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He knew Mallory would follow him out of the church, but he was determined to make awkward for him when he did come to find him so he paced as quickly as he could to the far wall of the churchyard, his anger stamped into his long strides. He leant against the stonework, not feeling so much weak as unbelievably tired, waiting for the inevitable sound of Mallory's voice to issue from over his shoulder. It arrived sooner than he had expected, flat and rather dry.

"There was no need to go marching out, Bond."

James felt himself wheeling around to face him, feeling the wall give a little with the pressure he applied. He knew it was not in his best interests to lose his temper, but with equal certainty he knew that he had lost it, and therefore there was little he could do.

"You just don't get it, do you?" he asked, his voice low, but still furious, "None of you who demand enquires into people's lives get it."

"What don't we get?" Mallory asked patiently.

It occurred to him that this was exactly what Mallory wanted, for him to snap and spill out all of their secrets. His anger alone had probably told him all that he needed to know, if he had the brains to deduce it.

"She's dead," he told him shortly, his disgust undisguised, "Leave her alone."

Mallory let out a sigh.

"If you'd listened to me, Bond, you would realise that it's because she's dead that we have to get involved in this sorry business."

"To be involved in her life wasn't a sorry business," James retorted, "It was a bloody privilege."

It was too. Every minute of it.

"No doubt," Mallory replied, sounding decidedly dubious, "And you must see that because you felt that way, because you were close to her, that is a cause of some concern to us. Especially now that she's dead."

"That's what you don't get," James told him simply, "All the words you're using Mallory, closeness, involved, they don't even come close. You think that everything your agents do is governed by self-centred greed and the want to be powerful. Well, I dare say quite a bit of it is, but not all. We're still human beings, for Christ's sake. If it was any of your fucking business, I'd tell you that I loved her."

There was a silence for a few moments, apart from the wind blowing over the long grass outside the churchyard wall. Bond turned away again, watching the air ripple through the blades. Then the church clock struck the hour, and neither of them could speak without raising their voices to be heard. As it rang out it's final chime, he heard Mallory's voice again.

"So you're telling me that you loved her but you never slept together? Forgive me, but it sounds unlikely for normal human beings, never mind a double 0 and his commander."

It was a cheap jibe and James suspected that Mallory knew it himself. That was why, without a hint of guilt or even of concern for the repercussions it might have, he replied:

"I'm telling you nothing more. She deserves to take something to the grave with her."

…...

"Bond," she whispered after a while.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Can we at least make it to my bed? Or put the light off?"

He leant back a little, his hand wrapped around her and resting on the small of her spine while the other brushed softly against her face.

"They're funny things to ask," he told her, smiling a little.

She looked puzzled.

"Not particularly," she asserted, "I can promise you, my bed's more comfortable than this sofa and by the time you're my age you'll probably feel better with the light out."

"I doubt it," he told her smoothly, dipping his head to kiss her neck above the quite generous neckline of her dress, "Not if I age as well as you have."

He continued kissing her neck, dipping down to the top of her breasts, until she was nicely distracted and then he broke away.

"I mean they're odd things to ask together," he continued, pleased with the disgruntlement on her face at the absence of his lips, "Bed or light, as if it's one or the other. Usually things have to achieve the same purpose to be discussed like that."

He felt her whole body sigh.

"Bond, believe it or not I'm not in the mood to discuss logical propositions. Perhaps kissing you has addled my reasoning."

"And your observation," he replied, "It's me doing most of the kissing."

"Bloody cheek," she pulled him to her for a kiss that was almost akin to a bite.

He knew she felt him shudder as he responded, partly with mirth at her wit, partly with the effect that her kissing him like that for a long time, for any period of time, had on him.

"So are you going to take me to bed, Bond?" she asked him, "Or is the prevaricative pedancy some kind of seduction technique?"

"Don't ask me," he told her, "It's you I copied it from."

"Bond," she laughed, lightly boxing his shoulder with her fist as his arms tightened around her again, "James."

His lips sank back down against hers, and he saw her eyes flutter closed again as she opened her mouth to allow him better access. His hands roamed over the smooth cloth on her back, trying to find the top of the zip.

"Take me to bed," she whispered before he got the chance, "Now."

He watched her for a moment, her closed eyes, her swollen lips, the wild quirk that his hands had given her short hair. Her eyes slipped open, and she watched him rather accusingly, and he was met with the dark, aroused blue that had been hiding silently behind her eyelids.

"You said you wanted me," she reminded him pointedly.

It was only then that he fully realised that she had wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. He ran a hand admiringly up her side, cupping her breast as he did so.

"So I did," he replied, untangling himself from her, and standing up, helping her to her feet and not letting go of her hand.

He didn't let go of her hand until they were in her room and they had shut the door. Cupping her face with one hand and her breast with the other, he sank his lips back into herself.

"James," she told him gently as they broke away for a moment, "James, darling. Put the light out."

He didn't do as he was told straight away.

"I had hoped, having brought you to your bed, that we could dispense with that."

He felt her stiffen, only slightly, against him.

"James-..." she murmured in warning.

"You're beautiful," he whispered in her ear, gently biting the lobe.

"How would you know?" she asked him.

His hand had slipped under the low back of her dress, guiding the zip down.

"I know," he assured her, "And I want to see you."

When she did not protest any further, he slipped his hands under the fabric, easing it away from her skin.

"See," he told her, leaning down before her to kiss her navel as the fabric fell away, "Beautiful."

Their eyes met as he looked up and she looked down.

"Oh, James," she whispered, brushing her hand through his hair.

Slowly, he nuzzled her through the red silk of her knickers.

"Let me do this for you," he asked, hearing her gasp in surprise and then moan as he briefly kissed and licked through the thin material.

"Alright," she told him in a hoarse voice, "Lie me back on the bed."

I think there will be one more chapter after this. Please review if you have the time.