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When he reached for her, she stayed his hand. “Wait!” He dropped it at once. “I’m lying,” she said, feeling the hot, red flush spreading across her face. She looked him in the eye. “I know exactly why I fell in love with you, Benedict Toomes.”

His gaze snapped to hers, all playfulness gone. “You do? Why?”

“It’s because you set me above everyone else,” she sobbed, feeling suddenly overcome with emotion. “No one ever did that for me before.”

He jerked her forward into his lap. “Lizzie,” he groaned and took her lips in an achingly tender kiss. “I set you above everyone else because you are above everyone else to me. Now say it properly. And look me in the eye when you do it.”

“I love you,” she said breathlessly. “It’s strange to even remember a time when I did not.”

His eyes softened, and he lowered his head to kiss her again lingeringly before drawing back, his eyes agleam. “You called me dearest earlier in the tent,” he said. “Did you realize?”

Lizzie’s startled gaze flew to meet his. It wasn’t like her to use endearments. “Did I?”

He nodded. “I liked it. Do it again.”

“Yes, dearest.” He smiled at her, his hazel eyes warm for once and aglow with feeling. Lizzie felt her chest flutter. The Harbinger of Doom, Benedict Toomes, was in love with her, and he wasn’t troubling to hide the fact.

“Now I feel like I’ve achieved my heart’s content,” he said with satisfaction. “Tomorrow we head out of Putney,” he said. “And before we leave London, I’m going to buy you a new gold ring and the biggest bunch of violets you ever saw in your life.”

“Dearest … ”

He crushed his mouth to hers, bearing her down onto the mattress. Lizzie slipped her arms around his neck, holding him close. “Are you sure we should not be celebrating with your brothers?” she asked, as he began placing kisses down her neck.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else right now. Only you. Always you.”

Lizzie sighed as he untied the ribbon at her neck. “Neither do I,” she admitted. “Oh, Benedict.”

Much later, as they lay naked and wrapped in each other’s arms, Benedict remembered the champagne and they toasted one another in the lamplight.

“My beautiful mermaid,” Benedict murmured, running his fingers through her unbound hair. “I want to drown in you for the rest of my life.”

Lizzie laughed. “I still can’t decide if that’s a romantic notion or not.”

“I think I shall have you painted as one,” he mused. “Naked. Sat on a rock, combing out your long golden hair.”

“Naked?” Lizzie yelped.

“Wearing a string of pearls that goes all the way down to here,” he said, trailing his fingers down her stomach and between her legs.

“Benedict!”

He laughed. “Or should it be emerging from a chrysalis?” he teased, setting down his champagne glass and shifting over her.

“It would have to be a miniature,” Lizzie said anxiously. “So, you could keep it in your pocket where no one else could see it.”

“I’d have a hard time letting an artist see it,” he growled. “Let alone anyone else.”

Later again, Lizzie lay plastered against his chest, her face buried in his neck. Feeling bold, she kissed him there, and his hand reflexively squeezed her waist. “I feel so happy,” she murmured against his jaw. “I want everyone else in the world to be as happy as we are.”

He laughed. “They won’t be. What we have is rare.” His hand drifted over her bottom to rest there. “Very rare.”

“I hope Jack did not have to sleep under a canvas spread over some sticks,” she said as the thought occurred. “I do not think Maggie will have made Frank wait even one night before reconciling. I suspect my pep talk was a waste of breath.” Benedict grunted and she pinched his earlobe. His eyes flew open to look at her.

“What?”

“Nothing, just … familiarizing myself with what’s mine.”

His face relaxed again; his eyes drifting shut. “You can be as familiar as you please, Mrs. Toomes,” he rumbled. “I’ll deny you nothing.”