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“You’ve been avoiding me.” said a well-known voice behind her.
Startled, Mary knocked a book over the edge of the table, the sound of its spine hitting the floor echoing into the dark library.
“I have nothing else to say to you, James.” she said, taking her time to pick up the book and smoothing out its pages before addressing the man who now sat beside her.
“Will you at least hear what I have to say?” he asked. His hand found hers over the book and to her dismay, a shiver ran down her spine at his touch. Even after what he’d done, he still could make her body react to him with a single touch.
Sighing, Mary turned into her chair, hoping that making him say his piece would then make him leave her alone.
“Mary, I’m sorry.” he said. Their gazes met in the low lamplight, and the sorrow she saw in his dark brown eyes almost made her resolve crumble.
“I’m sorry you had to see me with that girl, but most of all I’m sorry that I thought that was the best way to gather information on the case.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on this knees, and reached out to hold both her hands in his. His head hung between his shoulders, and Mary had the sensation that for the first time in his life, James Moriarty was truly sorry and apologising for what he’d done.
“This has been the most horrible week of my entire life, and that’s because I couldn’t speak to you or even just see you, Mary. I thought nothing could hurt me, but then you barrelled into my life and nothing makes sense anymore if you’re not there with me.”
He lifted his head, tears glistening into his eyes, and Mary felt her own eyes starting to tear up.
“I have missed you so much, Mary, and I will spend my whole life trying to earn your forgiveness if I have to.”
Something shifted in her, and Mary felt all her anger, disappointment and frustration leave her, like a chalkboard being wiped clean at the end of a lecture.
She had known, from the moment James took her hand, that she would forgive him, because what he’d said was true for her too. Too many nights that week she had gone to bed crying herself to sleep because she missed him, and then crying some more because she was angry at herself for missing him.
Still, she wanted to string him along for a little while more, as she found she liked this grovelling version of the usually neat and intimidating man who had managed to steal her heart.
She freed herself from his grasp, standing up and turning her back to him.
“No,” she whispered. “You won’t do that.”
Behind her, his chair legs scraped on the floor as he stumbled on his feet. She could feel his presence, so close to her that the faint smell of his cologne engulfed her, but she knew he wouldn’t touch her until she said so.
“Mary, please…”
His accent got thicker with emotion, and she delighted in the desperation she could hear in his voice.
“I said no.” she repeated, finally turning towards him. His hair were no longer combed neatly, and a rebel curl had dropped onto his forehead.
“Please…” he tried again as his hand flexed at his side.
“You won’t, because there’s nothing to earn.” she said, closing the distance between them. His hands circled her waist, pulling her closer to him until the tip of their noses were almost touching.
“Darling…” he whispered, looking at her through half-lidded eyes.
“I forgive you, James.”
He was on her in a instant, crashing his lips to hers. Mary buried her hands into his curls, deepening the kiss as he pushed her against the desk. The bite of the wood against her thighs shook her from the mist of lust that had fallen on them both, and using the grip she had on his hair, she pulled his head back, breaking their kiss.
“If you ever do something like that again, you have to pray I won’t ever catch you, James Moriarty.” she said against his lips. “Because if I do, I will make sure you will regret the day you were born, do you understand?”
His pupils dilated, both in fear and lust at her words, and he couldn’t help the lazy grin that appeared on his lips.
“Understood, my love.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
“Now, where should we continue our conversation, your room or mine?”