With all his evasive manoeuvering that evening, it was some considerable time later before Mary was able to corner Tom. She found herself forced to lay in wait for him in a quite undignified manner as he came down the stairs to return to the drawing room. She stepped out of the library as he was passing, seizing his arm and tugging him into the empty room.

'What are you doing?' he hissed at her, almost exactly as he had that afternoon in the office.

'You can't keep ignoring me,' she hissed back. 'Henry has noticed.'

Tom stared at her in disbelief. 'Mary, you kissed me.'

'Keep your voice down,' she snapped, feeling her cheeks redden as she glanced at the open door. She took hold of his sleeve, dragging him deeper into the library away from the curious ears of anyone who happened to be passing by.

'You kissed me,' Tom said again, his voice a harsh whisper.

'I know I did,' she retorted, crossly. 'You don't have to keep saying it.'

He stared at her in a way that simultaneously made her squirm uncomfortably and fuelled the burning longing she now knew she felt for him. Mary felt desire lick through her, both thrilling and horrifying her. She was beginning to realise that she might have a bigger problem than she'd thought.

'Why?' he asked.

'Why what?' Mary said, being deliberately obtuse, trying desperately not to give in to the voice in her head telling her to simply kiss him again. She could feel her self-control slipping dangerously.

Tom pressed his lips together, anger flaring in his eyes, well aware she knew exactly what he was referring to. 'Why did you kiss me?'

Mary stared at him, biting her lip, not really sure what to say now she'd finally got him there in front of her. All her resolutions about letting this go and ignoring her feelings fell away as she looked at him. She couldn't go back, not now she knew how she felt, not when simply being close to him was sending her body haywire. Tom stared back at her, waiting for an answer, but she remained resolutely silent.

'So, you're just going to drag me in here and not talk to me then, are you? Right. Fine. Got it,' he snapped, his patience at breaking point. When she still didn't speak, he shook his head in annoyance and turned to walk away.

Mary panicked and grabbed his arm, not wanting him to leave. He stopped dead, staring at her hand on his sleeve before raising his eyes to meet hers.

She gazed at him, still not saying anything, instead wondering how she'd never fully appreciated quite how attractive he was before now.

'If you're not going to talk to me, there's no poi-,' Tom broke off, silenced as Mary lost her battle with her demons and stepped forward, crushing her lips to his and pressing herself against him.

If she had to guess, this second kiss went on fractionally but deliciously longer than the first before Tom once again pushed her away. He gaped at her, utterly incredulous, but this time he didn't run away.

'What are you doing, Mary?' he asked in a strangled voice.

'I… I don't know,' she whispered, her eyes dropping to his lips as she fought the urge to kiss him again.

'Is this some kind of a game to you?' he hissed, a hurt look on his face.

Her eyes flew back up to his as she shook her head, frantically. 'No, of course, it isn't!'

'Then what is it?'

'I can't stop thinking about you,' she said in a rush, the words tumbling out of her before she could either think about them or stop them.

'You… wh-what?' he stammered, blindsided by her revelation.

'I can't stop thinking about you,' she said again. 'All of the time. All of the time.'

Tom stared at her, his mouth hanging open. 'No. No. You don't mean that.'

'I do,' Mary said, with feeling. 'I know I shouldn't, but I do.'

'But you're married! To my friend! And you're my sister-in-law!' Tom hissed, looking totally shellshocked.

'I know all of that!' Mary cried, impatiently, then glanced nervously at the open door. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice low. 'I've told myself all of that and it doesn't make a blind bit of difference!'

Tom stared at her, completely stunned by her admission. Mary took a step towards him, her heart sinking as he took a step back, keeping space between them.

'No. No. This… this is wrong. Henry…' Tom said, shaking his head.

'I know,' Mary whispered, unhappily. 'I know all the reasons why I shouldn't feel like this. Henry. Sybil. So many reasons. But I do.'

Tom eyed her warily. 'You're not thinking straight. You're having some kind of an… an episode or something. That's what this is.'

Mary huffed out a bitter little laugh. 'No, I'm not. I'm perfectly compos mentis. In fact, I'd go as far as to say this is the clearest I've been thinking in weeks.'

Tom shook his head again. 'No, you're confused, you must be.'

'I'm not,' she said softly, holding his gaze.

'Stop it, Mary.'

'You're all I can think about,' she murmured, her voice low and seductive, watching as colour stained his cheeks. 'All day, every day, for weeks now.'

'Stop it,' he growled again, looking at her nervously, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips.

'I can't. That's the whole point,' she whispered, inching closer to him, anticipation swelling in her chest as she saw his eyes drop to her lips again. 'I've tried, Tom, and I can't.'

Tom swallowed, looking more and more unsure about what was happening. Mary edged ever closer, her eyes locked on his, her fingers curling around his, butterflies rampaging around inside her. This time he didn't back away, just stood there, staring back at her, his lips parted and a look on his face that made Mary want to push him up against the nearest wall and plaster herself against him.

'Mary? Tom?'

Mary jumped, letting go of Tom's hand and looking guiltily over to see her husband standing at the library door, a quizzical look on his face. Tom turned away from her, his back to Henry.

'What's going on in here?' Henry asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Mary. 'Oh, for heaven's sake, you're not fighting again, are you?'

Mary didn't answer, flicking her gaze anxiously over to Tom, her pulse hammering. She saw him wipe his hand quickly and discreetly over his mouth removing any trace of her lipstick then he pulled himself together and turned around to face Henry.

'No, just a slight misunderstanding, that's all,' he said, refusing to look at Mary.

'You're sure?' Henry asked, shooting an annoyed glance at his wife. 'If Mary's been harassing you again about things that are none of her business, you must say.'

'Yes, I'm quite sure. It's nothing like that. Just some estate business where we have different opinions,' Tom lied smoothly, interrupting Henry's flow while also stepping to one side, casually putting a bit of distance between himself and Mary.

Henry looked between them, obviously wondering if Tom was covering up some kind of unacceptable behaviour on Mary's part. 'Right, well, if you've sorted out your misunderstanding, are you coming back into the drawing room? People are asking after you both.'

'Yes, we are. After you, Mary,' Tom said, gesturing for her to go in front of him, still not meeting her eyes.

With Tom making it clear their conversation was over, Mary took her cue and walked over to the library door, acutely aware of Henry's questioning look. She sailed past him with her head held high, ignoring the prickles of guilt stabbing at her and trying to push down the lingering excitement from her charged encounter with Tom.

Behind her, Henry began a conversation with Tom as they left the library, making her ears prick up anxiously before it became apparent her husband was talking shop, not interrogating Tom about the scene he'd walked in on in the library.

Mary spent the rest of the evening circulating the room, talking to everyone other than Tom, who stayed doggedly away from her just as he had in the earlier part of the evening. But with every conversation she had, she fancied could feel his eyes on her, and it took all her willpower not to turn and stare back at him. Yet despite the feeling of being watched, she only caught him looking at her on a couple of occasions, an unsettled expression on his face.

At the end of the evening, after their guests had left and her parents had retired to bed, Henry suggested a nightcap in the library, not taking no for an answer when Tom tried to beg off. Mary sat next to Henry on the sofa, barely contributing to the conversation. Instead, she quietly sipped her whiskey and water, taking full advantage of the opportunity to drink in the sight of Tom on the opposite sofa. She gazed at him, wondering how he could be so comfortingly familiar and yet so excitingly different at the same time. He glanced at her several times during his conversation with Henry, clearly becoming increasingly uncomfortable with her unwavering scrutiny, but he said nothing.

When they retired for the evening, the three of them walked up the stairs together just like any other night, halting at the top to say goodnight and go their separate ways. Tom wished Henry goodnight then hesitated before leaning forward to kiss her cheek as he usually did before taking his leave and heading off to his room.

Mary watched him go, Henry's hand on the small of her back, her cheek tingling from the brief brush of Tom's lips, shocked but not all that surprised to find herself wishing it was Tom who was taking her to bed that night.