Her Galahad (25 page)

A key turned in the lock. Tess paled; her golden-eyed gaze fixed on the turning knob, hands fiddling with her bag.

Jirrah steeled himself. If Beller was with Duncan—

The man who stepped inside was alone. Though nine years older, he held an amazing resemblance to his sister: tall, dark-haired, golden-eyed and lithe of build. But the exotic, slightly crooked charm of face, and unnerving honesty in the golden gaze that made Tessa so unique just wasn't there for Duncan Earldon. It never had been. His face wasn't weak, or shifty, or crafty. Nothing so blatant. He could look any man in the eye as he spoke. What was missing inside Duncan was something indefinable: the depth of soul, the inner fire and spirit Tess had in abundance. She was
alive
in a way Duncan Earldon would never know.

"Well, well. I wondered why the surveillance system went off. Good morning, Theresa. Slumming it, are we?" her brother drawled. "A spot of breaking and entering in line with present company."

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 spurting 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

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"
W
ant 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."