Chapter Eighteen

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Somehow they had managed to pull themselves away from each other and return to tea. They'd both laughed at the comments about how much color had returned to Robin's cheeks, and her subsequent remark that the queen's gardens were so large that she'd found the walk more exerting than she'd expected.

Sherlock hadn't wanted to leave her, but he'd had to. He'd promised to return the very next day, though, and spend all of it with her.

Now they were in a secluded clearing he'd taken her to just outside of London. It was a perfect place to have a picnic, since no one would be able to see them from the road, and if anyone did approach, they would hear them coming in enough time to avoid any scandal. Which was very good, since they hadn't yet unpacked the basket he'd brought because they couldn't stop kissing.

Finally, though, he managed to pull himself away out of concern for her. Her aunt had told him she'd skipped breakfast, which meant she hadn't eaten all day.

When she leaned after him, chasing his lips, he laughed and carefully pushed her back by clasping his hands around her upper arms.

"You must eat, Robin."

"I don't want to eat," she protested. "I want to kiss you."

"I must admit that I never knew kissing could be so enjoyable," he agreed. "But we also need to talk."

"Must we?" she whined playfully.

He chuckled. "Yes. I have questions, and many more feelings to confess."

She nodded and settled down beside him. "Very well." She reached up and ruffled his curls. "It would be easier to resist if you weren't so extraordinarily handsome."

"Have you always thought that?"

"Since the moment we met," she replied sincerely. "Especially the cleft in your chin," she mused, pressing a quick kiss to it.

He rolled his eyes at her affectionately and then began setting out the food. "The first thing I found attractive about you was your very pleasing laugh," he admitted. "It affected me greatly to the point that I dreamed of it, though I had no idea why at the time."

"Your touch did the same to me," she informed him. "Though I thought it merely a passing fancy. I was quite infatuated with the idea of you even before I arrived in London."

"Oh?" he teased, handing her a plate.

She gladly took it and began eating as she talked. "Your cases inspired my books. Not in the sense that I mimicked their exact happenings, of course. But the methods used to solve the crimes are certainly yours. Meeting you was rather intimidating."

"You fooled me, then. I thought you quite bold. Well, impertinent, really," he corrected himself. "I said bold to you at the time to be polite."

"It was only because I never seriously thought of you as a marriage prospect. I would have been entirely nervous if I'd thought there was even a chance of it. When you showed up at my aunt's after that first ball, I knew then that I would say yes to you if you asked."

"But you knew I wasn't there to court you," he remembered.

"Of course. But a woman has to be prepared. And our feelings can't be helped, as we've discovered. That was mine. Along with the embarrassment I felt about my aunt presenting you a list of my wifely virtues."

"She wasn't wrong, Robin. You are all of the things she promised and more. She was especially right about your beauty. Though I could not fathom why I found your form so pleasing upon first meeting you."

"And now?"

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and always will be, without question. I don't need to question it anymore, since I have the answer now."

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