Sorry this has taken a while - work has taken over & I lost my muse for a while. I'm not sure they'd really behave the way they do in this chapter but it was fun to write!

Day 11

She made eggs for breakfast and they ate outside in the mid-morning sunshine.

"I'm rather enjoying this lifestyle," he said as he rested back in his chair, eyes closed, a cup of tea in his hand.

"I know, routine will be a shock to the system." She let the statement go unanswered – they'd had this conversation far too much of late and she didn't want to push any decisions; she didn't mind returning to work, she just thought it wouldn't be long before they decided that work was something to be left in the past.

"What are you working on?"

"A blanket for the bed, it's been a while since I've made anything like it, I might get it finished for winter." She pulled the heavy material over her lap. "Otherwise we'll freeze."

He chuckled; the thought of being alone with her in their cosy cottage during the winter nights filled him with warmth. "I can make a fire, in fact that's a job I can do today, I want to check the fires upstairs - we might have to get someone in to check the chimneys."

She glanced over at him, serene in the sunshine, "Yes, you look like you're in the mood to work."

He only smiled at her words.

"You know your skin is starting to turn brown, and your nose red."

"Just keep on sewing."

"Bossy,"

"It's habit."

"That I do know," she struggled with the material again, "Goodness, I should just buy these things. Is there anything in particular you'd like for lunch?"

"I might walk to the village actually, I could get a few things, I'm happy with sandwiches though, it's too hot for much."

"I know, and it's only just gone eleven, I think I'll manage another twenty minutes before it's too hot for me - you should put your hat on."

"I will."

"How about fish for dinner, you could call and get some?"

"A nice light dinner."

She smiled, remembering her thoughts of walking in the river in the moonlight, of the dear present he'd given her, of falling asleep listening to his whispered endearments.

"I better get up and go or the sunshine will make me doze."

She folded the blanket as she watched him stand and stretch - sometimes it was still amazing to think of him as her husband. She knew things about him that nobody else ever could; the sound of his voice in hushed tones of adoration, the paleness of his skin beneath his clothes, his fears, his joys, his morning routine, the way he slept. Marriage was proving to be more than she ever imagined it could be.

"I won't be long," he said, settling his hat on his head. Then he kissed her cheek lightly, "See you later my dear."

"Enjoy the walk, stay out of the sun."

It cooled a little after lunch and they spent some time in the garden, tidying the hedgerow, picking newly sprouting weeds from his freshly dug earth. It was hard physical labour but rewarding. And there was a quiet joy that came with working silently side-by-side.

In the afternoon they made strawberry and rhubarb jam, teaching each other how it worked and laughing over the mess as they tried to jar it.

"Think Mrs Patmore will be impressed?" She asked licking the stickiness from her fingers.

"That depends on how it tastes."

"Good," she smiled, "it tastes good. And I'm not a jam fan usually."

"I am."

"I know," she teased. "There was a letter from Anna by the way. Wishing us well, filling me in on the news from London, all seems to be going well."

"So they can cope without us." He slid his hands into the sink and began rinsing the sticky sugar away from the dishes.

She sensed the melancholy in his voice and stood beside him, her hip against his, as she dried the dishes. "Shall we go for a walk, its cooler now and I'd like to get out."

"Yes, let's. In fact let's pack sandwiches again and walk further along the river, I enjoyed that."

"So did I."

"We should invite Mr and Mrs Bates over for dinner once they're home."

She glanced at him quizzically but he was gazing out of the window at the garden, "Yes, we should."

"It will be nice to see them outside of the Abbey walls."

Though she agreed she said nothing, as usual with Charles little-by-little he slowly came around.

It was nearing late afternoon when they set out on their walk, though still warm enough to do without a coat it was more pleasant as the summer breeze picked up and Charles wore a light jacket.

The land was freshly mowed and the intoxicating fragrance filled the air.

"I love how alive everything seems in the summer," she said gripping his arm as they walked. "So lush."

"I'm an Autumn man myself."

She smiled, "Crunching leaves and playing conkers as a boy."

"Yes, but I like the colours too, I often wondered if I'd be any good at drawing, or painting, I like the idea of trying to capture it."

"Perhaps you should take it up."

"I think I'll be too clumsy with a brush."

"You? Goodness, you have the gentlest hands I know."

He turned to stare at her, wide-eyed, "Really?"

She squeezed his elbow, "I didn't mean like that, I mean the way you handle the fine china, the glassware, not many men have your delicate touch." She teased, biting her lip to suppress her grin.

"Now you are teasing."

"Perhaps a little."

She let go of his arm when they reached the edge of the woods and he sat on a low-slung branch watching as she collected handfuls of wildflowers that covered the ground in a carpet of white and pale blue.

"These will smell wonderful in the bedroom," she said as she put them into the basket he carried. "Shall we go further into the woods this time or back to my spot by the river?"

He glanced at the sky, still clear and cloudless, "Well, weather looks fine, it will stay light until late, let's go on an adventure."

"An adventure?"

"Every day with you for the past two weeks has been an adventure," he offered, leaning his head forward towards hers.

"Oh really," she granted him a kiss, stood as she was by the branch he sat on she was at just the right height to lean on his shoulders as she kissed him. "You're quite the flatterer when you want to be."

"Take your hair down?"

"What?"

He kissed her again, lightly at the side of her mouth and then down her chin until she tilted her neck back and let him kiss the delicate skin there.

"Take your hair down," he whispered again. "I like it."

"I know you do but it's hardly…" she glanced around, there was nobody about, or likely to be, but still she felt rather uneasy doing so.

His fingers were sliding up and around her shoulders now, tickling the nape of her neck, "I can do it."

"Charles…" she closed her eyes, feeling her body respond to his touch, that wonderful tingle of warmth in her stomach, a sudden burst of energy, as if she were coming both undone and alive all at the same time.

He was still kissing her as she began to pull loose the pins and drop them into his open waiting palm. His other hand slid up into her thick, wavy hair as it fell down. It was shorter now and had lightened with the years but still thick, still silky, and she was glad of that. And he certainly seemed to appreciate it.

He took his time fanning it out and framing her face.

"I look a mess now."

"You look wonderful."

"I hope nobody sees us."

He smiled, "They won't, let's go, I quite like the idea of paddling again."

"My you have changed."

The deeper they got into the woods the denser it became, overgrown and thick where nobody had trod in many-a-year. They clambered over brambles, Elsie had suggested they turn back but Charles was convinced he could hear the distant sound of running water and she rather liked the idea of being completely alone with him out there so she followed and in time she too could make out the sound of water.

At first a tiny trickle, but as they followed it the ground levelled, brambles replaced by moss and rocks as it flowed down into a small stream, not the river they'd waded in days before but big enough to walk in and soothe hot feet.

They found a small patch beneath a tree, large enough for their blanket, and laid it down.

"Check for ants," Elsie said as she sat on a rock to remove her stockings.

"Yes sir," he sat back on the blanket watching her as he absent-mindedly removed his shoes and socks. "Why do you wear those in this heat?"

"So that you can watch me take them off of course."

For a moment he wondered if it were true; she wouldn't meet his gaze and continued to torture him with her slow, deliberate movements as she rolled the fine silk down from beneath her skirt and off the end of her toes.

"Charles…" She prompted, a knowing look playing across her face as she stood up, folding the stockings and placing them in her shoes. "Did you check for ants?"

He glanced up at her stood in front of him, dropped his own socks and curled his hands around her ankles, sliding his fingers up the back of her legs, past her shins, the back of knees – she giggled then and swayed forward at the touch, her hands resting on his shoulders to keep herself upright.

"Stop it, I'll fall."

"I'll catch you." He pressed his face against her skirt, breathing in the scent of her as his fingers continued to wander up her deliciously soft skin.

"You're being silly," she bent forward a little, kissing the top of his head.

"I want you," he whispered, "all the time, I can't help it, at times I think it's improper but then it feels so good and so natural."

"I don't think it improper," she pushed on his shoulders until he lifted his head back and looked up at her, "I think it's rather wonderful, perhaps just bad timing out here."

He glanced around, "We're alone."

"Charles!" She squeezed his shoulders as his hands squeezed the back of her thighs, "We're outdoors."

"But alone. In the middle of nowhere." He pressed his face against her again, sighing happily as the texture of her skirt rubbed his face. She wore a pale blue skirt and he thought how nice it was to see her in something other than black, she suited colour, she brought colour.

He moved his legs, stretched them out, the bulge in his trousers becoming a little impatient – making sitting awkward.

When he cupped her bottom and toyed with the edges of her knickers she stepped back from him, though her hands still rested upon his shoulders.

"I really don't think it's a good idea."

But her body was saying something different. She breathed deeply, looked up at the sky, just visible through the canopy of trees, the darkening hues of purple were coming in, tinged with pink, afternoon rolling into early evening. She loved summer evenings. When you were a child it meant you could play out late in the yard.

"I thought you were a farm girl?"

"That doesn't mean I did this..."

His hands were easing her body back to him and she felt his fingertips teasing the edges of her knickers again, sliding across the frills, the new underwear she'd bought for him, for being a wife.

She bent forward and kissed his head again, keeping her chin resting there and parting her legs slightly as a sign of her agreement. She would see how far it went. She if he chickened out first.

He seemed surprised and momentarily paused in his movements but then realising her consent he tugged on the material until it pooled in his palms and he eased it down her legs, holding steady as she lifted her bare feet and allowed him to take them off and push them beneath his jacket.

Now what? He thought as his fingers slid back up her legs. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of her skin, the heady fragrance of her mixed with the fragrance of summer all around them. He pressed his face against her, kissing her legs through the skirt, "Sometimes," he mumbled, "I want you so badly I think I'll die."

Her eyes were closed too, and she gasped slightly when his fingers reached between her legs, a mix of excitement and fear at doing this outside, where anyone could hear or see… but no, they were hidden well, they were far from a trodden path, from a walkway.

"Sometimes, I can't wait to see you." She gasped again, rubbing herself against him now, craving ever more of his touch. "Sometimes," she swallowed, "at the house, I'd sneak into your pantry in the summer when you were away, to sit in your chair, to smell you in there."

He tilted his head back now, looking up at her, "God knows I love you."

She moved her mouth quickly over his, lowering herself into his lap as they kissed deeply, consuming.

He quickly turned them around until she lay back on the blanket, her skirt bunched up as he moved between her legs, her nimble fingers swiftly opening the fastening of his trousers.

"This must be part of the adventure," she said, her voice shaking.

"Do you want to stop?" his mouth was an inch from hers, his breath hot against her skin.

She shook her head, "I feel very wild."

"You always made me feel that way, it's why I resisted you for so long, it makes me unsteady. Or it did."

"No more?"

"I'm steadier than ever now."

She lifted her chin, encouraging his kiss again, easing her legs around him. She knew this would be no drawn-out act of love-making, this was purely animalistic in the desires they both held – and to think, there was a time female desire was considered unnatural, evil. She closed her eyes, her mind mulling on this point as her husband moved inside her. No. How wrong they were. Far from evil, being together like this was heavenly. Surely what the body was made for – to love and give love.

She gasped, her breath tight, her heart pounding. She gripped his back, his shirt bunching in her fingers.

"Oh god Charles."

"Oh yes."

She was moaning aloud now, suddenly no longer aware of being outdoors, making love in the depths of the wood, with all of nature around them.

"Who would have thought?" She said after, her hand tracing lines over his back as he lay against her. "That we could be like this." She looked up at the sky again. "You must be able to read my mind…"

"How?" he murmured against her neck.

"Last night when I was sitting in the garden I thought of being naked outside, how nice it would feel to feel the breeze against my bare skin, just once."

He lifted his head to look at her, his hair falling forward, a lopsided, triumphant grin on his face. "We aren't naked."

"No. But this is pretty close." She stroked his face, "Dear man."

He kissed her fingertips, "Are you happy Elsie? I so want you to be."

"Immensely. More so than ever before." She pressed her fingers to his lips. "Are you? Or needn't I even ask?"

"You needn't ask, happiness makes me take risks like this."

She chuckled, "Shall we go in the water before we have our sandwiches?"

He responded by pushing his body up from hers; he sat back and held out his hand to pull her to sit, her hair was mussed and unkempt.

"You look… what's the word…?"

"Ravished?" She suggested smiling.

"Something like that."

"Charles…" she rested her hands on the blanket and pushed herself to her knees, leaning towards him.

"Yes?"

She brought her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Tomorrow I want to spend the day in bed. And I want you to do nothing but make love to me."

He sat open-mouthed as she got up, watching as she rolled her skirt over the band at the top of it until it was just below her knees.

"Come on then Mr. Carson." She called back as she dipped her feet into the stream.

"Yes, Mrs Carson."

He rolled up his trousers, opened the basket and took out their sandwiches and the lemonade he'd packed and they sat on the edge of the rocks and swayed their feet through the water as they ate.

"We should get out of the woods before it gets dark," she said, watching the water move to their movements. "Let's go and watch the sunset from the hill above the abbey. Once we get back to the path I know the way, we can go up and around the back of the house. The sky's clear, we'll be able to see the stars if we go up there."

"We should have brought wine; that would have been more romantic."

"This is romantic," she nudged his arm with hers, "we don't need wine. We have wildflowers and lemonade."

"How right you are." He chuckled. "Much better."

His body still faintly tingled with pleasure as they set off back. She walked in front and he found great joy in watching her hips sway, in the curve of her waist, the way her skirt fitted. He thought of touching her, of listening to her cries of joy, of knowing he made her feel that way. She spoke, on their first night together, of feeling overwhelmed – he remembered how she'd cried and how he feared he'd hurt her – now he was the one who felt overwhelmed, the more he had of her, the more he wanted. It was as if he'd discovered a new drug and he couldn't possibly contemplate giving it up.

He was glad they met no other on the path back through the woods. Once out in the open she loosely pinned her hair back up (much to his disappointment) and straightened her clothing. By the time they reached the top of the hill the sun had set.

Charles lay out the blanket once again and at first they sat, looking down to the house and the village beyond. "This is one of my favourite spots," he said softly.

"I know."

"How?"

"You think I don't know where you disappear to on your afternoon walks? You've come here ever since I can remember." She lay back, folding her arms beneath her head and tilting her face back to look up at the stars. "What a perfect day." She said.

For a moment he watched her, serene in the inky night, her face was soft, relaxed, more beautiful every day.

He moved his face to hers and kissed her very gently before lying next to her, his head moving to rest on her chest as he manoeuvred onto his back and looked up at the night sky. "This is my other favourite place." He said.

She smiled, her fingers tangling in his thick hair as her other hand wrapped over his arm. "I feel young doing this, like a real newlywed."

"Are we fake ones?"

"You know what I mean. We aren't young."

"I refuse to think of myself as old."

"All right."

"I feel young, right now, I feel young every morning I wake with you beside me."

"So romantic," she kissed the top of his head.

"If I can't be romantic on my honeymoon then when can I?"

"I didn't think it was the English gentleman's way..."

"Maybe not. Maybe it's Charles Carson's way."

"I like that."

They lay in silence watching the sky. Peaceful and content.

"Charles? Are you asleep?" She said some time later when the night was dark around them and the sounds of nature had settled into sleep.

"Not quite. Not far off - busy day."

"Hmm, well you can rest tomorrow." She teased, easing him to sit up.

"I didn't think rest was part of your plan." He rubbed his neck, his body aching from the gardening and walking...and other outdoor activities.

She took over massaging his shoulders, "There will be time for rest, occasionally."

He chuckled, "Slave driver. You're worse than the butler."

"I try my best." She got up, holding her hand out to him, "Come on. I'll make tea when we get back and a hot soak for your feet."

"I like you taking care of me."

"The feeling's mutual."

They held hands, taking a long, slow walk back to their cottage in the late evening air.

Thank you for all of your lovely reviews so far (please leave me another if you have time). Special mention has to go to lemacd whose review really made me smile - nice to have had such a touching impact - and to Chelsiefan whose tumblr page brightens my day! X