She was just summoning up the courage to leave the car, when she felt a strong, masculine hand expertly slip around her waist and take hold of her back, pulling her bodily towards him. Eyes wide, she saw he had removed his hat, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. He'd removed his right arm from its sling. His own eyes were hard as steel, determined, possessed. He held her tight, bent down and kissed her, hard.

...

She was overwhelmed with the shock of it all, both the suddenness of his advances, and the fact that he had made advances at all. But his eyes were closed, and his lips were were worshipping hers with real passion. He wasn't just kissing her out of pity. He really meant it. He really wanted her! She closed her eyes and fell into the blissful madness with him.

When he felt her responding to him, it electrified Anthony so much that his kisses became even more wildly abandoned. To be honest, he had rather expected her to slap his face especially after his ridiculous attempt to put her off over tea at Locksley. But just now she had been so wretchedly, miserably resigned to never finding love that he'd been seized with an imperative need to prove her wrong. To his amazement she matched his unbridled pace. This was becoming all too wonderfully dangerous. The state he was in, if he didn't control his mad desire for this woman, he could easily find himself making love to her (in the back of his car! What a ridiculous idea! No one would ever do something so uncomfortable!) and then all would be lost.

She would think him a cad, and she'd be right. He might get her into trouble...in the family way, and then Robert Crawley would be quite justified if he marched them both up the aisle of Downton Church at the point of a shotgun. Worse still, Edith would then be married to a crippled old man whom she would blame for ruining her life.

No, having her like that would certainly not be the action of a gentleman. (Despite being exactly what he most longed for at that moment.)

Well, he told himself, neither was kissing a girl with such immoderation in the back seat of a Rolls the action of a gentleman…but she needed it. And, God help him, so did he.

With more self-control than he knew he had, he slowed his pace until they were languidly luxuriating in their shared, open-mouthed kiss, giving and taking joy in equal measure. He let a few more minutes escape them before he brought the kiss to a soft end, lifted his mouth from hers and found himself gazing into her happy but incredulous eyes. He didn't release her from his embrace, not yet, he just couldn't.

If anything, just sitting there with her in his arm, his mouth not two inches away from hers, both of them breathless with feeling so much...it was almost as erotic as kissing. He searched her eyes, wondering if she felt the same fear, and shame, and elation as he did. But all he saw was…love!

"Edith…"

He couldn't think of anything else to say, except the one thing he most wanted to say, and the one question he most wanted to ask.

"I lo-"

"Sir! Sir!"

Stewart was at the window, very pointedly not looking into the car, but panting from running back from the village carrying a heavy parcel of books.

Anthony and Edith sprang apart rather awkwardly. Edith knocked her head slightly on the car struts and uttered a mumbled "Ow!"; Anthony trod on his forgotten hat.

"What is it, Stewart?" he asked as levelly as he could.

"I'm sorry, sir, m'lady, but I've just seen the Dowager Countess walking through the village with Mrs Crawley. They saw your car, m'lady, and I believe they are now looking around for you. I thought you should know as soon as possible."

"Oh, good grief!" Edith flustered, trying to get out of the car as quickly as she could. "Thank you, Stewart!"

Anthony laid a hand on her arm.

"We can get you back to the village quicker in the car. Stewart, would you drive us to the north side of the church please?" He turned back to Edith. "You should be able to skirt around the churchyard from there, and we should not be seen."

"Yes, yes, thank you" she nodded, impressed by Anthony's ability to think clearly in a tight spot. But, of course, in the War he'd been a Major hadn't he? She was sure that he must have been in tighter spots than this. His courage was contagious. With this man at her side, she felt there was nothing she couldn't face.

She held onto his hand as Stewart turned the car around and skillfully wove through the back lanes of Downton village to the far side of the church.

Anthony brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, then nodded her to go. After a long, tense pause he and Stewart heard her voice.

"Granny! How nice to see you out for a walk."

"Whatever are you doing there, child?"

"I was just having a look over Lavinia's grave...to make sure the weeds aren't taking over. I'm sure she'd like to be neat and tidy for Matthew's wedding, don't you?"

Lady Grantham was silent, but Mrs Crawley was not.

"That's a very thoughtful thing to do, my dear. Well done!"

The voices faded away as they walked up the High Street, as Anthony breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Well done, Stewart! There will be something extra in your salary this month."

"That's very good of you, sir, but I shouldn't like anything untoward to happen to you or Lady Edith."

"God bless you, Stewart."

…

Edith's thoughts and feelings were scattered for the rest of the day. And the day after. And the day after that. And all the nights too...well, she thought she might run mad with it all. He had insisted that she had to give up on him. Of course she wasn't going to, but all her intentions to explain to him and convince him, calmly and logically, why he was the best man for her had dissolved into tears in the scolding unfairness between her inadequacy and Mary's perfection. Instead of continuing to offer her polite, soothing platitudes, he had told her with greater and greater passion and urgency first that he hoped some deserving man would love her one day and then he'd confessed the underlying truth that he wanted to be that man. She was sure his actions that day were not the out-of-character attempts at consolation of the normally mild, proper (and rather awkward) Sir Anthony Strallan, Bart., but evidence that his defences had finally crumbled. He had, at last, given in to his feelings for her.

She was sure of it.

Totally sure.

Anthony was so good and honourable, he wouldn't kiss a girl like that and then not say anything ever again.

He wouldn't just forget about it.

Would he?

…

There was a letter waiting for her the next morning at breakfast. She put it in her pocket and, though quiet, she made it through the meal without attracting undue attention. Once safely back in her room, her quivering fingers opened it, and she read with equal parts hope and dread.

My dearest, darling Edith,

I ought to apologise for having abused your trust and insulted you so blatantly. But the truth is that I cannot bring myself to regret a single moment, and I so very much hope you don't either. I ashamed to say that I have dreamt of something like that happening ever since that lovely summer of 1914, but I am not ashamed to say that it was only thoughts of you that got me through the War.

Twice now, I have been stopped by your family's interference from asking you a question. I will not be stopped a third time.

But if I have over-estimated my importance to you, that is if, now we have kissed, you have realised the reality of a future with me, then please, tell me, and tell me gently. Until I know how you wish to proceed, I will not force my presence on you. I want to give you time to think, and to be truly sure of what it is you want. If you do want to see me, call, and I will joyfully run to you.

Yours,

I am yours, totally and forever,

Anthony

She wept happy tears. She thought about just driving down to Locksley right now, and asking him to seduce her in his library. Yet, she held back. Despite his passionate words, she knew that he was, in reality, still bound by the rigours and expectations of their class far more than she was, and she was the most conservative of her sisters. He had been pushed to his limit by her sadness when he kissed her. She would not force him beyond where he was comfortable again. They would do this properly. There was to be a dinner at Downton Abbey to celebrate the upcoming wedding the day after tomorrow. She would speak to Mrs Hughes. Surely a friend and neighbour could be fitted in?

…

As Stewart drove him home from the village on that day, Anthony wanted to whoop with joy, and to curse himself with shame for his behaviour, all at once. He shouldn't have kissed her like that. He had almost got her into serious trouble with the Dowager Lady Grantham who would have given Edith a right Inquisition if she hadn't been able to find her in the village. Was that a warning sign? Was Providence telling him that he should leave Edith alone as he had intended when he first returned from France with a dead arm and a soul equally as dead, he thought? Yet Edith had revived him, giving him back his life. And everything else Edith had told him was true too. There were fewer young men around now. God, how he hated the War and its aftermath! If there had been no suitors for Edith before, when she first 'came out', when she was of a more 'normal' marriageable age, it was natural for her to expect that there would not be any in the future. Perhaps...perhaps he really was good for her. He would do anything to ensure her happiness. That went without saying.

His internal dialogue continued that evening, that night, the day after, the night after that. Stewart was getting worried about his lack of sleep. Anthony could see him watching to see whether any of the other symptoms of shell shock were also recurring. Finally, the loyal butler could stand it no more.

"Sir, I do not wish to overstep my remit, but you have not been yourself since we met Lady Edith in the village."

"You are not overstepping the mark, Stewart, and, as usual, you are completely correct. The thing is...now...now, I actually believe that she may have genuine feelings for me."

"That was certainly true before you went to France, sir. Lady Edith strikes me as a lady whose affections, once won, would be constant and true."

"But would she not be throwing her life away by choosing me? I'm crippled, and I have twenty or more years on her. In time she really would be more of a nurse than a wife, and then she'll be made a young widow and…"

"You of all people should know not to speculate about the future, sir."

"No. No, you're right, Stewart. I just…"

Stewart waited patiently for the rest of the sentence, which never came.

"If I might make so bold, sir, why don't you write to her? Say exactly what you want to say without fear of being interrupted."

"Yes." Anthony straightened his shoulders as he made for the desk in his library. "Yes, I will. Thank you Stewart."

"You're very welcome, sir." As he tidied the room he added in his head Perhaps Lady Edith will stop you becoming ever more awkward, and eccentric, and lonely, and sad, and just a little bit difficult to serve.

…