“I told you no later than five, Sebastian Charles Moran, and it’s quarter past.”
“Mats,” he said, his voice caressing. “I was too overcome with thoughts of your beauty.” He slid his arm around her waist.
Mrs. Hudson pushed him away and closed the tin of biscuits she was holding with a sharp snick.
“None of that. You were supposed to do a job and you didn’t. I’ve a mind to send you back.”
“Come on now. It’s dark as a stack of black cats and raining besides. A man needs a little warmth.”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
Encouraged, he stepped closer to her again. He bent his head to kiss her ear, but she seized his wrist in a sharp, expert grip, and before he could react she’d twisted his hand behind her back.
“You’ll go back, and you’ll like it.” She dug her fingers into his pressure points, then pinched his arse for good measure. “I want that bug planted in the secret visitors’ room at the Diogenes Club, and I want it planted tonight. In any case,” she added, sliding her hand around to the predictable bulge at the front of his trousers, “You’ll get what you need.”
“Yes,” he said, his breath short. “I’ll go.”
“Good boy,” she said. “Beautiful. “