Part 1
Mary raised her eyebrows as she gazed across the train station, her eyes meeting a pair of familiar blue ones. He crossed the platform, eyes dancing merrily as he approached, pushing sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head.
"Are you following me?" she asked when he reached her.
"Who, me?" Matthew asked, as though her question was absurd.
"First Lisbon, then Madrid and Barcelona—and now, Nice. It's just too weird to be a coincidence," Mary retorted.
Matthew grinned, adjusting the straps of his rucksack. "How do I know you're not following me, Mary?"
"Oh, please," she retorted, rolling her eyes at him. His smile only grew. "And I suppose you're heading for Paris now?"
"Naturally," Matthew replied, shifting closer to her in order to avoid a porter rolling cases across the platform, his shoulder brushing against hers. Mary's heart gave a start. "Just waiting for the train. Apparently all the drawn rooms are taken, so I have to sit up in one of the dining cars. Twelve hours."
"Tragic," Mary said, cheeks reddening. She'd just bought the last ticket for a room with a bed.
"Wait, wait," he began, waving his hands suddenly. "Did you get the last drawn room? Are you the reason I have to sit up for half a day? Overnight?"
Mary shrugged, avoiding his gaze. His stupid, adorable, nearly irresistible gaze.
"Dammit, Mary, I thought you had more compassion than that," he quipped, still grinning.
"What? It's not as though I planned it. If you'd only gotten here sooner, then I'd be the one forced to sit up all night. It isn't as though we can share the bed," she said, immediately regretting her words as Matthew's eyes lit up.
"Now there's an idea," he said, wagging his eyebrows excitedly.
Mary clenched her teeth together. Why did he have to be so damn cute? "What? No way. No way in hell, Matthew Crawley."
"Oh, come on, Mary," he begged, taking her hands in his. God, they were soft. "Surely you can't be so cold as to not let a man, a weary traveler, have a bed for the night."
"And get myself murdered? No thank you," she retorted.
Matthew laughed. "Oh, I've had plenty of opportunities for that, haven't I? The catacombs at São Roque Church in Lisbon? Or Buen Retiro Park in Madrid? No no, you're perfectly safe with me, Mary. In fact, it might ease my mind a bit if we became travel buddies of sorts. Who knows what kind of mischief a gorgeous girl like you will get up to without a friendly face around."
"I've been perfectly fine on my own, thank you," she retorted, desperately wanting to take him up on his offer. Matthew was just so…interestingly witty and brilliant. But she wondered how it would look—they barely knew each other, after all.
"Don't be such a spoilsport," he teased, turning his head as their train came in. "Oh, there it is," he sighed wistfully, as though dreading his night in the dining car. "I'd even pay for my half of the room, but alas-"
"Oh, do stop whinging," Mary sighed, giving in. "Fine, we can share, but don't you dare get your dirty socks on the bed. I just did laundry yesterday."
Matthew grinned happily, following her onto the train. "Brilliant! I'll keep them as far away from you as possible, hell, I'll even shower if you like."
"That would be preferable," she replied, locating her room. She opened the door with the key, pushing in with Mathew on her heels. The bed took up most of the room, a small closet containing a toilet and shower in the corner, sink just outside the door.
"Twelve hours, Mary," Matthew said, dropping his bag on the floor, stretching arms over his head. "What shall we do with ourselves?"
Mary sat down on the bed, kicking off her shoes. "I brought a book."
Matthew smirked.
….
"Gin!" Mary said and Matthew frowned.
"How the hell do you keep doing that?" he questioned, staring at her cards.
"I've just had loads of practice," Mary said, crossing her legs on the bed. "I think that's the shirt now."
Matthew made a face, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it into the pile already containing both of his socks, the jumper he'd thrown on after showering earlier, and his trousers. They were only three hours into the train ride to Paris and it was just now nine o'clock. Mary swallowed as she looked at him, secretly wondering how all that muscle definition had been hiding beneath his clothes.
"I think I'm going to need more wine if we keep playing," he said, shaking his empty wine glass at her. "One just isn't enough."
"I don't know how you're going to cope wandering around Paris in the morning with a hangover," she teased, pouring more into his glass.
"I guess I'll just have to follow you around until I'm better," Matthew replied, shuffling the deck again. Mary scoffed, but couldn't keep her heart from racing at the prospect of spending more time with him. "Perhaps we should switch to Go-Fish? Maybe then I'd have a chance."
She laughed. "I doubt it. I'm pretty good at all card games," she said.
"But Go-Fish is more a game of chance rather than strategy," Matthew retorted, clearly enjoying himself. "It hardly seems fair that I'm down to my skivvies and you haven't lost so much as a sock."
She tilted her head to the side. "Are you trying to see me in my underwear, Crawley?" Mary teased, blushing slightly.
"Well, obviously not successfully," he replied. "Seriously? Go-Fish? I'm pretty good."
"Just deal," she retorted with a laugh.
The train gave a jolt as they came around the bend, causing Mary to slide across the bed and smash into Matthew, knocking him onto his back. The cards flew out of his hands, dropping around them like confetti, some landing on the floor while others littered the bed.
"Sorry," Mary breathed, her hands pressing against Matthew's chest. She would have moved, but she found herself frozen over top of him, another turn in the train pinning her down.
"It's alright," he replied, watching her carefully.
Mary blushed again, finally able to sit up. She scooted back to her side, avoiding his gaze a he pushed himself back up.
"I suppose we don't have to play cards anymore," Matthew whispered, eyes still trained on Mary.
"What will we do instead?" she questioned, highly aware of Matthew's naked torso now that she'd accidentally touched it. God, his abs were even firmer than she had imagined they'd be.
Her silent musings about Matthew's physique were interrupted as he slid closer to her on the bed, collecting the scattered playing cards. Mary watched him for a moment, biting her bottom lip.
"So do you want to play-" Matthew began, but his question was interrupted as Mary's lips smashed into his and she fell on top of him without meaning to, as the train went around another turn.
She pulled away, body still sprawled across his as Matthew lay on the mattress, looking rather dazed. "Sorry," she murmured, a little embarrassed she'd let her hormones get the best of her. Perhaps strip-Gin Rummy hadn't been the best idea.
"Don't apologize," he said, finally meeting her gaze. "I don't mind."
Mary snorted. "You don't mind?" she questioned. "That's encouraging."
Matthew laughed, reaching up to trace his finger down her neck, Mary's pulse racing at his touch. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that?" She shook her head minutely. "Ages, Mary, ages. Since we got stuck in the catacombs, actually. Why do you think I was so keen to make our games of Gin more…interesting?"
"Well, you certainly have the body for it," Mary said, sucking in a ragged breath as Matthew's hands trailed over her waist, coming to rest on her hips.
"I may never know about you though," he replied softly. "But using my imagination—" His fingertips slipped beneath Mary's shirt, brushing lightly against her skin. "I'd say you do, too."
"How flattering," she murmured, hardly breathing as his hands moved slowly up her torso to gently touch the band of her bra, fingers trailing over the lacy fabric, his face lost in thought.
"Just trying to be polite, Mary," Matthew said, a small smirk on his face.
"Well, stop," she retorted, bringing her lips to his again. He grinned, hooking one of his legs around hers before tugging her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor.
"That was easier than playing Gin," he teased, leaning up to press his lips against her bare shoulder as he tossed her jeans aside.
"I rather enjoyed watching you squirm," Mary replied, settling across his hips, her skin burning at his touch.
Matthew chuckled, gently clasping her bra strap with his teeth and guiding it over her shoulder before pressing his lips to the base of her neck.