Her Galahad (10 page)

"Since Beller and Duncan's testimonials in my court case two months later prove they knew I was alive, I doubt any charge laid against you would stick. But
their
charges'll sure as hell stick—aiding and abetting a felony, unlawful imprisonment of another and there's worse. Much worse."

She froze for a moment; then with consummate rejection of his words, she put her hand in front of her face. "This is my family. My brother, maybe even my father. I
can't
believe they meant to hurt me." She shuddered, knowing it was a lie even as she spoke. "I don't care what you've got on Cameron. I won't interfere. Let's just get on with finding Emily."

After a moment, he spoke. "There's something I don't get. You were born in
Canada
. You moved here when you were a year old, so you still have dual citizenship. Why didn't you ever call your family in
Canada
for help?"

She pressed her lips together. "My first plan, after Emily died, was to leave
Australia
, to find my grandparents, aunts and uncles. But he's had my passport hidden since I lost Emily. I apparently talked about how I hated him when they drugged me. He also has paid friends in the Department ready to notify him if I try to get another passport."

"Can't you get another one through the Canadian consulate?"

She gave him a wry look. "Not with a documented mental problem, I can't. I'm a danger to myself. The Canadians don't want a basket case entering their country in case I suicide there, and cause an embarrassing incident."

Though he closed his eyes, she could feel the fury simmering inside him … just like Cameron. The rage sheathed in a cool mask. The handsome face hiding the lonely, unhealed child beneath, abused by the social-climbing, violent doctor father she'd hated from first sight. "Don't bother. I wouldn't go now if I had a passport. Not now I know Emily's alive."

To her relief, he followed her lead. "Finding Emily won't be a picnic—more like walking a minefield." He looked in her eyes, asking the question. "You realize it means going to
Sydney
."

"Of course," she replied impatiently.

"I'll call an old friend this morning, a lawyer with the Aboriginal Legal Service, and ask him to hear our story. We'll start with the hospital. You can ask to look at Emily's birth records, or just talk to the staff. That should be our first priority. The sooner we find her, the sooner she's safe."

"We'll have to be careful. If we say one wrong word, the hospital staff will shut down on us. We have to make our story as innocent as possible."

He hesitated. "Tess, if we go ahead with this, it implicates your brother up to the neck. And we'll have to face Duncan and your Dad at some stage. You realize that, don't you?"

She exhaled, making her face a calm mask. "I don't care what I have to do or who I have to see. I have to know what happened to my baby."

"Even if you have to face Beller?"

The very air around her stilled. Oh, dear God. Facing Cameron, whose wealth, sophistication and blindingly handsome face covered a tortured soul and diseased mind, wanting more than she could give. A seething mass of inner contradictions who had fixed his voracious heart on a fifteen-year-old girl, waiting twelve years with undiminished hope and hunger for the love, the healing that could never come from her, the woman he claimed to love yet never knew. Looking again at the lean hungry face, the hot eager eyes…

Emily.
She drew a deep breath. "Even that." She shuddered off the pinpoint shivers of revulsion that hurt her skin. "I have to know Emily's alive and happy. That's all that matters."

A long silence. Then he asked in a neutral tone, "How come you didn't have more kids? You always wanted heaps of 'em."

She allowed no expression to come into her eyes. "Do you think I'd want a permanent tie to Cameron by having his child?"

"I suppose not." He got to his feet and walked the room, reminding her of a dark panther stalking prey. "The hospital's the logical place to start. Where did you give birth?"

"Burragawang. A little town about four hundred kilometers northwest of
Sydney
."

Burragawang?
Jirrah stopped pacing and stared at her. How had she never seen the truth of that one telling act? "Tess, didn't it seem strange that men obsessed with your social status took you to a place like that to have the baby?"

"Of course it did," she retorted witheringly. "I might have been naive, but I wasn't stupid. They wanted her born where no one—you know, people who mattered—would know about her. They knew she was your baby. I didn't let Cameron touch me until after the ceremony, and I skipped a period before the wedding."

"Fair enough." He nodded and sighed. "It never occurred to you they had another reason?" he asked carefully. "Like maybe they'd arranged an
adoption behind your back?"

Her eyes flashed; she reared up like a fighting stallion. "Do you think I'd have wasted five years before I followed it up if it did? We're talking about my only child! Call me naive if it never occurred to me that my family sent my husband to prison, kidnapped my baby to adopt out, and told me they both died, without feeling a single twinge of guilt for than five years. I suppose I have a pretty unimaginative mind, huh? Most people suspect things like that about their families!"

"No—only the people whose daughters or sisters have been doin' it with a dirty half-breed," he retorted.

She whitened. "Don't call yourself that!"

He laughed, but it held only bitterness. "That's always been our problem—even now, you see me as a normal man. They see me as a bloody blackfella Abo—a pariah, a social disgrace to lock away and forget about. They put me inside for years and didn't care! Nobody but my family gave a damn what happened to me!"

After a small silence, she said softly, "I cared."

He stopped in his tracks, wheeling around to stare at her. Then he shook his head, laughing softly. "How do you do that to me? How do you shoot down my soapbox every time I try to get up on it, but make me feel like a million bucks while you do it?"

She smiled a little, and shrugged. "I don't know."

He hunkered down before her, his eyes dark and soft. "It's so good to see you smile. No woman can smile like you. It's crazy, but it makes
your eyes look like molten gold dipped in honey. You're still beautiful, mulgu." He lifted a hand, hovering close to her face. "So beautiful it almost hurts to look at you."

Unnerved by the lovely totem name she'd never thought to hear again, Tessa could only stare—stare at the only man who knew her heart, who saw through to her soul, and still thought her lovely and desirable. A memory floated through her mind, of loving so tender, so giving and generous she'd become its addict with one taste. Addicted to him.
Ngaya jirrah, my wild lover of the sea…

He crouched before her, his eyes steady, asking the question. Waiting for her permission.

Terrified of the touch, longing for it. Wanting to feel like a woman, denying she could want to be touched by a man again. She hated her confused reactions, but couldn't control them. She'd felt less than human for so long. Cameron's degrading ideas of sexuality had turned her into a pathetic mockery of a woman, hating male touch; her family's disbelief and loving guilt trips created a travesty of the trusting, loving girl she'd been.

Somewhere, somehow, it had to end; and only she could make the change. She closed her eyes, and nodded.

A tender hand caressed her cheek—just her cheek; and dark magic whispered through her, warm and soft like the touch of a firefly in the night. Giving, not demanding. Asking, not taking.

She couldn't stand it Trust and tenderness of touch had been denied too long. She pulled back, turning her face from a beauty too vivid, too strong to bear. "Don't touch me," she whispered.

Silence, long and total. When she finally opened her eyes, he was still there before her, watching her with little expression. "It'll never go away until you take control, Tess."

"I know what you want, and you can't have it!" Sudden fury flared at the grief filling her, hard, hurting. "I can't be that girl again. Don't you get it? She's
gone!"

He shook his head. "No. You
are
a wild swan, Tess, still and always—the wild, beautiful girl who braved the world to follow her heart. We
will
be lovers again, but it'll be your choice—when and where you want to make love, it's your call. I can wait until you trust me." A finger touched her mouth before he moved away; yet her body betrayed her, quivering with a single caress.

The arousal she thought she'd never know again.

She got to her feet. "You don't get it. Being lovers isn't a game—not when Emily will be the one to pay the price for it. We can't afford to want each other. Making love is not an option when it puts our child in danger!" Her sleeve jerked back as she pulled at the door. "I don't know if I can go through with this—not if that's what you want."

The door closed with a quiet click behind her.

Chapter 6

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^
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"
T
ess, no! Come back! Beller could be on the main road. He could find you." Jirrah yelled, racing after her in desperation as she strode down the stairs. "Emily might need us—both of us. You grew up without your mother. Do you want that for Emily? Can't we show her a united front? For Emily's sake…"

Then he skidded to a halt, shocked by the words pouring from his mouth. Damn it, he was using blatant blackmail on her. Just like them. Suddenly he hoped with all his heart that she wouldn't fall for it.
Go on, Tess, keep going. Find somewhere where you won't have to run. Find your strength and healing far away from your damnable family and what they want from you—and, yes, damn it, even from what I want. Even getting revenge on Beller isn't worth what it would do to you, my lovely wild swan.

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.