Her Galahad

by Melissa James

  But after a second's hesitation Tess froze. Her back was stiff, yet quivering, as if waiting for a blow—or worse. Jirrah cursed beneath his breath, wanting to kill Beller with his bare hands for what he'd done to his beautiful, trusting girl…

  "I wasn't leaving. I know the danger." Then she dragged in a breath. "I want a few minutes alone to think. My whole life's gone inside out in a day, and you want something I don't."

  He sighed, recognizing the validity of her words. "I've had years to get used to all this. I shouldn't have said anything. Sorry." The word croaked out, thick with the rust of reluctance.

  She gave an infinitesimal nod. "No more questions. No prying. Don't come near me. Don't touch me again." No questions. No conditions. Tess was in control here, and she knew it.

  "Sure. Whatever." He made it sound casual, like his wanting her was no big deal, unlike the fast-growing obsession it was.

  A deep breath—for courage, or to cleanse herself of the memory he'd ignited—and she turned, looking up at him from the base of the uneven verandah. It hurt to even look at her, yet he couldn't look away. Those tortured eyes held him enthralled—and he understood all she couldn't say. The chains of love and guilt and abuse trapped her; she was a prisoner in her own life. As sad and solemn as Rapunzel must have been in her ivory tower.

  Poignant princess. Poor little rich girl.

  Yet from the flotsam of her unspoken war, her surreal beauty sprang to understated life. There was no question in her eyes, no begging, no demand, nothing but truth.

  And that unadorned honesty made her so beautiful.

  But she didn't want him to touch her, or heal her of the past. She wanted nothing from him but their daughter, and he'd better keep reminding himself of that.

  "Come back inside, Tess," he urged, hearing the hint of a croak in the words. He held his breath.

  She walked inside but refused to sit. She paced the room, fiddling with her bag with jerky fingers. "You said the hospital's the best place to start."

  He nodded. "Yeah, it makes sense. Even if the doctors and nurses are gone, there'd still be some record of the birth."

  "But what if they—"

  The sound of feet thudding up the stairs came to them. "Yo, Jirrah! Thought I'd turn up for a——" The screen banged open. A tail, solidly built man about thirty-five stepped in, cannoning straight into the pacing Tessa He grabbed her arms and stepped back to look at her, his face twisted. "Oh, great. That's just typical. Just when life's gettin' better, here conies bloody Tessa Earldon, the pampered princess, back to make trouble for us all!"

  Tessa's eyes darkened in mindless panic. She gulped and skittered backward, twisting wildly out of the gripping hold. "Let me go," she panted. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me!"

  Jirrah watched his cousin freeze, staring at her in disbelief; and it was no wonder. With Tessa's face in the clear light of morning, both men could see the shadows of terror in her eyes. "Oh, sheesh," Sam muttered, sounding rueful.

  Jirrah moved forward, taking his time. "It's okay, Tess," he said, his voice a gentle caress. "You know Sam—he's a bloody idiot, just full of hot air. He'd never hurt you. Come back and sit down, and we'll talk calmly. It's fine, mulgu. It's okay."

  But with a lightning motion she jerked away. "No!" She knocked Sam over as she pushed past him and out the door.

  "What the bloody hell's going on here?" Sam demanded from the floor; but Jirrah bolted past him. "Tess!"

  But the sight that met his eyes halted him at the verandah.

  "Don't touch me," she snarled. "Don't ever touch me again!" She kicked out in a flying karate maneuver at the base of a sapling in the clearing beside the car. Her fist pounded a tiny branch, tearing her knuckles as she sent it hurtling over the van. "Get away from me. Don't touch me, or I'll kill you, you hear? I'll kill you! I'm in control of my life, and I don't belong to you! I never belonged to you!"

  "What the hell's she doing?"

  Jirrah turned on Sam. "Just leave us, okay? You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Just leave us alone now!"

  Without a word Sam stalked into the house.

  Jirrah walked with slow caution down the stairs to where she used every self-defense mode he'd ever seen or heard of on the abused tree. "Tess, stop it, honey. There's no need to fight. You're safe. Beller isn't here. Sam would never hurt you."

  Slowly, Tessa's eyes unglazed. She stared at him, then the tree in horror, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done. "I'm sorry," she whispered again.

  He reached her, and grinned. "Well, I accept the apology, but I doubt you and Ralph here will ever be close friends again."

  She giggled, then bit her lip.

  "Let's go back inside. I think I'll need to fix your cuts this time." He held out a hand to her. After a long moment, with obvious wariness, she put her torn hand in his.

  "Good idea, getting self-defense classes," he said, rubbing his thumb over her ripped hand with tender care, trying to ignore what the feel of her warm, golden skin did to him. "If Beller tries anything on you again, he'll never know what hit him."

  She looked in his eyes, hers filled with weary defensiveness. "I know what you're flying to do, Jirrah, but you can't save me. You can't heal me. My past won't go away because you want it to. And neither will yours." She withdrew her hand from his, walked into the house and returned with her bag and the keys. Moments later the van started up and revved away in a cloud of dust.

  "Good one, moron." Sam appeared so magically beside him Jirrah suspected he'd been listening all along. "She wasn't anywhere near ready to hear about the jerk findin' her. Now she's alone, and you don't know where Beller is!"

  Jirrah coughed out the dust flying in the air from her sudden exit. "She just needs space. She'll be back soon." At least he hoped like hell she was safe. Hoping the isolated location of Marshall's Creek was enough defense against Beller turning up here, especially while she was alone and defenseless.

  "Don't bring up his name again." Sam looked at Jirrah, hard; and he knew Sam not only understood, he was on Tessa's side, one hundred percent. A natural enough switch, since his sister Jenny's experience with a violent boyfriend a year before. "She might never be ready to talk about it till it happens."

  "I know. But she needed to know I understand."

  "Fair enough." Sam shrugged. "So whatcha gonna do with her?"

  "Find our daughter." His words were flat with accusation. Sam started in genuine shock. "She had a kid? What do you mean, find her? Did she lose her somewhere?"

  "Yeah," he retorted. "Somewhere between going to my funeral and going home from the hospital, the baby disappeared."

  Sam's jaw dropped. "Eh?"

  In a few graphic words, Jirrah described Tessa's life during the time he'd been in lockup.

  "Crikey." Sam's brow rose. "How did they set all that up—and, more importantly, how the hell did they get away with it?"

  "That's what we need to find out, before they start again."

  "So that's what you're gonna do now?"

  "Yep. Find Emily, at least—and get my name cleared."

  "And after?"

  "How the hell would I know?" Jirrah demanded, unsettled and irritable with the questions. "I only saw her yesterday for the first time in six years."

  "It only took you six seconds last time," Sam said quietly.

  "I'm not the stupid kid I was then," he retorted.

  "S'pose not." Sam's answer was vague, as if he was thinking of something else. "So what's the story with the baby?"

  Jirrah told him in a few succinct words. "I'd say the papers Duncan left me are real—they've adopted her out. We're going to Sydney to find out if Emily's alive, where she is now, if she's safe and happy. We owe it to her to find out that much."

  "What're you gonna do with the kid after you find her? Just leave her where she is?"

  "I don't know! How the hell would I? We don't know where she is, if she's happy or not!"

  A hand fell on his shoulder. "Bit of a st
range day, eh?"

  Jirrah laughed without amusement. "You could say that."

  "What's gonna happen with Tessa?" Sam asked, still quiet, thoughtful. "Looks like she still trusts you, eh?"

  "Maybe." He sighed, thinking of her panicked reactions every time he touched her. "If it was her fault I was put inside, it's my fault she went through this. I believed the worst about her because it was easier to believe." He wheeled around. "I knew how warped Beller was—I'd heard the stories. I knew what he could do to Tess—probably did do—sickens me. I should have called from prison, made sure she was all right." Sam gaped at him. "Have you lost your marbles? You're legally dead! How could you save her? You were in lockup, or with Belinda and Mikey, and she was gone, anyway. You barely had time to lose Beller in the past six years, let alone have a nice 'how're you going' pitstop with his wife!"

  "My wife."

  Sam blinked at the furious words. "Oh, yeah. So she is. Okay. Your wife." Then he laughed. "So, are you gonna fight Beller for her? You takin' her back?"

  "No!"

  Sam grinned. "Don't shoot me, I'm just the piano player."

  "Look, it's not like that anymore! I just want to make sure she's all right. I owe her that much. We want to find Emily, make sure she's safe and happy—then I want to try to do the same for Tess. She's got to break free of the Earldons and Beller." His eyes were bleak, somber. "It's time for justice—for all of us."

  "And for healing—and not just for Tessa. You need some yourself. This isn't just about revenge anymore." He squeezed Jirrah's shoulder. "You know what I'm saying. You're diseased, man. You haven't been right since before you left lockup. I know why, Jirrah—I understand—but it's got to stop, for the sake of more people than just you. You let 'em take away your belief in yourself, and if you don't have that, you can't help Tessa, or your family. Any of 'em." He hesitated. "Including Emily."

  Jirrah stared at Sam, arrested by the thoughtfulness of his tone, instead of the blunt blindsidedness he was famous for in the family. He was right. Somewhere along the line his pain had turned into a disease of soul; and not once, since Belinda's death, had he tried to find the cure.

  It was time to change. Time to heal. For his family's sake, for Tessa's sake—and his own. If he didn't, the Earldons and Beller would keep on winning … and their corruption would do worse than taint his spirit—it would destroy Tess.

  Slowly, he nodded.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Tessa returned to the cabin against her will an hour later.

  She didn't want to do it. Every self-protective instinct she bad told her to run from this whole situation, from every reminder of her past; but she had to find Emily. She had to know her child was safe, out of Cameron's reach—and if she had to go to Sydney with Jirrah and hear the truth about her family's betrayal, so be it.

  But that didn't mean she had to like it.

  Jirrah was alone, busy tossing bags out the door onto the verandah. "We'd better get supplies in town if we're traveling off-road. We'll want to reach Burragawang by tonight if we can, and we can't afford to take main highways."

  Relieved he didn't start on any uncomfortable topics, she nodded. "We need fuel. I have an LPG tank in the van as well as unleaded petrol," she said, slinging the bags into the van. "We'll make it to Sydney if we fill both tanks."

  "Right. Give me that." He lifted the hefty sack she was struggling with, and threw it in. "Aaaargh." He winced, nursing his bandaged wrist.

  "I'll drive first shift today," she offered. "Your wrist needs a chance to rest."

  He smiled at her, his warm, masculine face lighting with its unconscious charm. "Much as my fragile male ego hates to admit it, you're right. Thanks."

  "I—sure, um, that's okay." Disgusted with herself, she turned away. Reduced to gibbering incoherence with one smile. How did he do that to her? Needing a distraction, she looked at the growing pile in the back of the van. "What is all this stuff?"

  He pointed at two cloth-wrapped bundles. "They're the kangaroo carvings. I have to take them to someone in Sydney. And that's camping gear. We might have to sleep on the road."

  "The back seats in the van flatten out to make beds."

  "I thought you'd be more comfortable if I slept in the tent." He stacked sleeping bags in the corner of the van near the door. "That'll do. We need to keep room for supplies."

  She could feel the intense heat in her cheek subsiding with his prosaic comment. "We should stock up the first-aid kit, too."

  "Good idea. You ready to go?"

  More than ready to leave the little house that seemed soaked in dark memory, she nodded.

  Marshall's Creek was a typical small Outback town long past its gold-panning heyday. Besides scattered, sorry-looking weatherboard houses, the main street held a dark, wide-windowed old general store-cum-petrol station, post office and pub, and a dingy blue, all-purpose hall for community events. The school and church had long since closed, with faded For Sale signs falling down in front of their fences. The place smelled of diesel and dust and heat and dead grass. The inhabitants' apathetic glances followed their progress down the road, less interested in them than in brushing persistent flies from their faces.

  "How long did you live here?" Tessa asked.

  "About a year." He swung into the petrol station. "I wanted to be as far away from Sydney as I could get, after— I hit here a week after I took off, and it seemed peaceful. I bought the land and slept in the truck while I built the house."

  She flipped open the fuel tanks. "Go on in. I'll fill up while you shop." She jumped out of the van, frantic for something, anything to do to stop the words escaping her lips.

  As far away from Sydney as you could get, offer Belinda died?

  The force of all he'd left unspoken slammed into her heart. She'd thought, when she couldn't even like Cameron or endure his touch, it was because she'd found her once-in-a-lifetime love.

  It seemed she'd romanticized too much about Jirrah's love for her. He'd had moved on after she'd gone. He'd found Belinda, had a child with her, grieved for her. Grieved so badly he'd had to leave Sydney. He could handle living there after losing her, Tessa. But not after Belinda died.

  Romeo moves on, while Juliet grieves eternally.

  Foolish, romantic girl she'd been, to turn her first love into her last. And she'd be a fool now to make more of his care for her, his fierce protection, than the simple explanation he'd given: she was the mother of his child, and he'd loved her once.

  She had to keep her focus on finding Emily. Just as he kept his focus on clearing his name, and destroying her family. Allowing herself to feel anything for him could break, not just her heart this time, but her very soul. She had to find Emily, and then run. Run as fast and as far from him as possible.

  She'd just filled up the gas tank when the prickling needles of warning touched the back of her neck.

  "Oh, God," she whispered, hanging onto the side of the van, her heart pounding and her limbs almost paralyzed with fear. "Move, Tessa," she muttered through heaving breaths and clenched teeth. "Get up. Go!" She pushed away from the van and bolted into the old store, slamming the swinging screen door behind her.

  Jirrah was pulling items from the shelves, throwing them in a trolley. She clutched his arm. "Cameron's here."

  He frowned at her. "Did you see him?"

  She pulled at him in panic, jarring a can from his hand into the jars of honey below, smashing at least four. "I know it. I feel it. He's here somewhere! Please!"

  He stared at the sticky mess seeping onto the floor; but before he could speak Sam burst into the aisle, covered in soot and grime, gasping for breath. "Beller's here. He threw a Molotov cocktail in the house. I called the Bushfire Brigade and the cops, but there won't be much left to save—and the cops'll take hours to get here, comin' from Lynch Hill. You better run."

  "Did Beller see you? Does he know which way you went?" White lines edged Jirrah's mouth.

&nb
sp; "He saw me leave. I'd swap cars with you, but he'll be here any second. I'm headin' south to my parents' place in Mudgee. With any luck, he'll follow me awhile before he realizes I'm not you guys. Go north, while he thinks I'm you."

  Tessa stared at Sam. This man, who'd hated her for years, was willing to do this for her? "Thank you, Sam," she whispered.

  Jirrah gripped Sam's shoulder. "Thanks, mate. I owe you." Throwing the last articles in the trolley, he handed the proprietor two hundred-dollar bills as he passed, grabbing shopping bags. "Thanks, Ron. Got to go. This should cover what we've got, and pay for the mess in the aisle."

  "But—wait—!"

  They worked frantically, shoving everything in the van while Sam screeched away and the storekeeper bleated about change. "It's okay, Ron. I won't miss it." Jirrah turned to the man, nursing his wrist again. "If anyone comes to the store asking for me, or this lady, she hasn't been here at all, and I haven't been here for the past couple of weeks."

  The man nodded. "Sure, Jirrah. If that's what you want."

  "Thanks, Ron. See you around." Jirrah slammed the tailgate shut as Tessa bolted to the driver's seat and had it started before he jumped in. "Go, Tess. Head on the northeast road."

  "I've got nothing but bathroom necessities and one last change of clothes in my bag. I left it all behind yesterday," she panted as they headed out of town.

  "We'll get stuff later. You reckon your van would make it through an old dirt track that cuts through the State forest?"

  "It's a four-wheel-drive. It should make it."

  He looked at her. "How did you know he was here?"

  She shivered. "It's this creepy feeling I get when he's close to me, like pins sticking in my spine. Like when I watched the Friday the 13th movies. I had it yesterday when I first saw you."

  "Thanks," he retorted dryly.

  "It wasn't you. He was talking to Mrs. Savage. I thought you were the investigator he hired to tail me." She kept her eyes on the road. "When I feel like shuddering, or I want to throw up, I know he's close."