First of all, thank you again for the incredible amount of support this story has received. Please allow me to clarify one point that seemed to confuse some in the last chapter. The sections that are italicized are flashbacks from either Mary or Matthew's pasts. The beginning of Chapter 8 was not a morning after moment between Mary and Matthew (they haven't had a morning after just yet) but was another piece of Mary's back story, a segment from her past. At least as of this writing, the even numbered chapters focus primarily on Mary's former life and the odd numbered ones on Matthew's, although fragments from either may work their way into a chapter at any time. I am sorry if my writing was unclear.
Once again, all my love and thanks to Cls2011 and miscreant rose for their friendship, laughter, comments and support of this story and of my life in general. You two! :D To KP, you know what your continued friendship and support means to me. I need that Barnes and Noble coffee chat soon! And a special shout-out to the amazing chickwriter: your support of this story and kind messages never cease to put a smile on my face. Looking forward to pie and coffee one day. Prepare yourself for a hug! :)
Hugs to all of you amazing readers out there, as well. I absolutely adore the theories/predictions several of you have pm'd my way! And with that, shall we journey backwards and forwards yet again?
He had run out of lullabies.
"Shhh, my darling," he soothed, bouncing her restless form against his chest, stroking strawberry curls now matted to her head. "There, there, now."
A slobbery gnaw dampened his shoulder in an attempt to relieve inflamed gums. It seemed cruel that she was cutting two teeth at the same time, their insistence pestering her with more pain and irritation than a ten month old should have to bear.
He sighed, feeling helpless as he knew there was little he could do other than hold and assure her. The stillness of early morning stared back at him through the nursery drapes, a damp, black nothingness only stubborn streetlights had the power to penetrate.
If only something could cut through the darkness that had enveloped her mother.
No more children.
The doctor's words played in a continual mental loop as angry whimpers began to abate into his pajamas. Words that had stunned he had gradually accepted with relief, the terror of those hours after Belle's birth having been a continual backdrop in his subconscious every time he attempted to make love to his wife.
No more children.
The same words had cut her open, hollowing out her soul within seconds as he had watched eyes normally brimming with life gloss over. Their journey home had been silent, his attempt to reach her met with little more than a pained smile or tears that ripped what was hard to repair.
He had assumed seeing their daughter would soothe newly inflicted wounds, would somehow bandage or stitch together what was gaping open inside her. Yet Belle's presence only seemed to remind Lavinia of what had been taken without her consent, launching her into a solitude for which he had been completely unprepared.
These past few weeks had been a frozen hell.
Belle shifted, turning her face into his neck, her small breaths warming his pulse. Sleeping? Or simply on the verge? Either felt like a hard-won victory he dared not risk by making any sudden moves. He continued to gaze through cold panes, enraptured by gray mists hovering over blacktop in the shape of restless ghosts.
"Please," he whispered, sighing as his pitiful attempt at a prayer fogged the glass. Defeat and resolve warred silently within, lack of sleep playing havoc with his emotions as a dread he could not define hit hard. It was unfair that he was losing her when she was now physically strong. Was it a joke, his marriage a twisted punch line in a humorless farce of his life?
Why couldn't he get through to the person he should know better than anyone? Why had she retreated in the first place? And how the hell did they move on from here?
A hand fisted in his collar went limp, and he breathed deeply, releasing physical tension at the knowledge that his daughter finally slept. She was his sanity, his joy, the one spark of life in an existence now suspended. He breathed her in, allowing her goodness to wrap up his soul.
He had been unprepared for all she would bring with her—sleepless nights, deep anxiety, elation he couldn't explain, all driven by a fierce love that invaded every atom.
Yet her mother was missing it. And these were moments she would never get back.
The baby's warmth comforted chilled fingers, and he made his way slowly to her crib, pausing before he attempted to lay her down. He adjusted his grip, moving with the halting assurance of one who had performed this task many times and knew the perils faced with each encounter. She sighed into the mattress, pursing small lips before splayed limbs slackened. An exhale escaped him as he quietly adjusted the railing, covering her with her favorite blanket embroidered with her name.
Belle Margaret Crawley.
Lavinia had chosen it months before her birth, just as she had chosen every scrap of furniture and decoration that now adorned her nursery. How excited she had been, how eager to be a mother, how impatient to meet her firstborn.
What they were now living wasn't how it was supposed to be.
"Please," he dared again, closing his eyes in hopes that his plea might be received and answered. He then exited the room, trudging back to cool sheets to sleep alone with his wife.
"Belle and I really should be going."
Matthew's words caressed her forehead, and she nodded in agreement. Yet he leaned in closer, stroking his lips across her cheek, unleashing a tremble down her legs.
"I know," she returned, losing her fingers in his hair to ease him closer. "It is rather late."
"I can't believe the girls are still awake," he grinned. God, the scent of her hair was driving him slowly mad.
"The movie revved them up nicely," she explained, the need to touch his face making her limbs quiver. "How they could be singing all the songs after just one viewing is beyond me."
They both shot hesitant looks at the clock, knowing bedtime had been bypassed some time ago.
"I could remove the batteries," he offered. His accompanying grin did something unsettling in her ribcage, setting off a domino-like reaction over which she had no control.
"That could be problematic," she quipped, raising a brow in his direction. "I turn into a pumpkin at midnight."
"A pumpkin?" he questioned with a chuckle. "Somehow I can only envision you morphing into something horribly elegant and slightly dangerous."
"Hmmm….like a she-wolf?" she inquired, eyes sparking in a dare.
"More like a vampire," he hummed, his voice tickling her spine. "Gorgeous, irresistible…"
"And out to suck your neck?" she cut in.
Thank God he hadn't worn sweat pants.
"I thought you would never ask."
A hot chill clasped her backside as one finger slid down the side of his neck. She felt his heat radiate into her skin, a mutual want pushing them both to toss caution to the wind.
"Would you like me to leave a mark?"
He shuddered as her nose nudged skin she had just branded, feeling a sheen of sweat dot across his forehead.
"Just make sure it's concealable," he voiced as eyes closed of their own accord. "I should hate to have to explain it to my mother."
The giggles caught her unawares, and her head dropped to his shoulder, peals of laughter overtaking them both until she couldn't breathe.
"Or your daughter, for that matter," she finally managed, wiping her eyes. "Nothing gets past her."
"No," he agreed with a shaky sigh. "Unfortunately."
"She asked me if you were a good kisser, you know," Mary grinned as she caught her breath. She bit back another laugh as a flush quickly crawled up his neck.
"Oh, God," Matthew returned, rubbing the back of his neck. "What did you say?"
The flash in her expression made him more than a bit uneasy.
"That you were improving with every attempt," she teased, watching his brows get lost in his forehead.
"Improving, am I?" he quipped, backing her into the wall. "I haven't heard any complaints so far."
His nearness was intoxicating, his expression too endearing. Impulse took over, and hands swirled across his shoulders, into his scalp, tracing his form. Feathered strokes across his cheekbones made his body heat rapidly and breath come in snatches.
He could get lost in her.
"I warned you I was picky," she retorted, nipping her lower lip in a manner that only enhanced her resemblance to her daughter.
"Says the woman who hides Skittles in her purse," he tossed back, loving the look of astonishment staring back at him. "Yes—you've been found out, you candy-monger."
"They're for Anna," she attempted, feeling his chuckle vibrate down to her toes.
"Nice try, Josephine."
Then eyes were locked, words were suspended, her position between the wall and his body keenly felt in a flash.
"Speaking of children, I think Anna's Barbie's must be putting on quite a show," she put in, his darkening expression rendering her somewhat breathless.
"They must be," he continued, rubbing his nose just south of her ear, his breath coaxing her closer with warm strokes across her jaw.
"We should really be careful," she tried, knowing her tone sounded anything but convincing. "The girls could come looking for us at any moment."
"We'll hear them coming," he assured her as the pad of his finger traced the v-neck of her blouse. "Besides, you started this."
"Me?"
Humor vibrated from his chest to hers, fogging her mind at an alarming rate.
"Yes, you," he asserted. "No one can miss the popcorn bag as many times as you did tonight."
"It was dark," she voiced. "And you're the one who insisted on holding it between your legs."
"Are you insinuating that I had ulterior motives?"
His attempt to keep a straight face elicited a coy grin from her.
"Let's just say you never offered to hold my Skittles."
"I'll hold your Skittles anytime you ask," he breathed, taking her hand in his own, bringing it slowly to his mouth. Her hips flexed in anticipation as his lips descended on one finger and then another, stirring up a deep fire inside her throbbing with reckless life. Then it was in his mouth, being suckled and savored by his tongue and teeth. A heated jolt hit her abdomen, spreading to her thighs instantaneously as her head sank back with an audible moan.
The things this man did to her.
"The girls have gotten rather quiet," she murmured, forcing the words up her throat as she pressed her hips against him.
"What a shame," he breathed, moving his attentions to her palm, making her flutter in private regions. "Perhaps we should make some noise of our own."
"I already have."
Her whisper swept across his temple, halting his breath in his chest. She drew back just enough to toss him a grin, one he knew immediately signaled danger.
"I think it's your turn, now, Reginald." Hot lips made contact with his neck as immaculate nails teased their way up his torso. "Time to leave that mark."
"So my suspicions were correct," he stated, his tone dropping audibly. "You are a vampire."
"She-wolf," she corrected, nuzzling into his neck, feeling the shudder that rocked his torso. "At least under the right circumstances."
His veins were overheating, the blunt force of wanting her rendering him boldly unsteady.
"I'd enjoy hearing you howl."
She unraveled in a heap.
Faces met head-on as lips clashed in sheer need. It was a kiss new to both of them, raw desire brewed with layers of grief regenerating life through heated blood. He consumed her, she inhaled him, as tongues mated in the famished caverns of their mouths. His hands were in her hair, her fingers snuck under his shirt, marking territory, exploring details, claiming fragments of shattered souls.
How could this be happening to her again? What in God's name was this woman doing to him? She craved him with a familiarity that frightened her, one that flew against promises whispered to herself in dark solitude. She was his adrenaline, his addiction, the thought of losing her making him kiss her harder as her flavor etched itself on senses now under her command. Emotions already well-engaged hurdled towards a bond both wanted. She couldn't let this go. He refused to break their connection.
It was all just too much.
"Do you know how tempted I am to haul the girls to my mother's for the night?"
His words tickled her lips as he hovered close enough to taste.
"We'd be rather obvious, don't you think?"
"At this point, I don't care," he hummed, unleashing tingles that shimmied though intimate places. "Besides, I think she assumes we've already done this."
"You mean she thinks I seduced you on our first date," she breathed, gliding lips over the cleft of his chin. "When we partook of eggplant and olives."
"And those blasted seven veils," he murmured as his thumb skimmed across the swell of her breast, making her clasp onto him lest she loose her footing.
"Always handy to have around," she voiced, the husky edge of her tone acting as an undertow that threatened to drag him under.
"Even better to toss on the floor."
Oh dear God.
"We can't do this tonight, you know," she tried, arching her neck to grant him easier access. "The girls-"
"I can have the car warm in five minutes," he assured her as lips continually heated against delicate skin.
"What's gotten into you?' she half-laughed, half-moaned.
He mouth stilled and he drew back just far enough to look at her directly.
"You," he confessed, swallowing hard. "Just you."
She couldn't breathe.
Foreheads touched as breaths intermingled freely. She nudged her nose against his, savoring this touch, feeling much more than she could yet speak.
"Matthew."
It was his name, his hands, his smile sparking a light in shady ground. This man, with laughing eyes that now bore inside with a wanting that shook her—this was good. It was glorious, in fact, rocking her to her toes as she whispered soft lips across his.
It was she—yes she, who carried the missing pieces to the puzzle of his life. She was the one who fueled uncharted territory, blazing trails of discovery to places he never knew he was missing. He loved her. In a matter of weeks, he had fallen ridiculously in love with her.
How in God's name had this happened so fast?
One nip then another, lips stroked with the promise of more. He lavished her upper lip, she tugged on his lower, the mating of mouths and hands demonstrating desire that ran deep. A noise she couldn't identify clawed out her chest, and she held on for dear life, savoring sensations she had all but forgotten.
He was burning in a manner he had never known.
Fast footfalls in their direction snapped them apart in an instant, and they both stood panting, adjusting clothing as fast as they could. Giggles arrived before the girls themselves, their parents turning to face them with expressions too guilty to miss.
"What's wrong, Daddy?"
Saucer like eyes stared up at him, two little mouths gaping open at something that made him nervous.
"Nothing," he answered, trying to catch his breath. "Why do you ask?"
"Because your face is all red," Belle stated as she pointed in emphasis. "And you have red stuff on your neck and mouth."
He shot Mary a look of alarm, and she stepped towards him quickly, wiping lipstick from his skin as best she could.
"Your hair's a mess, Mommy," Anna observed, prompting her mother to tuck it carelessly behind one ear as she drew a steadying breath.
"It was windy outside, you know," Mary returned, the smoothness of her tone taking him by surprise.
"No it wasn't," Anna protested, earning herself a look of reprimand.
Matthew stared back at her helplessly.
"Have you two been kissing?"
Belle's question elicited huge grins from both children as their parents stole glances at each other, knowing they had been caught and having no idea what to say.
"That's really none of your business, Belle," Matthew stated firmly, unnerved by the twittering giggles that met his response.
"It's ok with us if you were," his daughter continued matter-of-factly. "How else are you going to make a baby?"
His jaw fell open. Mary nearly choked.
"What?" Matthew stammered. He stared as his child as if she had grown antlers, his tongue too numb for speech.
"Isn't that how grown-ups have babies?" Belle asked innocently. "By kissing?"
"N-not exactly," Matthew managed, his face even brighter than it had been seconds ago.
"But you have to kiss to get a baby," she tried again, her face scrunching in confusion. "Right?"
"Well—" Matthew began, casting Mary a plea for help from over his shoulder. "Usually. But—"
"Are you having a baby, Mommy?" Anna asked with an excitement that rocked her mother's insides.
Matthew shook his head in disbelief.
"No," Mary got out between coughs, still recovering from Belle's earlier remark. "No, my darling. I'm not having a baby."
"But maybe later?" Belle asked. The eagerness gazing back at her was almost too much.
"We've already had this discussion," Matthew interrupted, kneeling down until he was eye to eye with his daughter. "I thought you understood that it was still too soon for Mrs. Gillingham and me to think about having another child."
"I did," Belle admitted. "But it looked like you might have changed your mind."
Her heard a breathy chuckle behind him and had to fight down the urge to laugh himself.
"Not within a few hours, my darling," Matthew grinned, rubbing his chin.
"But you might change your mind later?"
Anna's soft voice caught everyone's attention, and Matthew gave Mary a deliberate stare that said this one was hers. She squared her shoulders in response.
"You never know," Mary answered, moving forward to take her daughter's hands. "The future holds so many possibilities. I'm certainly not against the thought of having other children, but it's not going to happen right now."
"If you do someday, can we name her Elizabeth?"
Mary touched the side of her daughter's face, smiling at how her child's question was spoken as if it were of no more consequence than naming a new doll. If only life could be as simple as Anna and Belle made it out to be.
"Only if it's a girl," Belle interjected before Mary could formulate an answer.
"I know," Anna sighed, placing a hand on her hip. "But who'd want a boy?"
Mary cast Matthew a look he answered with a shrug and a grin. One hand flew to her forehead as the other rested unthinkingly on her stomach, instigating the oddest flutter in the corner of his ribs. What she had looked like pregnant, he suddenly wondered? How she had felt? Had she been sick throughout the duration, or was she one of those women who claimed they had never felt better than when her child grew within the swells her body? Had her delivery been complicated or straightforward?
What if they had a baby?
The mere idea of her carrying his child did something to him that made him feel taller and breathless at the same time. He stared at her, unable to stop himself from imagining, from wondering…
From hoping? What was wrong with him? Had he not just told his daughter that it was much too soon to even consider such a thing? Had he not almost lost one woman to the peril of giving birth, only to lose her three years later to a drunk driver?
"Can we at least let them move in?"
A tug on his sleeve drew him back to the present as his daughter continued to fight for her cause. Blue eyes pleaded with a ferocity he half feared, and he was both touched and frustrated by her dogged determination.
"What did I say earlier?" he questioned, the softness of his expression belying the firmness of his tone.
"Something about knowing each other better," Belle admitted, her lip sticking out further than seemed humanly possible.
"And do you think that has changed?"
"But, Daddy…"
"Belle?"
His look silenced her protest as her head flopped down to chest.
"No," she mumbled, shuffling her feet.
He ruffled her hair, eliciting a long yawn from his daughter.
"Smart girl," he affirmed. "Now go and get your shoes on. It's time for us to leave."
"Already? I'm not even tired," Belle protested as her companion rubbed sleepy eyes.
"Now, Belle Margaret," he instructed, watching her pout grow in strength at the mention of her middle name.
The pair exited much slower than they had entered, looking somewhat crestfallen as they trudged towards Anna's play room.
"God, I'm sorry," he began, running fingers through hair already mussed from other activities. "I never thought that she would, I mean, to ask while you're here…"
Muted laughter shook her body, cutting him off as the spell became infectious.
"So she asked about this earlier?" Mary questioned, trying to regain her composure even as her lips twitched in rebellion.
"Before the movie," he confessed, shaking his head yet again. "She wants the two of you to move in with us, just in case you missed that part."
"No," she grinned. "I couldn't miss that. Belle is about as subtle as your mother."
He chuckled in absolute agreement.
"And Anna has already learned how to use her eyebrows to her full advantage," he tossed back. "I can't imagine who taught her how to do that."
"Do you think we sit around and practice?"
Her arms crossed her chest as she gave him a look he wanted to bottle.
"I am certain of it."
"Why Matthew Crawley," she mused. "The things you have accused me of tonight."
He moved directly to her ear, his voice the texture of warm leather.
"If you mean copping feels and biting my neck, I am happy to give you ample opportunity so I can justifiably accuse you again."
He felt the noise in her throat.
"Watch it," she warned with a smile. "We've already been caught once. The girls will think we're having twins if they see us like this again."
"God, you're right," he sighed. "I'm still half-tempted to take those little instigators to my mother's, you know."
"Bad idea," Mary cautioned. "Can you imagine the conversation the three of them would have?"
His stomach dropped with a small thud.
"You're right," he stated. "We'd be screwed for certain."
"In more ways than one."
Her eyes were still heated, making him shiver in the wrong places. A very cold shower was decidedly in order when he got home, he decided, knowing that even that wouldn't put out what burned for this woman. His lips touched down lightly on hers, pulling on too many cords at once, threatening to start an unquenchable cycle all over again.
"My inner she-wolf is getting restless," she purred, smiling as his ears brightened.
"I think I left restless behind after our first date."
"What is this now?" she questioned softly. "Date number six?"
"Seven," he corrected. "Not that I'm counting."
"Perish the thought."
Her eyes rounded playfully making him want to kiss her again.
"Although technically, half of them have been family dates," he put forward, the tilt of his head making him look rather boyish.
"Rather fitting, I suppose," she observed, leaning in closer.
"Yes," he returned. "But at times a bit crowded."
They held and stared in silence, absorbing the intangible into pores warmed internally.
"So," he continued, swallowing hard. "You're not opposed to having other children?"
She inhaled deeply, squeezing his hand.
"To be honest, I hadn't thought much about it," she admitted. "Anna was completely unexpected, and after I lost her father, I—"
She paused, staring back at him with wounds he understood.
"I just never believed I would want to have a child with anyone else."
He moistened dry lips with a tongue that felt rather thick.
"So Tony was surprised when he found out you were pregnant?"
She closed her eyes, remembering the sickened pallor of Tony's expression as all was revealed, hearing the catch in his voice as he sought the means to speak what had to be said.
"To say he was shocked would be an understatement," she confessed, her eyes clouding briefly. "Horrified would be more accurate."
Her admission didn't fit with what she had told him of Anna's father.
"But he adjusted nicely, I take it," he put forth. "After the initial surprise?"
Surprise? God—parts of that day were still a nauseating blur.
"He couldn't have been more thoughtful," she voiced shakily, knowing she couldn't avoid that black hole in her life for much longer.
"I nearly lost Lavinia when Belle was born."
His confession struck her soundly, and she held his face, looking back at him with a concern that drew her out of herself.
"I convinced myself that I was perfectly content with one child, that having another wasn't worth the risk. But now…"
His voice trailed off into her, making her heart hammer against sensitized ribs.
"But now," she echoed, stroking the top of his hand with her thumb as his breath thickened. "Aren't we the complicated pair?"
He chuckled, stroking her hair.
"We certainly carry more than our fair share of baggage, don't we?"
"Mine alone could fill a storage building," she returned, eliciting a kiss from him to her forehead.
"Shall I stack mine on the roof?" he asked, too caught up in something he could still not properly define.
Silence greeted him head-on as dark eyes fell to the floor.
"Perhaps it's time I start unpacking."
He sensed something behind her words, something left unspoken now suddenly between them, something she carried with her just under her skin.
Something she now wanted to share.
"Daddy?"
She smiled ruefully at the interruption, leaving him curious as they turning towards their daughters with fingers still interlocked.
"Do we really have to leave?"
God, he didn't want to—not now. Perhaps not ever.
"Yes," he sighed, letting go of Mary's hand with reluctance. "It is high time we did."
A yawn greeted his reply as small arms reached up in an understood plea. He moved across the room and scooped Belle up to his chest, looking back to see Anna holding her mother's leg, her lids as droopy as his daughters.
He already missed the feel of her, the slight tickle of her hair against his nose, the way she fit into him as if by design. She yearned for him to stay, knowing this was special, crafted from threads of glossed silver too rare to refuse. Smiles spoke what they couldn't in front of their children, and he waved a wordless good-bye as she clutched Anna closer.
"Pumpkins," Mary observed quietly, their eyes holding each other for one final breath.
"Pumpkins," he agreed with that lop-sided grin, carrying his child out her front door with a mind much too full of the unknown for sleep.
Some Skittles for your thoughts? ;)
