A/N: A little more T-rated than usual. A solid PG-13. You've been warned ;)
There were freckles on her shoulder. Little ones, white ones, tan ones. One even vaguely shaped like France. Carson counted them all as the early dawn light trickled in through Elsie's bedroom window. Her nightgown sleeve had slipped, exposing her shoulder and the host of freckles which had captured his attention for the better part of twenty minutes. Whether this was by his own, albeit sleeping and unconscious doing, or whether gravity had intervened and lent him a helping hand, he did not know. Nor did he care.
What he did know was that Elsie's sleeping form fit rather perfectly against his own. His head perched on his hand amid her pillows, Carson took in the curves and slopes of her body, of the leg that hitched forward, causing one rather perfect angle against him, of the mess of silvery blonde hair which had fallen around her, of her slow and steady breath. His other arm was draped across her waist, just below her ribs, where his thumb languidly traced circles. Every masculine instinct in him urged him to pull her closer to him and devour her.
But he was a gentleman. Or at least, he wanted to be. So he restrained himself and settled for counting the freckles on her bare shoulder. This was hardly unpleasant or some mere consolation prize. He was growing fonder and fonder of her shoulder by the minute.
It was surreal, he thought, that he found himself here in this moment, in this bedroom, with this slumbering woman tucked against him, his heart fuller than he could remember it being. This had not been his intention when he had arrived at Downton's doors seven weeks ago. But by God, was he glad of it.
Elsie began to stir and rolled into him. He happily obliged, turning to rest on his back and allowing her to settle on him. Her head found a proper spot on his shoulder, her arm draped across his chest, and her leg hitched over his. He felt claimed by it all, by her body on his, by her warmth, by whatever had started between them. His lips found her hair and pressed into it. The soft sigh that left her, the gentle tightening of her arm around him for the slightest second, was reward enough.
Smiling softly, Carson closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Another hour passed before Elsie finally woke. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to sleep until her body decided it was time to wake, but she felt a decade younger for it. Time was illusory then, but her bedroom was drenched in bright morning light, so it had to be about 10:00 or so. This felt rather indulgent, having a proper lie-in like this.
Shifting her head slightly, she saw Carson's unconscious form, his mouth slightly open, his hair mussed, stubble peppering his cheeks and jaw. She bit her lip at the sight of him sleeping soundly in her bed. He looked practically boyish like this and she adored him for it.
All other mornings envied this morning.
Hoping to let him sleep a little longer while she fixed some tea, Elsie started to pull away when she heard him groan. On second thoughts, as his arm wrapped tighter around her and pulled her back to him, it almost sounded like a growl.
"Don't even think of leaving," Carson mumbled sleepily, his lips ghosting across her shoulder.
Before she knew it, Elsie was on her back and Carson was on top of her. Whether she pulled him with her or he pushed her back, she hadn't the faintest idea. But his weight felt heavenly on top of her no matter how he had ended up there.
"Good morning," he grinned as he hovered over her, that naughty and unruly curl falling over his forehead. Sweetly, he peppered kisses to her cheek and her ear and her jaw.
"It is rather, isn't it?" she replied with a laugh. That they were greeting each other cordially while his arousal pressed into her thigh was comedic to her. Her hands moved on their own, grabbing his face and stroking the salt and pepper stubble that had grown overnight. "Fancy some breakfast tea?"
Carson chuckled and he shook his head. "Not especially," he mumbled as his hand traveled south to inspect the way her thigh curved into her bottom.
"Some coffee perhaps? Or a scone?" she managed, her voice half an octave higher than she had intended. Her fingers grabbed a handful of his flannel pajama shirt and every inch of her longed for his lips to be on hers.
He looked up, paused, and smirked. "Not in the least," he answered before leaning closer to indulge the request written so plainly on her face.
Just as his lips were about to find hers, the mobile on her bedside table began to ring, cutting the silence in half with its garish tone. Carson did not let it deter him and he pulled her closer still.
"Ignore it," he murmured into the crook of her neck.
The low rumble of his voice against her skin was all the persuasion she needed. A hand shot out and silenced the offending device before returning to him, her fingers finding his hair, pulling him further onto her.
Finally, mercifully, Carson's lips found hers. It was heady, the sensation of his dry lips moving across hers, his weight on top of her, the adoring way his hand found hers and laced his fingers through hers. This had not been her intention when she had invited him here last night. Well, at least, not consciously. Perhaps her subconscious had a very different agenda. But now that he was here, kissing her so sweetly, making her feel things she thought completely dormant, she couldn't imagine getting up to fix a cup of breakfast tea.
As she began to tug at his flannel pajama shirt, that wretched mobile began vibrating across her nightstand. He pulled away.
"Should you answer it?" he asked reluctantly.
Elsie nodded and reached for the mobile. Anna's number flashed across the screen. Her heart skipped a beat; Anna never called this early in the morning, on a Sunday no less.
"It's Anna," she told Carson. He rolled off of her and they both sat up in bed. "Anna?" she asked as she answered the call. "Everything alright?"
"Morning, Els," came Anna's cheerful tone on the other line. "What a wild storm last night, hmm? Did you lose power at the Abbey?"
A relieved laugh left her at this. "Oh, that!" she exclaimed. "No, we still have power, dear. Do you and John?" She glanced at Carson, who also wore an expression of relief about him. And then, it turned to a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.
"Thankfully, we do."
"I'm so glad to hear," Elsie said, somewhat distracted by Carson's lips on her shoulder. What cheek on that man, she thought. Playfully, she slapped his belly, but it wasn't particularly convincing enough for him to stop because his lips moved from her shoulder to her neck, trailing kisses along the way.
"John said the roads are in good shape," Anna continued. "It's warmed up a bit this morning and most of the ice has melted."
"Mmhmm," Elsie mumbled distractedly as Carson found a delicate spot behind her ear. "That's great news."
She squirmed away from his ministrations and playfully slapped him yet again, her eyebrows raised high on her face, her lips mouthing "stop" while still smirking. In fact, she didn't want him to stop, but she certainly didn't want Anna to be privy to this. Carson returned her smirk and pulled her closer back to him.
"Els?" Anna asked. "Did you catch that?"
A question had apparently been missed. "No, I'm sorry, dear. Haven't had my morning tea yet. I'm a bit out of sorts. What did you say?"
"Would you and Charles like to come over for a late lunch this afternoon? The Masons will be here, too. And I know how Henry would like to see you both."
As Anna asked this, Carson ran his thumb across her ribs, just a few inches below her breast in a particularly ticklish location. Elsie stifled a peel of laughter at the very last second and managed to squeak out, "That sounds lovely, Anna." His thumb repeated the act and she had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from giggling. "I–I'll have to ask Charles if he's free. How about I give you a call in a little bit and we'll get it all sorted, hmm?"
"Sounds great," Anna replied. "Chat then."
She hung up the phone, relieved that Anna was none the wiser before turning to the mischievous man next to her. "Charles Carson!" she laughed as she got out of bed, something she should have done two minutes ago. "The cheek on you!"
He had a boyish grin on his face. In fact, he looked rather pleased with himself.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself, Elsie," he chuckled. Smoothing down his unruly curl, he, too, got out of bed and put on the robe that he had brought with him the night before. "What did you need to ask me?"
"Where on earth you get the nerve," she said in a low, teasing tone. "Anna wanted to know if you were free for a late lunch this afternoon with her, John, and the Masons."
He stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. "You'd like to be seen in front of your friends with such a cad?" he joked.
"Against my better judgment," she murmured, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "But yes."
"Then I should be delighted."
Somewhere in Ripon
As Anna hung up her mobile, she smirked and shook her head.
"What's so funny, love?" John asked from the sofa in the sitting room. Little Henry bounced on his good knee and both were oblivious to what she found so amusing.
Anna bit her lip. "I–I think," she shook her head again, turning back to the mobile as if she could gain understanding by looking at it. "I mean, it's almost like I just heard Elsie and…" Her head shook again as she resolved not to reveal her conclusion. "Never mind."
Turning on her heel, Anna left to occupy herself with something else, away from the curious, prying gaze of her husband.
Alone in the sitting room, John shared a look with his infant son and had a smirk of his own. "Good for them," he laughed.
Later that morning, as Carson got ready for the impromptu luncheon at the Bateses, patting aftershave on his cheeks and running some product through his curls, he found himself humming. It wasn't any tune in particular; perhaps it was some amalgamation of songs he knew. Whatever the melody, he couldn't be bothered to care. He was in a fine mood, the finest he'd felt in a very, very long time.
As he buttoned a sky-blue Oxford, his mobile buzzed on the sink. The name on the screen was one he hadn't thought about in weeks.
"Robert, hello," he answered.
"Charlie, my boy!" came Robert's cheerful tone. "I hope I'm not interrupting any serious research."
Carson felt almost guilty for the complete absence of productivity he'd had in the last month, especially since he was here at his College's expense. Then again, he found that he couldn't be bothered to care, not when it meant waking up in Elsie Hughes's bed.
"Not on a Sunday," he replied with a chuckle. As if that were the reason.
"Good," Robert said. "Listen, the reason for my call is twofold. First, have you given any more thought to sticking it out at Downton past Michaelmas term? It ends in just a few weeks, so if you want out, I'll need some time to arrange something else for you for Lent Term. I don't expect an answer from you just yet, but I do hope you consider it at the very least. And secondly, at Cora's inquiry, will you be joining us for Christmas with Dickie and Isobel at their place in London? My girls and their families will be there, too, as will my mother. Thank God Dickie has room for us all. We're quite the troupe!"
Carson had almost forgotten that Michaelmas ended in just a couple weeks; a term had never melted by as quickly as it had here. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. It was the end of November, and Michaelmas always ended during the first week of December. Still, its impending end had come out of nowhere.
"I–I'll have to give both some thought," he answered. "Could I call you in a couple of days and let you know?"
Robert, good-natured as he was, smiled when he answered; one could hear it in his voice. "Good man, good man," he replied. "But don't wait too long. Cora and Isobel will have my head if I don't give them an accurate headcount soon."
"Of course. Can't have that, can we?" Carson joked flatly.
"Precisely. Alright, I'm off, old boy. Sybil's Tom and I are looking at cars in a bit this afternoon. The man is a speed fiend. Wish me luck."
And with that, the two scholars hung up, leaving Carson to mull about Robert's inquiries.
Later that afternoon, after a delicious lunch of roasted chicken and Yorkshire pudding that Beryl had prepared, Carson, John, and Arthur had snuck away to the den to watch a football match, Elsie, Beryl, Anna, and Henry remained in the sitting room. The ladies had opened a bottle of wine as they lounged around and occupied the baby; unbeknownst to Elsie, an interrogation was about to ensue.
"So, how are things at the Abbey?" came Beryl's mischievous tone from the other sofa of the Bateses sitting room. It was dripping with innuendo, make no mistake.
Elsie coughed and quickly took a sip of wine to hide her blush. "Things have been…good," she managed to say, not daring to make eye contact. She feigned interest in the charming bairn bouncing happily on her lap.
Anna and Beryl exchanged a glance. "And Charles? How's he getting on with his research?" Anna asked.
"Quite well," she nodded. "Very well, indeed. Well, at least, well enough."
"That's a lot of 'wells,'" Beryl laughed. With an encouraging nod from Anna, she added, "Love, you're glowing."
All color left her. "I–I am not."
"Mm, but you are, dearie," Beryl countered sweetly, in a way only a good friend would. She topped off Elsie's wine glass with a little more Chardonnay and said, "Now, why don't you be a good lass and tell us everything."
Elsie looked down at the wine glass as if the answers lie in its golden contents. A small grin formed without her permission at the thought of "everything" that had been going on since Carson's arrival.
"He's been a pleasant surprise," she said softly, almost demurely. What happened in her bed this morning and in the kitchen last night and in that lovely corridor in London was just for her and Charlie. Just the two of them.
"I'll say!" Anna chuckled. "I haven't seen you like this…well…since I've known you."
"How am I different?" she tread.
"You're a hell of a lot less snarky!" Beryl teased. "I'll have to thank Charles for that."
"What Beryl means to say," Anna interjected, "is that you seem more cheerful. Happier. You've always been a joy to have around, but something is different now. In a good way."
Elsie grinned once again. It had been a long time since she found herself in this position, and it was certainly different at this stage of her life, closer to its end than its beginning. She was wiser now; she'd loved and lost before. She'd been through heartache. But in spite of that, she still felt the same rush of her pulse, the same knot in her stomach that she'd once felt as a young girl in the headiness of new love for the first time.
Her wine was promptly finished off and she turned her attention to the sweet babe on her lap, eager to change the subject with her friends before she became saccharine.
"What a lovely afternoon," Carson said as he and Elsie drove back to the Abbey in his old Triumph. "I've said it before, but your friends are wonderful."
"They all seem to have taken to you rather quickly," she told him. "And Anna and Beryl both approve, which is high praise indeed."
He laughed and reached for her hand across the gear shift, pulling it to his lips for a hasty kiss. "I'm glad. I wasn't sure about Beryl."
Throughout their luncheon at the Bateses, Robert's question about Michaelmas mulled in his head. It was one he didn't want to answer rashly or without proper thought. It deserved that at the very least.
Perhaps to an outsider, whatever had been going on between him and Elsie had all the hallmarks of a fling. They were both settled in their respective careers in separate cities, both forced to live and work together for weeks, practically isolated from civilization. Other men might take this opportunity to cut ties before things got too involved for a mere fling.
But as Carson returned from the den with the other men to find Elsie and her friends chatting over wine, that charming baby in her lap, the sweetest look in her blue eyes as she saw him enter the room, his answer was made for him. In fact, he realized then that an answer had been made for him before Robert even asked the question. Elsie was, without question, the best thing that had happened to him in a very, very long time. He couldn't begin to fathom the thought of leaving.
He wanted a thousand more afternoons like this one.
His only hesitation now came from broaching the subject with her. What if she didn't share in his feelings? If he were just some fling to her?
"You're awfully quiet," Elsie asked, rousing him from his thoughts.
Carson shook his head as if that would shake away his doubts. "I–I'm supposed to leave at the end of Michaelmas," he said rather ineloquently. He inhaled a deep breath and added, "But I don't want to leave."
He risked a glance at her and found warmth in her eyes and her lower lip caught between her teeth in that way he adored so much. "I don't want you to leave either, Charlie," she told him quietly.
He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. Turning back to the winding Yorkshire roads in front of him, he nodded his head. "Good, then that's settled. You're stuck with me."
It was then that Carson felt Elsie's lips on his cheek. "I'm glad. I do want to be stuck with you."
A/N: Thank you all so VERY much for the wonderful support of the last chapter. I appreciate your readership, reviews, and support. I hope you enjoyed this installment. Things are obviously heating up, but I have some tricks up my sleeve ;)
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think if you can spare a moment.