Rather than answer immediately, Jack considered. It was a serious question, worth considering, and a quick answer would (rightfully) also be a suspicious one.

Almost certainly, the last man that Phryne had allowed the word 'love' from was the detestable René, who hadn't known or been capable of it. And while Jack was absolutely certain that Phryne knew he was nothing like that, it was still going to come up. The habits and instincts of years, particularly those born of self-defense, didn't disappear after one night. Jack had little doubt of her feelings, now, and the fact that she didn't squirm under his... "No, love," he said finally, punctuating the assurance with a kiss, "I don't expect or require words from you until you choose to say them."