She hesitated, lower lip caught between her teeth. “Is my blanket in there?”
Before she could blink, Benedict had knelt to spread the worn woolen fabric over the ground. He rose to his knees and caught her fingers in his, then eased her down to the ground. She fussed with her skirts, arranging them around her, and donned the gloves.
“What am I plucking?” he asked as he settled beside her.
“Not these,” she retorted, pointing to the row of pansies in front of them.
Benedict’s smile didn’t falter in the face of her teasing. In fact, it seemed to deepen.
“What about these?” he asked, gesturing to the row of white-and-yellow dotted two-eyed violets. There was not a lick of sincerity in his tone or on his face.
“Perhaps you could keep me company?”
Benedict delivered a put-upon sigh. “Are you suggesting that I sit here and look handsome?”
“Precisely. It is not beyond your skill set, is it?” Eliza flushed, only cooling when Benedict laughed.
“I shall give it my very best effort. But do not hesitate to provide feedback. I’m quite good at following instructions.”
Eliza rooted out another shoot of chickweed and dropped it in her basket. “Are you?”
His hum caused Eliza’s breath to catch before she forcibly exhaled. “I enjoy knowing what you want, Eliza.” Benedict allowed the back of his finger to trail along her wrist above where her glove sat.
Eliza swallowed, struggling to ignore the stirring between her thighs. “You’re very familiar,” she said, with no severity behind it.
His smile was soft, private. “I am, I’ll make no apologies for it. I want to know you,” he whispered. “I want to discover things about you that no one ever has.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want to be the person you come to with all your hurts, your joys, and your plant blights. And I want you to know me. I’ve never wanted to be… close to anyone. Not really. I—” He looked away, jaw clenching. “I didn’t intend to say… any of that.”
The sound of his proposal, the life he offered, she wanted nothing more. To be seen, to be known, and to be adored, not in spite of, but because of what she was—there could be nothing better.
“I— Me too. I want those things too. The things you don’t intend to say, I love them. Those moments—the delights and devastations—I want to share those with you. And I want to hear about your plant blights. I mean—not plant blights, but?—”
“I know what you mean,” he said, his smile soft, private with a soft, tender expression in his gaze. “Sometimes, I can be... I struggle to be open. It’s not for lack of desire or trust—you must know that. It is… my life has not been like yours. Vulnerability does not come easily to me. No one has ever… wanted that from me before.” His voice was raw, as if it had been raked over hot coals. Her heart tripped over itself. He was so earnest, so entirely without the rakish persona that so often accompanied his words.Thiswas Benedict Sinclair in his purest form—trusting her withthe vulnerability he’d just admitted to shunning. “I wish I could give you all of me, Eliza.”
“Oh,” she said with a sigh as she stared into his eyes.
Her hand ached to cup his cheek, the one tipped up in a half smile. It rose of its own volition—a tiny purple violet clasped in her grasp. She looked down at the stem in her hand, uncomprehending, until giggles bubbled forth.
Benedict’s chuckles joined hers, gentle and warm. Once their laughter drifted off in the breeze, he tenderly urged her wrist to his nose with two fingers underneath. He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut.
“These— This is the source of your perfume?”
“Sweet violets,” she explained, nodding. “I hadn’t realized?—”
“Every time I’m near you, it lingers. And I can take you with me back into the real world.”
“Benedict…” The weight, the significance of those three syllables hung in the air between them.
His gaze shot to hers, pinning her in place. “Benedict? Is that what you’ve settled on?”
“Yes.” There was no need to feign ignorance. They both knew what he was asking.
He nodded, his throat bobbing before prying the violet from her. Carefully, he plucked the singular leaf that had joined the bloom. Impossibly soft-looking lips pressed tighter together as his gaze turned back to her.
Slowly, giving Eliza time to stop him, he tucked the violet behind her ear. Bare fingers traced along her neck before pulling away, drawing a shudder down her spine. “In mine, you wore violets in your hair.”
