This is just season 4 smut, or at least it will be tomorrow, based on the "That circular window at Crawley House" musing from this morning.

"Isobel, you're beautiful."

The three words were quiet, whispered, punctuated by kisses. His hands held her face gently, keeping her close to him.

"Hardly."

It too was mumbled and mixed with the frantic touches of their lips together.

"Sorry?"

He could hardly hear her, and what she said was important to him, as much as he would like to be kissing her, kissing her and not stopping.

She pulled away from him.

"I said, "Hardly.""

"Hardly, what?"

She smiled at him a little. Biting her lip gently and exhaling. Her smile was not without its sadness; a sorrow glinted in the beautiful dark of her eyes.

"I said I'm hardly beautiful," she replied, taking hold of both his hands, twining their fingers together.

"Isobel-..." he told her warningly.

"No, I mean, I was," she continued, cutting across him, "Once. When I was younger. A long time ago. And then-... Matthew. You know I haven't felt... the same since he died. Richard," she murmured softly, her eyes glistening, "I haven't felt whole. How can someone who isn't whole be beautiful?"

His had pulled away from hers, reaching up to cup her cheek again, raising her head so that she looked him in the eyes. He felt a tenderness for her so acute that it almost brought him to his knees, he had to force himself to remain standing.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered to her, keeping his voice low to try and control its trembling, "You're beautiful because you're so brave, Isobel," he kissed her cheek tenderly, "I love you. To me you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

She stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed, as if her breath had been taken away by this confession. Then she tilted her head forwards, capturing Richard's lips again, kissing him as intensely as she could. Her hand rested on the back of his neck, holding on to him as if for dear life. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily as she pulled away from him.

"Isobel," he squeezed the hand of hers that he was still holding, "Will you come with me? I want to show you something."

Her eyes opened, and slowly she nodded. He waited until he had her absolute permission before leading her out of the drawing room and through into the private sitting room at the other side of the house that he knew she used only when she was at home alone and there were no visitors. At the back of the room was the large circular window looking out onto the night in the garden of the house. The darkness of the clear night gave the glass windows a reflective quality, surrounding them both in an enormous concave mirror. He held her by the hand, standing her in the centre of it, close to the glass.

"Now, look," he told her, "What do you see?"

"I see us," she replied, "I see, me, and you. Together."

He moved to stand behind her a little, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Can I tell you what I see?" he asked quietly.

He felt her nod, her head brushed his gently as he rested his temple against hers, leaning softly in to her as he watched her in the mirror.

"I see you," he told her, "You're all I see, Isobel, when I walk into a room, no matter who else is there. I see you looking as beautiful as the first day I saw you," his arms were circled around her middle, "You won't ever not be beautiful to me, Isobel," he pressed a kiss into her cheek, "My darling. Do you need me to go on?"

She turned around looking at him, tears dancing in her eyes once more. But her lips were smiling.

"No, Richard, I don't," she leant in towards him, kissing his lips, "Thank you," she whispered, "Thank you."

He kissed her in return, smiling against her mouth as she parted her lips, allowing him access to her mouth. Their kiss deepened, and their arms wrapped around each other tightly, their bodies pressed together with blissful closeness. The effect she had on him was heady and startling, and he tried to lean away from her a little to avoid alarming her. But as soon as she realised what he was doing she only moved closer to him, her hand slipping gently down to his lower back, holding him where he was. His lips left hers for a second and he looked at her questioningly.

"Richard, I want you," she murmured to him.

There was the slightest pause.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, resting a careful hand on her shoulder.

"Yes," she replied quietly, smiling, "Of course I'm sure. I love you too. And I want you."

"Alright," he leant in and kissed her softly, "Alright."

His hand in hers again, he began to lead her away but she stood still where she was. Again, he looked at her, needing her to explain.

"Richard," she asked softly, "Will you make love to me here?"

He had to admit, she surprised him there.

"Here?" he asked.

"Yes, here," she confirmed, dropping his hand and leaning on the arm of the couch she stood beside, "On this couch."

He swallowed hard.

"Whatever you want," he murmured, "I'm yours to command."

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