For the next six days, Catherine was kept busy with preparations for an upcoming trial involving a particularly brutal case of child abuse and abandonment. The situation appeared to be a microcosm of what much of the world had become, and, as the days passed, she became more and more depressed and disheartened. What little good she had been able to do was constantly compromised, if not destroyed, by the overpowering evils that existed Above, and she found herself longing more than ever for the chance to put her skills and abilities to use in a world where they could truly make a difference.
Sighing heavily, she stored away her folders of notes for the trial. The infant and two toddlers who had suffered so cruelly at the hands of their own parents were at present hospitalized, and, if they lived, would go into temporary foster care. Tears filled Catherine’s eyes as she remembered the sight of their scarred and battered bodies. How tiny and helpless they had looked in the harsh, sterile lights of the intensive care ward.
If only I could take them Below, she wished, where they would be safe and loved, where they would have a chance for a better life.
She knew her wish was a hopeless one. With the children themselves too young and too hurt to testify, the city had only the word of one very frightened elderly neighbor against the arrogance and ignorance of the little victims’ parents, their manipulative attorney, and in many ways the law itself. In less than a year, Catherine knew, they would most likely be investigating the children’s deaths.
"I can’t do this anymore," she said aloud. "I can’t."
Had there been anyone else in the DA’s Office late that Saturday afternoon, they would have recognized the conviction in the woman’s voice. Brushing away tears with the back of her hand, Catherine left the office. I have to find a way to talk to Vincent and then to the Council about my plans and ideas, she told herself. And I can’t wait much longer.
By the time she arrived home, her head was pounding, and still fully clothed she threw herself across her bed, seeking a temporary escape into sleep. "Maybe I’ll dream about Vincent," she murmured groggily as she slid into a surprisingly undisturbed slumber.
Throughout the week Vincent had sensed the steadily escalating fusion of weariness, anger, and sorrow that Catherine had experienced. Despite his own exhausting workload, he had been consumed with the desire to console and protect her, and late each night he found it impossible to deny the urge to make his way to her balcony, not to wake her for he knew she desperately needed to rest, but to reassure himself that she was safe. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to enter the quiet sanctuary of her apartment, to hold her in his arms, comforted and cherished, until dawn.
Earlier that Saturday afternoon the work crew had finally completed the last of their late winter repairs. After carefully storing away tools and building materials, the men had returned to the home quarters, filthy, bruised, and more tired than they had ever been, but at the same time satisfied with what they had accomplished. As always, Vincent had shouldered more of the work than anyone else, and even his stamina had been depleted. Still, he knew he could not rest until he had assured himself that Catherine had come home and that she was if not happy, then at least safe.
As he bathed and dressed, he reached out to her through their bond. When he received no sense of her at all, he was filled with panic until he realized she was only deeply asleep. He took a shuddering breath as he felt his pulse return to its normal rate. "I must be more tired than I realized," he murmured with a self-effacing smile as he pulled on a comfortably old pair of suede boots and draped his cloak over his shoulders.
Moving as quickly as his tired muscles would permit, Vincent made his way through the brick and rock-walled passageways, greeting various members of his community as he passed but never stopping to talk or visit. So intent was he upon reaching Catherine as soon as he could, he rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into Stephen. Startled, both men stopped in their tracks and stared at each other.
"Vincent! I’m sorry – I wasn’t watching where I was going," the teenager apologized. "I guess my mind was somewhere else."
Vincent smiled self-consciously. "As was mine." He gestured toward the large bouquet of pale pink roses Stephen clutched against his chest. "How beautiful they are. Where did they come from?"
"Mr. Long’s shop. I spent the afternoon there helping him do the inventory. He’s been on his own for the past few weeks since his son broke his leg."
"It was kind of you to give up your day of rest to help another."
"Oh, I didn’t mind," Stephen replied, clearly pleased by the praise from a man he held in great respect. "He does a lot for us. Those vegetables William’s been using for his soup all month have come from Mr. Long. I didn’t want to take the roses, but he really insisted."
Vincent leaned forward to breathe in their lovely scent. "And I suppose they might make a very nice gift for a certain young lady," he suggested.
Stephen’s face flushed as he answered with a grin. "Yeah, I was kind of thinking the same thing."
"Brooke will love them," Vincent said as he clapped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. "Now I must be on my way."
"See you later," Stephen answered when Vincent moved past him to enter an adjacent tunnel. He started toward home again and then spun back in the opposite direction. "Hey, Vincent, wait a minute!" In seconds he caught up with him.
"What is it, Stephen? Is something wrong?"
The young man’s grin widened. "No. I was just wondering – are you on your way to see Catherine?"
"Yes. I know it’s late, but I need to speak with her. Why do you ask?"
Vincent received his answer as Stephen carefully pulled one delicate flower from the bouquet and handed it to him. "Then here, take one of these. And you don’t even have to say it’s from me!" With that Stephen loped out of sight, leaving Vincent alone in the dimly lit corridor.
For several moments Vincent stared at the beautiful flower he held in one large hand, turning it over and over as if he could not quite believe in its existence. His shock slowly turned to feelings of amazement and gratitude as he realized the full impact of his young friend’s gesture.
Stephen sees nothing wrong or improper in my bringing a rose to Catherine just as he would to Brooke, he reflected in wonder. And I think there might be others who would feel the same way. Have I been the only one to question the rightness of my love for her?
Immediately an image of Father’s concerned expression seemed to hover in front of him. No, not the only one, he admitted. And yet…
Lost in his bemused thoughts, Vincent continued on the familiar route toward a tunnel entrance near Catherine’s building. As he walked, he became increasingly aware of a certain sensitivity in the connection that pulsed steadily between them. During the past several months, he had come to realize that this sensation arose when their need to be together became heightened even beyond its usual intensity. There was no danger or desperation involved but rather a deep and unquenchable longing of one heart, one soul to join with the other who would make it whole.
Above, Catherine had awakened from hours of deep, dreamless sleep. She stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, blinking in the bright overhead light. When she caught sight of her bleary expression and rumpled hair, she wondered why she had even bothered to wake up. "I’d be better off just going back to sleep until morning," she muttered aloud.
As she rubbed a towel over her face, she slowly became aware of a faint fluttering sensation somewhere within her. She stood still, barely breathing, as she concentrated on the small, insistent feeling that had centered near her heart. Instinctively she recognized its beauty and its wonder.
"Vincent," she whispered. "I can feel you here, inside my heart."
She dropped the damp towel and ran into the living room, pausing only to grab her keys before racing toward the basement entrance that led to the world where she belonged.
The full impact of her emotions thundered through Vincent’s being, and without hesitating he veered from his path, speeding instead toward the threshold below her building. Gasping for breath, he reached the spot just in time to see her emerge from the hazy beam of filtered light to run straight into his arms.
"Catherine!" He buried his face in her hair, lost in the familiar intimacy of its scent and touch. Without thinking he drew her into an embrace more intimate than he had ever dared. He continued to murmur her name over and over, and then trembled as he felt Catherine press her body tightly against his.
Catherine stretched upwards to wind her arms around his neck, clinging to him as if to a lifeline. With a soft, whimpering sigh, she stroked her hands through the raw silk of his hair and cradled his head as her eager lips sought his. Somewhere within she rejoiced when without hesitation he brought his mouth to hers in a kiss that despite its naivete still spoke of his desire, the hungry yearning that matched hers.
Since that first time not long ago, Catherine had marveled at the passion Vincent could convey with a kiss that was still quite chaste and innocent. She had reveled in the sensation of his lips gently caressing hers, and in the pounding of his heart and shuddering of his breath when he pulled away from her to end the long-awaited moments rife with daring and desire. Though knowing they both wanted so much more, she had found it in herself to summon a reserve of self-control she hadn’t known she possessed. But tonight that power had disappeared.
Catherine felt his hands slide toward her shoulders and she knew he meant to gently push their bodies apart, inserting space and safety before temptation overcame him. When she tightened her grasp and leaned closer still, her unexpected movement halted Vincent’s subtle flight. Unhesitating, she parted her lips and with the delicate pressure of a butterfly’s wings, swept the tip of her tongue just once along his full lower lip, ending with a swiftly flickering caress to the sensitive cleft above.
For a moment his grip on her shoulders tightened and he groaned deep in his throat. Yet almost before either of them knew what had happened, Vincent ended their embrace and stood gazing down at Catherine, touching her only with the incandescent heat of his eyes. The tunnel space echoed with their ragged breathing as they looked at one another, feeling their hearts beat in an identical racing rhythm.
Suddenly as one they came together in a quick and gentle hug, only to part again in the span of a heartbeat. Hand in hand, without saying a word, they walked toward the light that marked the place where their worlds met. At the threshold they paused, each struggling for words and knowing there were none.
As he looked at Catherine, Vincent felt a sensation rising within him, as if great burdens were slowly being lifted and set aside, their darkness replaced with heat and light and elusive music. He knew that Catherine’s love had changed his life forever, and that the only thing that could ever hurt him now would be to lose her. A deep and intense longing surged through him. It carried him beyond shame and regret to where the truth waited. The truth that he needed to keep her with him, that he wanted to hear her say once more that she wished to stay in his world forever. And this time, this time…
As if emerging from an enchantment, Vincent became aware of Catherine calling his name softly as she stepped backwards into the hazy light, stretching out their clasped hands until their fingers slowly slid apart. Her lips curved into a meltingly soft smile as she whispered to him, "Until tomorrow night, Vincent." With a sense of wonder, he looked once more at the glowing warmth of her skin and the shimmering light in her eyes, and his heart swelled with joy as he realized he was the reason for her pleasure.
She drifted slowly beyond his sight and instinctively he reached out one hand as if to draw her back. There in his grasp lay the rose, its beauty eclipsed by what had passed between them.
"Catherine." The low, raspy tones brought her toward him in an instant. "This rose – I had meant to give it to you tonight."
"It’s beautiful." She sighed softly as she reached to take it from him. "Where did you –"
Her words faded away as instead of extending the fragile blossom to her, Vincent brought it slowly toward his own face. Catherine watched in fascination as he trailed the flower across his mouth once and then once again before slowly capturing the edge of one fragrant petal between his slightly parted lips. His gaze never left her mesmerized face as he gently released the flower to let it slide lingeringly over his lips one final time before offering it to Catherine.
As if in a dream, Catherine felt the supple petals touch her mouth, their moist fragrance sending a delicious heat shuddering through her body. Her hand trembled as she reached to take the slender stem from Vincent’s grasp, and she did not resist the urge to run her fingers lovingly over the smooth furred strength of his hand before taking the blossom from him and bringing it to rest over her heart.
With his now empty hand still achingly close to her flushed cheek, Vincent hesitated until with a sigh he lowered it to his side and forced himself to turn away. "Good night," he whispered. "Good night, my dearest Catherine."
////////////////////
Catherine stood before her mirror studying her reflection in the glass. Although she knew Vincent would find her beautiful no matter what she wore, she wanted to do all she could to prove to him that she found events Below as special as any Above, and she hoped the care she took with her appearance would help convey that message. She knew, too, that his sensual nature took pleasure in the lovely colors and rich textures she often wore, so unlike anything he had known in his world.
As she swayed slightly, she felt the velvet skirt brush soundlessly against her legs. The blush pink fabric echoed the excited color in her cheeks and accented the luminous glow of her eyes. Suspended from its delicate chain, the gleaming crystal rose and fell with her rapid breathing. Satisfied, Catherine turned to pick up her evening bag and smiled as she thought about the special gift it held. After much deliberation she had decided on a plan for giving it to Vincent and now looked forward to that almost as much as to the party itself.
With the small, gift-wrapped box and heart-shaped card that made up Samantha’s Secret Valentine present held safely in her hand, Catherine left her apartment behind and hurried toward the place where Vincent waited. Throughout the endless day her thoughts had been filled with him – with wonder at the courage he had displayed in moving toward their love, with delight at the innately sensuous side to him that he was slowly revealing to her, and with anticipation at what might come. So immersed was she in her belief in their love, she no longer considered any possibility that they would not someday have a life together.
While Catherine had been finishing her final preparations Above, Vincent had arrived at the basement threshold, unable to linger in the confines of his chamber when his thoughts were filled with her. Since they had parted the night before, he had been able to concentrate on little else. His thoughts had swung wildly from elation at the way Catherine had kissed and caressed him to fear that it might never happen again, from astonishment at his own gently seductive behavior to worry that he had gone too far, from nurturing his fragile belief in their future together to lapsing into ingrained torment that it would never be.
Lost in his emotional whirlpool, he was unaware of Catherine’s arrival until he heard her footsteps echo on the concrete floor. He spun toward the sound, the powerfully graceful movement sending his ebony cloak swirling around his body and his glossy bronze mane sweeping over his wide shoulders. Before him stood Catherine. Her jade green eyes opened wide and her generous lips parted as she drew in a series of tiny gasping breaths. Startled, he looked quickly behind himself to see what had surprised her so, but finding nothing but dusty darkness, he turned back to her. The question he would have raised was never spoken, for in that instant their bond told him all he needed to know, and it was his turn to stare at her in rapt fascination, watching as her gaze swept over him.
He had chosen to wear a shirt he knew she loved. Its fine linen ruffles tumbled over his broad chest from neck to waist, only to vanish enticingly within the confines of a leather tunic belted low across his narrow hips over dark cord pants. His boots were a rich, supple length of burnished amber that hugged his long, powerfully muscled legs from foot to mid-thigh. And while he had dressed with care so that his attire would be appropriate for the party, he had been able to admit to himself that he hoped Catherine would find his appearance pleasing.
The innocent hope in his eyes sent waves of desire through her. How can he possibly not know, she wondered incredulously. He is so beautiful.
"Vincent," she said at last, the breathy sound of her voice making even the mention of his name pulsate with possibilities. "You look wonderful…like – like an angel."
Her words somehow broke the spell under which he had willingly fallen. "An angel, Catherine? It is you who might be an angel, coming down to me from somewhere far above…and looking so very beautiful." Although thrilled by the look in her eyes his words had created, he turned his face away, suddenly disoriented by the rapid changes in their relationship.
With understanding Catherine reached for his hand. "Well, maybe neither one of us is exactly an angel," she commented lightly.
Gratefully he raised his head, a shadow of a smile haunting his lips. "No, I suppose not. And perhaps it would be more in keeping with the holiday if one of us had said cupid instead."
Catherine laughed as, hand in hand, they started for the Great Hall where the children had managed to persuade Father the party absolutely had to be held. "There’s just one problem with cupids, though," she added thoughtfully.
"And that is?"
"Well, we’d need to find bows and arrows, although I suppose Jamie’s crossbow might do the trick. But don’t you think we’re both a bit overdressed for the part?" She shot him a sideways glance to gauge his reaction to her last comment and was pleased to find he hadn’t shied away.
"You might be right, Catherine. But considering the temperature Below, not to mention the cold drafts near the Great Hall, I think we can make an exception in terms of costumes."
"Maybe just for now," she suggested, feeling his grip on her hand tighten for a moment. "Oh, I meant to ask you -- what did you come up with for your Secret Valentine’s gift?" With effort she smothered a laugh.
"Catherine, I don’t know why you find it so humorous that I’m to present William with a Valentine’s Day gift. After all, it has come to be a day for exchanging tokens and messages among friends, not just between…lovers." His teasing tone vanished as he murmured the last word.
"Oh, I know," she answered. "It’s just that I enjoy seeing you smile and hearing you laugh. I can feel your happiness and that makes me happy, too."
The easy way her love poured out to him never ceased to fill him with a sense of awe. How did she ever come to feel such love for me, he wondered silently.
Unwilling to let an opportunity slip by, Catherine continued. "And besides, I think it’s a wonderful custom to send valentines to friends to let them know that they’re thought of with love. It’s just that love can come in many different forms, and even though I love my friends dearly, there’s only one person I want for my Valentine."
Only steps away from a side entrance to the Great Hall, Catherine stopped abruptly, causing Vincent to wait by her side. "And don’t you want to know who that is?" she asked, looking up at him expectantly.
"I think I can guess," he said shyly.
Standing on tiptoe, she reached up to whisper in his ear. "I’ll tell you anyway – later tonight." She brushed a quick kiss across his cheek and then took his hand again and led him into the brightly lit room.
As they entered the chamber, many noticed the happy, if somewhat distracted, expressions on the faces of the well-loved pair. The sight was greeted with unfeigned delight by nearly everyone present. And if a shiver of concern touched Father’s heart, he managed to keep it to himself for the time being.
"Vincent! Catherine!" Samantha skidded to a halt in front of them. "You’re just in time! We’ve been playing some games, but now it’s time to give out the Secret Valentine surprises!"
"Yeah, and then we finally get to the good stuff – the cake and candy!" Kipper’s relentless comments did nothing to quench the sunny smile on Samantha’s face.
"You look beautiful, Catherine," the girl added. "Just like one of those valentines Father showed us."
"Thank you," Catherine answered. "And you look beautiful yourself in your new dress. I’m glad you were able to finish it in time for the party."
"Thanks! Mary and Sarah helped," Samantha told her, spinning around to display the flouncy skirt trimmed with rows of lace and ribbons. "Well, actually, they did most of it, but they’re wonderful teachers and maybe for next year I can make the whole thing myself. Now I have to go ask Father if we can start the Secret Valentines!"
Catherine watched the child wriggle through the crowd. "She’s at such an exciting age, somewhere between being a little girl and a teenager, when everything changes so quickly and anything seems possible. I’m so glad her party seems to be everything she hoped for."
For an instant a fleeting pain shadowed Vincent’s eyes. "You’re very fond of her, as she is of you."
"Yes," Catherine agreed. "I really do enjoy spending time with her. What are the valentines she mentioned – the ones Father has? I’d love to see them."
"They’re from an old collection," he began.
"Vincent, Catherine, come sit with us," Jamie called from a nearby bench, saving him the need to elaborate further. "There’s plenty of room if Mouse’ll slide down some."
Her companion nodded happily. "Always room for Catherine, always room for Vincent."
"Thank you, Mouse," Catherine said. "Are you enjoying the party?"
"Children did a good job. Everything looks nice," he answered agreeably, gesturing to the myriad paper hearts that were attached to nearly every possible surface, including several dozen that hung from the chandeliers used at Winterfest. "Better be careful, though. Wind blows, those things touch candles – that’s it for Valentine’s Day!"
"I don’t think you have to worry, Mouse," Vincent reassured him. "The great doors are not being used tonight, only one of the side entrances, so there’s little danger of a draft."
"Can’t be too careful," the younger man muttered worriedly. "Never know!"
Jamie noticed Catherine’s puzzled expression at Mouse’s uncharacteristic air of caution. "He’s only saying that because of what happened a few years ago on Old Sam’s birthday. Mouse was helping Rebecca with the candles, and he got a little bit carried away."
"Did not! Wasn’t Mouse’s fault! Shouldn’t have –"
His indignant protest was cut short by Father calling for quiet. "May I please have your attention! Samantha informs me it is now time for the giving of our special Valentine surprises, and we will proceed as follows. On the count of three, you are each to find your Secret Valentine and present him or her with your gift. Your Secret Valentine will, of course, also find you in turn. And somewhere within the chaos, all tokens of love and friendship will somehow be exchanged – or so I’ve been assured. Ready now – one, two, three!"
The huge chamber erupted into good-natured bedlam as, with much laughter and enthusiasm, the Secret Valentines managed to locate one another.
After having enjoyed the sight of Samantha opening her gift almost as much as the young girl had enjoyed receiving it, Catherine was distracted from the child’s exuberant and heartfelt thanks by a slight tap on her shoulder. Turning, she found Pascal who pressed a small, cloth-wrapped book into her hands.
"I can only stay a minute, can’t leave the pipes for too long, you know," he said softly. "But you were my Secret Valentine and I wanted to make sure you got your gift."
"Thank you, Pascal, I appreciate your doing that for me. And I’ll open it right away so you can enjoy the party for a few minutes before you have to get back to work."
"Thanks, Catherine, but I don’t mind having to leave."
She quickly unfastened the wrapping and opened the little volume. Its pages were filled with cryptic patterns and symbols along with their translations. Her eyes misted with unexpected tears as she immediately realized what they represented.
Pascal gestured toward the opened pages. "Next time you come Below for a weekend, I’ll start teaching you how to use the codes if you’d like."
"Thank you so much," she whispered as she hugged him quickly. "I can’t tell you what this gift means to me."
"That’s okay, Catherine," he answered as he saw Vincent watching them with interest from across the room. "I think I know. And now it sounds like somebody’s trying to get my attention."
Together they turned to see Mouse bounding toward them through the crowd. "Pascal! Wait! Don’t go – got something for you!"
Catherine smiled. "I think I know who your Secret Valentine is," she commented. "So I’ll leave you to enjoy the surprise. And, Pascal, thank you."
With Pascal’s attention already commandeered by Mouse, Catherine began to make her way through the crowd, intent on reaching Vincent’s side. With the same idea, he started toward her, but it was several minutes before they reached their goal as each became caught up in various exchanges between several Secret Valentines. Eventually they came together and after selecting some refreshments, they found a quiet spot at a little table to one side of the vast room.
"It really is a lovely party, isn’t it?" Catherine said, contentedly watching the bustling crowd.
"Yes, the children did a wonderful job and nearly all of it on their own," Vincent agreed. "I trust Samantha liked her valentine gift?"
"Yes, she loved it. She’s such a special child, so bright and giving. It was a pleasure to be able to do something nice for her."
"I’m sure she appreciated your thoughtfulness, Catherine."
She smiled at him from across the small expanse that separated them. "But tell me, how did William like his gift – and what was it anyway?"
"He liked it very much, as it was a voucher for his next three turns working at our kitchen chamber’s recycling center. We’ve been experimenting with a vegetable garden grown under artificial light, and for that we need to convert our table scraps to a mulch pile. Tending it is a task William dislikes immensely."
"What a nice thing for you to do! That was a wonderful idea, but surely it’s not your favorite activity either."
He shrugged, slightly embarrassed, but nonetheless pleased by her praise. He pulled a small, thin parcel from a pocket of his tunic. "Look. It is my Secret Valentine gift."
When Catherine opened the narrow box, she was surprised to see a delicate colored pencil sketch of herself. "Vincent! Where did it come from?"
"From Kipper. He drew it himself from memory." He watched her carefully as she examined the drawing. "It’s an excellent likeness, don’t you think?"
"Yes, it is! I had no idea he was so talented. And to think that he would come up with this idea."
"You don’t mind, Catherine? You’re not offended?"
Startled by his worried tone, she shook her head emphatically. "Of course not! I’m delighted he thought of it." Her smile was almost shy as she continued and it warmed his heart as nothing else could. "He must have known that this would be very special to you."
"Yes. But not as special as the subject herself." Slowly but without stopping, he slid his hand across the table and entwined his fingers with hers. For several moments they were lost in their own world, full of dreams made possible by each small step forward.
Too soon the noise of the lively throng brought them back to awareness of their surroundings. Vincent carefully rewrapped Kipper’s gift and returned it to his pocket for safekeeping. "And will you tell me about your Secret Valentine, Catherine?" he asked softly.
She understood without a doubt that Vincent knew of the contents of Pascal’s uniquely touching gift, and she felt her eyes again fill with sudden tears. "Yes, but later on when we’re alone and we can talk, all right?" she answered, trusting that their bond would reassure him that her tears were of happiness and hope.
"Yes," he whispered as together they turned their attention to the enjoyable sight of their many friends scattered about the huge room, relaxing and having fun together.
"So that’s it," Catherine said suddenly, gesturing with her free hand. "Look over there."
"Where?" Vincent began as he followed her direction. "You mean Father…"
Not far away was the answer to the question they’d had about Father’s disconcerted reluctance to reveal the name of his Secret Valentine. They watched with great interest as he passed a small square box wrapped in lacy cloth to a slightly flustered Mary.
Suddenly feeling like intruders, they forced themselves to look away, but Catherine could not resist adding, "I’ve always wondered about those two. They seem so perfect for each other."
Vincent nodded in agreement. "I think they would be if they’d ever give themselves a chance. They’ve been such close friends for so many years, and yet for a long time I’ve imagined that their feelings run much deeper than friendship. The things they’ve shared already would fill a lifetime for some. If only they’d open up and dare to tell each other how they feel and what they truly want, I think they’d discover a world of possibilities waiting for them."
He broke off abruptly as he became aware of Catherine’s knowing smile, and he lowered his head for a moment, still unable to fully reveal the truth he knew she would find in his eyes.
"Yes, Vincent, you were saying?"
Taking a deep breath, he raised his head and answered her, his husky voice offering a shivering caress all its own. "That perhaps I should follow my own advice?"
Her eyes sparkled as she brought his hand to her lips for a quick, secret kiss. "Come on," she told him as she rose to her feet, pulling him along with her. "I think we’d better find someplace a little less private or I may do something that will give the entire Tunnel community one more special memory of this Valentine party!"
Chuckling softly, Vincent went with her, feeling more lighthearted than he could ever remember feeling in all his life.
The hours passed quickly and except for several minutes when Catherine had excused herself and then seemed to have vanished into the crowd, they spent every moment of the evening together. All too soon farewells and words of thanks had been said, and with growing reluctance, they realized it was time for Catherine to return Above. Their footsteps were slow as they walked through the corridors, knowing that to hurry their pace would be to hasten the moment when they must part once again.
Since she was less familiar with this area of Vincent’s world than she was with many others, Catherine did not notice that their route was not taking them directly to the Tunnel threshold in her basement. Instead of their surroundings she concentrated on the sensation of Vincent’s arm gently clasped around her shoulders and the warmth of his body so close to hers that now and then her hip brushed against the firm muscles of his thigh. With every breath she savored the familiar scent of him – leather and wool, candle smoke, and an exciting, elusive essence that was Vincent himself.
The impact on her heightened senses was so all-encompassing that she gasped with surprise when she realized Vincent had taken them to the Mirror Pool. She looked at him questioningly as they stopped near the water’s edge. "Vincent?"
"I hope you don’t mind my bringing you here, Catherine." His eyes betrayed the concern that his impulsive actions might have displeased her.
She immediately reassured him. "No, of course not."
He unclasped his cloak and spread it on the stony ground before them. As he bent to straighten its folds, he continued, his voice low and husky. "I am grateful for the hours we’ve had together tonight, and yet I find I cannot let the evening end."
"I feel the same way, Vincent," she told him. "I wish the night could go on and on forever."
Her words bolstered his faltering courage. He lowered himself onto the cloak and then reached up a hand to help her down. Catherine tucked her legs underneath herself and snuggled up against his sturdy frame, relishing his shy, heartfelt words as much as the sensation of his body pressed against hers. As she rested her head against his shoulder, she felt him slowly slide his arm around her and then turn his face to breathe a kiss into her hair. Tipping her head back, she gazed up into his eyes and found reflected in their depths the lustrous glow of evening starlight and the heated promise of sunrise.
There was never any question of what was to follow.
Without further thought she turned in his arms and he pulled her onto his lap. He felt her reach for him, and lowering his head, his eager lips met hers. Their kisses were soft and sweet, and yet each spoke of a simmering hunger that would not rest unsated forever. Spreading the fingers of one hand up into the glorious richness of his hair, Catherine held him closer and gently deepened their kiss. As she had the night before, she swept her tongue slowly over his lower lip and up into the cleft above. Vincent’s ragged gasp gave her the chance she craved and she let the warm tip of her tongue slide into his mouth, caressing the tenderness of his inner lip and the slick moistness of his sharp teeth.
His entire being reeled with the impact of Catherine’s sensual onslaught and tightening his grasp on her slender body, Vincent began to gently lower her onto the outspread cloak. He felt her hands clutch at him, pressing him closer, and he eagerly followed. The heady taste of her trembling breath and the heat of her flickering tongue banished all thought, all awareness, save his need for her, their need for each other.
Pulling back slightly, Vincent drew in a shuddering breath of air and then joined his mouth with hers once again. Lost in sensations he had never felt before, he parted his lips more fully to her and slowly began to explore the sweetness she offered him. Probing gently, he felt the silky wetness just beyond her warm, full lips and the polished surface of teeth not so very different from his own. Almost mindless with unimagined pleasure, he pulled her even closer, resting more of his body upon hers, and reveled in her instantaneous, eager response.
For moments they stayed suspended in time, until with a sudden shuddering groan Vincent tore his mouth from hers and wrenched himself upright, bringing her quivering body with him. With gentle firmness he moved away from Catherine to let the chilled air flow between their bodies. And when she reached for him again, he captured her hands in his and held her away. His eyes met hers and he let her read in them the chaos their actions had made of his heart, the tumultuous union of fiery desire and frantic fear that had left him aroused and shaken.
Pulling one hand free, Catherine reached forward and tenderly smoothed the golden disarray of his hair. "It’s all right, Vincent," she murmured, struggling to calm her own racing heart. "I understand."
Beyond the luminous glow of her skin and the trembling of her moist parted lips, Vincent saw the truth in her eyes. She wanted and needed him as much as he wanted and needed her; yet she understood his misgivings and forgave his fears – because she loved him.
He slowly raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into its palm. Lowering their hands once more, he spoke to her, his voice a raspy whisper she could feel deep within her.
"I love you, Catherine. With all my heart I love you."
The tears that filled her radiant eyes traced tiny tracks across her skin and Vincent tasted them on his mouth as they came together in the soothing calm of one final kiss. Summoning his strength, he rose to his feet and then turned to assist her. Silently, hand in hand, they left the Chamber of the Mirror Pool and made their way toward the threshold that led to Catherine’s world.
Too soon they reached the light that marked the entryway. Lingering, Catherine played with the linen ruffles at the neck of Vincent’s shirt, letting the smooth cloth slide between her fingers. She looked up at him, returning the gentle smile he offered her.
"I don’t think I ever told you how wonderful you look tonight," she murmured. "Like a prince from a storybook."
He clasped his hands lightly behind her waist. "I thought that earlier you said I looked like an angel."
Her smile grew as she raised her hands to cup his face. "Prince, angel, the words don’t really matter as long as they mean someone rare and wonderful…and mine." She emphasized the final word with a hard, fast kiss before stepping back and grasping his now outstretched hands in hers.
Vincent drew in a deep breath as if he had just run a very long distance in a very short time. With each new day of loving Catherine, he realized, there would be wondrous surprises, and he knew he would delight in discovering each and every one. He let his dazzled gaze sweep over her as she swayed slightly nearer and he took in the feminine beauty she offered only to him. The color of her dress – what was it that teased at his memory?
In a rush it came to him. Her luxurious rose velvet dress was the exact shade of the shimmering silk negligee she had worn in his dream. The dream that had shown him a vision of himself cradled to her breast, his face buried against the same ivory pink swell of soft and supple flesh that he now saw in reality before him. As if enchanted, he stared at his crystal, watching the glistening light within it rise and fall with her breathing.
At last, with great effort, he spoke to her in words. "And you, Catherine, you are so beautiful. Your dress, your hair…you look like a lovely valentine come to life."
Delighted, she tilted her head and smiled up at him. "Like one of the valentines in Father’s collection?"
Her words jogged his memory and with a start he released her hands to reach inside his leather tunic and pull out a small white envelope from a hidden pocket near his heart. "Catherine, I almost forgot. This is for you – a gift for Valentine’s Day."
He handed it to her and watched closely as she carefully tore open the envelope and removed its contents. In her hands she held a gilt paper heart edged in lace and tiny silk rosebuds. There was a verse inscribed in small, intricate script at its center, and despite its age and fragility the message was still clear and untouched, save for the words added in Vincent’s own hand. To my beloved Catherine – With love always and forever, Vincent.
Catherine’s voice shook as she read aloud the words that had been written nearly one hundred and fifty years earlier, yet could have come from Vincent’s hearts only seconds ago.
"Let me dwell in the light of thine eyes,
Let me find a sweet home in thy heart!
For my soul like a wild bird flies
To linger wherever thou art –
As night gives place to the day,
And darkness before the sun flies,
So my sorrows will all melt away
When I live in the light of thine eyes.""Oh, Vincent," she whispered, moved beyond mere words, "this is so beautiful. You – you are so beautiful… I don’t know what to say to you…"
Deeply stirred by her reaction, Vincent whispered his reply in a voice rasped with tenderness and need. "You have said everything, Catherine. More than I have ever dreamed. More than I have ever known." His voice deepened, traced now with pain. "But it is late and I must leave you now."
Her lips smiled tenderly while her eyes disclosed the torment that darkened every parting from him. She waited and watched as with slow, reluctant steps he moved away from her, going back to the underworld that sheltered him. Unable to smother a small sob, she turned and fled toward the ladder that would take her Above.
In an instant Vincent was at her side, and they went into each other’s arms with a ferocity that was wildly arousing yet somehow tempered with infinite gentleness. Catherine could feel her heart pounding as she gazed at the brilliant sapphire light in his eyes and somewhere in the tumult of her mind she remembered seeing it before, watching with bittersweet hope as its radiance had flared only to fade. She felt it sear into her now with welcome, burning heat, and she shut her eyes, savoring the knowledge that this time it would not die away so quickly.
In a heartbeat, Catherine felt Vincent’s lips in her hair, across her forehead, on her closed eyelids, offering kisses hot and sweet and more boldly daring than ever before. A last coherent thought invaded her mind as his lips roamed over her flushed cheeks and down the graceful curve of her neck to the racing pulse at her throat.
How, she wondered dazedly, can his kisses be so intense and still so tender…I don’t want him to stop…not ever…but if we don’t…
Somehow summoning her strength and half-hating herself for it, Catherine found her voice. So heavy and shuddering with forcibly suppressed passion, it was almost unrecognizable as hers.
"Vincent…Vincent…I want you so much…I don’t want to stop – but are you sure?"
Ever so slowly he pulled away from her, shaking with the force of their barely leashed hunger for one another. They stared into each other’s eyes, seeing mirrored flames banked and only just contained within them.
"Catherine, I’m –"
Quickly leaning forward, she found the solution she’d so reluctantly sought. She pressed the crown of her head against his mouth, trembling slightly at the sensation of the silky strands of her hair catching against the warm moistness of his lips.
"Don’t say it," she growled warmly. "Don’t even think it!"
She felt his mouth move against her. Then his soft laugh turned to a sigh as he took an unwilling yet inevitable step backwards. He knew that to walk away from her now would be one of the most difficult things he would ever do, and still there was no choice.
"Good night, Catherine," he whispered. "My dearest Catherine. Sleep well."
"And tonight, my love," she whispered in return. "When you dream, dream of what is to come…dream of me."
In an instant she had vanished beyond the light, leaving him alone but filled with undeniable hope.
A Rose in Friendship – A Gift of Love
Peggy GarvinOne perfect pale pink rosebud
Offered with barely a thought
To the impact it would have
On the truth that two hearts sought.
A gift in friendship given
To a friend to pass along
To the one love in his life
With no thought that it was wrong.
For Vincent loved his Catherine
As a man who’s found his mate,
And Stephen hoped his gesture
Would let Vincent demonstrate
How special Catherine was to
His life and how he longed for
The courage to believe in
Their chance at forevermore.