Cora doesn't bother to hide the tremor of her lips as Robert stalks back into her - their - room. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she cannot help but be amused at how thoroughly he resembles a petulant child at this moment. His fists are tightly balled as he takes stiff steps from the door to the bed. It swamps her again, as it has so often in recent months, how much she loves this man. Every stubborn, silly, idiotic inch of him.

They have lived and loved for too long for him to be able to deny the truth of her words in his dressing room. It was a low tactic, pointing out indiscretions better left forgotten, but she doesn't regret it. She knows it irritates him to be caught out in that way, evident in his rough toss of the duvet.

"I'm still angry." He says to the wall, seating himself on the furthest edge of bed with his back to her.

"As am I." She responds simply and is rewarded by the swivel of his head on his shoulders. Exasperation tempers her amusement and she meets his gaze with an arched brow.

"And what do you possibly have to be angry about?" He huffs. She wants to slap him, take his lapels in her fists and shake him. But the unmistakable twinge of hurt in his words stills her. They are so adept at wounding each other, often without even realizing it. She watches blandly as he stuffs his feet beneath the blankets and curls on his side away from her. The desire to withhold, to turn the other direction and go to sleep is strong. But she refuses to let him pout his way out of a reconciliation.

"Would you like a list?" Cora doesn't usually care to fight. With Robert it is an exercise in futility. More often than not he comes around on his own. So she slides across the expanse of their bed and buries her face against his back. One hand slips over his stiff form to press against his chest. For the first time in weeks, she breathes deeply and is surrounded by the smell of him. Her fingers swirl in the cotton of his nightshirt, tangling briefly with the buttons before coming to rest against his abdomen. She won't let him slip away but holds on until some of the tension eases from his shoulders.

Satisfied that detente has been reached, she rolls away from him and is pleasantly surprised to hear him follow her. Strong arms scoop beneath her and pull her to his chest and it is his turn to bury his face against her.

"I was jealous." His mumbled statement is strained, hot puffs of breath brushing over the sensitive hair at the base of her neck. She shivers in his arms and clutches at the hands across her middle.

"I was flirting." She shrugs helplessly. "I didn't think he would take it so seriously."

"Oh my dear," Robert breathes, and she is relieved to hear the note of amusement. "You always have underestimated your ability to enchant men."

"Don't be ridiculous, Robert."

"Don't you be." He unearths his face from her fragrant hair and rests his chin on her shoulder. "I spent the first five years of our marriage in unending jealousy over every man who came into this house. You bewitched them all. Bricker, poor sod, he never stood a chance."

"I didn't want him." She told herself she refused to feel guilty, but there was some culpability in her actions. "It was nice to be appreciated for my mind."

"I've behaved terribly." It is true, but she did not expect so frank an admission.

"So have I."

"We are foolish, the two of us."

"We are."

"Do you forgive me?" His lips brush the nape of her neck and she feels her muscles loosen instantly.

"If you forgive me." She wants to turn in his arms, to look into those impossible eyes of his. She longs to kiss away the lines of doubt she herself carved into his forehead and ease the disgruntled set of his shoulders. But he his holding her firmly against his chest and his knee is slipping between her thighs.

They always did have a knack for making up, she thinks.

"What say you, My Cora?" He whispers, emphasizing the 'my' while his fingers plucking at her night dress. "Shall we knock over a lamp?"

She laughs.