For Emma.

Prompt: Cobert + "Did you indeed?"

Robert stared at his wife as she walked across the room to talk to his sister. She looked so graceful, so beautiful that he couldn't possibly take his eyes away from her if he tried. He'd thought her exotic the first time he'd seen her at a ball, and had found her beautiful now that he had been married to her for a quarter of a year, but it was only that night that he'd been taken so hard by the realization of exactly how disarmingly exquisite Cora was.

Her eyes were charming, enticing, and expressive. Her skin was soft and smooth. And her lips—her lips, he could kiss her all day. Yet, that was not enough description of how beautiful she was to him. It was hard to describe—her beauty. It wasn't only what was physical. Of course, she was physically beautiful, there was no denying that, but there was more to it than just that. She was beautiful on the inside as well, only adding up to her grace. She was soft and gentle, yet so firm and resolved and strong. The way she handled his mother only made him admire her more.

She was determined, Cora was, and he could sense it.

Usually, he fancied himself quite dense about women, and he would bet Downton, that he was indeed. Why else would have he been so naïve to think that at the first few months of their marriage, Cora had felt about him the way he did about her? Clearly, it—their marriage—had been so much more to her. Clearly it still was.

He watched her as she tilted her head to the side, listening as Rosamund talked of something animatedly—probably her honeymoon which she had only come back from. Cora listened, enraptured, a smile plastered on her face. There was a faraway look in her eyes, however, a sign that she was half daydreaming about other things. It wasn't really noticeable, but he'd noticed it, considering the number of times he'd seen that look.

He thought back to his own honeymoon, how stilted it had been, how disappointing. The swarm of relatives and close friends, all made to spy on he and Cora, had been overwhelming. Instead of having a great time knowing his wife, he'd spent most times being cautious around her and their family. He wished he could take those days back and give her a far more pleasant experience, if only to let her have the same dreamy look Rosamund now had in her eyes, the one he'd wished he'd seen on Cora the days following their return.

He sighed, as he looked down the glass of whisky he'd been holding. There was no way to turn back now. There was no way he could give that experience back to her. But he could make her happy now, that he knew—only he didn't know how.

He knew it had pleased her that he'd finally started spending the nights with her, a few months back, and he also knew how glad she was that he had started paying attention to her more—he'd felt the change. But he felt as though, those weren't enough. It felt as though he needed to do something more—if only he knew exactly what.

He wished he knew because now, there was nothing more important to him than her happiness.

It took a few more hours of mingling and chatting with family before they called it a night. At that point, he was just extremely grateful that they were headed for bed. Catching up with Rosamund and Marmaduke had been nice, but now he needed to be alone with his wife. He needed to feel him next to her, breathing, sleeping peacefully, and he needed that moment to just be thankful that out of all the men who had asked her hand for marriage, she had chosen him.

"'I will come and knock when I'm finished," he said as he stopped in front of her door. She nodded and he leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her cheek before leaving for his dressing room

It only took a few minutes for Watsons to finish dressing him for the night, but he waited awhile before knocking on her door for he knew it took her longer to finish getting ready.

He sat at the foot of his small bed, his eyes wandering past the dark bedroom. He'd wondered how he had been able to sleep through in this room night after night through the first half of their marriage. Her bed, now theirs, was so much more comfortable. Of course, he knew, it was largely due to the fact that she was there in that bed, and he slept with her in his arms.

He sighed. He realized, maybe he did know how to make her happy. Maybe it was what he'd felt that would do exactly that.

He'd been feeling it, for a very long time now. He'd felt it the moment he'd lit a candle on whilst making love to her just so he could finally see her, he'd felt it the first night he'd spent the night in her bed. He felt it, but it had taken him so long to admit it to himself. And now, it's taking even longer to admit it to her.

He loved her. He is in love with her. And that had been so hard to admit at first, but now, it felt so good and so right to say it.

He'd never fallen in love before, but he knew that if this wasn't it, then he didn't know what else it could be.

Again, he sighed. The problem wasn't identifying the feeling, the problem was letting her know what he was feeling.

Standing up and shaking his head, as he tried to push the thoughts back, he came over the adjoining doors and knocked. She should be finished by now. And when he heard her muffled "Come in" pass through, he opened the door slowly. He found her sat on the bed, with a small smile on her face.

She didn't speak as she watched him walk over to her. He sat down beside her on the bed and took her hand before leaning in and kissing her like he'd fantasized doing all day. He'd kissed her hard and deep, until they both had to pull away, gasping for breath. Her chest was heaving, and he was sure he could hear his heart beating so loudly in his chest.

"Hi," she whispered as she peered up at him. Her eyes were glowing, looking so happy, looking so satisfied.

"Hello," he whispered back. "I had wanted to do that since I had woken up beside you this morning." He brought his hand up to her cheek and caressed her soft skin.

"Did you, indeed?" she asked, a small smile gracing her face.

He nodded, nuzzling his nose with hers. He kissed her again, softly this time, and then started trailing kisses across her jaw, down her neck, down to her chest. He would let his teeth nip at her skin and then sooth it with his tongue, making her groan and moan. His hands soon joined in, and in no time they had divested themselves of their clothing, and he had her writhing underneath him. He knew her body well—like a master to a puppet, a musician to a fine-tuned guitar.

Moaning sounds filed the room, and though they tried to contain it, the sounds still escaped their lips. He knew exactly what to do, knew exactly what pleased her. It didn't take long for them to reach to the precipice of bliss. She cried out his name, like a song, and he fell onto her chest, groaning her name as he spilled inside of her.

He rolled them over, afraid of crushing her, and only laid down with her for a few minutes as they both tried to recover.

"I waited all day for that as well," he said in between pants. He pulled her closer to him and rubbed her back.

"Did you indeed?" she asked, grinning up at him. She closed her eyes and yawned, snuggling closer to him. He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her nose. Pulling the duvet over their now chilling bodies, he hugged her tighter. She was already asleep but had to add one more thing, "Night, Robert, I love you."

"Good night, love," he whispered to her now sleeping form. He closed his eyes and mouthed "I love you too," against her forehead, mentally kicking himself for being a coward.

One day, he was going to be able to tell her that he loved her, out loud and into her face whilst she was awake—because he did, indeed.

Fin (3/18/15)

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