THEY explored the goldfields until Matty’s legs gave out. He was cheerful, interested and polite. They ate their dinner early-a damper they’d made together and a thick Irish stew. Kelly settled him into her big bed and his eyelids drooped.

Fatigue was sapping his courage. He was half a world away from his people.

‘I want Uncle Rafael,’ he murmured.

‘He’ll come,’ Kelly said. ‘But he said he might not be able to return until late. I’ll have him come in here and say goodnight the minute he arrives.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘I promise.’

‘I miss Aunt Laura,’ he said fretfully. ‘I miss Ellen and Marguerite. I want to go home.’

Her heart twisted. Home. Home was where the heart was.

Her home was right here. Her home was with this small boy, who was so alone.

The Crown Prince of Alp de Ciel.

‘Let me read you a story,’ she said, and she found an ancient book she’d loved when she had been his age, a book she’d held on to just in case, just in case…

The Poky Little Puppy.

The book was battered and dog-eared. It had been given to her by her grandmother when she had been just Matty’s age. She’d loved it.

So did Matty. He relaxed, snuggling into his pillows. She so wanted to lift him into her arms, to cuddle him to sleep, but she knew he wasn’t ready for that. She was a stranger even if she was his mother.

She had to get to know him slowly.

Could he stay on the diggings with her?

‘My Aunt Laura will like this story,’ Matty murmured sleepily. ‘Can you read it to Uncle Rafael when he comes?’

‘I…yes.’

He had his own people. His own family.

Where did she fit in?

She didn’t know.

He came at nine p.m., after she’d almost given up on him. She’d expected a call from security at the gate, but instead there was a soft knock on the door.