"I love you,” she whispered. He stroked his hand down her back. “Yep, you do.” “You’re supposed to say it back,” she said, pretending to be offended because the silliness kept the fear/hope at bay. “Why?” He scowled down at her. “You know you’re my heartbeat."

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He had also the reputation of being a bit of a lady killer. But that probably accrued to him from his possession of a laughing, velvety voice which no girl could hear without a heartbeat, and a dangerous way of listening as if she were saying something that he had longed all his life to hear.

— Lucy Maud Montgomery