Of course, dinner was nowhere near ready, for Mrs Bird's preparations had been rather delayed by Mary's antics in the kitchen that afternoon. Mary tried to squash a flicker of guilt at the thought, but she didn't offer any meaningful explanation to Matthew's most recent question of just why dinner was so late. She knew he was already suspicious enough and she did so want to keep the cake a surprise. "I'm sure she is simply taking her time to prepare us a delicious meal to celebrate tonight."
When Matthew raised his eyebrows in disbelief, Mary offered no more, instead she just smiled at him across the table, making sure the candlelight was flickering in her eyes and playing across her smile. Just in case, she reached across the dinner table to gently take his hands in hers. Indicating the beautiful flowers that now stood elegantly in the vase between them, she said, "Thank you again for the flowers, Matthew. They are very beautiful."
The distractions seemed to work, for Matthew's face softened and he gently brushed his fingers across her palms. "I really am pleased you like them, Mary."
"Of course I do, but are you not going to try your hand again at poetry, Matthew? Perhaps comparing my porcelain face to the pale lilies or my ruby lips to the red roses?"
"Would that convince you to tell me precisely what you're up to this evening, Mary?" His voice was gentle, teasing like her own, but there was an edge of annoyance that told Mary she was treading a careful line with his patience.
She blinked in surprise, but managed to resist the urge to reach up to pat her hair, remembering all to well the evidence of icing he had found there earlier. "I don't know what you mean, darling. Are you suspicious of your wife for simply arranging a nice meal on your anniversary? For going to the trouble of preparing such an elegant dinner table?" She nodded pointedly at the candles and the finest china and glass that had been laid upon the lace table cloth. She hadn't actually set it, of course, but she had certainly directed Molesley on precisely how it should be laid.
"I'm simply curious why my wife refuses to tell me why she has icing in her hair, why my dinner is late and why she has what looks like cream on her neck."
This time Mary was unable to resist the temptation and she quickly reached one hand to the back of her neck, feeling a faint wet smear, which did look distinctly like cream when she looked at her fingers. She had been exceedingly careful in the rescuing of the cake, but it appeared she hadn't quite managed to remain completely unscathed, and there had been no time for her to check with Anna before Matthew had arrived.
Mary fixed her face with a bright smile before she looked back up at Matthew, a retort already forming itself on her tongue. "And does the state of your wife's attire bother you so much, Matthew?" She reached back across the table again to hold his hands, meeting his steely gaze with her own; her expression mischievous, her eyes challenging.
"Of course not, my dear, and as we have already established, I do not think it is wise for me to try my hand at flattering poetry, but…" Here he paused, his smile quirking into a smirk, his eyes filling with mischief as he leant across the table, closer towards her, eyes meeting her challenge. He turned her palms upwards and continued caressing them gently, fingertips causing shivers to run up her arm and the seductive lilt to his voice making the hairs on her neck tingle in anticipation. "Your attire is only one of many reasons why I suspect you are up to something, Mary."
Mary tried her best at her own seductive, coy smile, deepening her voice and also leaning closer and, judging by the shadows in Matthew's eyes, it appeared to work. "And pray tell, Matthew, just what has made you suspect me and what is it you suspect me of?"
"Oh, I don't yet know what you're planning, my dear," Matthew answered. "But I know there's something. You're not so good at hiding from me as you would like to think."
At Matthew's victorious smirk, Mary tried to pull her own hands away, his words and the meaning within them striking a chord. Matthew didn't release her hands though; his grip only grew stronger, keeping her in place. His smirk widened as he leant closer, his eyes still holding hers, darkening and growing in intensity. Mary's skin prickled hotly and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms, her heart beat increasing and her breath catching in her throat. His words, the huskiness in his voice and the desire burning in his eyes had thrown her off guard and she felt altogether too much like prey caught in the predators gaze. Even her voice betrayed her, trembling slightly as she answered, "Then I will simply have to try harder, next time."
The smirk upon Matthew's face widened playfully as he pulled her closer still and Mary unconsciously tilted her head upwards, her body shifting nearer. They were both nearly on their feet, leaning over the table, faces straining towards each other and hands still entwined. Suddenly, though, the door opened and they jumped away, startled.
"I'm sorry sir, my Lady, but dinner is now ready." Mr Molesley looked between them quickly, his face turning an interesting shade of pink. "Or shall I serve it a little later, sir."
It was far from the first time their butler had caught his master and mistress in a compromising situation, but the flustered look of embarrassment upon his face, reflected most adorably by her husband, never failed to amuse Mary.
"No, no, now is fine, Molesley," Mary answered eloquently. She was far quicker at recovering from these unexpected interruptions than her husband and had already seated herself down elegantly before he had even finished issuing his own answer to the butler. Mary watched in amusement as he then hastily sat down, grabbing his napkin that was swinging precariously towards the floor. Gone was the suave gentleman before her, his eyes and voice so intense they had quite put her under in his spell. Though that was not to say Mary was altogether recovered herself, for she could still feel the blood running hotly through her veins. But whilst Matthew had no qualms about kissing her in front of the servants on his return from work, Mary was still pleasantly amused by how quickly he became embarrassed when caught unawares. And Mary couldn't help but revoke her own revenge then and caught his eye across the table, dazzling him with a seductive smile and filling her gaze with dark promises. She had to stop her smile broadening into a grin when she saw Matthew gulp and quickly avert his eyes, instead keeping her eyes intently upon him. Her gaze held throughout most of dinner and her smirk grew as Matthew became increasingly flustered and awkward and it certainly helped her purpose of distracting him from his suspicions.
In fact, Matthew remained relatively quiet throughout most of dinner, only speaking slightly to compliment the wonderful meal and the care taken in the choices. The food, which obviously consisted of all of Matthew's favourites tonight, was mouth wateringly tasty and Mary was surprised Mrs Bird had been able to create such a feast considering the chaos Mary had brought upon her kitchen this afternoon, though this compliment Mary kept to herself.
Mary could suppose the lack of conversation at dinner was due to the absence of her mother in law, for Cousin Isobel had conveniently been invited up to the Abbey that night for an urgent discussion on her work with the refugees. Though considering the way Matthew kept glancing up at her, watching her face intently until Mary caught his eye and he suddenly looked away, suggested there was more distracting Matthew from conversation this dinner.
It was very rare for them to eat together, alone like this, and it felt delightfully intimate, romantic, with the flickering candlelight and heady scent of the flowers between them, especially on this night, their first anniversary. Considering they had been married a year now, Mary was often pleasantly surprised at how her husband could still surprise her so, how much she seemed to love and treasure him more with each passing day. And how, with much less effort than Mary would willingly admit, he still managed to make her heart pound frantically in her chest, distract her thoughts and make her breathing shallow and her eyes cloud with desire. It amazed her that even after a whole year, he could still make the blood run hot in her veins with a quick look, or make her skin prickle and tingle with a simple touch. Tonight, it seemed to be even more pronounced, concentrated; the celebration of their anniversary adding to the heightened, electric tension between them. Both found their thoughts straying to the day, and night, of their wedding and as the fire within her continued to grow, Mary found herself quite unable to resist enticing and teasing her husband. She ate deliberately slowly, delicately eating each morsel of food, letting her tongue brush against her lips and gently running her fingers along the stem of her wine glass, looking up at Matthew when his intense gaze lingered upon her too long. In fact, Mary was having so much fun tempting her husband, she was quite surprised when desert was announced and was unable to hide the guilt and apprehension that flickered over her face. She recovered her smile quickly, but the damage was done. Matthew's eyes narrowed and he looked suspiciously between her and the butler. "Mary?"
"Happy anniversary, Matthew!" She smiled sweetly at him, though her voice wavered and was perhaps a little too enthusiastic as she glanced nervously towards the door, avoiding Matthew's penetrating gaze as she instead watched the butler return, carrying the cake.