Epilogue

"Jack, don't you ever worry that we're completely wrong for each other?"

He shot her a sideways glance that was more than usually piercing. Keeping his voice determinedly casual, he replied, "I said when we were in Bairnsdale that over the months and years I'd thrown up every barrier I could think of between the two of us. It doesn't look like that worked, so no, I'm not especially worried just now. Why? Are you?"

Lightly breathe in. And out. And in. And wait for her reply as though you weren't terrified, Robinson.

She shoved her hands deeper in her pockets and kicked at the sand moodily.

"I saw you with those children. You're kind, Jack, you should be a father. Not gallivanting around with someone like me, who couldn't handle motherhood if it was presented gift-wrapped in bright fuschia pink."

Breathing all of a sudden became a lot easier. He stopped short, and drew her hands out of her pockets to hold them in his as he drew her to face him.

"Phryne, my love, for such a smart woman, you can be remarkably stupid at times. It may have escaped your notice, but you have an extraordinary capacity to care for people. Dot – then Jane – Kitty, in London – even, God help them, Bert and Cec. Your whole adopted family relies on you, and I have not the slightest doubt that if another such waif or stray crossed your path you'd drag them over your threshold as well." He paused. "My privilege now is that I get to watch you do it, and at the closest quarters, and even share in the experience."

Wait, was his habitual frown quirking up in one corner? Her expression had changed from suspicion to dubiousness; then a spark of humour lit her eyes; then warmth. He chose his next words carefully, one hand raised to trace a finger lightly down that sharply elegant cheekbone.

"At the same time, we both know that none of the protection we use is foolproof, and one day there might be an unexpected outcome of all those times I've shown you," and, breathe, "how very much I love you."

Yes, he thought. That was stomach-churning fear in her eyes. Holding her gaze steadily, he spoke so quietly that she could barely hear him over the sound of the waves.

"It would just be one more challenge, Phryne, and we've handled plenty of those – without wrapping them in any colours at all. Don't lose sleep over it."

Drawing her into his arms, his voice was no more than a whisper in her ear.

"I have plenty of far more enjoyable ways I can suggest you lose sleep, and I'd be very happy to go home and make a start right now on a bit more sleeplessness. Shall we?"

Her nose was buried in his neck by now, but the very slight nod of her dark head was enough. He touched his lips to her hair, briefly tightened his hold, then released her. He put his hands in his pockets, she took his arm, and in step with each other and eloquent silence, they strolled home.