Thank you for the compliment! I'm delighted this is pulling you in.

Mary felt Tom's eyes on her all through dinner. It was an unsettling sensation. For the last month or so, he'd more or less avoided looking at her. Tonight, something was different, and it was playing havoc with her emotions.

As it was only her, Tom and her mama and papa in attendance that evening, the gentlemen didn't have port alone after dinner, instead joining the ladies in the less formal setting of the library. After half an hour or so of conversation, her mother decided it was time to retire, citing a busy day the next day with meetings and a luncheon for the hospital board. When Papa made noises about having one last drink, Mama gently chided him, chivvying him along to go to bed too.

As Mary rose to kiss her parents goodnight, she wondered what to do. It was early to retire and would leave her facing a long, lonely night, but the rules of the arrangement she and Tom had come to precluded her staying in the library alone with him.

Tom solved the matter for her in an unforeseen fashion. 'Mary, will you take a nightcap with me?'

She regarded him with some confusion. This wasn't part of the arrangement. In fact, it flew in the face of the arrangement.

'Oh, I think that's a splendid idea,' her mama said, beaming at them both. 'It's still early yet for you young things to think about going to bed. Why don't you take the opportunity to catch up on what's been happening with you both?'

Mary nodded, suddenly suspicious that her mother had something to do with Tom's unexpected invitation to share a nightcap. 'All right. Yes, that would be very pleasant.'

'Excellent. Now, come along, Robert, it's time for us to retire for the night,' Cora said, hustling her husband unsubtly along in front of her.

'I'm not really all that tired yet, Cora,' he protested. 'I'm sure a little nightcap will help me sleep.'

'And I'm quite sure Dr Clarkson would disagree with that, and so do I. Let's leave Mary and Tom to their conversation,' she responded taking hold of his arm and determinedly pulling him along with her. 'Goodnight, my darlings.'

'Goodnight, Mama, Papa,' Mary said, watching with amusement as her mother practically dragged her father out of the room. She looked across at Tom, giving him a bemused smile. 'Why do I feel like Mama has engineered this?'

He smiled back at her. 'Because she has.'

Before she could respond, Barrow entered the room. 'Her ladyship says you and Mr Branson will be requiring a nightcap, milady.'

Mary snuck a quick glance at Tom, wondering whether it would be better to keep Barrow hovering in attendance. It took her a little under a second to decide to dismiss the butler for the day.

'We will, Barrow, but I'm sure we can manage that ourselves. Why don't you retire for the evening?'

'Are you sure, milady?'

'Quite sure.'

'Then I'll bid you goodnight.'

'Goodnight, Barrow.'

As the butler withdrew, Mary looked over at Tom, waiting to speak until she was sure Barrow was out of earshot.

'What's going on, Tom? This isn't part of the plan. Why are we having a nightcap?'

'Let me top up your drink and then I'll explain,' he said, holding out his hand for her glass. 'Whiskey and water?'

'Yes, please,' she said, handing it over. She allowed herself the luxury of taking a long look at him as he went to the drinks station, her eyes lingering on the pleasing width of his shoulders, the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck where it was just beginning to need a trim. No, she thought, giving herself a little shake. This simply wouldn't do. Nothing had changed. She must resist.

Tom returned, passing her glass over to her and gesturing to the sofa. 'Shall we make ourselves comfortable?'

Mary moved to sit down, more than a little surprised to see Tom join her on the same sofa, albeit in the far corner, instead of keeping his distance on the opposite one. 'So, are you going to tell me what's prompted this?'

'Cora collared me before dinner. She asked me not to tell you this, but she said she's worried about you.'

'Ah,' Mary said, suddenly understanding. Her mother must have been more rattled by her outburst at the dressmaker's than she'd let on.

'She said you were upset this afternoon at Madame Swann's.'

'I… she caught me at a low moment,' Mary said, staring into her glass, reluctant to elaborate further.

Tom gazed at her. 'She said you miss me.'

Mary looked up at him, abandoning her scrutiny of her whiskey. 'I do. You must know I do.'

He slid his hand, palm down, across the sofa cushions towards her, letting it rest midway between them. 'I miss you, too.'

Mary was quiet for a moment then inched her own hand across the gap between them until her fingertips brushed his, the slight touch sending sparks through her. 'It's hard, being in the office every day without you. It's so quiet and I miss talking to you about everything.'

'Cora asked me to change my routine to spend more time with you.'

Mary looked at him in surprise. 'Did she?'

Tom nodded. 'She's worried about you. She thinks you're lonely.'

'What did you say? I can't imagine she made it easy for you to say no.'

Tom's lips quirked into a smile and Mary found her eyes dropping to gaze at his mouth, a little frisson running through her.

'No, she didn't. I told her I'd see what I could do.'

'But that's not in our plan,' Mary said uncertainly after a few seconds, lifting her eyes to meet his.

'No, but…'

'But what?'

'I don't know about you, but I don't think our plan is working,' he said, softly.

Mary stared at him, her heart in her mouth.

'Now it's my turn to tell you I can't stop thinking about you,' he confessed, holding her gaze. 'I think that old cliché about absence making the heart grow fonder is true. This enforced separation from you, it's making things worse, not better.'

Mary nodded, partly exhilarated, partly relieved, partly terrified by his admission. 'I feel the same. Even when you're not there, you're all I can focus on.'

Tom nodded in agreement, moving his hand closer still to stroke his fingers lightly over hers. Mary turned her hand over, letting him trace a pattern on her palm.

'Do you think we should try a different approach? Maybe if I come back to the estate office, it will be easier,' he said, keeping his voice low, even though there was no-one around to hear them. 'It might make things seem more normal.'

'Perhaps,' Mary said, cautiously, dragging her fingernails lightly over his palm. 'Maybe we'll start getting on each other's nerves instead.'

Tom smiled. 'Yes, maybe we'll annoy each other out of this… this thing.'

There's not a chance of that happening, Mary thought to herself. 'Maybe,' she said.

'I won't be able to abandon the dealership completely, but maybe I need only spend one or two days there a week. Or perhaps just a couple of mornings or afternoons,' Tom said, letting his eyes linger on her face, his fingers still caressing her palm.

'I don't expect you to put the dealership on the back burner. I know you have your obligations there.'

'I can do the paperwork from the estate office, it's just some of the other things I need to be at the shop to do.'

'So, when will you come back to the office?' Mary asked, her pulse dancing as he carried on lightly stroking her hand.

'Tomorrow. If that's all right with you?'

'Of course, it is,' Mary breathed, a slow smile spreading across her face.

Tom smiled back at her, sharing her joy at their decision. 'Good. It's driving me mad not being able to see you or talk to you.'

Mary hesitated, knowing she shouldn't ask, but the question burned within her. 'Are you really thinking about me too?' she asked, softly, holding her breath.

'Every minute of every day. At least, that's what it feels like,' Tom admitted, not taking his eyes off her. 'I know I shouldn't, but the more I try not to think about you, the more I do.'

Mary gazed at him, taken aback by the intensity on his face. 'I thought it was just me feeling like that. I thought you were finding it easy. Maybe even that it was a relief for you to be away from me.'

Tom shook his head firmly, setting his whiskey glass down. 'No. It hasn't been easy, and it certainly hasn't been a relief. Quite honestly, it's been hell. Ever since that day in the office when you said all those things… it's like…'

'What? It's like what?' Mary asked, lacing her fingers with his as he stopped talking. 'Tell me.'

'It won't make things easier for us if I tell you,' he said, reluctantly.

'Nothing's going to make this easier, Tom. Please. Tell me what you were going to say.'

He took a deep breath. 'It's like you pulled back the curtain that day and I've finally been able to see all the things I've been pushing aside and hiding away over these last few years.'

Mary stared at him, her heart lurching. 'What are you saying?'

Tom met her gaze, his eyes full of unspoken emotion. 'I think you know.'

'You want me too.'

He nodded slowly. 'Yes. God help me, I do.'

Mary bit her lip, another question eating at her. 'And is that all it is? When you think about me? Is it just lust?'

He hesitated before answering. 'No, it's not.'

'It's not for me either,' Mary said, softly, tingles running through her. 'I mean, there is lust – I'm still thinking about you like that – but if it was just lust that I'm feeling, I don't think I would have been so desperately miserable all these weeks without you.'

They stared at each other in silence, the enormity of their confessions hanging in the air between them.

'Tom,' Mary whispered, putting her glass on the footstool and scooting along the sofa, getting closer to him. 'If we're in lo-'

Tom shook his head, reaching up to put his finger on her lips. 'Don't. Don't say it, Mary.'

'But…' she murmured against his finger, her eyes wide.

'No. We can't do anything about it. You know we can't. If you say it, we might not be able to go on pretending anymore.'

'I'm not sure I can go on pretending anyway,' she whispered. 'Not now I know you feel the same.'

'You have to. We have to. You're married. Henry's my friend and my partner. We can't betray him like that. He doesn't deserve it,' Tom said, gently, despair in his voice. He took his finger from her lips, cupping her cheek with his palm instead. Mary closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.

'I hate that you are so infuriatingly honourable even as it's one of the things I admire most about you,' she muttered.

Tom gave a small, low laugh. 'I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.'

'It is a compliment. You wouldn't be you without your sense of honour,' she replied, ruefully. 'But, Lord, what I wouldn't give to have you abandon your principles and press me down into this sofa and make love to me.'

Tom stared at her and let out a groan, pulling his hand away from her face. 'Oh, God, Mary. I want that too. So much.'

Mary gazed back at him, desire swirling through her. 'You can, you know. You can have me. I won't say no to you.'

She watched, enthralled, as he swallowed and licked his lips. 'Don't tempt me.'

'I mean it, Tom,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'If you want me, you can have me. Right here, right now. Nobody would ever know.'

He gazed at her, his eyes dark. 'We'd know. And I don't think we'd be able to live with ourselves afterwards.'

'I'm not sure I care about afterwards right now,' Mary said, honestly.

They stared at each other, the air thick with tension. Slowly, daringly, Mary reached out, unable to stop herself, and ran her hand up his thigh.

Tom sucked in a sharp breath and she felt his muscles tense under her touch. Then he let out a ragged breath and stood up abruptly.

'No,' he said, his voice rough. 'No, stop it. We can't.'

He moved away out of her reach, putting the side of the sofa between them. Mary stood up, retreating to the other side of the sofa, her heart racing.

'Sorry. I'm sorry, Tom. I shouldn't have done that. Will you still come back to the office? Or have I ruined that now?' she asked, anxiously.

Tom looked across at her, his face troubled. 'No, I'll come back because staying apart isn't working. We need to try something else. But we need to be sensible about this. You can't touch me like that.'

'I know. I know I can't,' she said, knowing she'd made a mistake. 'I'm sorry. It's just that it's all I think about. Being with you.'

'You mustn't. You mustn't think about it. You have to fight it. Because if you don't…'

'What?' Mary breathed, delicious anticipation curling inside her.

'If you don't, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep resisting you,' Tom said, more than a hint of desperation colouring his voice.

She stared at him, her heart thumping in her chest. 'What if I don't want you to resist me?'

Tom let out a frustrated groan. 'Don't, Mary, don't. This is hard enough without you going all femme fatale on me. You need to help me fight this, not tempt me to give in. Henry's your husband. You need to fix that in your mind and think about him every time you're tempted.'

She nodded slowly, knowing he was right if they were going to get through this. 'All right, I will try, I promise.'

'Good, right, yes, that's good,' Tom said, looking like it was anything but good. 'I'm going to go to bed now. You stay here. Don't come up the stairs with me.'

'Why not?'

'You know why not,' he said in frustration. 'We'll get to the top of the stairs and… I swear to God, Mary, you need to let me go. I need to not be near you right now.'

Mary stared at him, biting her lip, every instinct in her screaming at her to go to him and press herself against him. It took everything she had to stay where she was. 'All right. Goodnight, Tom.'

He let out the breath he'd been holding. 'Goodnight.'

As he headed for the door, Mary slid around the sofa, leaning against the back of it, watching him go.

'Tom,' she said, her voice low and sultry, knowing she shouldn't push it, she shouldn't make things harder for them both, but she wanted him to keep thinking about her.

He stopped, his head dropping for a second before he turned to look back at her.

'While you're in bed tonight thinking about me, I want you to know I'll be thinking about you too. We'll be in separate rooms, separate beds, but imagining exactly the same thing while we both take care of our frustrations. I want you to think about that.'

Tom groaned and crossed the floor between them in two seconds flat, crowding Mary against the couch, his hands on either side of her clenching the high back of the sofa, white knuckles betraying the tension thrumming through him. Mary gasped, relishing the feel of every inch of his body pressed against her, pinning her to the sofa. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes, arching her body into his.

'Why don't you think about me taking you right here against this sofa while you're taking care of your frustrations?' he growled in her ear, his voice rumbling through her. He pushed his hips against her, and Mary groaned, feeling what she was doing to him. 'Because that's what I'm going to think about.'

Tom turned his head and kissed her, a messy, wet, open-mouthed kiss, full of passion, before pulling abruptly away and backing up. Mary stared at him, trying to catch her breath, totally aroused.

'Goodnight, Mary,' he whispered, his eyes wild and dark as they raked over her. 'Sweet dreams.'

This time Mary watched him go in silence, her body singing at the lingering phantom feel of him pressed up against her.