A/N: This chapter breaks away from the plot slightly, as I thought we all needed a little bit of a Robert and Cora-centric chapter.

February 9th, 1892

After Cora's conversation with Rosamund, the morning and rest of the day passed with little fanfare. The young couples stayed holed up in their rooms, as their parents continued to pass each other in the hallway, still pretending the other did not exist. The house was silent, an eerie détente passed over it, and no one wanted to upset the delicate peace. So avoidance was the new plan of attack, so to speak.

Robert knew something was not quite right with his wife. He knew it as soon as she had returned from the library without his brandy yesterday. He felt it in his own chest, as though when something was wrong with Cora it was wrong with him too. Over time, the life he had once tried to keep separate from his wife had melded right beside hers. Now he had trouble pointing to where exactly he ended and Cora began.

And so when he woke the following morning, to his wife staring intently at him, he was rather unsurprised. His eyes adjusted to the bright light streaming from the window and tried to sit up as Cora continued to look at him, her bright eyes wide and curious. She stilled his movement, though, and pressed her hands on his chest as she curled closer to him.

She purred his name and let her fingers trace the distinct features of his face. "Promise me everything will be alright?" She whispered, her eyes still fixed on his. It unsettled him; the intensity of her gaze, and her words gave him pause to consider that this was more than residual worry about their conversation from days before.

Somehow, though it did not even make complete sense to him, Cora looked older; she looked stoic and unlike herself. It frightened him and he tried to sit up once more, but she kept her arms wrapped tightly around him, making it impossible for him to do anything more than return her stare.

He nodded, slowly, processing her words. "Everything will be alright," he replied dutifully. He did not know what this 'alright' connoted, but perhaps it would indeed be alright, whatever it was.

Cora tilted her head ever so slightly, as if deep in thought. Seemingly satisfied with his assurance, she leaned down and kissed the bare skin peeking out at the top of his nightshirt, just where the last button lay. "Show me?" She whispered, fiddling with the button as her fingers began to scrape gently at his skin.

"Show you what, Darling?" Terribly afraid to say the wrong thing, Robert made no movements nor did he attempt to inquire as to what was presently wrong with his wife. He only lay against the pillows, his eyes now fixed on Cora's nimble fingers as they opened each button running down his shirt.

Her fingers paused on the last button and she looked to him once more, her eyes still dark with an emotion he could not quite place. "Show me it will be alright," she murmured, breaking their eye contact once more so that her lips could set to trailing warm kisses down his chest and abdomen.

When her mouth reached the waistband to his trousers, her tongue slipping out to run across his already overheated skin, he could barely make out an intelligible word. Letting out a low groan of pleasure, Robert arched his back as Cora helped him slide out of his bottoms before grasping him more intimately, gazing up at him once more before replacing hand with mouth.

Squirming beneath his wife's touch and grasping at the sheets, Robert's head clouded with pleasure at the sensation she produced in him. He knew he only had seconds before completely succumbing to her ministrations and so in a pitiful attempt to make good on his promise and show her something, he reached down, his fingers barely grazing her wrists. She looked up at him curiously but smiled and released him when he attempted pulled her up beside him, pressing their bodies close together as they kneeled before one another on the bed.

Robert still felt his own release achingly close, but turned his attention to his wife. His fingers held tightly to her hips and they drew lazy circles through the soft fabric of her nightdress. His lips mirrored her actions of only minutes earlier and trailed down her throat and chest, leaving a warm tingle in their wake. When his lips ran over her breasts, encircling her nipple through the silk she moaned softly and grasped his shoulders to steady herself. Robert didn't let up until he felt her knees buckle beneath her and heard a steady whimper suggesting how affected she was by his touch.

In one swift movement, Robert reached down and pulled the flimsy gown up over Cora's head, letting it float to the floor as their lips connected once again. Their desires grew by the second and Robert could feel the desperate need in Cora's embrace. She clawed carefully at his back, her nails scraping down his sides and abdomen before she reached down to stroke him intimately once more. She could feel how hard, how full of desire and need he was, and she longed to make him feel good; to make him feel as wanted and as safe as he made her feel.

They both needed different things, she to feel safe, and he to feel he could protect her. And so they clung to each other, letting their fingers and mouths make the promises neither could voice.

Cora wanted him, needed him so very much. And so finally she drew back from his embrace and from his lips that had made their way to her breasts again. Turning around and grasping at the headboard, she looked back over her shoulder with lowered eyelashes, silently asking him to take charge.

Robert happily obliged and moved behind her, gathering her hair to let it fall over the front of her shoulder and allow him access to the soft skin on the back of her neck. The smell of her lavender perfume intoxicated him and made him feel dizzy with the decedent excess of it. And when she pressed herself against him more deliberately, no longer able to wait, Robert grasped her hips and settled his face into the hollow of her shoulder.

Just before he could enter her, though, her heard Cora release a soft groan that pulled him out of his own reverie and suddenly had him replaying her words over in his mind once more.

Show me. Show me Show me.

He could do that. He could show her.

Robert tightened his grip on Cora's hips and moved to turn her over. She resisted slightly, confused as his sudden pause in their passions and her own enormous need clouding her thoughts, and pushed herself back against him once more. It took every ounce of his self control not to give in and instead he moved his hands up to her waist, gently turning her once more.

Cora only looked up at him, the emotion evident in her eyes, as he laid her back against the pillows. "I can show you, but only if you're looking," he whispered, settling himself in front of her. His hands drew her close to him and his fingers worked slowly up her back and through her hair.

"Yes, show me," she murmured again. This time when he thrust into her, slowly as his eyes connected with hers again, it was to their soft moans of pleasure. Cora wrapped her arms securely around her husband and murmured show me over and over as he thrust in and out of her; like a hushed chant, the words passed between them as their bodies pressed skin to skin.

Cora's repeated adorations whispered into his neck made him feel strong and powerful, like he could protect her from anything. And when she wrapped her legs up around his body, locking them closer together as he pushed deeper inside her, he was reminded of how he always wanted to be the one to keep her safe.

He could feel Cora approaching the edge of her own pleasure as she trembled below him, her eyes now closed but her continued murmurs still floating in the heavy air around them. She arched her back and tightened around him before pulling him down against her as he thrust a few more times, then followed her release.

They lay in silent contentment for what seemed like hours; their bodies still connected, neither made any attempt to move or even speak.

Cora's eyes were still closed and her face finally relaxed. Robert was in a similar state and kept his own eyes shut as well, simply relishing in the tactile sensation of his wife's soft skin still huddled against him.

Robert never claimed to be a particularly romantic man. His words were often hurried or fumbled over, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Far too many times he said what was proper instead of what was true and for that he often found himself apologizing sheepishly at his annoyed wife. He was not a poet by any means, and would be hard pressed to conjure up a more romantic sentence than I want you or I need you—both which happened to be his standbys when it came to romancing Cora late at night between their sheets.

But the feel of Cora's skin, the smooth white porcelain that made her look so very delicate and beautiful, now that could evoke strong feeling. That could inspire poetry and great romantic gestures. She was beautiful, his wife, but it was not her beauty that could provoke him to stand atop Downton and profess his great love for her.

It was they way he felt when she lay in his arms, or the way she murmured his name in the midst of their passions, or even the way her eyes looked on him with such trust, and such need to be protected and kept safe.

He would show her that it would all be just fine.

He knew that she was awake, her heavy breaths against his chest made it obvious, but she made no attempt to speak and only held him close.

So he continued to hold her, making silent promises to never let go.