Aaagh.

Dom must be reading her face. He placed a last piece of dressing on her foot and touched her lightly on her ankle. It was a feather touch of reassurance, and why it had the capacity to make her feel reassured she had no idea. But, unaccountably, it did.

‘Hey, no drama,’ he said. ‘Your settee’s practically made for you anyway. But I do need a guarantee that no one will be looking for you.’

‘Not…my family. They’ll assume I stayed in Melbourne until the morning.’ They might even assume she’d decided not to come at all, she thought ruefully. She darn near hadn’t. ‘But if those yahoos saw me go over the cliff…’

‘They may have reported it. It’s unlikely, or you’d have been found before this. I’ll ring the local police and tell them if anyone reports a crashed car I have the driver safe. Okay. All sorted. And now the driver needs to sleep.’

And before she knew it, once again she was in his arms. Was this how country doctors transported patients? The thought made her feel silly again.

‘What?’ he asked as he carried her through the silent house.

The man was percipient, she thought. She’d allowed herself a tiny smile, meant only for herself, but he’d picked up on it.

‘I’m just thinking most hospitals have trolleys.’

‘Yeah, and hospital orderlies,’ he said with wry humour. ‘And nurses and regulations about lifting and role demarcation. But orderlies are in short supply around here. So lie back, pretend to be a really light suitcase and let me do my job.’

The man was seriously efficient. He set her in an armchair for a couple of minutes, disappeared and came back with linen, pillows and blankets. She watched as he made up her bed-faster than she’d thought possible. The man had real domestic skills. Except in making Easter buns.