"No! Absolutely not."

"It's for a good cause."

I try staring her down but she merely laughs, "You've done it before."

I think I may have her now, "that was years-decades ago."

"Oh come now you and Lord Grantham made quite a show at Christmas last."

I stifle a groan and sink down into a chair. I hear her footsteps and then feel her hands as she begins kneading my neck and shoulders. This time I do emit a moan for it feels so good. She leans down and whispers in my ear, "It would only be the one night all other showings have been cancelled due to the chicken pox outbreak at Ripon."

"Why aren't all the nights cancelled?"

She caresses my neck, "That wouldn't be fair to those who aren't ill and have spent weeks preparing for it. Don't spoil their fun. If it makes you feel better Lord Grantham will be joining you."

This has my curiosity peaked, "Who will he be?"

"The eponymous character"

At this I snort and I can feel the rolling motion in Isobel's arms letting me know she is laughing too. "All right woman, I'll do it."

"Good tomorrow evening there is going to be a fitting at Downton."

I tense back up, "A fitting"

"All the servants are helping, you should see Mrs. Hughes and the others sewing costumes and making props."

I can hear the delight in her voice and it is infectious and I can't help but be swept along. However, the next day at the Abbey I'm ready to choke someone.

Lord Grantham is in his dressing room being poked and prodded. Bates and Lady Cora are there but only to supervise, it is Mrs. Huges and O'Brien who are armed with needles and pins. I am marched in beside him and I watch as his eyes go wide, "Don't say anything" I plead. Lord Grantham is being draped in what appears to be bed sheets. A belt goes around my waist and Mrs. Hughes and O'Brien mutter.

O'Brien looks at Bates, "How'd you manage to come by this?"

"Mr Flood, the saddle-maker had some off cuts, scrap really, he was going to throw them away. When he found out about this he was more than willing to give them to us. His lad goes to Ripon grammar." Bates informs.

Soon everything is pinned in place and we're allowed to remove the offending garments and put on our clothes. Lord Grantham calls for a car, "After what we put you through at least let me give you a ride home."

"Thank M'Lord that would be most kind."

I can see the twinkle in his eye and he blurts, "I must say that costume suits you."

In a move I generally reserve for my wife I roll my eyes at him.

Finally the night arrives, for the past week I've been dutifully rehearsing with all the pupils. I must admit it is fun. We have even come up with a way for Lord Grantham's demise to be more dramatic.

Tonight will be the abridged performance of Julius Caesar. Lord Grantham is to be Caesar while I am Mark Antony. Some of the other instructors are taking over characters that the ill children had to vacate. I look down and I marvel at my costume. Mr. Flood is our local saddle-maker. My costume is made from burlap, felt and strips of leather to make a passable Roman-Centurion-like costume. Lord Grantham is indeed dressed in bed sheets for his Toga to portray Julius Caesar. When the time comes for him to assassinated the children use spoons to carefully jab at tomatoes hidden within the bed sheets for him to bleed to death.

I find myself smiling at the pupils enthusiasm and Lord Grantham is even trying to stifle his laughter as he is stabbed to death with spoons. Soon it is time for me to deliver my speech. I march to the middle of what is our stage and I find it odd that a Roman would speak with a Scottish accent but I don't think anyone will mind.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones;

So let it be with Caesar.

I find I don't have to fight to remember the rest of the speech, Isobel was right it wasn't that long ago.

Soon the play is over and we hear whistling from the audience. It is time for our curtain call and Lady Cora and Isobel shout "Bravo."

The audience leaves to congregate in a hall while the performers change. I am glad to be out of my Roman garb. Mr. Flood had made a cuff bracelet of leather when Lord Grantham had secured it to my wrist he had pulled the knot too tight, it won't be coming off without the aid of some shears. I ignore it and shrug on my coat. We meet up with everyone in the hall. The good natured ribbing of our performances actually have me laughing. Soon it is time for us to leave and I can't wait to go home. Isobel takes my coat at the door and hangs it up, "You were really very good."

"You and the others were a very forgiving audience." I say as I lean in to kiss her. I mean for it to be a short kiss but she winds her arms around me and offer no resistance. Her hands slide down my shoulders along my elbows to my wrists. She stops kissing me to inspect what has caught her attention. "Oh that, Lord Grantham tightened it too much. I would be pleased if you could get the kitchen shears and remove it."

"Oh keep it on."

"Isobel you know I can't have anything below the elbows, how will I wash properly?"

She shakes her head, "Just for tonight wear it for me?"

It is rare that she asks for such things and I won't ever deny her.

She leads me to the bedroom and we undress one another, our clothing pooling at our feet. It is odd, the only thing she is wearing is her wedding bands. Her first one around her neck on the chain I gave her and the second on her wedding finger. The only thing I am adorned with is this leather cuff on my right wrist. I notice it because I use my right hand to touch her body.

Slowness and patience these are virtues I have gained being a doctor and it allows me to take my time. We kiss, we talk and we touch. Our faces are mere inches apart our breaths mingling.

She launches herself up at me our lips meeting. Chests and bellies meet and I swallow her gasp, the leather on my wrists offers a new texture along with my hand as my hand glides down her flank. The tables are turned a moment later when her hands run down my back and lightly tickles a sensitive spot. A retaliate by moving a thigh in between hers and soon there is no more struggles for both us are committed to bringing the other pleasure.

Sometime later I voice my thoughts, "Not that I'm complaining but I need to know what brought this on?"

"Do you know what next week is?"

All of my blood seems to have stayed south so I will some to my brain, "Our wedding anniversary-third."

She smiles at me before the penny drops Third Anniversary-Leather.

In the morning I spend sometime actually working the knot. Between my fingers and my teeth I am able to remove it without destroying it. I think I just may wrap it up for Isobel for our anniversary.

Reviews are how I learn.