Lucien took the blanket from the bed and turned back to Jean, attempting to smile at her. He had been more shocked than he wanted her to know at the idea of her staying in Adelaide so long. He had hoped it might just be for a couple of weeks. How was he going to manage without her?

Fetching the blanket had given him a moment to recover, and he now settled back against her side, wrapping it around their shoulders and folding the ends across their laps.

"I'm sure Mrs Toohey will look after you perfectly well, Lucien," Jean said firmly.

"That's not why I need you, Jean." he replied. "It's you I want, not your cooking." He looked so crestfallen that she took pity on him.

"I want you too," she said quietly. She looked him in the eye as boldly as she could, and hoped he would understand.

"So...you'll come home, but not yet. Is that right?" Perhaps that was the best he could hope for. She nodded silently.

Lucien held her hand and closed his eyes for a moment. She had said she wanted him. That was all that really mattered. Everything else could be sorted out in time. A smile crept across his face, and Jean watched him, wondering what he was thinking, glad that he looked happier again..

She ran the fingertips of her free hand up Lucien's arm, feeling the muscle over his forearm and the soft, surprisingly smooth skin underneath. When her hand met the rolled up sleeve she continued to move up his arm, but now over his clothes, until she reached his shoulder. Then she rested her head on the space below his collarbone, and nosed at the cotton of his shirt. Lucien was grinning now, pulling her towards him, wanted the same skin contact with her that she had sought with him.

"Come on," he whispered, and patted the space on his lap. Jean looked at the towel round his waist, and wondered if he was wearing anything underneath it. After a moment's hesitation, she half stood and shifted into his lap, drawing her legs up under the blanket and curling against his chest.

Lucien could hardly believe it. He had thought she would draw the line at sitting on his lap, but here she was, leaning against his chest and placing tiny kisses on his beard. Slowly, he moved his hands over her legs and waist, settling in the end with one hand firmly on her hip, while the other stroked her cheek and down her neck.

He could smell her clean scent in the cocoon they had made of the blankets, and he thought about wearing those pyjamas himself later and so taking a little of her with him to bed. The thought made him hold her a little tighter, which earned him a soft kiss on the lips.

One kiss led to another, until Lucien slid his hand inside his pyjama jacket, wanting to feel her bare skin under his fingertips. Jean gripped his hand and backed away a little, setting his hand back on her side, but over her clothes. He stifled a sigh, and kissed her on the forehead.

She lay back against his chest, and eventually broke the easy silence.

"I should go home. Christopher and Ruby will wonder where I am." She didn't sound as though she wanted to go.

"Stay," he replied. "Stay here with me." He looked at her hopefully. Jean smiled at him, assuming he was joking, but that look quickly told her he wasn't.

"Lucien...I can't stay here. What would people think? They..." She trailed off. It was unthinkable. Yet she was thinking it.

"You could ring Christopher to let him know you are safe. And the hotel manager thinks we are married, so that doesn't matter." Lucien was at his most persuasive.

"But we're not married, Lucien."

"Not yet. I intend to put that right before too long, though." Lucien thought Jean looked a little alarmed at that. Perhaps it was rather too soon to mention it. "I'm not suggesting anything you would think was wrong, Jean. I'd like you to stay with me, here, in my room, and maybe in my bed, but I won't do anymore than kiss you and hold you, and we can eat dinner together and talk. I have to go back to Ballarat in a day or two, and then I won't see you for weeks or even months. Please, Jean."

Jean swallowed nervously. She trusted him; she knew he wouldn't do anything she wasn't happy with. So why was she worried?

She stroked his hand, and looked away as she spoke.

"I'd like to stay, Lucien," she said quietly, "but what should I say to Christopher? It goes against everything I've ever taught him."

"He's a grown man now, Jean, and you can do whatever you choose."

Jean bit at her lower lip with her teeth, thinking about this and making up her mind. Then she walked over to the phone beside the bed, and dialled her son's number before she could change her mind.

Perhaps fortunately, Ruby answered the phone. Lucien tried not to listen too closely to Jean's side of the conversation.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, Ruby...I'm with Lucien, and I'll be home tomorrow sometime." There was a pause, and Jean smiled to herself wryly. Then she said goodbye and hung up. There was a pause before she turned back to Lucien, and he thought she looked a little pink.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I think I embarrassed Ruby a bit. She didn't know what to say!"

Lucien could hardly believe it. He had a whole evening and night now with his Jean. No lodgers, no family, no phone ringing.

Perhaps they should eat first, and he could do with a drink. "Do you want to go downstairs for dinner, or shall we eat here?" Their clothes would still be damp, but just about wearable perhaps. Jean shook her head.

"Let's eat here. Some sandwiches would be fine. I'm not very hungry anyway." She thought the hollow feeling in her stomach was more likely to be nerves than hunger.

So Lucien phoned the hotel reception and a few minutes later answered the knock at the door, still dressed in his shirt and towel, and brought in a plate of sandwiches, some whisky, and two glasses.