Her Galahad

by Melissa James

  Her eyes sparked with indignant fire. "I can't break and enter into what I legally own, Duncan."

  "Ah, so you remembered that." He leaned against the doorpost. "We could see what the police would have to say about it."

  "We could," she agreed pleasantly, with a thread of strain in its undercurrent. "We could also see what they would say to this lot we have here. Conspiracy to pervert the course of justice, conspiracy to falsely imprison another, bribery and conspiracy to commit bigamy. Not to mention how you or Cameron made the second death certificate a legal document." She lifted the papers they'd found. "As they say in the classics, brother—gotcha."

  Jirrah had always known her strength, but he'd never been so proud of her as at that moment, facing her intimidating brother down. Duncan looked stiff, wary—and damn scared. "Theresa—"

  "Tessa. My name is Tessa."

  Duncan ignored that. "You don't believe this rigamarole, surely?"

  She tilted her chin. "It's too late for bluster, Duncan. We've been to the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages, and to Burragawang Hospital. We left with affidavits."

  Her brother paled; a hand lifted to rub his brow. "You wouldn't prosecute your brother, Theresa."

  She mocked, "No more than you'd tell your sister her husband and daughter were dead, and help her to commit bigamy."

  His golden eyes blazed with eagerness. "But I did it for you! I only wanted the best for you."

  Tessa looked unmoved—that is if Jirrah didn't count the pulse throbbing at the hollow of her throat, a telltale sign of the pain she was suffering. "Tell it to someone who believes it. Those lines stopped working when Cameron put me in hospital. When I knew you adopted out my only child." Her unnerving gaze locked on her brother's, until his faltered. Jirrah judged it time to make their exit. "Excuse us," he said. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since you were the star witness at my trial."

  Duncan looked at him with loathing. "Why the hell couldn't you stay away from my sister?"

  It was Tess who answered. "Because I needed someone I could trust I needed someone in my life who didn't lie to me."

  Duncan flinched. "He'll ruin your life," he rasped.

  "No. You're the one who did that." She turned away. "Goodbye, Duncan. I don't think we'll be seeing each other again."

  "Theresa." Duncan's face suddenly blazed with life. He reached for her. "Don't destroy me, baby. I'll never interfere in your life again, even though it kills us all that we can't have you in our lives, living the life you were born for. Please, baby—do it for me. For all the years of love I gave you…"

  Jirrah watched in dread as Tess whitened, and swayed a little. The papers trembled in her hands.

  "Please, baby," Duncan begged, his voice shaking—shaking with more abiding love than fear. "I never meant to hurt you. I might have done it wrong, but it was all done from love. Please, sweetheart. You've never hurt me in your life. I know you love me too much to do this. Don't send me to prison. Don't take my life from me."

  She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes. The pain on her face was so acute Jirrah felt it cut his skin. He held his breath. This was a decision she had to make alone—and he had to trust her to make the right one.

  "Jirrah, I…" The tears shimmering in her eyes as she looked at him made them look like lovely pools of tortured gold. She turned to her brother, her hand lifting to him. "Duncan…"

  Duncan's face lit. "I knew you couldn't do it to me. I knew you wouldn't turn your back on me for the sake of a no-class jerk who deserved everything he got for having the gall to come near you!"

  In the space of a heartbeat, the remorse and love faded from her face. "Oh, Duncan, that was always your problem. You could never keep quiet long enough." She turned her back on him. "Let's go, Jirrah."

  Duncan took a hasty step after her. "Theresa, no! I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean it!"

  She looked back at her brother over her shoulder, her eyes filled with fire as well as sadness and regret—and just a touch of disgust. "Yes, you did. I wish you didn't, but you did. But why is what I never knew. You're too intelligent to hate Jirrah because he's Aboriginal. Without ever having talked to him you judged him unworthy of me. It's just not like the brother I grew up with."

  Duncan whitened. "It's not that! I'm not racist. You never got it, did you? If he were Chinese, Indian or Italian I wouldn't have done it. It's him—what's inside him. He's not like us. People like him don't stay, Theresa. They get you to love them and trust them and they rip you apart!"

  "People like—you mean indigenous people? Like our mother?" Tess stared at him, frowning. "But we're indigenous, Duncan!"

  "Don't call me that," he snarled.

  "It's the truth." Slowly, a sad comprehension filled her eyes. "You hate Jirrah for our mother leaving us? You blame her for dying? Surely you can't hate her, deny what she was—blame all indigenous people for something she couldn't help?"

  Duncan turned from her, his shoulders sagging in strange defeat. "Just leave it, Theresa. It's not worth the pain. Just give me those papers and go, and I won't bother you again."

  "I wish I could believe that, but I can't. There's only one way to stop you destroying Jirrah's life." She handed the papers to Jirrah. "Take these, and do whatever you have to."

  Jirrah took the papers, and her hand. "Thank you, mulgu." She pressed her lips together, her lovely face torn, filled with such suffering it ate at him, heart and soul. "Find your justice. It's the only way."

  "Take them, then. Go ahead. It won't help you."

  At the sneering sound of Duncan's voice, they turned to him. "If you're thinking of repeating history, Earldon, think again." Jirrah strode over to Tessa's brother, standing toe to toe with him. "It's pretty hard to have a dead man put inside for anything … and to get me arrested, you have to know I'm alive, know the death certificate you gave Tessa was fake—which means you helped her commit bigamy. Especially since you gave evidence at my trial two months after the wedding." He lifted a hand as Duncan tried to speak. "I've lodged copies of the trial with my lawyer. Another complete set is in a safe place. He also has the death certificates—certificates signed by Dr. Michael Beller, Cameron's father, who died the year before my second certificate was signed. I think that discounts the idea Dr. Beller signed it. An expert will soon know who signed it. My lawyer has a copy of Tessa's second marriage certificate, dated the day after my arraignment, with you and Beller as the star witnesses. Total conflict of interest. Enough for a full investigation. Disbarring at least. Prison at best." Jirrah grinned in Duncan's face, making a two-points sign in the air. "And that's the game."

  Duncan reeled backward. "Oh, God, no—no."

  Tess added, "Try hurting Jirrah again if you dare, Duncan—because I'll have a witness, too." From her bag she lifted a tiny tape recorder. "I taped this conversation. I got this from the lawyer's office this afternoon, in case you tried anything."

  "It's inadmissible in court," Duncan protested, his gaze fixed on the tape recorder.

  She shrugged. "Maybe, but will the police want to prosecute him when he has several proofs of conspiracy against him, and a taped admission of your guilt? I don't think so."

  Duncan crumpled before their eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you," he whispered. "I— Cam has everything a woman could want: looks, success, political connections, and he's a great guy. I knew he'd make you a fine husband—he loves you so much—"

  "Pretty story," she sighed. "My answer's the same. He hit me. He took my power of attorney, my friends, my job, my life. I was never happy with him." Tess turned away. "Fool yourself if you like, but you love Cameron more than you ever loved me."

  "You talk to me about love?" Duncan charged around to face her, but Tess stood her ground, white-faced and unflinching before him. "After all I've done for you. You ungrateful little bitch, you'll—"

  Then he gasped and stumbled backward with the force of a hard fist in his face. He fell to his knees with the second crippling blow, blood sp
urting from his nose.

  Jirrah stood over him, fists clenched. "Don't call my wife a bitch, Earldon," he said, keeping his face and voice calm and controlled for Tessa's sake. "No man calls my wife names. Not even me. Especially not me." With a foot to Duncan's chest, he pushed the other to the ground.

  "You'll regret this," Duncan snarled.

  "Why don't you go to the cops, Earldon?" he taunted, with a little smile. "Use the Earldon money and influence to make them believe you, even with such a compelling conflict of interest in your case." He lifted up the sheaf of papers. "But somehow, you know, I don't think they're going to believe you." He held out his hand to Tess, with a reassuring wink. "Coming, mulgu?"

  She bit her lip, through a misty smile. "That's a name," she pointed out, putting her hand in his. "Mulgu, I mean."

  He grinned. "So it is. Coming?"

  Together they walked down the hall to the sunshine outside while Duncan Earldon flopped onto a chair, his head in his hands, waiting for the police to come to arrest him.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  "Want to go out for dinner?"

  She shook her head. "No. Thanks."

  "We can order in or get take-away."

  "I don't mind."

  "How about Chinese? We could get that lemon chicken you used to like, or honey king prawns."

  She looked up from her book, her gaze fixed about six inches from his face. "Yes. That sounds nice."

  "I'll go get it, then. Put the chain on when I'm gone, okay?"

  She nodded, her face buried in the novel.

  Jirrah squatted before her. "I'll be back soon."

  Her gaze remained fixed on her book. "Okay."

  He got to his feet, flipped her book around so it was right side up, and left the hotel room; but she stared as blindly at the words when he'd gone as she had the past hour.

  * * *

  "Nice meal?"

  It tastes like ashes. She gulped down a mouthful of honey king prawns, her favorite food. "Lovely."

  "If you change your mind about the wine—" She shook her head. "Water's fine."

  "Tess, we need to talk about it. I need to talk about it."

  "Why? What will it change?" She shoved her plate away and got to her feet, pacing to the opposite side of the room.

  "Maybe nothing. But getting it out—"

  "Use your psychological skills on an amateur. I've been analyzed by the best." She leaned her heated cheek against the coolness of the windowpane, feeling trapped, her heart tom by a warring sense of justice and the unwanted visions of her brother behind bars—maybe even her father.

  "I'm not a doctor they've used to label you," he replied, his tone serious. "I care about you."

  "And so do they. They love me." Her heart, aching with sadness, released words filling like a swollen dam. "But it doesn't stop any of you. I'm a pawn in this triple game of power and justice. I've bad no choice in what any of you have done to me. So go ahead with your justice—but you can't switch off my feelings, or force me to be your cheer squad. Take your life and name back, and destroy my family—but don't expect me to forgive you, or believe you really care about me."

  She hadn't heard him move; but his voice came right behind her, full of passionate conviction. "It's not just for me, Tess. Would I take such a monumental risk with you or Emily if it was only for me? Nearly everything I've done is for you."

  "No," she whispered, wanting to deny it, wanting to hear it. "That's not true."

  "Yes, it is." Though he didn't touch her, his voice sent warm shivers down her spine. "Like you said, I could have taken the bribes and run. I could've started all this when I got out of lockup. But I couldn't do it. Not until I knew where you were, and safe out of Beller's reach."

  Her voice wobbled. "No … you did it to clear your name."

  "Yes, in part. I don't deny that. But I could have done it years ago. I waited all this time for your sake."

  "Why?" she whispered.

  "I couldn't bring myself to hurt you, Tess. I couldn't destroy you that way."

  "But you are hurting me. I can't blame you for what you're doing—but I don't know if I can live with it, or forgive you."

  "I expected that. I'm not a fool. But I have to do this." His warm breath touched her neck. "I saw you hiding in the post office that day, and I wanted to kill them. I couldn't stand the fear in your eyes, the pain shadows in your heart. My wild swan had become a sad bird with a broken wing who'd forgotten how to fly. When I'd seen you last—on our wedding night—you were joy on wings. I had to do something to fix it. Until you're set free from him—from all of them—you'll never fly again."

  "So you know what's best for me," she said softly. "Just like them. You'll go ahead and do it without talking to me."

  "I'm nothing like them! I told you what I wanted from the start. I didn't bribe you or blackmail you—"

  "Didn't you?" she asked cynically. "'I'll help you find Emily if you'll help me find justice.'"

  "There was never an if attached. If you see an if in the deal, it's a shadow of your time with Beller." His answer was firm, uncompromising. "Yes, I needed your help—and you needed mine. I want to find Emily for myself as well as you. I'd have come with you whether you agreed to help me or not—but it would have been a hell of a risk without getting evidence on Duncan." Silence. "Think about it, Tess. Did I put if in the bargain, or did you?"

  "I suppose I did," she sighed.

  "Tess. Look at me."

  She turned to face him, her eyes searching his for answers to which there'd been no questions spoken. His face was strong and beautiful in his dark maleness, his uncompromising integrity. "You're a partner in everything I do. I'll never blackmail you, or tell you I know what's best for you. We're together in this, as we were in everything we did from the day we met."

  "Are you saying that if I took up your offer to stop this, you would?" she challenged.

  His mouth quirked. "I don't know. I'd think about it. But if I did, you'd regret it later. When Beller keeps chasing you the rest of your life—which probably wouldn't be very long, not after what we've done to expose him. He'd have to shut you up."

  Shamed, she realized he was right. He'd thought this through, not just for him, but for her, as well. "You'd regret it, too."

  "I'd be back in lockup, or dead. I wouldn't be able to regret anything." He took her shoulders in his hands, his eyes intent on her face. "I understand your feelings—the guilt, the grief, the anger and fear, especially after facing Duncan today. If I could wave a wand and make all this go away, I'd do it—but all I can do is try to make both our lives better. This is our only shot at freedom as well as justice. I have to do this, and I have to do it now. If I don't, more people than just us will suffer. We're not the only people your family have hurt in all this."

  "I know." Her head fell. "Don't worry, Jirrah. I won't ask anything from you but to help me find Emily."

  "Won't you?" he murmured, moving closer, warming her with his sweet breath, with the heat from his body. "I told you, mulgu. Ask anything of me, and it's yours. Anything."

  She couldn't look at him, or inside her own heart, to the blackness and turmoil and hope inside her. "I just want Emily."

  His lips touched her forehead, sure and tender. "Emily's not here with you tonight—but I am. Don't keep grieving forever. Let me take it away, if only for tonight."

  "No," she muttered, with a little wobble. "I can't."

  He bent to her throat, placing the softest of butterfly kisses there. "Ask me, Tess. Just ask me."

  "I can't!" she cried, arching her neck backward, drinking in the feel of his lips on her skin.

  He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, kissing each fingertip with exquisite care. "Anything, my wild swan. Anything you want, Tess. Anything you need. Just ask me."

  A wild quiver ran through her entire body. "You said you didn't want—just sex," she gasped.

  A low chuckle rumbled against her
palm. "Call it what you want—" from above their linked hands, he smiled with gentle forgiveness into her eyes "—but I'll be making love to you.

  However, whenever, wherever you want me, my brave, beautiful warrior woman. I'll be there. You've twice braved your family's disapproval and prejudice, standing against them for my sake. If you ever need me, I'll be there for you."

  "No." She shook her head. "You don't know what you're saying. Don't make promises I can't believe." But her body betrayed her, her craving heart overcame her self-loathing at the fear that she was sleeping with the enemy. She didn't know who the enemy was anymore. All she knew right now was her dark knight could take the pain away for a few hours. She threw herself into his arms. "Just give me now. Give me tonight." With a little cry of surrender, need, yearning—she didn't know which—she lifted his face with her free hand, and kissed him.

  Tenderness. Desire. Need. Faith. It was all in his kiss; it shimmered in the air around them.

  Promises.

  I'll always be there for you.

  He said it all without saying a word. She felt the abiding care for her in every touch, the promises coming straight from his heart. But she had to fight it. He might begin to believe in forever, make the promises, dream of a life together—and he'd be left with nothing but an empty cheat when he knew her greatest reason for holding back.

  So she kissed him with pulsing passion to make them both forget this night might be all they'd have. She took his gentle, reverent loving and injected it with heated fever, undressing him so fast she tore his T-shirt, pushing her body against his. She wanted this, oh, how she wanted it—she wanted him as she'd never want another man. She threw out all the sweetness she couldn't bear to feel, and kept the memory. The memory of being a woman again, of the sweet, giving loving she'd only known with him.

  They fell back onto the bed; he thrust inside her, kissing her face, her hair, her throat. She pushed him down to her breast. "Jirrah…" She arched her hips to take him deeper inside her. Then slowly, through the sensual fog, she realized he wasn't following her lead anymore; he wasn't going to give her the quick, heated satisfaction she craved. "What is it?" Frowning at his sudden stillness, she looked up at him—and felt scorched by the innate sadness in his eyes.