I recently drove 3000 miles with only the company of two (very untalkative) Briards. Between listening to classic radio serials and singing my head off into the spring wind, I also mentally outlined an entire fic, which would become this story. Perhaps a little different than the offerings you may be used to from me, I still firmly stand beside my chosen pairing and I hope you'll remember that.

In short all I ask is that you, dear readers, trust me. I promise not to lead you astray.

So. Are you afraid? Don't be. It will only hurt for a little while.

The carefully folded note was tucked between the ledgers on Robert's desk in the library, and he was sure it hadn't been there before luncheon. Once he unfolded and read it, he knew for certain it hadn't been there.

He heard Cora enter the room behind him, speaking hurriedly to Carson who was trailing behind her. Without much tact he crumpled the handwritten note and stuffed it into his pocket before turning and catching the last of her instructions to the butler.

"Yes, my lady." Carson said with a quick bow and backed out of the room to begin the exhaustive list she'd just assigned him.

With a sigh, she dropped onto the settee and rested her forehead in her palm.

"We'll have our home back to normal yet." It was no secret that Robert was eager to have Downton returned to its pre-war status as a home, not a hospital. She knew it would please him to see her working so hard to make that happen for him.

"You've done a wonderful job," He said and meant it. While she had still been too busy to see to her duties as a wife, she had excelled at managing the big house. It was enough to make his mother eat her words, and he was forced to admit that was no small thing. "I missed you at luncheon."

The guilt on her face was plain, considering she had not a week previous apologized for being unavailable. Once again missing a meal at Robert's side, she knew, was positively unforgivable. But she was still terribly behind from her bout with that awful flu. It wounded her to see her husband so obligingly distant.

"I don't mean that as anything but a statement." His eyes were gentle and sad. "I missed you."

She held his gaze, blue meeting blue, for a long silent moment filled with unvoiced accusations and half-accomplished forgiveness.

"I missed you too." She said at last.

Robert found himself fixating on the crushed paper in his pocket all day, running the words repeatedly in his mind even as he brushed his fingers across the paper. Over and over he dipped his fingers into his coat to assure himself that he hadn't lost it.

Thoughts of its significance distracted him through his daily rituals and even through dinner. Even his mother remarked on his unusually quiet presence, when it was hardly like Lady Violet to argue when she had sole custody of the evening's discourse.

Once the meal had broken up and they'd spent the dignified amount of time socializing in the drawing room, Cora nodded to Carson and everyone stood to retire. Robert watched as Cora walked his mother to the front door silently marvelling at how their relationship appeared to have grown. It was something of a regret to Robert that he allowed Cora to be so influenced by his mother, for he saw evidence of that influence grow greater each day.

After the Dowager was set safely on her way. the girls made their own journey up the stairs. Edith and Mary continued bickering relentlessly over some unimportant detail from the evening's conversation, their argument eventually fading as they reached the hallway leading to their rooms.

Robert offered a small smile and his arm to his wife and they began to climb the staircase in silence. At the first landing up Cora once more asked Robert if everything was quite alright.

"No," he admitted at last. "I've had a headache nearly all afternoon. I'm afraid it has made me rather grumpy. I won't saddle you with my bad mood tonight, my love. If you've no objection, I think I will sleep in my dressing room."

Cora nodded in understanding, and Robert wondered if he had merely dreamt the vague look of disappointment in her face. After all, she had been falling asleep almost as soon as she curled into her pillows at night. It wasn't as though she would truly miss him that much.

At the door to her room he kissed her cheek and she turned her face just enough that his lips landed on the corner of her mouth. The small smile she gave him was cheeky and inviting, but also resigned, and he brushed his fingers under her chin. "Good night."

"Good night."

Her bedroom door closed solidly between them.

It seemed to Robert to take an interminable time to get through his nightly routine of dressing for bed. He wanted to push Thomas out of the room bodily when the young man set to doing menial tasks once Robert sat down, setting his cuff-links just so and polishing a few of the snuffboxes.

"I'll see to your Lordship in the morning." Thomas said at long last and took his leave. Robert couldn't quite contain his sight of relief. Extinguishing the light at his bedside he remained seated on the side of his bed and he watched the light and shadows play under the door to Cora's room.

The muffled voices spoke at length and casually, and not for the first time Robert wondered what on earth his wife saw in Mrs. O'Brien. As far as he was concerned, she was a gossiping shrew who could not be trusted as far as she could be thrown. For reasons unknown to him, Cora fostered an affection for the woman and defended her staunchly at every turn. But it was Cora's dogged loyalty that got them to this point in their lives, so he knew it was unwise to question it.

When at long last the light went out next door, Robert listened as the O'Brien's footsteps faded down the hall.

For good measure, he waited another hour until the house settled completely. Downton was never silent, but over the years he had become quite familiar with the sound of the sleeping house. Assured that it was as still as possible, Robert quickly and quietly re-dressed into riding pants and a loose shirt. It was not the most dignified of outfits, more suited for working in the fields than anything, but it was all he had at short notice. It wasn't as if he could simply ask Thomas to find him appropriate casual attire to wear in the middle of the night.

Grabbing his boots he pressed his ear to Cora's bedroom door and listened for a long aching moment. Not a single sound could be heard, and he assured himself that now was the perfect time.

With practiced steps borne of repetition, Robert made his way silently through long dark hallways, down the front stairway, and out a rarely used side door. Pausing on the stone steps he slipped into his boots before trotting quietly to the barn.

He bypassed the stall of his prized mare, Jezebel, and instead chose a non-descript chestnut gelding. A stabled ride used for the more inexperienced at the hunt, the creature was nevertheless quick and affable and, most importantly, unfamiliar to most of the people in the village.

Robert made quick work of the tack and it was only a quarter of an hour later when he led the horse out of the stall. Sticking to the shadows they moved slowly in the direction of the road to the village. Once out of sight of the house, Robert swung into the saddle and urged the horse into a hasty trot.

The moon was new. The dirt road between Downton and its surrounding village was canopied by heavy trees and it was quite dark. Robert was forced to rely on the horse's innate sense of balance and sure-footing through most of the ride, focusing on staying upright and not allowing his nerves to get the better of him.

Another ten minutes later and lights began to seep through the darkness. Homes and taverns spilled a golden glow into the darkest part of the night and they grew brighter the closer Robert got to town. Just before the dirt road led into the village's main thoroughfare, Robert turned left and led the horse along the outskirt of town. He was able to see better without the cover of trees, but with so many dwellings and businesses so close, he didn't think it was that much of a blessing. It always vexed him, just how vulnerable he was on these rides. Vulnerable to recognition, to being found out.

But as he always did, he put it out of his mind.

Going this route was longer, but it afforded him the advantage of circumventing Grantham House as well as the Dower house. No point in creating even more difficulties for himself than he already was.

Finally, just as he was beginning to feel the pinch of nerves, the Inn came into view.

It was one of the oldest establishments in the village and had a very ignoble reputation. However what it lacked in lush amenities it made up for in anonymity.

For his purposes, the Frog and Nightgown was a most appropriate location.

Robert saw to his horse quickly and quietly, pleased to find an open stall this late at night. He crossed the bare open space between the stable and the Inn and was momentarily startled by the wizened face staring at him through the glass of the back door. The dancing shadows from the candle in her hand caused her to appear even more displeased than usual as she pushed open the door for him and stepped back.

Once inside she stared at him with unblinking black eyes; eyes he knew saw right into his very soul. Dipping his hands into his coat Robert pressed a wad of money into the old woman's leathery hand and repeated the words he said every time he visited.

"There is no need for Lady Grantham to hear about this."

During past visits the old woman would lead the way to the room at the back of the Inn. But she merely inclined her head in the right direction, passed him the candle, and shuffled off to the muted sounds of the pub housed in the front of the building. Robert waited until everything was silent again before turning to the cramped staircase leading to the bedroom.

He didn't really need the light, for he knew the way by heart.

He paused just outside the door, and took a brief and uncharacteristic moment to reflect on what he was doing, and why. But why didn't matter. He was driven to her side whenever she called, and if he was in for a penny, he was in for a pound.

Consequences be damned.

He knocked just once, softly, before heading inside.

She was luminous in the small bed, her clothing folded neatly on the room's lone chair. She had the scratchy sheet pulled up above her breasts and her skin was alarmingly pale in the flickering gold glow.

Loss made her appear older than her years, but his desire saw only the smoothness of her skin, the swell of her breasts beneath the sheet, the pink stain of desire in her cheeks.

Perhaps if he wasn't so hungry for her touch, to feel a connection to a human being, he would have acknowledged his guilt at using someone so frail. Someone who had so recently experienced such pain.

And yet there she was, holding her arms open for him. He didn't hesitate; didn't think about anything but ridding himself of his clothing and crawling nude across the creaky little bed to press his entire body into her. She gasped and his mouth covered hers, his tongue pressing between her lips.

He was demanding, hungry, and so violently angry all at the same time.

She didn't seem to mind his bruising fingers, or his hurried press into her body. She encouraged him with fingers and sighs and open-mouthed kisses. Her hips undulated in the rhythm he set, which was demanding and slightly uncomfortable for her. His pleasure was her pleasure, and she felt it her duty to erase the discontent from his face. After all, it was the only thing she had to offer him.

The muscles in his neck corded under her teeth and the pain was intense bliss.

With one hand on the mattress beside her head, he lifted her hips and changed position to bury deeper. Her grunt conveyed a mixture of pleasure and pain and he continued his driven press into her warmth.

Sweat pooled at the base of her neck and he lapped it away, closing his eyes and pressing harder, twisting his fingers into the mattress until they positively ached.

He felt her body contracting around him and still he surged on, a man possessed, release staying just out of his reach. It took him a second to recognize the keening noise was coming from him, as his mind begged for the release his body traitorous body wouldn't allow.

"Robert," She spoke so softly, her lips brushing against his ear. "My lord."

Every muscle in his body went taught. He collapsed against her with a loud groan.

Relief.

Robert lay cradled between her thighs for long silent minutes. She rubbed her palms soothingly over his back and peppered kisses against his hair. It bothered him that his hair was so silver, declaring his age as compared to her youth.

She didn't mind, she'd told him once. It made him look so dashing, so dignified.

Robert wasn't sure that he wanted to be dignified. Not with her, not in this room where he had been anything but dignified many times over.

"I should go," He almost didn't recognize his own husky voice. She clasped his hips with her thighs once, before letting them fall open and releasing her hold on him. He pushed away reluctantly and began to dress. The tension that had knotted his muscles all day released and he felt loose and limber and, dare he think it? Relaxed.

Once dressed he sat beside her on the bed and allowed himself the luxury of looking at her properly. Her smile was languid but the edges were tinged with nervousness.

"I'm sorry." She said at long last, when his slow perusal of her face began to make her uncomfortable. "I just...had to see you."

Lifting his fingers in his hands he brought them to his lips and smiled as he kissed them. "Don't ever apologize for wanting me."

"What are we doing, Robert?" She asked, and her expression begged from him something he wasn't sure he could give. She wanted so much from their union, more than he thought he was capable of providing. Once more he was struck by the unfairness of it all, of their fragile relationship, of his title, of deception, of loss.

Of everything.

"I have to get back." He answered. There was no answer or explanation; there was no room for one. And he knew she understood. "It is I who am sorry. I've brought us to this place, and now...I don't know what we are to do."

"Tell me you love me?" Her voice was weak and it stabbed at his heart.

"I do. Very much."

And then he was gone.

This is but 1 of 4. And this time, I know exactly where I'm going. Release that breath you're holding. All will be okay in the end.