Beyond Beginnings 2 - Chapter Twelve

BEYOND BEGINNINGS - BOOK TWO
Linda Barth

Chapter Twelve

"Wait here," Catherine said, as she moved into the darkened room to light several candles, illuminating the deep shadows within.
Then slowly, as if in a dream, Vincent followed her into the bedroom. The growing candleglow revealed a place of soft colors and rich textures, but he took little note of them. There would be time later, he knew, to appreciate more than faint impressions of the welcoming comfort and quiet elegance of the room. For now the only beauty he could see was Catherine’s. Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he knew he should feel apprehensive in this unknown land, but he was with her, his love, and she would keep him safe.
She turned back toward him, and as she came nearer, he could smell the fragrance of the candles drifting on the air, roses and honeysuckle, acacia and jasmine, all of them a part of her. Then, beneath their familiar perfume something more seemed to summon him, a heated, pulsing essence he had always sensed but had never truly known, had never fully opened himself to, until now. Yet it was as real and as compelling as their bond, and he felt everything in him respond to that evocative sensation. There was nothing else to do but reach out and claim it for his own.
When he pulled her into his arms, Catherine felt as if she would collapse against him, completely unable to support the strength of her own desire. But the depth of need within drove her onward, and raising up on her toes, she leaned into him, kissing him once, hard and heated, before her hands sought the knotted lacing of his shirt. She felt the muscles of his arms tense as she quickly untied and opened the creamy linen, pushing aside the crumpled fabric to reveal the wide expanse of his chest. Without allowing him time to resurrect old doubts and fears, she stroked her hands inside the shirt as far as she could reach and then leaned forward to let her lips follow the path of her eager hands. For long moments he remained almost motionless before her as she pressed kisses into his warm, silky hair, but when she burrowed deeper to the heated skin beneath, she felt the shuddery heat of his breath sigh across her neck and shoulders in a wave of intimate surrender.
She rested her head against his chest and held him gently in her embrace, knowing he did not want her to stop, yet sensing his lingering need to hear the reassurance of words beyond the validation of touch. "You are so beautiful, Vincent," she murmured, her voice low and full of trembling heat. "And I’m so happy that you trust me enough to let me love you like this. I’ll never hurt you…we’ll never hurt each other." Lifting her head, she met his wide-eyed gaze and saw mirrored in it all the love, desire, and faith they shared. It was a promise spoken with their hearts, a pledge vowed by their souls, and a destiny waiting to be fulfilled by their bodies.
And the time for waiting was over at last.
As Catherine eagerly stroked her hands lower along his chest, she found herself impeded by the shirt's taut fabric contained at his waist by the vest's overlapping edges and the even tighter constraint of his leather belt. Without turning away even for a moment, Vincent drew his hands downward over her back and then stroked them forward along the swell of her hips until he reached between their yearning bodies. Fumbling only slightly in his haste, he unfastened the hammered copper buckle and let the leather belt fall away to land unnoticed at their feet. Then he waited once again, his heart pounding an unmistakable message.
Reaching for his hands, Catherine untied the laces at the ruffled cuffs of his shirt, sighing only slightly when he did not move to hold her again, but instead let his hands fall to his sides. Then in an instant she realized his intent had not been to separate himself from her, but to ease the swift return of the entrancing caresses she had begun. At once she brought her hands forward, grasping the edges of his shirt as she drew it upward from the confines of his tight cord trousers. The delicious friction of the fabric's woven texture rubbing against his skin elicited a husky groan from Vincent's parted lips, and he raised his hands to help Catherine push the shirt and vest from his shoulders, tossing them aside before reaching for her again.
Only days earlier in his underground chamber, Vincent had trusted her enough to let her look upon and touch him in ways that had always been denied. The tender moment had filled Catherine with as much wonder as longing, as much gentle sympathy as yearning need. She felt those same sensations now, but in a heartbeat, the driving force of their shared desire took precedence and demanded much more. She let her fingers glide into the longer, darker hair on his stomach and lower to the place where it began to taper beneath his pants. Then she slid her hands upward in long, searching strokes, savoring the textures of thick, silken hair and sleek, firm flesh. Over and over she repeated the sensuous motion, feeling her breathing becoming more shallow and rushed, until with a deep, low moan Vincent pulled her hard against him. She nuzzled her lips into the place above his racing heart, before brushing her mouth enticingly over one small, hardened nipple. Then she lifted her head, kissing upwards along the sturdy length of his neck before offering her mouth to his with an excited urgency that could not wait.
Vincent felt her warm tongue stroke over the slick, moistness of his teeth and tender flesh, needing the taste and touch of him as he needed hers, and he deepened their kiss, holding her tighter and harder. Myriad impressions tumbled through him as he felt his arousal heighten, and he yearned to be closer still, knowing Catherine shared his powerful need. Then, when it seemed impossible to isolate one delicious sensation from another, he was flooded with the sudden, acute awareness of Catherine's soft breasts pressing against his naked chest. Through the velvet of her dress, Vincent could feel the taut peaks of her breasts harden against him, and with a deep groan, he rubbed back and forth against her, feeling her hidden flesh tighten and strain forward in immediate response.
Arching her neck backward, Catherine forced their mouths apart, drawing in deep breaths of air as she tried to gain enough control to speak. But he would not let her, instead following the curve of her neck with his mouth, suckling and tasting the silky skin until he reached the quivering pulse in her throat. The throbbing beat called deeply to him and pulled forth a pulsating response, but he could not rest there, needing to continue his heated path lower to the ruffled neckline of her dress. Once there he trailed tender kisses just above its satin edging until he reached the swelling curve between her breasts and once there he pressed his lips into a warmth and softness he had never known. Her gasping breath sent a fervent message to him and he responded without hesitation, gently opening his mouth to the taste of her. Catherine wound her hands into his hair, holding him tighter, and, as he nuzzled closer, he felt his body harden further in urgent response.
The sensation of Vincent's hot, moist tongue gliding in slow strokes over her was at once delicious torment and unendurable delight, an erotic fantasy finally becoming real. But it was only a beginning and it was not enough. Suddenly with a trembling cry, Catherine released him and pulled away, needing so much more from him.
For several seconds they stood facing one another, drinking in the sight of moist, swollen mouths, flushed skin, and tousled hair. Kaleidoscopic sensations of the past several minutes tumbled through Vincent's heart and mind, and he could scarcely believe he'd had the courage to touch her as he had, to at last unleash his tightly reined desires. Then as he watched her tear her gaze away and turn her back toward him, he felt a heavy torrent of fear start to smother him as never before, until its force nearly stifled the sound of her voice.
"Vincent, help me with this!"
There was a heated urgency in her plea and he shook his head hard, straining toward it. When he faltered, trying to make sense of what he knew must be true, Catherine curved her hands around the nape of her neck and bent her head forward as she lifted the honey-colored sweep of her hair. "Please, Vincent, help me," she said again, her breathy voice growing tense at his hesitation.
Comforting awareness surged through him, yet as he raised his hands to the fastening of her dress, he felt that intense relief instantly give way to a renewal of deep-seated need that was stronger and more vibrant than ever before. In mere moments there would be no turning back; it would no longer be possible. Slowly, with fingers that trembled only a little, he unfastened Catherine’s dress, watching with fascination as the pale, petal-soft velvet fell open to reveal even softer, creamier skin beneath. Careful not to do anything that might be considered somehow wrong, Vincent moved with painstaking care, unsure if his actions were pleasing until Catherine's swift, quavering intake of breath told him everything.
She had felt a recurrence of dismay when Vincent had wavered before reaching for her. The few seconds of hesitation had seemed like a lifetime. Then she’d felt his strong, slender fingers touch her as he lowered the zipper of her dress, the dense, silken fur covering the backs of his hands brushing against her skin in one long, suspended caress that sent a rush of pleasure rocketing through her. For a few moments she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, and then she turned slowly to face him again, swaying with seductive grace as she offered him a trembling smile full of warmth and wanting.
Under Vincent's awestruck gaze, Catherine reached for his hands and brought them to her mouth, kissing their golden sleekness before drawing them slowly, unresistingly across the slackened neckline of her dress, following the sensuous path his mouth had taken earlier, until they reached her shoulders. Pressing her hands over the backs of his, she curved his fingers into the smooth, lush fabric and then released him, her invitation clear -- and completely irresistible.
Still, he would ask one last time, needing this final reassurance from her. Thick with emotion, his voice was so low she could barely hear it, but in her heart she knew she had been waiting for the words, knowing, too, that once spoken there would never be another need for them.
"Catherine, are you sure...are you truly sure?"
Her tremulous smile grew incandescent, curving the fullness of her lips. "I can no longer remember a time when I wasn't sure. I want you, Vincent, all of you, more than I can say. And if moving forward in our love is right for you now, then there is no need for any doubts or fears. There never will be, my love, not ever again."
He leaned forward, breathing the most tender caress against the crown of her head, along the sweep of her hair, brushing past the lingering scar near her ear until he reached her parted lips. "I’m not afraid, Catherine. You give me courage and strength." He touched his lips to hers in a kiss so gentle and trusting that it made her feel more cherished than she would have believed possible. Then he drew back to look down into her eyes before continuing. "I love you, and I want you, all of you, all of your love, now and forever."
"I am yours, Vincent, now and forever."
"As I am yours, my Catherine, always...Always."
In the deceptively simple words there was an eternal vow and for many moments it sang through the unwavering channel of their bond. They knew that sometime later they would share a wondrous memory of this miraculous moment, but for now there were other desires too deep and compelling to be denied a moment longer.
"Undress me," Catherine whispered, feeling Vincent's grip instantly tighten on her dress. "We don't have to wait any longer."
Her words evoked a quick intake of breath from her lover as with slow, deliberate movement he eased the velvet dress downward over her arms and breasts and then released his grasp, watching as the luxurious fabric pooled at their feet. He felt her hands hold tight to the clenched muscles of his fore-arms as she steadied herself long enough to step out of the unwanted garment, pushing it carelessly aside. For several long moments he kept his eyes downcast, and then the need he felt within her, the need he so desperately shared, drew his gaze upward.
To his dazzled eyes, Catherine was the most seductively beautiful vision he had ever dreamed, and yet despaired, of seeing. That she stood before him, eager and unafraid, sent his mind reeling, but not even that powerful sense of wonderment could persuade him to look away. His hungry gaze devoured the sight of her. The curve of her legs snugly clad almost to the top of her thighs in translucent ivory silk. Satin ribbons which joined the sleek silk to a wisp of peach-tinted lace, its intricate pattern almost covering the most secret part of her. The creamy skin of her softly rounded hips and slender waist, bared to his admiring eyes, and the fullness of her breasts, caressed by another froth of peach-hued lace.
Vincent could not believe he had embraced the right to look upon her with such intimacy, with such blatant hunger, but he could not turn away…nor did he want to. They both had waited for this, wanted it, for much too long. And in a voice that told her everything, he whispered her name.
"Catherine, you are so beautiful…so very beautiful."
Wishing the force of Vincent's yearning would give him the courage to undress her completely, yet knowing he could not yet bring himself to be so bold, Catherine reached behind herself for the clasp of the delicate bra and quickly undid it, dropping it to the floor to be forgotten along with the growing mass of leather and lace, velvet and wool. Immediately, by force of lifelong habit, Vincent averted his gaze, but only for the passage of a few brief seconds, unable to deny the desire to look upon her again. He felt a harsh gasp build deep in his throat as he gazed in torrid amazement at the rosy peaks of her breasts tightening further under his ardent gaze. More than anything he wanted to touch her, and yet he did not, telling her of his still-denied wishes only through the fervor of their bond and the shuddering of his entire body as his hooded eyes savored the sight of her.
It seemed to Catherine that she could feel the blue heat of his gaze sweeping over and through her. She was consumed with longing to see all of him, too, and to know every aspect of the magnificent body that he would give only to her. Yet she knew he shared her understanding that later there would be time enough to indulge themselves in long, lingering looks, to delight in exploring the visual glories of their bodies. Now they needed a more tangible release for the surging feelings of love and lust that pulsed uncontrollably between them.
Slowly, Catherine backed away, holding out a hand in invitation as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Come to me, Vincent," she murmured, her voice low with resonant heat. "Please...."
It seemed unbelievable to him that she felt she needed to ask. With two swift strides he was at Catherine's side, and he sank down on his knees in front of her, tenderly resting his large hands at the curve of her hips, his fingers just grazing her silk-covered skin. For a moment his eyes swept over her, and again the cobalt heat warmed her everywhere it touched. Then before he had the chance to convince himself he shouldn’t say the words, he raised his eyes to hers and asked a single question, utterly captivating her with the strength of his shy desire.
"Catherine, you are so beautiful, so delicate, and you offer everything to me, everything I've ever wanted. May I...can I...."
She breathed deeply as if mere air could help cool the fire he'd kindled in her long enough to form a coherent response -- and found it was almost impossible. Again she curved her hands over his and urged them against her. "Yes, Vincent," she whispered. "Yes…please touch me..."
With incredible restraint that belied both his physical strength and the even greater strength of their shared desire, Vincent untied the pale satin ribbons at her thighs and then lowered his hands to do the same to the ribbons at her ankles. He removed her soft leather shoes, and then, raising his hands to the tops of her thighs once more, he withdrew the ivory silk stockings from her legs, taking great care not to mar the fragile fabric or her delicate flesh with his taloned nails.
He had treasured the remembered sensations of stroking her slender legs and feet by the secret pool in the hidden chamber Below, but the reality before him far surpassed even that cherished memory. It seemed to him that her words vibrated through his body. Touch me. Please touch me. And there was nothing in him that wanted to resist. For several moments he looked up at her, holding her heated gaze with his own, and then he began to caress the smooth skin of her legs, running the palms of his hands down over her thighs and calves to her ankles and then back again in slow, searching strokes, each time moving his hands fractionally inward. His touch immediately fed the banked flames of their desire, and flickering tongues of heat flared within them both as Catherine let her legs part slowly to his caress.
Everything within Catherine seemed to reverberate with each measured stroke of Vincent's hands upon her. The sensation was lovely and long awaited, but it could never be enough, and when he once again neared the delicate flesh of her inner thighs, she reached forward with her own hands, stilling his caress. For a brief moment, she closed her legs tightly, holding his hands willing prisoners close to the source of the heat he so achingly sought, knowing he could feel the radiant warmth of the arousal he had stirred in her, and then she released him, tugging on his hands as she urged him up to his feet in front of her.
Sliding back a bit on the wide bed, Catherine rose to her knees and balanced her hands near his waist, holding firmly to the finely toned muscles that stretched over his sculpted hips. Then she began to lean forward, savoring his harsh gasp as he immediately guessed her intent. She trailed excruciatingly slow, moist kisses across the flat plane of his stomach, unable to resist nuzzling and nipping gently at the tender flesh that quivered under her sensual assault; and she curved her mouth in a smile against his skin when he moaned aloud the sound of her name. Then she moved lower still to the heated hardness that strained against the confines of his trousers, knowing the pressure of her mouth upon him would both arouse and reassure him even more.
Straightening, Catherine rested back on her heels and raised her eyes to Vincent's face where she both felt and saw the fire that burned higher and hotter in him. Under the passion of his gaze, she felt the tingling sensations that coursed through her entire body center inevitably at the moist heat between her legs, and it was more than she could bear. With fingers grown clumsy in haste and need, she reached forward and began to unlace the suede thongs that held his boots lashed in place over his muscular thighs. To her surprise and delight, he leaned down to help her, and their shared desire made the task swiftly accomplished. Then Catherine pushed his hands away and reached for the waistband of his pants, purposely brushing her fingers lower over the tautened cloth before beginning to unfasten the first button. With a harsh gasp, Vincent lowered his hands again to help her, needing to rush forward, to soothe the pulsing ache that threatened to consume him, the same pleasure and pain that vibrated from her and tormented him through their bond.
Then he stood before her as she had always known he would, brave and golden in the candlelight, the intensely virile and incredibly beautiful embodiment of her every passionate desire and cherished dream. His chest heaved rhythmically with each heavy, panting breath as he looked down at her, and he clenched his large hands against the hard amber-furred muscles of his thighs, desperate to stay in control of his rushing emotions. The suede pouch containing Catherine's ivory rose moved against his chest with the rise and fall of his breathing, and as she watched, he pulled it over his head and bent to set it carefully on the bedside table before turning back to her once more.
It amazed him that he was able to stand before her as he was, but it was what they had both wanted for so long, and now he could deny her nothing of himself. The pulsing evidence of his deep physical desire for her was unmistakable, and he felt a shocking surge of gratifying pride as he realized without a doubt that she loved every bit of him, every physical proof of his need for her -- the glistening sheen of his heated skin, the harsh rhythm of his breathing, the tensing of his powerfully muscled body, the urgent straining of his masculinity.
Catherine wanted to tell him again how beautiful she found him, but they had moved into a place beyond words. Her molten gaze traveled over him again and again as if she would never want to look at anything but him. She wished they could stay as they were forever, reveling in the glorious sight of one another, but at the same time she was overwhelmed with the need to go forward toward love, toward the hard and heated reality that she craved only from him. She slid farther back on the bed, although it was torturous to move away from him for even a moment, and rose to turn back the edges of the downy comforter and lacy sheet. Then she lowered herself gracefully to the bed and reached out for him, calling him to come to her, to love her as he’d always wanted.
Vincent hesitated, driven with the need to touch her and yet loathe to lose this new image of his Catherine lying back against the pillows, holding up her arms to him, her entire being full of desire only for him, just as he had always dreamed. But when she brought her hands to her hips and untied the tiny bows that held together her silk and lace panties, he could wait no longer, eagerly trading sensuous sight for irresistible touch. Summoning remarkable restraint, he lowered himself to lie beside her, resting the imposing length of his body next to her slender form. At once they turned to face each other, savoring the waves of heat that shimmered between them even before they touched.
And then the time of waiting was over.
With one strong and gentle hand, Vincent traced the smooth line of her face and neck, gliding his fingers downward until he reached the curve of her breasts. With a light, almost tentative touch, he brushed his fingertips across the swollen nipples, tensing ecstatically as Catherine cried out in undisguised pleasure. Encouraged, he cupped the fullness of one breast with his palm, gently enclosing a warm softness he had never known, before lowering his head to touch the hardened bud with his mouth. He paused for a moment, savoring the longed-for sensation, and then began to caress the sensitive flesh with his heated tongue.
Catherine arched her body forward as she burrowed her fingers into his long hair and curved them against his head, holding him to her as if she would never let him go. She prayed he'd never cease the firm and gentle stroking of his tongue tracing hot, moist circles around her taut nipple, deepening the erotic ache with each passing second. Then he drew the stiffened peak into his mouth, nipping only the slightest bit with his sharp teeth, before beginning to suckle upon it with a strong, compelling rhythm. The sensation of his mouth on her became unbearably arousing, and somewhere in her mind Catherine thought she might climax uncontrollably from just this delicious pulsating pressure.
Without warning, he withdrew his mouth from her, and she cried out at the loss of that erotic torment. "Don't stop, Vincent, oh please, don't stop!" Then she gasped wildly as his golden-stubbled skin rasped lightly between her trembling curves as he slid further over her, reaching to offer the same tantalizing caresses to her other breast.
To touch Catherine like this was more than Vincent had ever imagined. It seemed to him as if he had been waiting for this all his life and yet it was only a taste of what was to come. Every rhythmic, drawn-out caress of his mouth at her breast sent shafts of agonizing pleasure through him, centering at the almost unendurable throbbing ache between his legs. With a groan he pulled away long enough to look into her eyes, only to see and feel her passion grow stronger, knowing that he was the cause, and that her unrestrained desire matched the intensity of his. He wanted nothing more than to savor a thousand ecstatic moments of teasing, slow-building passion, but he could not withstand much longer the deep need that drove him relentlessly onward.
Catherine could feel his pulsing hardness press against her and she whimpered deep in her throat as she reached between their straining bodies, tenderly stroking his yearning flesh. His rasping groan vibrated through her, sending quivering tremors rippling within her own melting softness, and in response she continued to touch him, sliding her fingers up and down his hard, satiny length, and then beneath to the rounded, quavering flesh below, feeling him throb and lift in response.
Vincent felt himself swerving away from rational thought as Catherine's small hands caressed the part of him that only she would ever know. Each hungry, tender touch filled him with incredible strength and aching need, and he tried to pull words from among the flames that were consuming him. That she so deeply needed and wanted to touch him like this gave renewal to his sense of self, his knowledge that he was a man in every way. By some miracle he had become the man whom Catherine loved, the man to whom she gave herself body and soul. The realization branded itself on his heart and made him want to both laugh and cry with unending joy, knowing that his long, agonizing nightmare of darkness was at an end, giving way to everlasting day.
An awareness of her soft voice, breathless with desire, edged into his consciousness. "Please, Vincent, now," she urged him. "Don't wait any longer. I need you now!"
He kissed her once, tender and quick, before reaching for her hand and bringing it to his mouth, knowing he could not withstand her enflaming caresses much longer. He had meant to kiss her fingertips in gentle affirmation, but as he began, he felt a moist warmth upon them that he knew was his own musky essence, and he raised startled eyes to meet the hypnotic gleam in hers. Before he could move, Catherine brought his hand to her parted lips and one after the other drew his fingers inside her mouth, devouring the delectable taste of him. The sensation overwhelmed him and he felt his already pulsating erection grow painfully harder, pushing insistently against the delicate skin of her inner thighs, the sensitive tip brushing the silk and lace barrier that still remained.
Groaning deeply Vincent leaned his weight on one elbow and hip before sliding his other hand down over the smoothness of Catherine's stomach to reach the beribboned fabric. He tugged at it gently and she immediately spread her legs apart to assist him, offering a throaty murmur as he slowly pulled the silk away. Then she gasped with astonished delight as he brought the small, damp scrap upward to his face. Draping it across the palm of his hand, he buried his face against the moist silk for several long moments, inhaling deeply the evocative fragrance of her desire for him, before thrusting the unneeded garment aside. Unable to stop himself, he reached down to stroke his fingers over her wet, tender flesh, needing to feel on his skin this newly discovered declaration of her passion. As his fingers touched her again and again, he took her mouth in a deep, searching kiss that was filled with an erotic blending of shared taste and scent and texture. It was beyond his dreams and yet he only wanted more.
Drawing back, Vincent moved his body to lie fully atop her, feeling a flicker of concern that his greater weight and strength might overwhelm her. But when he sensed through their bond nothing but all-consuming desire and pleasure from Catherine, he let himself become entirely lost in the sensation of his hard, muscular strength melding completely to her soft, welcoming curves. It was like nothing he had ever known, and he reveled in it, feeling as if they completed one another in body, just as they did in every other way. His mind and heart were consumed with the realization of this long-sought, sensuous dream come true, but then, in a heartbeat, he was pulled back to a delicious reality as he became acutely aware of Catherine’s hands moving urgently upon him. He felt her nails scraping over his shoulders and back, and her legs wrapping high around his hips so that the moist, feminine heat of her was opened to him entirely. It was as if she wanted to pull him into herself and hold him there forever.
"I love you, Catherine, I love you." His voice was a hot, rasping moan and she echoed the precious fiery words into his mouth. Then he drew back, tensing the powerful muscles of his hips, before surging forward to enter her heated depths in one intense, unrestrained thrust. The sensation drew rapturous gasps from both of them, and as one they began to move in an instinctive, pulsing rhythm that grew faster and harder with each passing moment. Over and over he immersed himself in her, savoring the feel of her hot, silken flesh grasping him, pulling him ever deeper inside. He could feel her breath rushing heatedly against his face and neck as she called to him and the frantic touch of her hands grasping and stroking his back and hips and buttocks as she urged him closer and closer.
Never before had Catherine known such complete and total arousal as she now did with Vincent. She was consumed with it -- the welcome weight of his hard body moving rhythmically upon and within her, the low, harshly rasped moans that rumbled from his heaving chest, the delicious friction of his moist, rippling muscles and rough silk hair surging against her smoothness. With every look and sound and touch, Vincent awakened responses in her eager body that she had never dreamed of, had never come close to finding with other lovers. His lovemaking was an all-encompassing experience that engulfed her body and soul, and she wanted it to last forever. It was much more than sexual desire; it was Vincent giving her the gift of himself, of everything he was, everything she would ever want.
Blood rushed hot and urgent through their veins and drove them on to what they desperately needed, a long-sought sense of total completion beyond words, beyond rational thought. A white-hot passion burned impossibly higher within them then, and more than anything they wanted to yield to its ecstatic promise. Crying out Vincent's name, Catherine arched her body upward, as he pulled back and tensed his thrusting hips before surging hard and hot into her throbbing depths one final time. Then a sensational turbulence burst around and within them, carrying them on deeply pulsating waves of pleasure that slowly ebbed but could not entirely disappear from their blissfully exhausted hearts and bodies.
Breathless, they clung together, murmuring joyful words of love and deep contentment. Vincent had felt himself collapse into Catherine's arms, and he knew he should move, but for many moments he could not, understanding that even if he tried, she would not let him go. Then at last pushing up on his arms, he looked down at her with such an intensity of shy vulnerability and confident strength that Catherine felt she might shatter from within, and yet she found that it gave her an even greater sense of completion than she had never known. In his eyes was a look of gentle possession, and she knew that at last he had accepted the gift she had offered him time and again, the right to be a part of her in every way.
They wanted to talk and touch, to nestle together in wondrous reflection, but beyond their control an insidious languor overtook them and they began to drift into an exhausted sleep. Vincent rolled over onto his back, carefully bringing Catherine with him as he gently pulled her to lie atop him. Holding her tenderly, he cradled his arms around the warm smoothness of her back and hip and nestled his head into her hair, nuzzling soft, sweet kisses against her neck. Reaching for the edge of the comforter, he drew it slowly over their relaxed, drowsy bodies, taking care that Catherine would not become chilled. The last sound either heard before drifting into a satiated slumber was a murmured pledge of unending love.

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In the black velvet hours of night, long before morning would begin to pale the sky, Vincent awakened to find Catherine still asleep in his arms, the pliant curves of her body completely relaxed as she lay nestled against him. She rested her head upon his chest where her deep, even breathing rustled the still slightly damp bronze and amber curls that covered the solid muscles. He tightened his arms around her and bent his head slightly to press soft kisses into her honey-brown hair, feeling the silky strands, still tangled from their love-making, slide across his lips with a disarming sensuality that sent warm ripples stirring through his body. A wonderful lassitude suffused his entire being and he felt almost as if he were drifting somewhere outside himself, entirely enchanted by the wondrous feelings ebbing and flowing within him. He knew he would be asleep again in minutes, even though he struggled against it, wanting to remain awake in gloriously bemused contemplation of all they'd shared that night, still not fully able to believe this moment had come at last.
Vincent's mouth curved in a slight smile as he wondered if once freed his desire for her would arise with even the smallest provocation. And then, as still asleep she snuggled closer and her satiny skin caressed him everywhere their bodies touched, he knew there was no question that it would. She was his now, as he had always been hers, and everything in him would call to her, respond to her in all ways, holding them close in an unending devotion more intense and profound than ever before.
He sighed softly and closed his eyes again as images and sensations rippled and flowed through him, their once dream state now a wildly improbable reality. He reveled in the wonder of the woman he held in his arms and all they would be together, but a deeper sleep slowly overtook him and he surrendered to it, just as he had at last surrendered his heart's aloneness to her.
Hours later, just before dawn, Vincent stirred again and slowly opened his eyes, wondering groggily what had awakened him. In an instant, the dreamy drowsiness that had filled him earlier vanished in a sweeping rush as he realized he was not in his familiar bed in the chamber where he'd slept nearly every night of his life, but instead Above in Catherine's house and in Catherine's bed. Then a thought burst to life within him and brought him to full wakefulness. In our house, in our bed. How impossible it seemed to him, and yet he knew it was entirely, wondrously true.
He turned his head on the pillow, expecting to see her sleeping peacefully beside him, but found he was alone. Apprehension burned inside him and he sat up abruptly, the sheet and comforter falling in a rumpled heap at his waist, as he scanned the dim half-light for the sight of her. In a moment he found her standing by a shuttered window at the far end of the room and he realized it had been her absence that had awakened him so unexpectedly. Relief in finding her safe and nearby washed over and through him, soothing away his sudden tension, and he leaned back against the mounded pillows at the head of the bed.
The sound of rustling fabric and the rushed harshness of Vincent's breathing made Catherine swing around to face him, filled with concern that she had upset him and anxious to make everything right once again.
"Vincent? I'm sorry," she began softly. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's all right," he replied quickly. "I was just disoriented for a moment. It's nothing."
She crossed the spacious room, her footsteps almost imperceptible on the thick carpet, and stood by the bed clad only in a short black silk robe. "I woke up a few minutes ago and realized we'd left all the candles burning when we fell asleep." Her soft smile filled the room and his heart with gentle warmth. "There probably wasn't any real risk since they're all inside glass fixtures, but I suppose we'd better be more careful in the future."
Vincent nodded thoughtfully, but his mind and heart were filled not with the need for safety but instead with the promise in her seemingly casual words. It's true, he told himself awestruck, it wasn't a dream. None of it was a dream. We're here together in this house...in our home...and there is a future waiting for us. A beautiful, unbelievable future.
His deep, rich laughter rumbled through the quiet room, delighting both of them with its unexpected gift. Catherine's smile widened as she looked down at him. "I'm not sure why you find a potential fire so amusing, but I love hearing you laugh." She shrugged her shoulders and the supple fabric of her robe slipped and clung enticingly to the curves of her body.
As Vincent watched her, he felt his heart skip a beat, and he reached for her hand, gently pulling her down beside him, savoring the way she immediately cuddled against him. "It wasn't that, Catherine. It's just that I suddenly realized I had thought all of this was a dream…but it's not a dream at all. It's real..."
Catherine's eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them away as she nestled closer, reaching up to tenderly stroke his face and press a sweet kiss on his welcoming mouth. Then she sat up to look deep into his eyes. "It will always be real, Vincent. This is the beginning for us, the true beginning of our happy life."
"Yes," he answered, his voice warm and low. "The life you always knew was meant to be."
She tilted her head as she smiled at him, her eyes glowing. "I think you always knew it, too, didn't you?"
He nodded briefly. "I had hopes, and I dreamed. But it all seemed impossible until I met you...And now I know that despite everything, there are always possibilities, and that dreams can somehow come true."
Her smile turned teasing as she reached for the belt of her robe. "Well, I know of one that certainly came true last night."
The sound of her words and the sight of her small hands starting to unfasten the silky belt drew an immediate response from Vincent, and his voice shuddered slightly as he tried to answer her, feeling his eager body stir and strengthen. "I think it's one that I will want to dream again and again," he told her softly, watching from under a tousled fringe of tawny hair as she rose up on her knees to slip off and discard her robe. The sight of her swept all sense of restraint from him once again, and he hurriedly drew back the comforter, inviting her to join him in their warm, rumpled bed. "In fact," he continued, his husky voice growing deeper, "I think I must be dreaming right now."
Catherine looked down at him, her eyes growing wide with delight at his growing ease with her and with this new facet of their love. Laughing joyfully, she threw herself into his arms, smothering him with exuberant kisses. "You're better than a dream, Vincent," she told him. "Much, much better."
This time their lovemaking was sweet and slow and tender, leaving them relaxed and content in each other's arms. It was just past daybreak and the ever-present city lights had given way to the natural glow of pale sunlight just breaking through the misty morning air. Catherine had opened two of the windows a few inches, and they could feel a cool spring breeze drifting in past the strips of the wooden shutters.
Vincent felt entirely filled with a quiet sense of joy. They lay on their backs side by side, bodies pressed tightly together, his arm around Catherine's shoulders as she rested her head against him. He nuzzled his face against the crown of her head, further ruffling her tousled hair, and breathed in the warm, evocative scent of her, as sweetly familiar as ever but now imbued with something more that only he would ever know. She turned slightly in his arms, cuddling closer, and sighed happily.
"Are you cold?" she asked. "I could get up and shut the windows again."
"No," he replied, knowing he would never feel cold or alone again. "It's very nice. I've never had the chance to wake up like this before, in the fresh air and sunlight." His thoughts took a sudden, darker turn, but instead of pulling inward, poisoning himself with old fears, he shared them with her, knowing that together they would someday banish every one of them, and then all grief would truly be forgotten.
"Once during -- during my last illness -- I dreamed I had awakened in the light of day in the park," he continued. "But it was a nightmare. I was alone, on an open stretch of grass, and a policeman on horseback appeared, hunting me, running me to ground like an animal."
Catherine drew him tighter into her arms. "But it was only a nightmare, Vincent! You must remember that. It wasn't real. It will never be real!"
He sighed deeply. "I know that now. Those things that tortured me then were only terrible visions. They were never real, and now, with you, all memory of them will finally fade away."
"And that's what you must remember," she repeated. "Just remember love, and all will be well."
He smiled, pressing another kiss upon her forehead, as he pulled her closer to his side. "I remember one other time when you said those words to me, Catherine. I've never forgotten."
Before she could answer, a sudden gust of wind rattled the shutters and sent the curtains flying outward for just a moment. Vincent sniffed the air appreciatively. "I thought I noticed that fragrance before, but I wasn't sure," he told her, his voice soft and reflective. "It’s very nice, but I don't know what it is."
Catherine rolled onto her side and pulled herself to a half-reclining position propped against the pillows, waiting as Vincent did the same and faced toward her. "It's lilacs, the first ones to blossom this spring," she told him, her voice warming with excitement. "Those windows overlook the garden behind the house. There are daffodils now, too, and violets and narcissus and yellow and white tulips. It's a lovely garden, although it needs some work. Would you like to see it?"
He tilted his head, looking at her quizzically. "But how is that possible? It's daylight. I cannot go outside during the day."
Her smile grew soft and luminous, mirroring the light in her eyes. "No, not now, but someday."
Vincent shook his head gently, reaching for her hand, tenderly stroking it before answering. "So many of our dreams are coming true, Catherine. But we cannot blind ourselves to the reality that many will never come to be. Some things will always be impossible for me, and as you continue to bind your life to mine, they will be limited, if not impossible, for you as well."
"Then those are things I don't care about," she told him, her voice filled with conviction. "I only care about who and what we are together. There are so many things we can do -- let's not worry about those we can't. And as for that garden, come with me to the window and I'll show you what I mean."
She rose gracefully from the bed and slipped on her robe before turning back to see him hesitate. A provocative smile curved her lips. "I'm sorry, Vincent. I'd almost forgotten. I have something for you in the closet."
Under his watchful and appreciative gaze, she walked to the large closet and withdrew a length of heavy, midnight blue velour. As she approached the bed again, she shook it out across the top of the comforter and placed it in his hands. "This is for you. I know you'll want to leave some of your clothing here in the future, but I thought you'd probably need this robe right away."
Vincent stroked a hand across the luxurious fabric, savoring its thick nap and deep shading. He ran his fingers over the satin cord finishing along its edges, before looking up into her expectant eyes. "This is for me?" he asked, his voice tinged with incredulous amazement.
Catherine knew if she didn't lighten the moment with a laugh, she would begin to cry. "Of course, it's for you! You don't think I make a habit of keeping bathrobes lying around for any men who happen to drop by, do you?"
"No, of course not," he protested sharply. Then he felt himself smiling as he realized she was only teasing him. "Thank you for the gift. You were very thoughtful to have it here for me."
"I like thinking about you, " she told him, pulling the robe from his hands. "Now why don't you stand up and we'll see if it fits you."
Vincent threw the bedcovers aside and rose to stand in front of her, but when he reached again for the robe, he found her grip on it had tightened and she did not seem willing to release it. "Catherine, is something wrong?" he asked in confusion.
Happiness frothed inside her like the finest champagne, making her feel reckless and delightfully silly. Her eyes narrowed as she shook her head in response to his question, the vehement movement sending her hair swinging over her shoulders in glossy tangles that Vincent found entirely captivating.
"No, nothing's wrong," she whispered in a sultry tone. "I just realized I shouldn't have bought this robe for you after all."
He picked up on her mood, and to her pleased surprise decided to play along. "And why is that?" he asked.
"I think you know why," she answered, not trying to smother a bubbling laugh. "It's because I like the way you look without it even better."
His soft chuckle echoed hers, but it didn't keep him from pulling the robe from her grasp and swiftly putting it on, knotting the belt firmly around his waist.
Catherine sighed and shrugged her shoulders. She looked up at him with a pouty smile that she knew would send waves of heat searing through him, then reached for his hand. As she led him toward the window, one of two that flanked her grandmother's desk, she marveled at the fact that only days earlier he would have been entirely unable to let her look upon his body as she just had. She had promised herself that she would do all she could to bring happiness to his life, and it thrilled her to the soul to know that in so many ways, both great and small, he was willing to let her keep that promise.
As they neared the window, Vincent paused just beyond its reach. He knew Catherine would not intentionally put him in any danger, no matter how slight, but his sense of wariness would not let him rest completely. "What else is beyond this house, other than the garden?" he asked carefully.
She turned to look up at him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Other houses. They back onto each other to form the city block with the gardens in between, and there are brownstones, very similar to this one, on either side of us as well. But all the windows in our house are shuttered. They'll let in plenty of light and with only a little care on our part, no one can possibly see in. I've ordered drapes, too, for extra warmth in the winter." She gasped suddenly. "Oh, Vincent, I can't believe it -- I never even told you what neighborhood this is! I'm sorry."
"Perhaps other things were occupying your mind," he suggested kindly, suppressing a quick smile as he suddenly realized how his comment could be interpreted. "Don't worry about it. We're somewhere on the Upper West Side, aren't we, somewhere not far from the park? And this window faces north."
Her eyes widened incredulously. "How did you know?"
He shrugged slightly. "It's the sunlight. It's too indirect for the east, but not so weak as to indicate that we are looking west. I can hear the sounds of traffic from the street, but we’re in the back of the house and they’re coming from the front, so the building probably faces south." He paused, clearly enjoying the admiring expression on her face. "But admittedly, it was partly a lucky guess."
"Well, it was a very accurate lucky guess! This house is on West 73rd Street, almost in the middle of the block between Central Park West and Columbus Avenue."
"Near the Museum of Natural History," Vincent added. "And Lincoln Center."
Catherine nodded. "Even so, it's a quiet, residential neighborhood. Peter and I investigated it very thoroughly before making this commitment. The realtor who found it for us is a Helper, Mrs. Zimmerman, but it was just a coincidence that Peter knew the previous owners, the Farrells. And beside the tunnel entrance in the sub-basement, we're not far from a few of the entrances in the park."
"And your apartment, Catherine, it's directly across the park," Vincent continued, mentally orienting himself in time and space.
"Yes, but it's not my apartment anymore. Jenny bought it, but she promised we could visit the balcony any time we want, especially when she's out of town."
Vincent's sharp intake of breath made Catherine jump. "What's wrong?" she asked quickly. "What is it?"
He looked down at her carefully. "You said Jenny promised we could visit the balcony. Have you told her about me?"
Catherine shook her head, hoping Vincent would not detect the undercurrent of sadness in her reply. "No, not really. I did tell her several weeks ago that there was a very special man in my life, someone I love very much. And I told her your name, but that's all. Oh, Vincent, I wish the two of you could meet someday! I know you'd become great friends."
He pulled her into his arms in an embrace both sad and sweet. "Perhaps someday we will, but for now I think it's best that we be satisfied with all that we have. Just think of it. We’re Above at daybreak, together in a new house...a new home. We have entered into a new life together. We have become…we are…lovers...."
Catherine's eyes closed for a moment as she savored the pure and wondrous promise in his voice. "Yes, we have so much, my love...and so much more we can look forward to."
She gently extricated herself from his embrace. "Come look through the shutters and tell me what you think of our garden." She reached for a long, narrow vertical wand attached to the uppermost portion of the shutters and turned it easily between her fingers, opening the wooden slats just enough to allow them to look out and yet keep anyone else from looking in.
Vincent moved past her and cautiously did as she had asked. Then he turned back to her, his bewilderment clearly written on his face. "What is that thing that covers the garden? I can smell the scent of the flowers on the wind, but it's difficult to see them through that barrier."
Her delighted smile transformed the hint of worry that had clouded her face. "It's an arbor. Well, a rather big arbor, I suppose. The Farrells had put up latticework inside the brick walls on three sides of the garden and even against the house on the nearest side. They cultivated climbing roses. I've never seen them in bloom, but Dr. Farrell left pictures of them and wrote their names on the back for our reference. I'll show them to you later. There's a particularly beautiful blush pink one called New Dawn that blossoms constantly from early summer until the first frost. The rose bush from my terrace is out there, too, right by the back steps. I'm going to replant it in the garden the first chance I get."
"But the latticework -- the arbor -- that spans the top of the garden looks brand new. It seems to have been freshly painted and there's no growth of any kind upon it."
Catherine laughed. "Your powers of observation are amazing, Vincent. It is brand new. Jack Farrell's design gave me the idea, and I just had the addition installed. We can add more plantings and train the roses to grow across it. There's a catalogue down in the living room from a wonderful nursery in Connecticut, and we can order the roses from them. It will take some time, but if we choose the right strains, ones that are full and hardy, then eventually they'll create a sort of canopy of flowers. They'll let in the light and air, but they'll provide a covering, and --"
Vincent interrupted her, his voice filled with amazement and burgeoning joy. "And I can go out into the day and be safe in the sunlight, just like any other man."
This time Catherine's eyes did fill with tears, and she made no attempt to hide them as she looked up at the wonderment in his eyes. "Yes, my love, and just as we've dreamed, we'll truly be together in the sunlight."
Vincent's deep, rich voice reverberated through her as he repeated the words, making them sound like a prayer. "Together in the sunlight..."
Turning slightly, she leaned back against him, closing her eyes and sighing happily as she felt his arms come up at once to hold her tightly around the waist. Their thoughts were filled with visions of the future, of a life full of love and light that had once seemed destined only to be lived in dreams. Many minutes passed and then slowly within both of them, another dream arose, searingly beautiful in its fiery promise, a shimmering image of their bodies passionately entwined as they made love in the sunshine, the glorious scent of roses surrounding them in the heat of a summer day and in the enduring fire of their love. Together they knew that fire would burn unending throughout every season of their long and happy lives. The dream filled them with pleasure, adding even deeper shadings to the joy that surrounded them.
Then their shared happiness took on a more immediate, vibrant coloring. There was so much more to say, questions Vincent wanted to ask, but he set aside the words, unable to ignore the need that pulsated strongly within him. Once freed and at last fully expressed, his desire for her had become such a powerfully driving force that it had begun to race beyond his control. Almost in disbelief he watched his hands begin to move upon her, and he thought he heard a distant voice somewhere within him whisper that he should stop, should wait. But to his growing concern deeper urges smothered the sound, and he found he could not stop touching her. This, he thought in fear, was the darkness, the loss of control -- it had come upon him at last, just as he had always known it would, and now everything would come to a horrible end because he wanted her so often and so much.
Instinctively he reached for their bond like a lifeline, and in it he felt nothing but Catherine's overwhelming passion, a force as wild and strong as his. Deep need and desire thrummed unmistakably within her, undisguised and desperate for freedom, but something had contained its intensity, like flames billowing against a transparent wall of glass. He realized then that she was waiting for him, wanting him to leave behind even more of his lingering doubts and fears, to realize that he might direct the course of their lovemaking and that she would only welcome the further loss of his restraint. The knowledge left him at once achingly weak with relief and wondrously powerful with triumph, opening and freeing him to glorious sensation.
Catherine felt her body tremble as Vincent slowly and firmly stroked one hand upward, teasingly brushing over her breasts and then lingering to caress their hardened tips, before tenderly cupping her chin and urging her to turn back to him. As she willingly complied, she felt his other hand rise to her shoulder and, catching the edge of her robe in his gentle clawed fingers, begin to ease the black silk downward.
Sighing tremulously, she turned to face him fully, finding to her infinite pleasure, he had somehow loosened the belt of his own robe, letting it fall open in clear, unmistakable invitation. As she felt herself drawn tightly and willingly to his eager body, she was still vaguely aware of the shimmering waves of sunshine that warmed them even through the protective barriers of wood and glass. Then she felt his hands slide over her silk-clad hips, only to move lower to lift and clasp her hard against him, and when she raised her head to meet his eager mouth, she smiled, knowing the heat and light of their love was worth far more to both of them than even the miraculous gift of sunlight.

(from) "Ode to Duty"

William Wordsworth

Serene will be our days and bright,
And happy will our nature be,
When love is an unerring light
And joy its own security;
And blessed are they who in the main
This faith, even now, do entertain –
Live in the spirit of this creed,
Yet find that other strength, according to their need.