‘And breakfast? Would that be included in the deal? I have to work, you know. I’ll probably be pulling down fences tomorrow.’

His lips nibbled at the skin below her ear, sending little pulses of excitement through her. ‘I think I could probably find something adequate in my tuckerbox,’ he murmured.

‘You might have to drop me back home quite early,’ she warned. ‘If you can manage that, we’re on.’

‘A very modest request, dear heart, and entirely doable.’ He linked their hands, his thumb massaging the side of her finger. ‘I’ll walk you up.’

‘After we help carry the gear,’ she demurred.

He gave a martyred sigh, but heaved the screen rig onto his shoulder, leaving the box of slides for Luke. It gave her the opportunity for a murmured explanation to the young ranger. ‘I’m spending the night in the camp. Tell Sophie. I’ll make a start on the chores, and you can pick me up there in the morning, rather than me coming back, okay? Don’t forget my lunch.’

The dark hid Luke’s expression and any surprise he may have felt. ‘Okay,’ he agreed. ‘So, the lovebug bites again, hey? Must be something in the water round here.’

‘Besides crocs, you mean? Well, you should know,’ she quipped. ‘And surprise! The young aren’t the only possible victims.’

Chapter Thirty-one

Tilly woke with an ache in her right hip and a heavy weight across her shoulder. It took a second to remember, then she stretched luxuriously and rolled towards Connor, dislodging his arm and waking him. ‘Good morning.’ She kissed his chin, feeling the bristles there. ‘I have to tell you, sir, that you got me here under false pretences.’

‘Yes?’ He pulled her closer, his hand roving down her bare back. ‘How is that, then?’

‘According to my hip, your swag is lined with rocks. That said’—she smiled into his eyes, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face—‘the rest of the night lived up to its billing.’

‘Well, that’s a relief. We could,’ he said hopefully, ‘stay here a bit longer? It’s cosy, not really that rocky and we’re both naked—’

‘And Luke will be along before you know it,’ she said, thrusting the blankets back and yipping at the cold. ‘If there’s still hot water to be had, I want a shower, and breakfast, so stir your stumps, my dear. Feeding me was part of the bargain, remember?’

He sighed, but sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist. ‘Brr! You’re a hard, mercenary woman, but eminently kissable.’ He suited the action to the word, releasing her reluctantly. ‘Did I tell you I adore you, Tilly Hillyer? Because I do. Last night was . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Let’s just say that right now I could die happy.’