AN: The promised EXTRA update! And it's a long one!

This chapter is definitely one of the M-rated ones, so if you don't like that stuff you might want to steer clear, of at least the third section. A review would be much appreciated.

Robert watches her from across the room an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach as she leans yet nearer to Lord Dascombe. As a distraction he focuses his attention on the curve of her gown over her figure. The red fabric had been shouted down by his mother, deemed as not suitable, too showy, but Cora had persisted and he was rather pleased she had. The dark crimson suited her and the intricate silver beading across the whole bodice was in broad swirls Robert had never seen before, modern spirals rather than flora.

A piercing laugh, followed by a giggle he knows well floats across the room to him and he sees the pink of her cheeks and the joy reflected in her sparkling eyes at some remark of the Duke's. She notices him at that point, her eyes flitting up and meeting his, but he turns away, a queasy sensation whirling in his throat. He misses the frown that crinkles her features at his dismissal only hearing the gentle ring of her voice as Dascombe gently whispers another question.

"How's the new valet working out?" It's his father who's beside him and he jumps, his eyes removing themselves reluctantly from the rather attractive, far too attractive, looking couple on the other side of the room.

"Fine. Fine. Carson seems very skilled." It had taken some time to find a replacement for Peters but the job was done and Robert was happy, Charles Carson knew where his loyalties lay.

"Something troubles you?"

"Not particularly, where is Lord Dascombe seated for dinner?"

"I think Violet mentioned something about his being next to Cora." Robert gravely nods, tilting his head to toss the remainder of his beverage into his mouth in one gulp. Out the corner of his eye he sees a twinkle in his father's and can't help but almost blanch. His parents had been different in the last month, the usual awkwardness no longer apparent. Robert didn't know if it was because he knew his father's secret or because his parents were actually behaving differently.

Dinner was a slow affair for Violet. She sits and tries to appear interested in all that her dinner companions were saying, but in truth she had listened to very few words, certainly not long enough for one whole sentence. She'd chosen the two most easily taken in men to be her dinner companions so that she could keep her eyes fixed on Cora and her dinner companion, Lord Dascombe, and Robert.

Cora talked no more than she usually did at such events but she blushed and giggled more often. All so far was as it should be, Lord Dascombe was being his usually charming self and Cora was reacting accordingly. Reacting exactly as Violet wished her too. Making Robert jealous. She could see the frequent cringes that appeared upon her son's face, the sharp looks he gave to the woman he didn't realised he adored sat opposite him. Cora seemed confused at her husband's behaviour, a crease forming across her forehead. Robert was drinking repeatedly and the outcome of that concerned Violet.

Dinner ended and Violet suggested that a split would be unnecessary when everyone was enjoying themselves so much. She lets her gaze linger on Cora and her companion. She leans rather closer than she ought as they approach the door, some guests already crowding and blocking the doorway due to the strange habit of not splitting gender ways.

A band had positioned themselves in the hall during dinner and Violet falls gently into her husband's arms for the first dance. He leans closer to her, his hand slipping lower on her dress. She'd usually abolish him but today it was fine; since his honestly the night of Rosamund's wedding all was going smoother between them and the last two weeks had passed in a contentment they hadn't had since Robert was born.

"Is all going well with the plan?" She turns her startled eyes towards him, yes, she did have a plan, but he didn't know of it. Rather than snap, as is the first thought that springs to mind, she thinks of what Cora does, tease.

"What plan might that be? I have many you know."

"The one that involves Cora and Lord Dascombe."

"Oh well that's a relief, you haven't found out about the one that involves you yet, excellent." She chortles at his startled expression before she quickly reminds him not to take her so seriously.

"I've never known you tease me so Violet. What on earth have you been drinking?"

"Nothing different to usual. Although, we could have some champagne in bed tonight." He stares at her incredulously before he realises her sincerity. She'd rather enjoyed their night two weeks ago and she had made him repeat the ordeal once since. It was strange that she'd never been one attached to the physical side of marriage but recently their was some appetite for it, well, not recently, just since that night.

"What's the plan with Cora and Dascombe then? As I assume you don't want them to end up as lovers."

"Goodness no! Merely for Robert to realise he wants her. I'm working on the whole jealousy thing."

"Don't you think you should let him realise it in his own time?"

"Patrick, he's a man. They are invariably slow on the uptake."

"Are you saying-" but he's cut short, a struggle to their left and the breaking up of the music making them both turn.

"Cora come with me." It's Robert's voice she turns to, as he reaches out and takes Cora's wrist sharply from her side where it had dropped to when Robert had interrupted her dance with Lord Dascombe. "Lord Dascombe I suggest you leave the house before I make you! You were not invited to simper, smirk and sit secluded in a corner with my wife. Let alone dance with your nose virtually pressed to hers." His face is red and Violet swallows back the giggle that forms in her throat. She amazes herself, it had been years since she'd felt a girlish giggle overcome her, perhaps it was the recent escapades with Patrick that were making her feel younger. Cora looks mortified her wrist still in Robert's grasp and her cheeks stained.

"Robert I think you may be being a little harsh. I'm sure Lord Dascombe meant no harm." Patrick's calm voice enters the fray and he stands between the men.

"I don't care if he meant harm. Society has rules, Cora is my wife and I will do what I will to protect her from scoundrels." Robert makes a move passed his father towards the confused young Duke, and Violet knows her mouth opens, her hands reaching for her cheeks as she sees his clenched fists.

"Robert!" It's her own piercing shout that resounds in the room, and it takes her a moment to recover from her own shock and continue talking. "You're not helping yourself. Cora looks rather terrified at this moment and I'm sure she would appreciate you calming down." This seems to set him straight and he turns on his heels to his wife. Her lips seem to tremble as he reaches for her before she turns and scarpers from the room. Violet feels her husband's reassuring hand on her back.

"Don't trouble yourself. They'll sort it out."

Cora feels the hot tears on her cheeks and it takes her some moments to realise she's ended up in the library. It's not long before she hears the expected footsteps advancing.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to come and tell me off."

"Cora-" he reaches his hand forward trying to clasp her wrist again.

"I won't have it Robert. Why should I not converse and dance with other men?" He stares at her, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

"It's not that Cora. He was taking advantage of your loveliness. Holding you too close, chatting to ardently. I doubt he noticed any other woman in the room."

"But if he'd done it to another woman would you have noticed?" She has to know, why on earth does he behave like this, does he love her. Or is it just his protective nature that fuels his jealousy.

"I may have done. But I don't follow other women around the room like I do you Cora. I haven't looked at another woman all night. As I said I have a job to protect you as I promised I would." His voice cracks his hand reaching nervously into his hair. "All I know is he did it to you and I didn't like it." Her heart lightens and she's sure he must sense her joy, it must be plastered on her face. It seemed he may have fallen for her. But she wouldn't really know until he told her, but there was something in his actions, in his eyes that seemed to enlighten her. "You're mine I suppose and I don't like him touching you. It was the touching really and the talking and well, all of it I suppose." She shakes her head from side to side before stepping into his arms.

She tilts her lips to his, the contact shocks him at first but his hands quickly find their place upon her waist. He moans as her tongue probes a little deeper and she can't help but relish at the feeling. Her hands remove his jacket and start upon his shirt buttons before his hand stills her movement.

"Cora?" She merely shakes her head, pulling his face to hers.

"I'm yours. Something you appear to have forgotten tonight. Let me." Her voice comes out shakier than she hoped, seduction had been her plan, not damsel in distress.

His hands seem to work in over drive after her comments. They make some passes through her hair before slowly running over her front, gracing all of her intricate beading. They linger for longer over her breasts managing to stir a desire even though a vast deal of fabric hinders the contact she knows she most wants. One then slides to her hip, pushing her backwards and she gasps twice into his mouth when she feels her back hit the red, black and blue leather bindings of Downton's infamous library. Her hands reach for his shoulders in a steadying gesture, her hands tracing the curves of his muscles she knows almost perfectly.

His tongue lashes fiercely against hers when her fingers grace his nipples and she twists them as he so likes. His own groan reverberates in her mouth before he takes his mouth from hers and presses wet kisses to her neck. She tilts her head back which allows him more skin to devour and also, which had probably been his plan, pushes her hips against him.

She's not sure if she groans from the ministrations at her neck, his hands that gather the dress at her waist in one swift move or the firmness of him pressed against her. Either way she does, the heat seems to rip at her seams as he lifts her to rest more firmly against the bookcase his hands massaging her thighs in firm circles.

She struggles for some moments against the sensations burning within her to no avail but when his lips still on her neck she gains some little control that allows her to release him from the constraints of his trousers and pants. He seems to appreciate her gesture, a guttural sigh meeting her neck. She's about to pleasure him some more when his hands tug vigorously at her panties and they drop to her knees, his hands seemingly previously made short work of her complicated other undergarments when she had been lost in her pool of lust and love. It wasn't too much of a surprise, he'd learnt his way around her undergarments, including her corset on honeymoon.

It's her own moan that fills the darkened library then as he lifts her around his waist, slipping perfectly inside of her.

His thrusts go from rhythmic and comforting to fast, hot and furious, her back pounding harder and faster against he expensive spines of the leather bound books, her heart beating equally as dangerously, her breathing breathy and deep, her body desperate for oxygen. His tongue slides deliciously over her collarbone sealing her fate, or at least that of her orgasm. She convulses around him, her sticky face meeting his clammy chest in a desperate pant of his name. But it's not the erotic sensations that ricochet in her mind but the look in his eyes as he finds his release, the look that isn't guttural, that has a sense of comfort, even love in his eyes. An appreciation for her and not just her body.

She lifts her face some time later and his forehead rests against hers, his lips press to hers once more, quickly, before he lifts her to the floor and readjusts his trousers. She lets her own body drift into the routine of returning her own undergarments to her body as she lets her mind wander in more favourable directions. Her cheeks warm, her heart hammering not only from exertion but the relief racing through her mind. He did love her and more importantly than that he was willing to fight for her, fight for them, he'd shown that through his jealously over Lord Dascombe, and they had just done unspeakable things in the library, something Robert, with his belief in the rules would never have done before. All in all, it was becoming plain that Robert's body and perhaps even parts of his heart knew exactly where they stood and what they wanted he just hadn't comprehended it yet. It's with these somewhat startling and slightly exciting thoughts that Cora takes his hand and kissing him gently on the cheek suggests that they return to their bedroom, her reply a mere grin and a slight increase in pressure at her waist. Robert loved her. He really did.

Robert lets her tug him up the stairs and pull him into her darkened bedroom but it's only when she lights a few candles, giving him some time to think that the events of the last few moments play back in his mind, what on earth had taken control of him in such a mad, animalistic manner that allowed his body to seemingly disconnect from his mind. He'd violated her whole privacy, his one promise that he'd do nothing she didn't want. My, yes, she might have asked for it but not for the pain that coupling must have caused her, the echo of the thumping, now he realises, her back against the bookcase makes him curse beneath his breath, or as it happens not so beneath his breath as her worrying gaze falls on him.

"Is something the matter?" He rubs his temples a fear overtaking him, what on earth must she think? He's amazed she didn't turn and run, my goodness, how could he have been so careless, almost forgotten what he was doing he was so desperate to make his mark, prove she was his. He considers lying but then he remembers their conversation all those months ago, about telling each other their troubles.

"It's only, I think...I mean, if I hurt you...downstairs...Cora, you really should have told me to stop. I mean, that was so animalistic so...carnal, you deserve better than that. So, so much better." She comes to kneel in front of the chair he sits on, her hands rubbing along his legs.

"It was good to let go like that, for both of us."

"Don't make excuses Cora not when you know I'm right. I'd promised you I'd look after you, treat you as you deserve to be treated, not like some floosy, for me to do what I like when I like."

"Robert, it wasn't at all like that. I asked you to, neither of us would be human if we didn't lose control sometimes, if sometimes we wanted to try something new, more adventurous. Didn't you always tell me to ask if there was something I wanted to try? Well, I saw it tonight, in your actions, in your eyes, you wanted to do that, even if you hadn't realised it, and I let you."

"Cora, that-" But she's moved, her hands trailing up his trousers and causing him to start. Her fingers trail over his shirt and jacket to his cheeks as she stands, and then placing her knee onto the chair beside his own she sits on his lap. Straddling him, just as he'd asked her to that very first night. Only this time it's not him in control, it seems to be her. She kisses along his neck before shifting a little so she may look at him.

"I don't want to hear any more. Not ever, and certainly not now when you're supposed to be kissing me." He rolls his eyes at her statement, she never seemed to be nervous, she was so sure of herself and he wished sometimes that he had that talent, of being so sure of everything he did, never doubting.

"God Cora, you, what on earth would I do without you?"

"Let's not dwell on that now darling, there are far more important things to be sorting."

"Such as?" He smirks at her as he begins to wind his hands beneath her skirts, he did so enjoy teasing her.

"Why don't you show me?" And with that his hands seem to find the clasp of her undergarments, and his lips meet hers; the worry of earlier long forgotten, after all, he couldn't go back in time, only look to the future, and Cora was the future, his future.