A/N: This is my entry to the Cobert Valentine's Day Exchange 2015, thank you to allabouttheabbey for organising it :) The song I have used is Eternal Flame by The Bangles and I imagine this taking place after 5.8 but after the CS.
Say my name
Sun shines through the rain
A whole life so lonely
And then come and ease the pain
I don't want to lose this feeling, oh
Close your eyes, give me your hand
Do you feel my heart beating
Do you understand
Do you feel the same
Am I only dreaming
Or is this burning an eternal flame
'Oh, Robert,' Cora sighs, placing a soft kiss on her husband's lips as they curl up in bed together, 'this has been such a perfect Valentine's Day.'
'You say that every Valentine's Day,' he chuckles, still slightly breathless from their lovemaking.
'Mmmmm, maybe they're all perfect,' she murmurs.
Their day has been perfect, Robert thinks as he kisses her once again. They have gone to London for Valentine's Day, at his suggestion and her enthusiastic agreement, and have already spent three days together, mostly in bed if he is completely honest. This morning, though, they had breakfast in bed before going for luncheon in a small teashop they frequently visited in the early years of their marriage. They had walked by the Thames, talking and laughing about nothing in particular, and had then gone for dinner and been to see a play, in the same theatre as they had when they were courting – and all of it had been so wonderful that he still struggles to believe just how lucky he is.
'I think we've caused quite the scandal tonight,' Robert teases, 'I should think Rosamund will be very disappointed in us.'
'It was your fault,' she retorts, giggling, 'it was you who pulled me into that alleyway after dinner!'
'Well, you looked bloody gorgeous,' he says, in a tone of voice that is so close to a growl it makes Cora shiver, 'and that alleyway was very secluded.'
'You had better hope it was very secluded!' she laughs, lightly hitting his chest, and he laughs too, wrapping an arm around her shoulders before remembering another present he has forgotten to give her.
'Hold on, Cora, I have something for you,' he says, leaning across and retrieving a box from the bedside table, 'happy Valentine's Day, darling.'
'Oh, Robert, we've already exchanged gifts today,' she says, and it is true, they have, she gave him a set of cufflinks engraved with 'with love, Cora' and he gave her a diamond pendant and a bottle of ginger ale, her favourite drink from America that he managed to find someone selling on a street corner. In fact, he bought several more bottles and had them sent back to Downton, knowing how much she loves the drink, although he hates it and his mother refuses to try as much as a sip.
'Yes, but I just thought you might like this,' he says, and she kisses him sweetly before opening the rectangular box to reveal a silver bracelet, very delicate and set with deep blue stones.
'I hope you like it,' he says quickly, now slightly nervous, because it is unlike anything he usually buys her, 'I know you don't usually wear bracelets, because of your gloves, but I just saw it in a jewellers and it reminded me of you. It's very elegant and pretty, like you, and the colour of the stones reminds me of the sea in Newport.'
He's right, Cora realises as she looks at the bracelet – in fact, if she closes her eyes she can almost feel the sea air and see her hair blowing in the wind, she can hear Robert laughing and the girls bickering about their sandcastles.
'I can exchange it, if you don't like it,' she hears Robert say, and she shakes her head quickly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
'I love it, darling.'
'I'm glad,' he says tenderly, doing up the clasp for her, 'now, let me toast you, sweetheart.'
'Oh, Robert, you really don't have to,' she says, noticing the bottle of champagne on her bedside table, 'really, Robert, all of this is far more than I deserve, after-'
She doesn't say Mr Bricker's name, but Robert knows who she is referring to, and he places a gentle kiss on her lips, still disappointed in himself, because he has obviously failed to reassure her that she has done nothing wrong. Countless times during these past few weeks he has regretted the blame he placed on her, and whenever he sees her peering anxiously into the mirror, or asking him if he thinks she looks alright - something she has never done before - he feels like a cad for making her feel so insecure about herself. After an evening at Downton when he had caught his wife almost crying at the sight of her reflection, convinced that he didn't think she was attractive anymore, he had vowed that he would make it up to her, and a toast, coupled with a week in London and some time spent together, had seemed the right way to go about it.
'Of course you deserve this, my darling,' he says now, 'you deserve so much more, really, and I have been a fool not to give it to you.'
She knows now that he is not referring to their Valentine's Day, he is talking about the incident with Mr Bricker, and she smiles at him, tilting her head to return his kiss.
'Since you're being so sweet, you can get the glasses,' she teases, laughing at his groan, because the two champagne flutes are over by the door, as far away as they could possibly be, and neither want to leave the other's warm embrace.
'Well, we can just use these,' he says, picking up the teacups on his bedside table, and Cora laughs as he fills each teacup with champagne, handing one to her and then keeping hold of the other, clinking it to hers jokingly.
'Now, when I was serving in the Boer War,' he begins, and she tilts her head curiously – he has never begun a toast like this before, 'I kept a photograph of you underneath my pillow, every night, just so I could feel like I was close to you. Then, one night, the other chaps noticed it, and I expect they thought I was hopelessly sentimental. One of them, though, asked me if I loved you, and when I told him that I did, he asked me why – and somehow, I couldn't find the words to explain it.'
He drops a quick kiss to the top of her head and continues, 'I couldn't explain how amazing you are, always so kind and considerate, even when I don't deserve it. I couldn't explain what a wonderful mother you are, how sweet and caring you are towards our children. I couldn't explain how beautiful you look in the morning, when your hair is tumbling around your shoulders and you're smiling that gorgeous smile that makes me want to make love to you again. I couldn't explain the blueness of your eyes, the softness of your accent or the scent of your perfume. I couldn't even explain the small things about you that I love the most – how you always read my book over my shoulder, how you stir your tea anticlockwise, or how you always mark your books with letters and scraps of paper.
'I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I'm very lucky to have you, Cora, and I love you, although I don't say those words as frequently as I should. And I'm also very sorry for the way I've treated you recently, because that didn't reflect how much I love you. But I do. I do love you, so very much.'
When she doesn't say anything after he has finished, Robert begins to worry that his toast was too much, but to his surprise he sees that Cora has abandoned the champagne on the bedside table and is brushing away the tears that have fallen from her eyes.
'Are you alright, darling?' he asks, concerned, 'I'm sorry if you thought that was silly, I just-'
'Oh, Robert, I'm fine,' she says softly, 'I just…everything's all so wonderful, and we're here, and it's Valentine's Day, and we're so, so happy that I – I don't want to lose this feeling.'
'Oh, my darling,' he says, kissing both her cheeks where her tears have fallen, 'Cora, sweetheart, I don't want to lose this either, but I promise that we will be this happy at Downton. I won't lose sight of us again, I won't sleep apart from you - I hate that as much as you do - and I won't let you go.'
'Your toast was so lovely,' she whispers, 'Robert, thank you.'
'You don't need to thank me for telling you what I should have months ago,' he murmurs, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, 'I love you, Cora.'
'I love you too,' she says, nestling into his shoulder, 'now, put that champagne down and come and make love to your wife.'
At this unexpected statement he drops the teacup in surprise, spilling champagne on the carpet, and they burst into laughter as he lifts her up and on top of him, kissing her soundly.
'Three broken lamps, champagne and tea stains and a broken armchair, after three days,' Robert teases, 'I dread to think what our bill will look like.'
'You made me spill that tea, Robert Crawley,' she says, in a mock English accent that makes him laugh.
'Well, if that's the case, you can explain to the hotel manager just how we knocked over those lamps,' he replies, his lips inches from hers.
'The first one wasn't my fault!' she giggles, moving her lips closer to his only for him to pull his away slightly, to her annoyance.
'Oh, so it was another stunning American woman who had been making eyes at me during dinner and managed to knock over a lamp when I pulled her into our suite and pushed her up against a wall?'
'Yes,' she says, her voice almost a moan.
'Well, in that case-'
'Robert?'
'Hmmmm?'
'Do you think we could maybe flirt after we've made love?'
'Oh, absolutely, milady,' he growls, crashing his lips to hers, and just like that, she knows that he is right, they will be happy back at Downton, they will be just as happy as they are now, because – quite simply – they are in love, and that is the one thing that will never change.
