"Papa has been so pleased at the way you've moved forward with the grounds since we announced our engagement," Mary remarked as they passed the stables and rear entrance.

"Is he?" Matthew felt a bit abashed. "I'm afraid I'm getting credit where it's not due."

"Don't be silly." Mary squeezed his arm. "You've really come along, with the things that matter. And as for the things that don't, well, I expect once he has his bridge back the game keeper will find time to assist you with hunting technique."

Matthew laughed drily. "I wasn't even thinking of my shooting deficiencies, but thank you for reminding me. In truth, I feel I don't deserve the praise because the real reason I quit the job at Ripon and took on more responsibilities here was to see more of you."

He stopped walking and touched her cheek hesitantly with the hand she wasn't holding, and attempted to memorize her still, shining eyes. He heard her breath catch slightly, and she opened her mouth slightly without anything to say. "After all," he heard his voice deepen as he tried to lighten the moment. "Running Downton will be a cinch compared to being a husband for you."

"Are you trying to say that I am more complicated than the estate, or merely more tiring? I'm trying to decide whether I should take offence." She turned with a playful look and he followed her down the sloping path.

"Both, probably." His smile was small and cheeky, and she let him take her arm again as they approached the treeline. "Isn't it odd, Mary? I've loved you in spite of myself for all this time, and now I find there's more to know and understand than I would have thought possible."

"Turn left up ahead, we're almost to the spot." Mary's voice was light and her cheeks reddened, and the corners of her mouth twitched as if he had broken an unwritten rule. Still, he felt egged on by the curious looks she was giving him and her faint smile. "I'm not that daunting, surely?"

"Daunting? Mary, you're impossible!" He stopped walking as they arrived at the bridge and turned to watch her face dappled by the forest light. "For a start, you've got more layers than an onion, and I can only see them in hindsight."

Mary seemed honestly confused by his reference to root vegetables. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

He took one of her hands, cool to the touch. "Well, ever since you told me about Pamuk, I've been thinking." He felt her stiffen and hastened to explain himself. "Not in the way you might think. Knowing what that meant for you, before the war and after you met Carlisle, it changes everything. I couldn't understand you so much of the time, you were so pragmatic. It hurt me that you were willing to marry someone without loving them- I let it hurt me, because I didn't see what was at stake for you."

"But you thought it was right to marry Lavinia?"

"I think perhaps then I didn't know the difference between thinking someone was wonderful and truly loving them." He suddenly became very aware of the stillness and quiet of the wood, and how their voices were scarcely above whispers. "I've been very naive, Mary. I probably still am. That's why, in part, the idea of running Downton one day does not terrify me nearly as much as the idea of making you my wife in three months."

She laughed, then, deep and quiet and slightly breathless. "I wish I could reassure you on that score, then. You are doing a fine job of it." She gently untangled her hand from his and placed them at his temples, framing his face with her fingers.

They stood like that, eyes seeking out those of the other, enjoying the silence of being alone and having this freedom. He placed his hands on her waist and drew her closer. It was an odd feeling, the vibrations he felt when close to her seemed so separate from the way he adored her. He couldn't quite reconcile the desire he felt to be close to her, to stroke her smooth skin and kiss those beautiful lips, with the aching discomfort he experienced when she was in his arms and she kissed him. Trying to bury these doubts, he dipped his head and kissed her gently but firmly.

It was satisfying, particularly the contented sigh that escaped her lips as he kissed her and the softness of her lips as they met his. But then he broke the kiss and kissed her again more firmly, lips pressed tightly together and his arms encircling her, and nothing crescendoed as he felt it should. It was not a new feeling, this sense that the passion he felt was escaping around the edges as they kissed, that he'd missed an essential step in the proceedings. He broke away and looked down at her, and wished he was comforted by her hesitant smile.

He glanced over her shoulder. "I suppose I should look at this bridge, or it will not serve as a very good excuse when I take you back to the house with a soiled hem." He stepped back, squeezing her hands but not meeting her gaze. The timber of the bridge's upright support posts looked horribly decayed, so he gave it an experimental shove and the top of it gave away entirely. "Damn. Looks like it's rotten all through. We'll have to get someone who knows basic engineering and construction, to build a completely new one." He brushed off the slime of the damp wood absently, then dropped his hands carelessly by his sides.

Behind him, Mary finally moved forward. "Yes, it looks as though you're right. It'll be an extra expense, but Papa will think it's worth it I'm sure. Matthew, what's wrong?"

She reached his side and he was belatedly aware that his jaw was slightly clenched. "Oh, I don't know. It's nothing."

"No dear," she contradicted him, briskly. "I'm fairly sure it's not nothing at all." Her eyes were expectant, and he shrugged uncertainly.

"It's just-" He sighed, fighting off a wave of inadequacy. "Mary, when I kiss you..."

"Yes?" She encouraged him with a light touch on his arm.

"Am I terrible at it?"

Oh, Matthew. :( Do you think his fears are warranted?

Author's Note: Many thanks again to Cyrillah for betaing this!