Her Galahad by Melissa James

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