Free Her Galahad by Melissa James

was right to blame me." She couldn't tell him the vile names his father had called her, the accusations he'd thrown. He'd only used words against her. Jirrah could claim far worse from her family.
    She looked up, her eyes dark. "A week after they said you died, Cameron bought out Earldon Associates. I didn't even know they were in trouble. Cameron asked me to marry him. It was sick. He didn't care that I loved you. He said he'd change it—that we belonged together, and he'd prove it." She dragged in a breath. "Dad and Duncan begged me, over and over. They said when they needed help, Cameron saved them—and all he wanted in return was to belong to our family in every way. They reminded me of all they'd done to make my childhood happy, especially since my mother died. They kept nagging and nagging that he truly loved me, as no other man had or would—that I'd be happy ever after as his wife." She choked on an almost hysterical laugh. "Happiness and Cameron is a dichotomy. He doesn't know how to be happy—he only knows how to want more and more. I don't think anyone but me can know what he's like, the warped nature he hides beneath that strange hypnotic charm of his. They didn't know then—they still don't now. They honestly thought it was best for me, but they made me commit bigamy." She heard herself laugh again, strange and wondering. "That's what's so weird about it. I could be the one to do time in prison for what they did to me."
    "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