to discuss the thermals," Adam began.

  Paige wanted to remind him that she had canceled her request to have him guide her, but she knew that would be petty, particularly since they weren't alone. "What would you like to discuss?"

  "We would like to buy them from you."

  She sat back. Adam was always full of surprises, and this was no less astounding than some of his others. "Really."

  Adam gave credit where it was due. Paige was doing a remarkable job of pretending everything was exactly as it should be. He would have thought to look at her that every day of her life had been spent exactly
this way. "Before we make our offer, I want to explain why."

  "I'd like that."

  He wanted to kiss the complacency off her face. He wondered how many kisses it would take, how long before she ignited and showed the fire that he knew smoldered deep inside her. It was too bad he would never know.

  "The thermals are part of our tribal heritage," he began, pulling himself back to the subject at hand with difficulty. "One of our stories says that after the Arawa canoe landed, the great priest Ngatoroirangi set off to explore. He reached the summit of Mount Tongariro, but there he suffered so greatly from the cold that he implored the goddesses in his homeland, Hawaiki, to send some of their warmth. They threw fireballs across the water, and the fireballs skipped across the land, touching down at all the places where geothermal areas now exist. Our ancestors believed the thermals were the natural habitat for our spirit gods."

  "Much more colorful than the geological explanation," Paige said.

  Adam nodded, unsmiling. "Through the centuries, each geological peculiarity assumed importance in our traditions and our folklore. The thermals here are no exception."

  "Then you're saying they had significance today?"

  "They're filled with legend, with history. Their destruction would be a kind of death for us."

  Paige began to have an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She turned to look at Mr. Poutapu and had the same experience she'd had when meeting him. Under his unflinching gaze she felt like a recalcitrant child.

  "If this is true, why were the thermals owned freehold by the Abbott family?" she asked, turning almost gratefully back to Adam.

  He gave her part of the speech he had used in the meeting house. Then he continued. "I believe originally the Abbott family intended someday to deed the property back to the Maori Land Board. There were advantages to owning it, however, and they neglected to do so. Jane Abbott had talked about doing it as a bequest, but she died suddenly and apparently without leaving a will."