THANK YOU for all the Chapter 14 reviews, especially MandaPanda's lovely PM and antigone's review prompting me to hurry up!
I'm so sorry this update has taken so long. As well as being on holiday, I've found this chapter unbelievably difficult to write - I don't think I've ever written so many drafts!
I'm now (reasonably) happy with this chapter - enjoy!
She returns home with fresh eyes. The familiar features of Downton Abbey - the imposing stonework, rich decoration, centuries-old portraits - seem strangely reassuring.
Nothing has changed.
She resumes her role as Lady Grantham:
"Carson, I need to freshen up before dinner. Could you send O'Brien up?"
"Very good, milady." The butler nods deferentially, his demeanour as cool and impassive as ever.
Nothing has changed.
So why does everything feel different? Why does she feel her world has been turned upside down?
"Do you ever wish-" she could feel him behind her, his fingers on her shoulders and his warm breath on her neck "-you weren't Lady Grantham, wife, mother, chatelaine? Have you ever wanted to escape for a few hours?"
"Mmm..." she instinctively leant back into him as his hands drifted down her arms. His mouth brushed over her neck, hands dropping to her hips to pull her closer. She closed her eyes, savouring the delicious warm sensations provoked by each kiss and touch.
Could she really do this? Would her husband ever find out?
His hands snaked round her waist...
Could she escape for a few hours?
...she groaned when his lips nipped her bare skin...
YES. Robert did not need to know.
Cora was greeted by O'Brien in her room - bath already running and evening clothes laid out on the bed. Ordinarily she would find her it musing, yet tonight is different. There is something oddly unsettling in her maid's efficiency.
O'Brien removes the hair pins and helps her with her clothes. She shivers, thinking back to Haxby - where she was stripped to her underwear with no less skill but rather more urgency.
She cannot meet the other woman's eye, certain that some small detail of clothing or hair will give her away her secret.
Your maid will be loyal to you.
Richard is right - and she has no doubt of O'Brien's loyalty. Nevertheless, there is something wrong with compelling her maid to share her burden. She impulsively turns round and flashes a knowing smile:
"Thank you, O'Brien."
His hands moved fluently over buttons and clasps, slipping her blouse off her shoulders and pushing her skirt down over her hips. The laces at the back of the corset were loosened in one tug, then he reached back round her waist to unhook the busks.
"You're very good at this." No, that was NOT what she had intended to say. "I mean - the corset..."
"It's not difficult." The corset was thrown off and onto the floor, leaving her exposed in just her underwear. The idea of what would happen - what they would do next - left her terrified and aroused in equal measure.
She turned round and pressed into him, trying to take control and delay the inevitable a moment longer. She concentrated on countless small sensations - the softness of his lips against her tongue, his bicep under her hand, his own hands gliding smoothly against her chemise. It was so, so different - hurried and unrestrained, seemingly struggling and coming together at the same time.
She worked his jacket and waistcoat off his shoulders, and pulled on his tie...tightening it further...Correcting it only made the problem worse...
He stilled her hands with an impatient grunt, loosening the knot round his neck and tossed it onto the floor.
"Let's go to bed."
"But you're not..." she lightly touched his shirt "... you're still dressed."
"We can do all that later," he grasped her hands to led her towards the bed. "Or afterwards." Before she could dwell on what he meant, he had leant down to whisper in her ear:
"Cora - I want to make love to you."
She can still feel him - the smooth movement of his hands over her body, his lips on her breast, the way he moved inside her. Nothing could erase those memories - or the arousal that pumped through her veins at the mere thought of him...
"I've laid out the red chiffon dress - unless Your Ladyship has a preference."
"No, no. Thank you, O'Brien." The last time she had expressed a preference was at Christmas.
When Richard was here.
She groaned impatiently.
The motion of his hips on top of her was too deliberate, too steady, too slow - and he was still dressed! She defiantly reached for the top button of his shirt-
Her hand was pinned to the pillow in one smooth movement. He shifted higher up, until her lips were level with his neck.
"Better?" He rocked gently in the new position, barely moving yet pushing against somewhere rather sensitive.
Oh yes...
She wrapped her legs round him and he thrust deeper. His hands slipped smoothly under clothes and over the curves of her body, too fast to keep track of...
She shuddered under his touch, biting down on her lip to maintain a semblance of control-
"Don't bite your lip..." he whispered. "Let me hear you..."
She looked into his face. Instead of the self-satisfied smirk she expected, she saw only intense concentration, his jaw clenched and his eyes studying her reactions.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this..." He thurst harder and-
"Ah!" She gripped his shirt and matched his increasing rhythm, any self-control replaced by a desperate craving for release. It was too intense, too erotic, still too slow...She could feel the gradual crest of excitement building and building, until-
"Are you alright?" Her husband is standing behind her in the mirror, dressed in his evening tails. "You look quite flushed."
"I'm fine." She busies herself with the ointments on her dressing table, trying to bring her mind back to Downton and Robert.
"Hmm..." Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him adjust his appearance in the mirror. "You're not the only one suffering from last night."
"Last night?"
This time he looks genuinely worried. She tries to think back more than few hours ago, before Haxby and Richard-
"The Servants' Ball."
"Oh...yes, of course."
She tries not to flinch when he touches the fiery heat of her cheeks. "Are you sure you're alright? Do you want a tray brought up instead?"
"No, I...I'm just tired."She stands up to face him with a strained smile.
"I was looking for you this afternoon. Where were you?"
Her smile freezes. She is sure the burning in her cheeks will reveal the secret. "Charity work," she manages in a small voice, silently begging him not to question further.
"But..." she catches a frown. "Isobel was here today, so you couldn't have been with her...".
"Darling, I could never work with Isobel! I...it's...the Needlework Guild."
"I see." She forces herself to look at him. He is trying to work something out - or making a decision? His hand is finally extended towards her:
"Shall we go down?"
A/N: I'd love to know what you think - especially the M-rated parts.