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‘You scared the others off, Fleur, but not me.’ Jelly grinned. ‘Far too clever and independent for the rest of us.’

‘Oh, go on with you. Thanks for looking after Tom.’

‘There was a queue,’ Jelly assured and then winked. ‘Here’s your favourite girl, Tom,’ she called before leaving.

‘Hello,’ Fleur said, approaching, trying not to show how appalled she was to see Tom’s handsome features looking bruised and battered, one side of his face swollen, his lips cut. One eye was entirely closed, the other only open to a slit. Some wounds around his face still oozed blood, while others had scabbed. He was a mess.

She sat at his bedside, taking his hand. ‘Oh, Tom. Would you like to come home with me?’

Tom shook his head. ‘You come home with me.’

Fleur’s breath caught. ‘To the Flinders Ranges? I wish I could.’

‘The Alberton Hotel will do,’ he offered.

A nurse returned to help Tom dress, while Fleur sought out Jelly to discuss the care he’d need. Soon, they were on their way, Fleur hailing a cab to take them to Tom’s lodgings. Eyes widened when Fleur stepped back into the Alberton supporting Tom.

‘Bloody hell, I see you found him then,’ the publican said, giving a low whistle. ‘Hell, mate, how does the other poor bastard look?’ He glanced at Fleur. ‘S’cuse my language, Miss Appleby.’

She gave a grinning shrug as Tom blew an amused snort at the question. ‘He and his mates jumped me. I never got a punch in.’

Fleur moved the conversation on. ‘I’ll pay extra, but I want to sit by his side while he sleeps. The hospital says he needs someone keeping a watch for a little while longer, but he didn’t want to stay there another night.’

‘You don’t have to pay any more, Miss Appleby. You can stay all night if you wish.’

Fleur was grateful to him for not cutting her a sly look or winking in any suggestive way; he meant it genuinely.

‘Thanks for keeping an eye on the lad. Let us know if we can help with anything.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Come on, Tom. We’ll head up and I have no doubt those stairs are going to test you.’

The ascent was slow and he paused to hold the stair rail twice, breathing hard.

‘It’s your broken ribs. I know it’s painful to breathe. Just take your time,’ Fleur soothed him.

She finally got him into his modest room. It was sparsely furnished but big, with windows that looked out onto the Port Road.

‘Let’s get you undressed and into bed, Tom.’

She sensed him blushing and didn’t look up as she began unbuckling his belt.

He clasped his hands over her busy fingers. ‘You don’t have to—’

‘You do know I undress the dead and work on them,’ she stated, skirting the truth.

‘Except I’m alive, Fleur. So, if you’re going to undress me, I hope you plan to marry me.’

Now she did look up at him. He was staring at her with neutral features, although there was a question in his beaten face . . . along with some vague amusement.

‘Er . . .’ She was caught entirely off guard.

‘No jest,’ he said, taking her hands from his belt and lifting them to kiss her fingers. ‘If you proceed, you have to agree to marry me, Fleur.’

Her mouth formed a brief gape of surprise. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Say yes . . . or if you don’t feel how I—’

‘Yes!’ she interrupted happily. ‘Yes,’ she repeated, more calmly. ‘Tom, I think I’ve always loved you since I was little. I know that sounds a little ridiculous, but this is what my heart says. I think I’ve been searching for a version of you all my life and why I’ve always felt hollow in the presence of men who were keen to see me. You’re like . . .’ She shook her head.