A/N: For theglamourfades. Happy Birthday! I'm sorry I couldn't get this finished on time for you. Still, I hope you enjoy it...and at least you have the rest to look forward to? :P Seriously, you are a wonderful friend and a true inspiration to me. Your writing style is beautiful and something that I look up to so much. I am so very very pleased that you're on board this ship.

When I asked her, TGF simply stated that she'd like something fluffy and smutty, with a St. Patrick's Day twist (no smut in this version though).

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

The Trip

1. The Journey

John Bates smiled to himself as the rocking motion of the train lulled him gently into light-hearted thoughts. Against him, her head nestled into the crook of his neck, Anna slept, her breath rasping gently and blowing against his skin. She was a warm weight, and he curled his arm more protectively around her. He couldn't see her face because her hat was obstructing him, digging rather irritatingly into his jaw, but he didn't dare move for fear of disturbing her. In any case, he was perfectly comfortable.

There was a warm weight snuggled against his chest, too, and he allowed his eyes to travel down to lovingly regard the curly mop of hair that was tucked snugly beneath his chin. John smiled. His youngest daughter was sleeping across his lap, her little legs dangling between his, one tiny thumb plugged into her rosebud mouth, the other hand curled in the material of his waistcoat. The clean smell of her hair wafted into his senses.

Sprawled on her belly on the seat opposite them was their eldest daughter. Her blonde hair was fanned out across the seat, one of her arms curled under her cheek. The other dangled over the seat's edge. And, slumped against Anna's side, was their son. John couldn't crane his neck to see him, slightly encumbered by Anna, but he knew that his little face would be scrunched, as if he was concentrating hard in his sleep. With a twinkle in her eye, Anna always said that he was too like his father, obviously taking delight in seeing their boy as a mirror of her husband. In fact, she took obvious delight in the way that the twins resembled him more. It was a fact that couldn't possibly be denied, no matter how much he wanted to protest that he could see Anna in the children more. Dark haired and dark eyed, they had inherited some of Anna's characteristics—her nose and the shape of her eyes—but everything else about them screamed their father. Anna always said that she loved seeing him in them just as much as he loved seeing her.

John sighed in absolute contentment. He had never known such peace in his entire life. And it was all down to the four people sleeping in the train compartment with him. They were perfect, his little family. He couldn't have wished for more. Three well behaved children. And a wonderful wife to share all of his life with. He was sure that if there was a God, it was His way of telling him that he had atoned for past mistakes.

The train whistled and, across from him, his eldest daughter stirred.

"Pa?" she said sleepily.

"Yes, love?"

"Are we nearly there yet?"

John couldn't reach for his pocket watch to check the time, but the green fields were giving way to scruffy looking buildings. "I think so. We shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes."

The little girl pushed herself up into a sitting position. Blue eyes blinked owlishly at him. "Should we wake Mummy?"

"Let her have five more minutes, Martha. She's been very tired recently."

Martha nodded, rubbing her eyes. Then she shuffled along the seat to peer out of the window curiously. John regarded her lovingly, watching the way that her hair caught the late afternoon rays of sun. She was the absolute spit of her mother, everybody said so. John didn't mind in the slightest.

"Why would I want her to look like me when she looks like you?" he'd said one night not long after her birth, gathering Anna up in his arms as she'd nursed her. "She's had a lucky escape, if you ask me."

The comment had earned him an apparently well-deserved smack on the arm for needless self-deprecation, but John was still thankful that Martha had turned out more like Anna.

"Pa?"

He was shaken out of his thoughts once again by his daughter's sunny voice. "Yes?"

"Tell me about Ireland."

He chuckled. "Haven't you heard enough about Ireland?"

"No! I want to hear it again!"

"I have limited knowledge, love."

That didn't deter Martha in the slightest. She was at an age now where everything was exciting and new. When he and Anna had told her that they would be taking a trip over to Ireland to visit one of John's cousins, she had been almost beside herself with excitement. She had insisted on hearing stories about Ireland every night before she went to sleep. Anna had joked that John had only made her anticipation worse. His tales about unicorns and faeries in the woods (the latter modelled on Anna herself, though he would never admit to it) had only made Martha even more enthusiastic for the trip. The twins, of course, didn't really understand what was going on, but they had still joined in with their big sister when she had been in a particularly excitable mood, toddling about on plump legs and shrieking.

Luckily, however, John was spared the job of having to repeat whatever tale that Martha wanted to hear yet again, because the train finally seemed to be slowing down. Peering out of the window, he could see that the pretty green fields had been completely replaced by cold, grey buildings.

"We're almost here now," John told her. "Do you want to wake your brother?"

Martha nodded eagerly, sliding from her seat to squat on the floor in front of him. John grimaced. She was going to get dirt all over her pretty dress, and Anna wouldn't be very pleased about that. Still, there was nothing he could do about it now. Martha was reaching out a tender hand to gently rub it across her brother's cheek—something she had seen her mummy do countless times—and John turned his attention to his second daughter.

"Grace," he coaxed gently, "Grace, my love, we're almost here. Are you going to wake up now?"

The little girl grouched a little at being woken, turning her face into his jacket and pushing her forehead accusingly against his chest. John kissed the silky hair on top of her head consolingly, juggling her on his knee. The whine of her twin was what ultimately roused her, and she pushed herself away from her father's chest to peer blearily around her mum.

"There?" she said to her father.

"Almost. Will you get down a minute, just so I can wake your mummy?"

Grace slid from his lap clumsily, clinging to the side of the seat as the train juddered beneath her feet. John groaned silently and stretched his right leg in relief—it always cramped horribly when he held it in the same position for too long—and then gently removed his arm from around Anna's shoulders. At the movement she shifted closer to him. He shivered, then gently brought his hand up to stroke against the side of her face.

"Anna," he said gently. "We're here, love."

"Five more minutes," she mumbled, nuzzling her head into his neck.

From below, Martha giggled, reaching up to tug on her mother's skirts. "Come on, Mummy! We're going to Ireland!"

Reluctantly, Anna pulled herself away from John's shoulder, managing a sleepy grin at the three eager faces below her. "Oh, all right. I'm awake."

"You don't say that to me when I tug at you," he murmured playfully in her ear, and she swatted him, blushing.

"Little ears," she reminded him.

"What do you mean, Mummy?" Martha asked brightly, wobbling a little as the train came to a decided stop.

"Nothing, baby girl," said Anna, shooting him a significant look.

He smirked easily at her, watching as she pushed herself to her feet and bent down to stroke her hand over all three of her children's heads. He could hear loud activity in the train's corridor, and stood to begin to collect their bags in one hand. Anna herself was busy clasping her hands in each one of her daughter's.

"James, hold on tight to Martha," she told their son. "Martha, don't let him go."

"I won't, Mummy," said Martha brightly, and John felt an unexpected stab of shame. He wished that he didn't have to use a cane. He could have taken responsibility of his son then, instead of entrusting it all to their six year old.

But Martha was gripping her little brother's hand tightly in her spare, and there was nothing he could do to change the past. Pushing his guilt away, he worked open the compartment door for Anna, and she jostled the children out. He followed close behind, paying close attention to his son, who had the tendency to get distracted easily. Anna expertly kept all of the children in line as she moved towards the exit. Once there John slipped in front, moving down onto the platform and setting their luggage down by his feet as he reached back inside. He took Grace in his arms first, lifting her down to the platform beside him, then reached back for Martha. His knee protested warningly, but he gritted his teeth and persevered as he repeated the motion. He hated the fact that he was struggling to lift her nowadays, when she was still so young. He repeated the action for the third time with James, and held him in his arms until Anna had stepped gracefully off the train. Once they'd reassembled themselves into a line, they began to push their way through the crowd.

"Mummy?" shouted Martha. "Will we see the faeries today?"

She laughed, squeezing her hand affectionately. "We're not in Ireland yet, my sweet. Remember? We need to get on a big boat first."

"Oh." Martha's frown was pensive. "How long will that take?"

"When you wake up in the morning, we'll be nearly there."

Martha nodded, and fell silent again. They emerged out onto the street in front of them, and Anna stood away from the curb while John flagged down a taxi. The man who stopped for them was grumpy, with a thick Liverpudlian accent that Martha declared loudly that she couldn't understand, much to the mortification of them both. He didn't seem to take offence—not that they could be certain, because his face expression did not change—and Anna bundled herself and the children into the back while John took the front. He was informed that they were only twenty minutes away from the docks. The driver didn't seem inclined to offer more than that, so John settled himself back, contenting himself with listening to the happy noises of his family. James and Grace were squabbling over the seat nearest the window, even though they were settled now; Anna chided them both, saying that neither of them would be sitting near the window in future, and John couldn't help but smile at it all. There were imperfections in their family, of course there were, but these imperfections only made him love them all more. Martha had the tendency of saying things without understanding the consequences of them, and Grace sometimes had the incredibly irritating habit of sneaking into her parents' room at night, letting them know with her limited vocabulary that she was too scared to sleep—it could happen so unexpectedly that he and Anna had been forced to start redressing themselves after they had made love, just in case she chose to walk in. Even more frustrating, their lovemaking had been reduced to short, heated fumbles, one eye always on the door. John had firmly decided that they should invest in a lock for their bedroom door so that they could at least make love in relative peace, although they hadn't managed to put that particular plan into motion just yet. James was prone to long instances of quietness—just like him, Anna would accuse him playfully again. But these little quirks were what made up each individual baby in his family, and he was in awe of them all. Quite how he had managed to help create something so perfect, he would never know.

The motor soon pulled up into the docks, and John paid the driver quickly, moving around to pull their bags free as Anna assembled the children in a line.

"Now," she said, "it's absolutely imperative that we stick close together, all right? You don't want to get lost now. Not when we're getting on the boat. You might end up in America."

"America?" Martha's eyes brightened at once. "Mr. Barrow used to tell me about America!"

Anna and John exchanged a look.

"Oh, he did, did he?" said Anna. "And what delightful stories was he telling you?"

"About how they eat children!" said Martha, swiping impatiently at a strand of blonde hair. Contrary to what her parents might have thought, she seemed fascinated by the possibility, not scared. "Would they eat Grace and James, Mummy? Would they eat me?"

"Of course not," said Anna. "Honestly, that's ridiculous. Americans don't eat children."

"It looks like I'll be having a little chat with Mr. Barrow next time we're at Downton," John grumbled. "That man is asking for a smack, filling our children's heads with such notions."

"Yes, but you will not be the one to give Mr. Barrow a smack," said Anna warningly, catching hold of Grace's hand. "Martha, keep a tight hold on your brother again."

John sighed. "I know, I know. But just for once it would be nice to give him a jolly good—"

"John!"

He bit his tongue and quieted. He knew that he shouldn't speak of violence in front of the children. He was raising them better than that. Still, Thomas Barrow had been a constant source of irritation over the years. Even now, when they no longer worked in Downton, he was managing to be a pain.

He was roused from his thoughts by one of Anna's pointed looks, and he cleared his throat, beginning to lead them through the throng of people.

"My boat?" he heard James ask brightly, pointing a little finger towards the huge ship dominating the docks.

"I'm afraid not," laughed Anna. "That's a ship, not a boat. We only need a little one to get to Ireland."

"Oh," said James, pouting a little. "Look?"

"They wouldn't let us on board without a ticket, son. And if we don't get to ours soon, it'll leave without us. And then we'll just have to go back home and write to your pa's cousin to tell her that we couldn't make it. She'd be so disappointed. She's looking forward to meeting you."

"And you," John called over his shoulder. "You're somewhat of a mysterious figure!"

Anna blushed a little. "Anyway, we'll take you to look around our boat tonight. Would you like that?"

James nodded, grinning widely.

At last they reached the boat that would take them over to Ireland. There was a little line of people ready to file aboard, some clutching at young children, most simply couples of various ages. They got in line behind an aging couple, who were busy arguing in low voices about the things that they had packed for the journey. They were able to board quickly, John juggling the cases as he showed the steward their tickets. The man called for another to take them to their room, and John surrendered the cases gratefully, falling back to relinquish Martha's duty of clutching her brother's hand—a task that he told her she had performed very well. She glowed at the praise.

They followed the man down a long corridor, eventually coming to a stop outside a simple wooden door. John moved forward to open it for him, and he dumped the bags on the bed. John withdrew a coin and tipped him for his help, and then the door was closed behind them.

"This is nice, isn't it?" said Anna as she walked further into the room, inspecting her new surroundings.

"Where are we to sleep, Mummy?" asked Martha, frowning. "There are only two beds, and there are five of us!"

"Well, Mummy and I will be sharing this one," said John, shooting his wife a smirk that went straight over the children's heads. She blushed at the meaning of that smirk, smacking his arm gently.

"Will Grace and James be sleeping on the floor then? I'm the next oldest, so I should get the bed."

"No!" said Grace indignantly. "Mamma, not fair! My bed!"

"And me!" James piped up.

Anna rubbed her temples. "You'll all be sharing the bed."

This was met with an even louder chorus of indignation, and Anna grimaced again.

"Mummy, that's not fair! We don't share at home! And Grace always fidgets and it's annoying!"

"Martha mean, Mamma!"

Throughout the protests, Anna turned to John. "I hope you realise that this is all your fault. We should have travelled third class."

"But those rooms are awful. There's no room to breathe, never mind move."

"At least they would have had their own bed in third class."

He shuffled. "And so would we."

"Oh, so it's about that, is it? You and me sharing?"

He limped over to her, dropping his cane so that he could wrap his arms around her waist. She sighed, unable to stop herself from leaning in to him as he nuzzled softly against her neck. His hands found the familiar flare of her hips. "You know I hate sleeping without you."

"And here was me thinking that you wanted to treat us to a more luxurious trip."

"Well, I do. I just thought being able to share a bed was an added bonus."

She rolled her eyes, and he tilted her head to the side so that he could read her gaze. "Forgive me?"

"I might, later on."

He dipped his head, kissed her just lightly, aware of the fact that they weren't alone. She sighed softly against him, leaning completely into his touch.

"What about now?" he murmured.

"Oh, most definitely," she said, tilting her head up to kiss him again.

"Mummy, Pa! That's disgusting!"

They broke apart to find all three of their children's faces scrunched up in disgust. Anna slipped out of John's grasp and bent down in front of them.

"All right," she said. "We're all done now."

She shot John a look, and he couldn't help smirking. Yes, they were done. For now, at least. When they were alone…well, that was a different story.

Dinner was a quiet affair. The little dining room in second class was friendly, the tables squashed in together. Anna and John found one that was just big enough to accommodate all five of them, and even James found something to eat on some of the courses, which was a relief since he could be so much fussier than his sisters. All three of the children stared around at their surroundings with inquisitive eyes, and were faultless in their behaviour. Plenty of other people commented on their exemplary manners, which made both Anna and John glow with pride.

After dinner, they conceded to a walk around the boat, pointing out points of interest to them. Eventually, however, Martha began to complain that she felt sick, and Grace started up soon after.

"All right," said Anna. "Let's get you back to our cabin. You might feel better then."

"A good night's sleep will work wonders," John agreed.

James looked disappointed. "Stars!" he said.

Anna and John exchanged a look.

"You want to see the stars?" clarified John, and James nodded. Anna and John exchanged another look before Anna smiled.

"I'll take Martha and Grace back to the cabin." she said. "Your pa will take you to have a look at the stars. All right?"

James nodded eagerly, and John squeezed his hand tighter. "We'll see you back in the cabin later, then."

Anna nodded. "Have a nice time. And look after him," she added playfully.

John nodded seriously, bringing him closer. "Don't worry, I won't take my eyes off him."

She reached between them and kissed his cheek gently, and then began to walk Martha and Grace away.

"It looks like it's just you and me then, son," said John with a twinkle in his eye. "Man to man."

James' little face glowed at the idea of him being a man, and he drew himself up to his full height, which wasn't very tall at all.

"Not sick, Pa," he said proudly. "Look ocean!"

"And you shall," said John. "It's a wonderful sight, James."

They arrived at the deck soon afterwards, and James immediately pulled his father as close to the railings as possible, tipping his little head back so that he could gaze at the stars. John came up behind him, putting his cane aside so that he could hitch his son into his arms, groaning a little, using the railing as a welcome support. James' arms clasped themselves around his neck, and John breathed in the sweet scent of him, overwhelmed with love for the life that he had helped to create.

"They pretty," James commented, his dark eyes earnest.

"They are, aren't they? They're much more visible here than they are back at home."

"Why?"

"Well, the sky is much clearer here, see? There are no factories, so there is no smog. It's much more beautiful here."

"Pa?"

"Yes?"

"No sea!"

He chuckled. "What did you expect, in the dark?"

"See sea." The disappointment in his son's tone made his heart want to break. He vowed that they'd never want for anything. He wouldn't fail any of them.

"Well, what if we came out here in the morning, before we arrive? You'll be able to see it then."

James nodded eagerly, snuggling against him. In time, John knew that he would become more reserved in his affection, reining it in because he'd think that it would make him more of a man. John silently swore that he would cherish each moment of affection that was bestowed upon him until then.

"In any case," he continued. "The stars are much prettier than the sea. The sea doesn't flicker."

James returned his attention to the sky, peering up at it interestedly.

"I know some of the star names," he murmured in his son's ear. "I learned a little about them in Africa."

"Africa!?"

He chuckled at the awe in his son's voice. "Yes. I was there a long time ago."

"See lions?" By now, James was completely disregarding the stars again, his brown eyes wide with boyish excitement.

"I saw them once," John said. "But only from a distance. Still, I could tell that they were magnificent creatures. Huge, powerful things."

"They roar?"

"Oh, yes. Very loudly too."

"Me see them too," James decided.

"Perhaps you will. As a famous explorer." At least, John hoped that that would be the only way that James saw the world. Through strife and hatred…that wasn't the way to go about it. John hoped that his children never saw the horrors that he had lived through, and even the uncertainty of the war that Anna had experienced.

"Me go America," said James. "See people!"

"Who don't eat children, no matter what Mr. Barrow says," said John firmly. "Anyway, son, I think we've seen as much as we're going to see tonight. And you're shivering. Mummy will tell me off if you get cold. Come on, let's get back inside."

James clung to his neck tightly as John gripped his cane again, transferring his son to his left arm as best he could.

"I might have to put you down," he warned him. "Your pa's not the young man he used to be."

Still, he managed even though he struggled, holding on tightly as they made their way back down the stairs to second class. His knee was beginning to protest more earnestly by the time he made it back to their cabin, but he gritted his teeth and persevered, easing open the door with some difficulty and slipping inside.

Anna was sitting at the tiny desk squashed into the corner of the room, already dressed for bed. John was struck suddenly mute by how beautiful she looked. Her hair was braided neatly, a few strands hanging loose around her face. Her nightgown was on, and he swallowed against the realisation that the flimsy material was all that she was wearing.

"Oh, there you are," she said, rising to her feet. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd got lost!"

"No, just taking in the sights," he told her, slipping James from his arms with a groan. Anna gave him a reproving look.

"John, you shouldn't carry him."

"I can manage," he said stubbornly.

She rolled her eyes, holding out her arms for James to walk into. "Yes, of course. Get yourself ready for bed now. I'll see to James."

"Early night, is it?" he said innocently, but he couldn't hide the cheeky twinkle in his eye.

"You'll be lucky," said Anna. "There are little people about. You know the rules."

He sighed exaggeratedly, moving over to wrap his arms around her. "Do I at least get a kiss?"

She pecked his cheek quickly, then pulled away.

"That's it?" he groaned. "Has the passion died in our relationship?"

"Get ready for bed and perhaps I'll kiss you properly," she said. "I'll get James sorted. He looks dead on his feet."

John watched her fussing around him for a moment before limping over to the bag which was thrown on their bed. He foraged around for his night things, before moving towards the bathroom to get ready—if it could be called a bathroom. It was barely big enough to accommodate him. There was a toilet, a sink and a mirror, and that was all. He splashed water onto his face and neck, running a damp cloth under his arms. He pulled on his bottoms and then slipped on his top. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, he returned to the bedroom. Anna was just tucking James into the bed he was sharing with his sisters. Martha and Grace didn't stir as he fidgeted until he was comfortable. John lingered in the background, simply taking in the sight of them. His heart swelled. He would never tire of seeing Anna as a mother.

"Go to sleep now," she murmured, bending to press a kiss against his dark hair. "Goodnight."

"Night, Mamma," he murmured in reply, his eyes sliding closed. Anna stood up properly and moved towards where he was standing.

"How are Grace and Martha?" he asked her lowly.

She sighed. "Fine, I think. Martha was sick when we first got back, but Grace wasn't. And they were both out like lights as soon as their heads hit the pillows."

"Looks like James is following them," he murmured. Anna took a moment to eye him.

"And the same goes for you," she said. "You look much better."

"Better enough to kiss?" he asked.

She sighed in exasperation. "Really, John. Get into bed."

"Only if you join me," he growled.

"You really are being impossible," she told him, though he noticed that she was smiling. "What's wrong with you?"

"I think you know the answer to that," he said, and she shivered.

"Soon," she promised him. "In Ireland. Do you think you can contain yourself until then?"

"I doubt I have much choice in the matter."

"No, I don't suppose you do."

He heaved a long-suffering sigh, then peeled back the sheets on the bed. "Very well, then. I'm getting into bed now, and I'll content myself with reading."

She smiled her approval, and he rummaged round for his book and, after a moment's hesitation, pulled out his glasses. He could see her smirking a little to herself as he reluctantly perched them on his face, flipping open the book to the relevant page. He shifted a little to accommodate her—the bed was a little smaller than he'd initially thought—and then they both settled. Anna yawned widely.

"Tired?" John was amused when she blushed.

"Perhaps," she admitted.

He shifted beside her, peering around his book. "Sleep, then. It's been a long day."

"You don't mind? You wouldn't rather me stay awake and chat for a while?"

"Of course not. I'll turn the oil lamp down and then it'll be darker."

"I love you," she sighed, lowering herself onto her side, back to him. "You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I love you too. Now go to sleep."

He could see the smile on her face as she snuggled down in the sheets. It didn't take long for her eyelids to begin to droop. When he reached the end of the chapter he would join her.

Anna awoke early the next morning, temporarily disorientated by the foreign bed and the foreign rocking. She could feel a warm weight beside her, but there was no warmth pressed against the length of her back, nor a strong hand cradling her stomach. Struggling up a little, she twisted herself onto her other side, blinking blearily. A slow, affectionate smile spread across her face.

John was snoring quietly beside her, still sitting up. The covers were pooled around his hips, exposing his upper body to the chill of the room. His chin was dropped against his chest, and his glasses dangled from the end of his nose.

The glasses had been a recent addition to John's life, one that he frequently griped about. Anna had noticed him squinting more often whenever he was checking out customer details or relaxing for a few minutes at the end of a long day, and had eventually convinced him to go and see an eye specialist. He had returned clutching a glasses case.

"Solid proof that I'm an old man now," he'd grumbled, throwing them down.

Anna had giggled, but her humour had soon died down later that night when she'd seen him wearing them for the first time. She'd felt a familiar flutter in her stomach and lower down as she'd watched him poring over an invoice, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

"My, my, Mr. Bates," she'd purred, walking over to him, draping her arms around his neck from behind. "You're looking rather dashing."

"Don't mock," he'd sulked.

"Who says I'm mocking?" she'd murmured, nipping the ridge of his ear. "They make you look very intelligent."

"As opposed to me normally looking simple?"

She'd swatted his shoulder, moving around him to lean against the little table that he used as a desk. He'd cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"The children are in bed," she'd told him. "So I was wondering if you could help me with my learning."

He'd looked nonplussed. "What learning?"

Heaving an exasperated sigh, she'd nudged him back until she'd been able to sit on his lap, taking extra care of his right knee, which had been bothering him more over the week. She'd allowed her hands to run down his front, stopping just shy of his groin. "Well, I'm a little behind on my poetry. I was hoping that you'd be able to help me with my recitals." Bending in low, she'd allowed her teeth to nibble just slightly at his bottom lip, one of his many weaknesses when it came to her.

He'd been listening most intently then, his hands rising to graze the sides of her breasts.

"I'm sure I can help you with that," he'd growled, leaning in to kiss her. She'd let him, her tongue meeting his was barely suppressed desire. The contact between their tongues had the rest of his body suddenly springing to attention, and he'd groaned into her mouth. Her fingers had moved to his collar, working it open feverishly.

"The children are in bed, you say?" he'd gasped.

She'd nodded, preoccupied with the buttons on his waistcoat. "Sound asleep. They won't be awake for hours."

Smirking, he'd hitched her up off his knee. "In that case, I'd be more than happy to give you extra tuition."

"And what will that entail?" she'd groaned, closing her eyes as his lips had descended to her neck.

"You'll have to wait and see," he'd rumbled. "But I can promise that you're going to enjoy the lesson very much."

In the next instant, he'd been pulling her towards the door, intent on getting her to their bedroom—or at least the sofa. She'd shrieked happily, but had paused when she'd caught sight of him reaching up to remove his glasses.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" she'd said reprovingly.

He'd frowned. "Removing these infernal things, of course."

"No, you're not," she'd breathed huskily, letting her eyes rake over him appreciatively. "They're staying right where they are."

Anna shook her head to derail her increasingly distracted thoughts (she certainly had enjoyed his lessons that evening), and looked back to John.

His book was near his limp hands. Evidently he had fallen asleep over his reading. Anna couldn't help her heart swelling at the sight of him. It wasn't very often that she was graced with the opportunity to watch her husband sleep. At home, he was always up before her, usually dressed for the day ahead. Sometimes he would still be beside her, and she would show him her appreciation of the fact with her lips and her body. But it was rare that Anna should see the same sight as he did every morning. The lines on his face were smooth now, his hair tousled boyishly. It made her stomach flutter.

She wondered briefly what time it was. It still looked dark outside. It was probably the early hours still. They might be able to sleep for a few more hours.

"John," she murmured. "John."

He mumbled something, barely rousing, and she grinned again, leaning up to rescue his glasses, pressing a kiss against his nose.

"Come here," she coaxed gently. "Lie down here next to me."

Half-asleep, he did as he was asked, shifting sluggishly, collapsing on his side next to her. Anna took hold of his hand and brought it round her stomach in their natural sleeping position, and he made a noise. She suppressed the urge to giggle. Her husband really was adorable when he was sleepy. She wished that she could wake him up a bit further, but that was out of the question completely. Their children were still sleeping in the room.

Anna sighed and closed her eyes again. The sheets were warm, if thin. The pillow wasn't very comfortable, but she was too tired to really care. She would make do with feeling John's body weight against her. It was more than enough anyway. Soon her eyelids soon grew heavy again. She didn't try to fight it, and was soon pulled beneath the surface of sleep, content in the knowledge that her family would be there in the morning.

The next time she awoke, she was aware of John's hand rubbing softly against her clothed stomach. She moaned, and he stopped the motion at once.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was gruff with sleep.

"Morning," she mumbled hoarsely, shifting round so that she could face him. His own eyes were still drowsy.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her, moving to press his lips to the tiny bit of skin that was exposed at the base of her neck.

"Wonderfully," she admitted, stretching out her limbs. "What time is it?"

"My pocket watch is over on the chair over there," he mumbled, "so I have no idea."

"Oh." The silence lingered on for a moment, pointed, until John chuckled despairingly.

"You want me to go and check, don't you?"

"That would be nice, yes. Thank you, darling."

He kissed that bit of skin again, lingeringly. "If I do that, I won't be getting back into bed."

"We couldn't do anything even if you did," she teased. "So I'm afraid that that won't be tempting me to change my mind."

"Will you at least give me one kiss to take with me?"

She smiled a little at hearing those words used in much happier times. "I suppose I can stretch to that."

She didn't give him time to register her words, winding her arms around his shoulders, her knees bent so that she could curl her left leg around his right. Her mouth was on his in the next instant, showing him that she was properly awake. She swiped her tongue over his bottom lip, moistening it for him. His hand rose to the back of her head, pulling her closer and opening his mouth wide for her tongue to slip inside and tangle with his. She could feel his body quickly responding to the brush of their tongues, and he pulled away quickly. It did not surprise her. She shot him a knowing grin.

"Oh dear," she chirped. "I was going to ask if that kiss was sufficient, but now I see that I don't have to."

"You tease," he growled at her. "You just wait until I get you alone. You won't be so smug then."

Anna felt her body flush eagerly at his words, but she kept her composure. "I'll look forward to you acting out your threat, Mr. Bates."

With that, John dropped one last kiss against her nose and slipped out of bed.

"It's not very warm," he commented reproachfully.

"What did you expect?"

"Not this," he grumbled. "Even our rooms at Downton were warmer than it is in here."

"That must be saying something, then."

Shivering, John foraged through the clothes that he had placed on the chair last night. He found his pocket watch and picked it up, squinting at the time.

"It's half past eight," he said, sounding shocked. "God, I don't remember the last time I stayed in bed so late."

"I can," said Anna lowly. "It was that first day in our cottage at Downton."

He chuckled. "Oh yes, I remember that well. We waltzed into work an hour and a half later than we should have. I thought Mr. Carson was going to dismiss us on the spot."

"Until Mrs. Hughes intervened," giggled Anna. "We never quite dared to do it again."

"Poor Mrs. Hughes took pity on us after that. It was very kind of her to nudge Lady Mary into allowing us to have some time off. But I still blame you for that first day, you know."

"Me?" she said, watching him gather his clothes together. "If memory serves me correctly, you were the one who kept me between those bed sheets that morning."

He moved back towards the bed, leaning over her to kiss her and whisper in her ear. "And how was I supposed to resist you? You were naked. It would have been a crime not to ravish you."

She let out a shaky breath and John pulled away, looking pleased that he had managed to affect her this time.

"We should wake the children," she said, trying to force her mind off the rather steamy recollections she had of that morning. "We don't want to miss breakfast completely."

"You're right," he agreed. "I'll do it now before I get changed."

Anna watched him move over to the other bed in the cabin, sitting down on the end of it gently. He passed his hand softly over the top of Martha's blonde head, tenderly encouraging her to wake. She whined sleepily.

"Come on, love," he said. "It's breakfast time. And we're nearly in Ireland. You don't want to miss our arrival, do you?"

At the mention of Ireland, Martha shot up at once. "We're almost there?"

"Yes, darling."

Martha squealed loudly enough to rouse her brother and sister, and leapt out of bed with an energy that Anna thought should be banned so soon after waking.

"We'll see the faeries," she sang, running to find her clothes. "Mummy, get up!"

"I'm getting up," she sighed, meeting John's amused stare across the room. "Come on then, let's get you all ready for today."

"Our holiday is just beginning," said John with a smile.

Anna smiled in return. He was right. It was.

They made their way to the breakfast hall soon afterwards, and it passed quickly. Tea and toast was brought to the table for them, and Martha pestered for some sausage and egg. The children chattered happily about various silly things, and when it was time to go, John offered to take James up to see the sea before they arrived.

"That's a good idea," said Anna with a smile. "I'll go back to the cabin to get our things together, and then I'll meet you up there. Girls, do you want to come with me or stay with your father?"

"Stay with Pa," said Martha at once, wrinkling her nose at the thought of having to help pack.

"Pa," Grace parroted, and Anna chuckled.

"I know when I'm the least desirable one," she joked.

"You're the most desirable woman in the world to me," John growled as the children contented themselves with pushing their chairs back noisily from the table.

"Mr. Bates," she warned. "Flirting will get you nowhere."

"What's flirting, Mummy?" asked Martha.

"Never you mind," she said primly, and he chuckled.

"Sorry, love," he said, squeezing her hand tightly. "I'll see you soon. Now, you three little explorers stick close to me, all right? Don't cause your poor, old pa too much grief."

They set off in opposite directions. Anna glanced back over her shoulder. She couldn't help but smile. John was herding them gently along, limping just behind them as they bounded along the little corridor.

She made her way back to their cabin, and quickly gathered their things together, eager to re-join her family once more. Once back on the deck, she paused for a moment.

John was standing by the railings, an arm draped around each of his daughters, James tucked in front of him. There were others on deck, but Anna only had eyes for the four in her line of sight. Slowly she moved towards them, sliding her hand across her husband's back. He jumped.

"Hello, love," she said softly, reaching out to ruffle Grace's hair.

"Hello," echoed John, moving to press a kiss against her hairline. "Have you got everything together?"

She nodded, moving to nestle herself against his side as Grace and Martha moved forward to peer over the railings.

"Will we see Ireland soon?" asked Martha, rising up on her tiptoes.

"Any minute now," he reassured her.

They stood in silence as the boat drifted ever closer to their destination. And then James squealed.

"That, Pa?"

"It certainly is that," said John, and Anna couldn't stop her little gasp at her first glimpse of her husband's favourite country. Green, rolling hills. Quaint little houses, small and beautiful.

"Can we look for faeries today?" asked Martha.

"Well, not today. We have to be polite to my cousin today. But perhaps tomorrow we can."

Martha sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "All right."

"What do you think, Anna?" said John, squeezing her lightly. "Do you like it?"

"It looks amazing," she told him honestly. "I really can't wait."

He smiled widely, and they watched the island grow bigger as the boat sailed closer. Finally, they were close enough to make out the explosion of pretty colours and the little dots of sheep grazing on the hills.

The dock that they pulled into was noisy, but not quite as dirty as the ones in England. As Anna gathered the children together, John picked up the bags and smiled at her.

"Welcome to Ireland," he said.