Mary stirred, the morning light coming into the bedroom. The air seemed on the chilly side but she felt warmth beneath her. In a second, she realized the pillow her head was resting on was moving. Her eyes fluttering open, she could see Matthew's chest rising and falling. She fixated on the contours of his body, not having a really proper look the night before.

At the memory, Mary's face flushed quite warmly. She now risked a peek at her husband's face, while he was still slumbering. Seeing him, her mind was filled with images of last night, the way they explored each other, the tingling of his touch and the sounds they both made. Mary wondered if the servants had heard them. Certainly, if Isobel had been home she would have. Would that be enough to inhibit them later when she returned?

Needing to stretch, Mary lifted her head off of Matthew's chest. He murmured a little and a smile spread across Mary, glad to see he noticed her moving away, even unconsciously. Tracing her finger across his chest, Matthew responded. Finally, his eyes opened and when he finally focused on her, he grinned happily. Mary noticed a certain blush in his cheeks which she suspected probably matched her own. She knew he was remembering last night, too.

Mary took a breath looking back down at her hand upon his chest. Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, she said, "Good morning, did you sleep well?"

He waited a beat before answering. "Did I...um, yes, I did. I slept quite well, thank you."

He didn't return the question which slightly annoyed her. Her eyes moved back up to meet his, and the grin he held nearly made her lose her cool. Plus, his lips looked so inviting. But she tried not to give away her desires.

With no reply from her, he went on, "I believe this bed is the most comfortable I've slept in. It's a pity I've not made more use of it."

This caused her to bite her lip, he was goading her, but two could play it that game. "Yes, I have always found it quite satisfactory, and as of late, I believe I prefer it over my old bed at Downton."

This caused him to arch his eyebrows. Mary desperately wanted to reach out and touch them. He responded, "It pleases me to hear you speak in that way. I like to think that..."

He stopped when he heard the noise. Mary's eyes grew wide when she knew what it was. The sound was startling and she blushed harder than she ever blushed before. She prayed Matthew didn't hear it but she knew it was in vain.

"Was that...your stomach growling?"

Of course he would comment on it. Glancing around the room, she wished she could come up with an appropriate answer, honestly it had never made such a strong sound before. "Maybe" she quietly answered.

"My goodness," Matthew said, still grinning, "Lady Mary Crawley is so hungry she can't control her stomach from alerting everyone near her. What will the Dowager say?"

Giving up, Mary relaxed and looked him in the eye. "I have no idea. Do you plan on telling her?"

"Hmmm, maybe, unless I could be persuaded not to..." The twinkle in his eye had Mary giggling. Almost instantly he reached up and kissed her.

The kiss was soft and shy, but it wasn't long before it deepened and the passion last night resumed as if no time had passed at all. Matthew rolled Mary over so she was on her back, his hands now taking their turn caressing her body. Only a few moments ago Mary had felt chilly, but having her husband's hands on her body felt like it was on fire. A different kind of fire she didn't want to diminish.

Under his breath, Mary could just make out Matthew's words. "I love you." They were faint but hearing them thrilled her. She didn't respond. Her body was too overwhelmed at everything for to do anything but moan.

The next Friday, Matthew found himself pulling up at Crawley House on his bicycle, quite glad to be home from work and for the weekend. Setting the bicycle against the wall so Moseley could get it later, he removed his briefcase from it. It contained papers from the office he was supposed to work on, but Matthew knew he wouldn't get to them.

Matthew was so happy in finally being a proper husband to Mary. But it wasn't just the nights that he reveled in. Being together in such an intimate way had opened things up for them in a manner he never conceived before. It was as if an invisible wall had fallen, at least physically. Little touches, smiles with hidden meanings, and of course whispers to each other when others were about had Matthew feeling like the happiest man in the world. Who would have thought that seeing his wife show desire for him would cause such euphoria?

Entering the house, Matthew handed off his coat and hat to Moseley, always there to take it. He was just about to ask where his wife was when she appeared coming down the stairs. "There you are," she said, obviously glad to see him.

At her approach, Matthew took in her beauty; all week Matthew had been unsuccessful in leaving the house at a proper time to make the train thus he had been late. This morning, with great difficulty, he managed to get out the door at the time he needed. As a result, he felt he didn't get the chance to see her properly that morning.

She kissed him quite chastely, probably for Moseley still being there. "Did you have a good day?"

He smiled, "Yes, it was long, I'm quite glad I'm home now and the weekend is here."

Her eyes flickered at the word "weekend" and he almost blushed himself. Together they went into the sitting room so they could catch up on their day. Another consequence of their new closeness allowed for conversations to flow very smoothly. Matthew hadn't expected Mary to want to hear about the day, or at least about the men he worked alongside, but apparently they were a queer bunch and his recounting of his day with them was humorous to her. And Matthew loved hearing Mary laugh. Likewise, he loved hearing about her day, something that she didn't expect from him either. He assured he was quite interested in what interested her. They usually spent this time catching up just before dinner.

The only thing that felt missing was three little words from Mary. Matthew told himself that the fact she was not only giving herself over to him was enough, but he knew that wasn't quite true. He ached to hear her say "I love you." She wasn't ready though.

He didn't want to push it so he was careful not to say it much. Of course in those more intimate moments between them, he couldn't help himself, but the activity helped distract him from her not repeating it. Sometimes he almost thought he saw what he wanted in her eyes, but usually that was at the height of passion and probably wasn't to be counted on.

But walking into the dining room, she reached for his hand and squeezed it. She was constantly touching him in little ways now and he didn't want that to ever stop. He hoped in time she would return his verbal sentiment, but for now, he was happy with what he did have.