“The Beginning of Always…”

By C.J. La Belle

“I used to think that I was strong

I realise now I was wrong

‘Cause every time I see your face

My mind becomes an empty space

And with you lying next to me

Feels like I can hardly breathe

I close my eyes the moment I surrender to you…

Let love be blind, innocent and tenderly true…

So lead me through tonight

but please, please turn out the light…

‘Cause I’m lost every time I look at you…”

~ II Divo

********

It took Catherine several anxious moments of frantic searching to realise

she had somehow misplaced the keys to her apartment. “Aw, come on,

for Pete’s sake! You just gotta be in here somewhere…”

She cast a narrow-eyed glare at her wristwatch. I don’t have time for

this!

It was well after dawn, and if she couldn’t get showered and changed,

then she was going to be seriously late for a deposition that was set to

begin at 9am on the dot. She simply couldn’t turn up to work in old sweat

pants and a leather jacket. But making the trip to her dad’s place, where

she stil kept a wardrobe of clothes, would take more time that she had.

And if she missed another deposition, her boss, the no-nonsense Joe

Maxwell, would have her head on a plate! He would make certain sure

everyone in the bull-pen knew that the rich girl thought the rules about

getting to work on time didn’t apply to her.

Cathy’s relationship with Joe was often good, but sometimes thorny, as

well. He stil wasn’t convinced that being told by John Moreno to hire her

last year hadn’t been a complete waste of his time and the city’s over-

stretched resources. For not the first time in her new career in the D.A.s

office Catherine was aware she was pushing the famously non-existent

limits of Joe Maxwell’s patience by coming in late again this week. Al he

needed was one final excuse and here she was handing it to him, gift-

wrapped!

“Give me a break!” Catherine complained as she blew the bangs from

her eyes, wil ing her heart-rate to slow, and logic to help her out in her

quest for the elusive keys. They simply had to be her bag somewhere,

just not in the place she usually secured them as she hurried Below

through the basement entrance beneath her apartment building.

“Think logically,” she admonished herself. Her breathing slowed as she

mentally backtracked to the last time she’d handled her keys. She

visualised the scene that had taken place hours before, just a few steps

from her front door.

She had left her apartment quickly, hurrying towards the elevator,

concentrating on shaking off the prolonged effects of lack of sleep and

the hectic hours. There was so little time she and Vincent could be

together, she was determined to wring every precious moment out of

their secret meetings.

Given Isaac’s rigorous training she was more aware of her surroundings

that she had been in the past. There was someone else on her floor with

her. Now that she thought about it, she remembered the kid had been

loitering further down the hallway, like he was waiting for someone…

Okay, he’d hurried along to get into the elevator immediately after her.

Catherine frowned, nodding jerkily. He had crowded her a little too close, watching her out of the corner of his eye, like he was judging the

distance between them. But surely he hadn’t taken the keys from her

purse…Catherine grimaced, thinking she’d paid more attention to the

descending numbers, wil ing them to hasten, than to the boy hovering

just a shade too close to her elbow. Isaac would have chewed her out

for not paying more attention to potential threats.

Mentally she pictured the young teenager. Yankee’s baseball cap

askew, clean denim shirt and tidy grey chinos over white sneakers. Tall

and thin, he hadn’t looked like much of a threat. He looked like what he

probably was, someone who belonged in the building. Just another rich,

latch-key kid with too much time on his hands, riding the elevators out of

sheer boredom and looking for easy sport. Annoying but harmless. She

couldn’t report him for that! His face had been open and honest as he’d

cheerily wished her a good evening, saying this was his floor and he’d

see her around, before he’d sauntered off on third, looking very pleased

with himself.

What then? Catherine sighed, trying to remember. Deepening frustration

and lack of sleep was making her more than a little paranoid.

“Okay, Chandler, pull yourself together. Joe is waiting for you.” Catherine

dragged her attention from its morose introspection of her life to renew

her quest in her purse. The keys just had to be in there somewhere…

“But where, dammit!” She upended her handbag in frustration, dumping

the contents onto the side table in the hallway before her apartment

door. Al sorts of things tumbled out, threatening to spil across the

table’s highly polished surface and scatter onto the floor out of sight and

beyond her easy reach.

To her relief the keys rattled out among the scattered contents. “Oh,

thank goodness!” Of course she hadn’t lost them! They had been there

all the time! Snatching them up, she inserted the key in the lock, opened

the door and hurried inside. Maybe she would make it after all…

*******

Catherine turned slowly under the shower, sluicing the tiredness from

her limbs. It felt so good, a guilty pleasure under which she must not

linger. Moments later a hurried cup of black coffee did nothing to settle

the rumblings of her stomach, so she munched through a slice of toast

and jam as she sorted out her wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear.

Right now her world seemed to turn on last-minute decisions.

After donning fresh underwear and stepping into a pencil skirt, she

dragged up the fastening too quickly, catching her finger in the zipper.

Mumbling under her breath around the last of the toast held between her

teeth, she managed to button and tuck in her blouse one-handed.

Flexing the offended finger to relieve the pain, she shrugged into her

jacket. Back in the bathroom she cleaned her teeth and applied fresh

make-up. Her internal clock told her she was already out of time.

Misplacing her keys had cost her precious minutes.

“Okay, make this day count, Chandler.” She glanced at her watch as she

headed for the door, and her eyes widened with surprise. Fifteen

minutes, a new record.

She was painfully aware her beloved father no longer recognised or

even approved of the new Catherine. The old Cathy would have spent at

least two hours in front of the mirror. It lifted her mood, making her smile

as she snagged her handbag. Maybe it would be all right after al …

Of course it wasn’t Vincent’s fault she was now seriously late for work, it

was her own tardiness. The growing habit of spending as much time with

her love as she could, balancing the almost overwhelming desire be with

him against the need to be in her apartment early enough the next

morning. She needed to change her clothes before hurrying out the door

again to get to work in time, was fast becoming unworkable. Something

would have to give, and soon. When she punched the elevator buttons,

she was relieved when the doors slid open almost immediately. At least

she’d lose no more time waiting to reach the basement.

Her underfed stomach growled in protest. Of course after showering,

changing and applying her make-up in record time, a decent meal

wouldn’t even register on her radar! Perhaps she should have accepted

Wil iam’s offer of a very early breakfast. The cook had seemed surprised

to find her stil discussing poetry with Vincent in his chamber after

sunrise, but Wil iam didn’t comment. He’d simply shrugged at her hurried

refusal and stumbling apology when she realized how late it really was,

and continued on his way to his own domain to begin the new day.

Car keys in hand, Catherine quickly settled herself into her sedan and

braced for the drive into work. As she merged into traffic, Catherine

remembered Vincent’s concern for her, along with the amazing evening

they’d shared.

“You wil be late for work again. Forgive me,” Vincent had stated the

obvious as he’d hastily pulled on his cloak and took her arm, hurrying

her towards the entrance to the tunnels beneath Catherine’s apartment

building.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Catherine had told him, needing to jog to

keep up with his much longer strides. “We both got lost in the moment.”

“And the magic of Oscar Wilde’s poetry,” Vincent had acknowledged with

a reminiscent smile. “And over our heads wil float the Blue Bird singing

of beautiful and impossible things, of things that are lovely and that

never happen, of things that are not and that should be...” He had

paused to look down at her, his smile widening. “At least I am now privy

to the knowledge that you do not snore.” He allowed the intimate

comment to hang between them.

“Glad to know that I don’t.” Catherine’s cheeks had warmed as she’d

ducked her head, hurrying beyond him, choosing not to look back to see

if he followed. “But if I hadn’t fallen asleep to your reading of Rilke’s

Letters to a Young Poet, we would not be in this predicament now.” She

glanced sideways at him as they continued their hurried progress. “Not

that your reading wasn’t very beautiful and moving…”

“But you were tired.” Vincent had nodded. He seemed about to say

something more, but changed his mind and Catherine didn’t push the

issue.

She had been tired. And now the clogged traffic on Lexington wasn’t

helping things any, other than to give her a chance to daydream about

being with him.

They had continued upwards through the tunnels in silence until they

finally arrived at the shadowed entrance to Catherine’s own world. She’d

turned to him. “It’s all right Vincent, truly. I don’t mind.”

“A small white lie, but I wil accept it.” Vincent lifted his shoulders in

frustration. “Sometimes I wish…” He shook his head before continuing, “I

didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful lying there against my

arm.”

“I’l admit to resting my eyes…just a little. And you were so close…”

Catherine had gone into his arms gratefully, even though she knew any

more time alone was seriously scarce. “I have been so tired lately. None

of which is your fault, Vincent. It’s just this job of mine is more difficult

than I thought…” She rubbed her cheek in apology against his vest.

“Sometimes, I wish…” she sighed long and low.

“I know…” Vincent breathed sadly, pulling her closer against him. “You

work far too hard and that work is dangerous. You must be careful. I

cannot protect you up there in daylight.” His hold on her tightened until

she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care or protest.

“I feel I’m making up for so much lost time, spending it with you and

working in my new job. I felt so useless before when I worked for my

father’s firm.” Catherine had rested against his heartbeat for more

moments that she had left. But it had felt so good to be able to hide

there, be accepted and cherished for who she was, not what she

represented to the cynical world Above.

As the heavy traffic started to move again and her final destination

loomed, Catherine knew why she’d so often lingered in his embrace,

rather than face the world she’d been born into. Things always seemed

so much simpler when she was with him.

Other men’s close embraces had often made demands of her, imposing

expectations she was often at a loss to know how to fil beyond the

physical. They didn’t care for her, but for what she represented. It was a

singular game she had become very adept at playing. Without exception

those other men thought wining and dining her gave them certain rights.

They had sometimes expected and received access to her body, but her

heart had often been left out of the equation. It remained lonely,

uncharted territory that none of her previous male friends seemed

interested in exploring.

Catherine, like other women, was a product of her time, and her time

was almost defined by the sexual revolution. Sex for its own sake,

fulfil ing a need to be close to someone in the long, lonely hours of the

night, had become a habit Catherine had formed early in her college

career. The mundaneness of going through the motions of making it

through foreplay and faking her own climax had soured her ideas of

love-making to the point of almost making her physically nauseated

when she looked back on her life.

These frustrating experiences advanced her nothing except heartache

and regrets that she’d been taken in once more by a good pick-up line

and a handsome face. Only her father knew what she had gone through

in her college years, the bad choices she had made, and the money it

had cost him more than once, to rescue her from the consequences of

her own thoughtless actions.

Finally seated behind her overflowing desk, Catherine stared into the

middle distance, instead of dealing with the depositions Joe wanted

immediately after she had finished them. Her poised pen remained

unused in her slackened fingers.

“I feel so safe with you…” She had told Vincent that, moving her cheek

once more regretfully against the grey ribbing of his thick vest. It was so

different from anything she had known. This was the dream she had

dreamed once when she was so young and innocent of the life she was

born to lead. That was before her mother had died, leaving Catherine

bereft and alone, with only her father trying to make the best life for her.

Vincent expected nothing from her, beyond her simple acceptance of his

existence. He had arrived on her balcony that night only to satisfy

himself she was well. It had been at her insistence that he had stayed

beyond the time when he should have left her alone once more to get on

with her new life and forget all about him, and his secret world.

“I miss you when you are not with me.” Catherine sighed, shrugging

against her love’s broad chest, her troubled thoughts and mood

communicating themselves to him through their growing emotional

connection. But he refrained from commenting, from asking awkward

questions to which she had no answers. He simply held her closer,

pressing a comforting kiss into her hair.

Catherine was grateful for his reticence. She was well aware of what she

was to everyone in the world, except this man and his secret life. She

was the daughter of a very rich and powerful man. A desirable human

commodity who would eventually be auctioned off to the highest bidder,

if only she would play the time-honoured game and accept the

inevitable.

And only a few months ago she had reluctantly accepted that fate with

the regrettable Tom Gunther. Signed, sealed and delivered, as the song

said. Until one terrifying night of mistaken identity, marriage to Tom had

been her predictable destiny. Her father’s best client had been an

excellent catch, young, ambitious and going places. What more could a

girl want, right?

It tied up so many things very neatly. But nothing about him or his touch

fil ed the aching void in her heart. Long ago Catherine had decided the

fault must be with her. Perhaps she was truly unlovable in the deepest

sense of the word. It was a frightening thought she kept neatly tucked

away out of sight, well beyond any chance of discovery. But in the

loneliest places of her soul, she knew it to be an immutable fact. She felt

nothing beyond the physical release of sex and how it gave her a

fleeting sense of complete disconnection from her world and whoever

she happened to be with that night. Ultimately however, she was stil

alone…

Once Catherine had recovered from the surgery, she and Tom had

picked up dating where they had left off as if nothing had happened, in

an attempt to patch up the relationship. It had all come to a very

unpleasant head when Catherine refused to sleep with her fiancé as she

had freely done before the attack. Confused and upset, Charles

Chandler had reluctantly accepted Gunther’s swift exit from his

daughter’s life and his firm’s books.

Charles had refused to discuss her kidnapping with his daughter,

deciding best left alone, soonest forgotten. He had arranged everything,

eradicated even the smallest detail. Then Catherine’s father watched

anxiously and waited for his beloved only child to return to being the

young woman he had known, one who had always been pleased to

accept his advice and sage reasoning. Become again the submissive

and softly-spoken debutante with a secure future as the bearer of the

next generation of Fortune Five Hundred wheelers and dealers .

Catherine had tried to please her father. But her burgeoning relationship

with Vincent was something she could not share with him, though she

longed to tell him she was finally happy. Her father had been pathetically

overjoyed when El iot Burch had suddenly set his sights on her three

months ago, when the self-made bil ionaire had contributed a priceless

art collection to the museum. Her father was so sure her future would be

secure if only Catherine would entertain the idea of marriage to El iot,

even if his family roots were decidedly shady and more than a little

suspect. Possession of huge sums of money easily forgave any number

of sins…

Sitting there behind her desk, with her eyes stil unfocussed and

contemplating nothing but her inner turmoil, it took Catherine several

moments to realise her view of the bull-pen had been firmly blotted out

by a white shirt-front, and the indignant sigh of her boss, standing with

arms folded and dark eyes blazing.

“Late night again, Radcliffe?” Joe questioned sarcastically, his look

saying he wouldn’t believe whatever she was about to say in her own

defence. “I know you weren’t here on time, again…”

Catherine made to speak, but he forestalled her with an upraised hand.

“Skip it, I don’t have time for a blow by blow account. I figure those

depositions are ready for me then…” An accusing finger stabbed at the

piled folders and his dark brows arched.

“I’m really sorry, Joe. Can you give me another thirty minutes?”

Catherine grasped her pen firmly, ducking her head over the work. “I

promise I’l make it.”

“My desk in thirty, or don’t bother coming in tomorrow!” Joe barked,

shaking his head as he turned back towards his own office.

Breathing a cautious sigh of relief, Catherine began to work in earnest.

*******

“You don’t need to count it, it’s all there.” El iot Burch watched the boy

standing before his desk calmly counting the two hundred dollars he’d

just extorted for his dubious services.

“Can’t trust people these days.” The boy’s open, honest face settled into

a disapproving frown. Reaching into his pocket he dropped onto El iot’s

desk a pick-pocket’s block of soft clay into which several key

impressions had been neatly pressed. “You get what you paid for. Your

bit of skirt didn’t even know I was in and out of her bag in under three

floors on the elevator. New record. She was too busy watching the

numbers and talking to herself. Nice legs, but all women are crazy. You

sure you want to get mixed up with someone like this?”

“What I do with my time and money is none of your business!” El iot

flared angrily. The kid had only been in his office for five minutes and

already El iot wanted to throttle him. “And you wil not go anywhere near

her ever again. Is that clear?” he stabbed a warning finger at the boy’s

thin chest. “We’re done here!”

The boy’s shoulders rolled dismissively. “Whatever, man. But if you ever

need me again, you know where I hang.” He bid El iot a cheery good

morning and sauntered arrogantly through the office door he’d left open

when he entered.

El iot surged to his feet and crossed the office to slam the door behind

the boy’s disappearing figure. He leaned back against the wood,

expelling his breath harshly. It had been a calculated risk, but one he

was prepared to take. He wasn’t about to leave anything to chance. He’d

messed up over that thwarted development of the old people’s

apartment building. He never made the same mistake twice. He’d

pushed too hard to make her date him, and Chandler had shoved him

right back with interest.

But after a stubborn silence she had suddenly come to him asking for an

urgent loan of some mining equipment. She had agreed to see him after

that, but not for long. It had been a few precious weeks of hoping against

hope she would stay for good this time…

“There’s something here I’m just not seeing…” El iot’s grey eyes

narrowed. “Or someone…I hate this!”

He’s had the distinct impression when they first met at the museum gala

that however available and enticing she may have at first seemed,

Catherine Chandler was already seeing someone else. And she was

pretty cagey about it too. She became evasive when he pushed her to

confess, saying there was no one, but she didn’t meet his disbelieving

eyes when she’d said it. Always a tell-tale sign any woman was hiding

something. El iot made his fortune by knowing how to read people, how

to tell who was lying from who was telling the truth, and when. It had

saved him the cost of both time and money.

He speculated if her father knew who the mysterious lover was, but

somehow he doubted he knew anything at all. The old boy had been

grateful to see El iot paying court to his daughter, watching their

interaction like a wary hawk. Calculating the likely odds of a marriage

too, no doubt, even if El iot was not the kind of husband he had hoped

for. He was not old money and that mattered to some. El iot had faced

down that kind of societal prejudice all during his meteoric climb. A

relationship with Catherine Chandler would do much to quiet the critics

who correctly charged him with being one of the nouveau riche.

El iot had to admit they had done a stunning job on Catherine’s face.

He’d seen the police files on her and the attached photo, made it his

business to know what happened to her last year. Her father’s money

had effectively erased the past. But El iot also liked Catherine’s spirit,

and it didn’t hurt she was once more incredibly beautiful and street

smart. He detested submissive women who couldn’t make decisions for

themselves.

“Okay, let’s see who we can turn up.” El iot grimaced, his eyes

narrowing. He headed back around his desk, sitting down and reaching

for the phone to dial Cleon Manning’s number.

“Tell Manning I need to see him, like yesterday,” he told Manning’s

receptionist. Dropping the receiver back into its cradle without waiting for

a reply, he sat back to frown at the work piling up on his desk. That could

wait.

El iot linked his fingers, tapping his thumbs together impatiently. Now he

had Catherine’s keys he was going to stake out her apartment. Wait until

she went to work tomorrow and then a Manning operative would let

himself into her place and snoop around, note down anyone who came

and went, left messages or phoned her to make a date. He’d tidy up and

leave before Catherine came home, so she would never know she was

being investigated. A week should do it, give him everything he needed

to know.

El iot already knew she was deeply into the classics, music and the arts.

Shakespeare in the park and some heavy-weight concerts by dead

masters. He shook his head, knowing he could take or leave both

himself, he was more of a Bil y Joel fan. But if pretending he liked music

and art by dead white men could get him what he most wanted right

now, then he would become the classical world’s most ardent admirer.

He already had another project he’d been working on for months that

would dwarf the art collection he’d contributed to the museum. An

audacious plan to finally woo the city fathers and al ow him access to

their exclusive, ivy-league halls of power. He remembered telling the

reporter back at the museum that night how he thought the true value of

great art lay in its ability to influence and enhance the quality of

humanity, and contrary to popular opinion, he believed New Yorkers stil

qualified.

He grimaced sourly. He hadn’t mean a word of it, of course. But that was

not the point. He was going to make an even bigger splash and get

noticed again, and he would know everything there was to know about

Catherine and who she was seeing, like yesterday!

El iot never played second fiddle to anyone, not in business or romance,

and he wasn’t about to start now. Not over a woman, because they

didn’t play by rules any man could hope to understand. They needed to

be told what was good for them. They were a lot like the city fathers, that

way.

He fully intended to discover who Catherine was seeing, size up the

competition and find their weak points. Lean on them a little, make them

squirm and think twice about having anything to do with the woman El iot

fully intended to marry. Sooner rather than later. He wasn’t getting any

younger…

*******

“Catherine sees herself as unlovable, Father.” Vincent sat with his

forefinger resting on the head of the white queen. “And I don’t know what

to do about it.” He studied the patterns of candlelight reflected in the

chess piece’s gleaming ivory surface. Polished from constant use over

the last thirty-plus years she had been loved and played with, the queen

felt warm to his touch, as if it truly lived.

“Surely you exaggerate.” Father leaned forward to peer closely at his

precarious position in the game between them. He sighed roughly, not

matter the angle he tilted his head, it did not look good. He glanced up at

his son’s brooding expression. “Catherine is young, beautiful, and rich.

Those qualities are very desirable in the world Above. She wil never be

short of admirers and rightly so. Men like El iot Burch, who can give her

everything. That is her world. I have recently read about their affair the

newspapers. He is a ruthless man and wil not hesitate to crush any

opposition to his wishes. There are certain expectations for such a

woman as Catherine. I’m very much afraid you would figure in none of

them. Those high-powered lawyers and robber barons know how to

protect their own.”

“It is not her admirers I am referring too, Father.” Vincent watched as his

opponent reached to make a move, hesitate and frown, anxiously

seeking an escape route where there was none. “I am talking about her

soul, the very heart of her being, where she hides her true self, and

thinks no one can see her pain. But I can, Father. I have seen the depth

and breadth of her anguish, but I am helpless to know how to help her,

how to diminish that pain. I try to reach her with words and gestures,

but…” He raised his broad shoulders helplessly.

Father sighed as he peered at his son over the rim of his glasses. “Ah,

then I’m afraid, you wil need Narcissa’s help, not mine. I am only a

doctor, I don’t have the skil -set to tamper with souls.” He leaned back.

“What you and Catherine share is truly remarkable. You saved her, took

the dreadfully broken pieces of who she was and made her whole again,

Vincent. You can be very proud of that. Her scars were not only physical.

You have allowed her to live again in the world where she truly belongs.”

He shook his head. “But it can never be more than a fleeting aberration

between you. You are from such different worlds. She has no place in

yours, and you certainly can have no place in hers. It is a beautiful

dream, but that’s all it can ever be, a dream. Perhaps you have finally

come to a natural parting of the ways. Let it wash over you, Vincent and

be content with what you have achieved. One day you wil see that I am

right. To go on can only bring you the same pain you see in Catherine

now.”

His son sighed. “Yet in that dream, within those stolen moments when

we are together, she is content.” Vincent lifted the white queen into the

light of the tiffany lamp beside him. “I can feel it in her. The self-doubts

retreat and she can see a little of what I see within her, the true beauty

she carries inside, her ability to love, her compassion for her fellow

human being. But then she goes Above once more and those doubts

return.”

He put down the queen. “Then her aloneness creeps in to whisper in the

back of her mind, saying that nothing she does, nothing she thinks about

herself, is ever going to be good enough. That she is truly alone and

unloved in the midst of so much beauty, power and privilege. I can go to

her only at night, stand with her on her balcony and hold her. She

deserves better from me, Father. I am deeply aware she wishes me to

enter her apartment, and yet I hesitate…”

“I did say once that you have the soul of a doctor.” Father stared at his

son in wonder. “But to see all that in a woman I thought had everything

she could ever want is truly remarkable. You are remarkable.” He

reached across the table to clasp Vincent’s free hand. “And you can

understand, know all that after a few meetings, a few stolen moments of

togetherness?”

He grimaced. “Sometimes I can only wonder at the boundaries and

levels of your intuition, your ability to perceive such things in others that

no one else can see. It is your gift, but also your curse where Catherine

is concerned. You have become too close, as I feared you would. You

cannot help her, Vincent. It is an impossible situation. You simply cannot

be together. Surely you can see how impossible that is. She is destined

to be with a man like Burch, a man who can give her everything and not

count the cost.”

“Perhaps…” Vincent inclined his head, moving his shoulders helplessly.

“But I can sense it every time I hold her. I can feel that her heart is

untouched and deeply troubled. That there are things she wishes she

could share with me, but she doesn’t know how to make me understand,

thinking perhaps that I am innocent of the things that happen between a

man and a woman. We both know that is not so, living as we do down

here, so closely connected to each other.” His blue eyes meet Father’s

squarely, and his parent wisely did not ask.

Vincent inclined his head in quiet acknowledgement as he continued, “I

have no idea how to ask for such a confidence. Each time she is in my

arms I am aware of the hurtful betrayals she has known in her life and

those who have lied about loving her. No one has tried to take care of

her as she deserves. Understand and see her for who she truly is inside.

The love and the beauty that I see there, humbles me. Sometimes it is

even more than I can bear, and I must leave her alone for fear of hurting

her even more. I must leave her wondering what she has done that I

must desert her when she needs me most. When she wants me to

understand.”

Vincent leaned forward with both arms folded in the table’s edge. “But I

am at an enormous loss how to comfort her, how to make her see that

she is loved and cherished.” He shook his great head. “Once I thought I

could reach her through poetry, through words of love and

understanding.” His mouth quirked wryly. “But she fell asleep on me last

night, right in the middle of some of Rilke’s most beautiful passages.”

“Then perhaps it’s not poetry she seeks,” Father said slowly, frowning

over his belated move and chewing his bottom lip. “Perhaps you have

done al you can in healing her, Vincent. Now it is finally time to let her

go, and move on with both your lives. It can only bring you both

heartache and despair.”

“I am wel aware of your thoughts on our safety and the security of this

world. Know that I would never do anything to endanger those I love.”

“And what about Catherine?” Father’s eyes rose challengingly as he

finally made his move with a fatalistic sigh. “You endanger her every

time you go Above to see her. Surely you can both see it is an untenable

position.”

“I know that, but I cannot abandon her, Father.” Vincent reached to

counter the move with his queen. “I cannot leave her alone once more

with her doubts and fears as I have done in the past. My heart contains

only her, and my arms are for her alone. There wil never be anyone else

for me, Father, never.” He surveyed the board and smiled wryly. “I do

believe that is check-mate.”

“Again?” Father questioned bleakly, without heat. He snorted as he

studied the board before capitulating. “Very well, you win.” He looked up.

“But please know this, Vincent, Catherine deserves the very best of

everything. She deserves a whole life, not one half-lived, hiding in the

shadows and concealment for safety’s sake. She can never take you

home to her parents, to meet her friends and co-workers. She can never

show them an engagement ring and say she is yours in front of

everyone. And you can offer her no more than a life full of half-truths and

deceit. A life lived in the shadows, fearful always of discovery. You have

lived it yourself, Vincent, is it any life for a woman such as her?”

“Al I can offer her is myself, Father.” Vincent fell to toying with the white

queen again, his expression tormented. “Everything that I am and all that

I am to be.”

Father studied his son’s tawny, down-bent head for a long time before

he replied gruffly, “Then you must ask yourself, Vincent, is that precious

gift good enough to last you both for a lifetime?”

*******

El iot eased a weary hand up and around the back of his neck beneath

the open collar of his shirt, relieving the tired muscles and the cramp

dogging his hunched shoulders. He glanced sourly at the clock on the

wall. Another midnight had passed un-noticed. It was becoming a bad

habit to work the day from both ends. But if he went home he found he

couldn’t sleep. He would pace the floor until dawn and feel no better for

it. At least work distracted him from his inner turmoil.

Those nights had been the longest to endure, wasting his precious time

staring out at the cityscape sprawled beneath his penthouse window.

“Nothing but the best, right?” He lifted the crystal whisky tumbler

mockingly and downed the fiery liquid in one long swallow. It burned al

the way to his empty stomach.

A few weeks ago there had been nights when he could easily tear

himself away from work, but that was when ‘she’ was in his life.

“Catherine Chandler…” El iot’s frowning gaze quartered Central Park,

but he stil had no answers. “What are you hiding from me?”

He had determined to know why she’d come to him seeking those

explosives and detonators. He’d wryly joked about hard rock mining at

the time, but it had been much more than that. She had been in deep

emotional pain and serious trouble when she had demanded he instantly

supply what she needed without any explanation.

Like it was a case of life or death… but for who? And where?

After that night, to El iot’s bemused amazement, Catherine had kept her

word. She had seen him on several occasions over the following three

weeks. They had gone out to dinner and she had allowed him to escort

her to the opera. They had been photographed and speculated about in

the press. El iot couldn’t help that, even though Catherine seemed

deeply displeased to be exposed like that.

She had placed limits on anything more than that. Even her father’s

cautiously delighted approval of her new beau did nothing to change her

mind. Old man Chandler had met with El iot behind his daughter’s back

and made his views clear. He was not happy, but he was prepared to

make the best of the only deal on the table. He wanted grandchildren to

continue the Chandler legacy.

But Catherine had set her own limits. Stay the night with El iot, make

love with him, assuage the intense ache for her softness that burned

deep within him, she steadfastly refused to do, no matter how many

times he asked. Okay, demanded… It was like she had already made

promises to someone else, and she wasn’t about to break them.

El iot knew it wasn’t Tom Gunther. That relationship had ended some

months before. The man had moved on and not looked back, recently

marrying a New York heiress who was rolling in seriously useful

connections and old money.

It drove El iot crazy that Catherine would not let him in, help him

understand who or what she was seeing. Suddenly their enforced

acquaintance had dropped away. She stopped taking his calls, she

ignored his messages and his occasional dropping in at her place of

work, as if he was an annoying puppy that needed to be taught its true

place in her life. As if she had other places to be, other people to see,

another man to share her life with... a nd her bed, no doubt.

El iot didn’t operate like that. He ruthlessly chased down what he

wanted, it was who he was, and it had been there right in front of him, all

along. He was just too blind, too in love to see it. What she wouldn’t

share with him, she was sharing with someone else. El iot knew he had

been used, he could see that. So he went after her keys and found a

different way to be into her private life. To delve into all her secrets and

finally ferret out the truth. He would bring her back to him by threatening

that which she was protecting and that secret had to be really big,

because no one else had any idea.

“A means to an end.” He grimaced at the memories. They left a bitter

taste in his mouth along with the dregs of the whisky. He slammed the

glass down on a nearby table, his shoulders hunched in physical pain.

Al along Catherine had someone else waiting in the wings, waiting for

her return to him, duty done. But where was he now and why was he

never around taking care of business?

*******

Catherine turned the expensively embossed invitation over and over in

her hands. Staring into the middle distance, she wasn’t even looking at

it. After two weeks of silence El iot Burch had reappeared to personally

deliver his invitation to an exhibition he hosting at the Met, along with a

very glossy brochure as if he was touting his wares. He stood on her

doorstep, looking beyond her into her apartment, demanding she agree

to attend the masked gala he was giving on Saturday night, three weeks

hence.

“You are free, aren’t you?” His sharp grey eyes had hunted over what he could see of her living room, obviously looking for signs she was not

alone. “Or you got company?”

“I do not think that is any of your business,” she told him, pointedly half-

closing the door. “Goodbye, El iot.”

“I say it is my business.” El iot had inserted his foot in the aperture,

forcing her to agree she would at least consider his invitation before he

retreated slowly towards the elevators where three of his hulking

bodyguards waited. El iot watched her as she pushed the door closed,

before she locked and bolted it securely. But she could stil feel his

narrowed gaze assessing her reaction through the wooden panelling. He

knew she was hiding something, or someone, and he didn’t like it.

Catherine sighed gustily, knowing she was making a hash of things right

now.

It had been a difficult week already and it was only half-over. Making it to

a Saturday night three weeks from now seemed an impossibility. Giving

in to El iot’s demands made the blood thump unpleasantly in her

temples. She had liked him, she could admit that, until she uncovered

the truth about that unfortunate project of his that required a group of old

people to be evicted from their rent-controlled building.

She had been forced to ask him for the means to rescue Vincent and

Father from their rocky prison after a cave-in. El iot had made the most

of that awful situation, ensuring she kept to her breathless promise to

see him again. Despite Catherine’s best efforts to dismiss his attentions,

there was a growing sense of possessiveness she couldn’t tolerate. Like

he knew things and was finally about to make his ultimate move to win

her for himself.

The sound of soft footfalls on her balcony drew her attention from her

troubled introspection. She sighed with welcome relief. If only Vincent

would consent to enter her world, through the privacy of her apartment

and they could have more time together. But he steadfastly refused and

Catherine didn’t want to overrule his stoic reluctance. But for now he was

here again, and her heart lifted.

“Vincent…” she breathed, kicking off her high-heeled shoes before

pushing open the doors to her balcony and stepping straight into his

arms . This is what she lived for , this was what got her through the trying uncertainties of her day. And rescued her from El iot Burch’s too-close

attentions. This was where she belonged… always…

“Catherine…” Vincent responded, his hands lifting to massage her

shoulders and neck, his powerful thumbs bent carefully back at the first

joint to prevent his claws from marking her soft skin.

“It is so good to see you again.” Catherine moved her head, giving him

further access to the knots of tension in her neck and upper spine El iot

had so recently inflicted. She closed her eyes in blissful contentment,

groaning softly as his thumbs worked their magic, turning within his

embrace.

“You had a visitor,” Vincent replied quietly, continuing his ministrations

smoothly. “He upset you. I can feel it.”

“El iot Burch.” Catherine’s eyes flared open in surprise. She pulled away

to look up. “How did you know?”

“El iot…” Vincent tested the flavour of the name. “The Lord is my God.”

He shook his shaggy mane in disbelief. “I have taken an added interest

in his work around the city after that terrible incident with Mischa and his

friends. El iot tears down the old so he may create something bigger and

better. To his way of thinking anyway. He thinks a lot of himself, but

money is his only god. Such a man worships wealth before anything

else. He made himself out of nothing.”

“And yet he gave you the means to save us that night…” He looked back

to Catherine, his hands sinking to clasp her shoulders. “Without

question. But when I arrived tonight, I could feel his presence like a dark

cloud in your mind, and he wants something from you, Catherine.

Something you are not at all sure you’re prepared to give.”

“Of course he does, he’s the great El iot Burch. He brought me this

invitation.” She held it up, forgetting she stil possessed it. “And he

expects an answer. But I don’t know what to tell him.” The picture on the

front of the brochure caught the moonlight. Vincent frowned, taking the

glossy page from her grasp to study it closely.

“What is it?” Catherine rose to her toes, peering at the page over his

powerful forearm.

“Rodin’s statue of The Kiss,” Vincent mused, turning the picture so she

could see it better. “That I should like to see. It seems your El iot Burch

has gone to considerable expense with this exhibition.” He turned the

pages of the brochure slowly. “He’s secured loans of the most

remarkable items from some of the best museums around the world. He

has a specific goal in mind, unless I am very much mistaken.” His blue

eyes assessed her mutinous expression. “He intends to make quite an

impression. A reprieve for past mistakes.”

“He’s not ‘ my’ El iot Burch,” Catherine disputed hotly. She sighed as she studied the photo of a naked couple embracing, freely and without

inhibition. They seemed so equal in their embrace, the man’s hand

resting lightly on the woman’s hip, appearing to ask for her love, rather

than demanding her surrender. And the woman’s arm was flung around

his neck, drawing him down to her as they kissed passionately, her

unspoken permission given in every slender line of her body. It made her

heart ache, for it was both so romantic and erotically compelling.

‘I was born to love only you. Love me truly and make me yours…

forever…’ Catherine gasped as the words seemed to echo in her mind. It

was her own voice, but the words confused her. She shook her head,

even as the voice continued sadly , ‘Without you I am nothing, and if you

abandon me I wil never love another…Please do not leave me here,

alone and cold in the dark, without your love…’

“What is it?” Vincent took her arm, turning her to face him. “Are you all

right? Catherine, you’re shivering. Come here.” He put out both arms,

opening them wide to enfold her inside the shelter of his cloak, pulling

her close against him before resting his chin on the top of her head.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” Catherine sighed against his chest. “Just for a

moment there, I thought…” The words in her mind puzzled her, were

they even hers? For a moment she contemplated asking Vincent to stay

with her.

Come inside, my love and keep me warm. Love me and be mine

always... The idea heated her body, but she couldn’t voice the request.

What if he refused? Withdrew hurriedly and left her there, wanting and

alone. Then all the progress they had made as a couple could be

damaged irrevocably. She couldn’t risk it, not yet. But she stil wished…

Instead she grimaced. “I guess I’m just tired. But I agree, this must have

cost El iot a considerable fortune. He does have the reputation of being

very single-minded. My father thinks he is suitable.” Her mouth turned

down at the corners. “He wants the best for me.”

“But you disagree,” Vincent replied quietly. “Catherine, this is your world,

not mine. Only you know what is for the best. For you, for your father, for

everyone who loves you.”

Catherine sighed roughly. She noticed Vincent was very careful not to

include himself by name in that list. She was aware he cared for her,

cherished her as no man had ever done, but he had never said he loved

her, not once. It added to that aching hole in her heart. She wanted to

say those words aloud, ‘ Please do not leave me here, Vincent, alone

and cold, in the dark without you…’ but she managed to bite back the

plea before they escaped her control.

What remained always was that same profound sense of aloneness he

had mentioned when he’d appeared on her balcony for the first time. He

had said then he had only wished to see she was well and that he

wanted to see her one last time. He had told her there was no place for

him in her world.

She had hotly disputed that statement and begged him to stay, saying it

was stil dark, there was stil time…and compelled by forces larger and

more powerful that both of them, he had acquiesced, settling back to

listen to her read the last chapter of Great Expectations…

Now here he was again, watching and waiting for her. He was her one

and only safe place in either world. She felt so incomplete whenever she

was without him being there to hold and comfort her. Sometimes,

recently, he had withdrawn from her for days on end, not seeing her, or

responding to her tapping out his name on the pipes. He left her feeling

bereft and very much alone, as she had felt all her life. It was almost as if

he was beginning to discover he could not love her as she wished he

would.

And yet… she sighed deeply and long. And yet she didn’t know how to

tell him that without him here beside her always, there would be truly

nothing for her indeed. She couldn’t tell him for fear such a revealing

confession of her innermost thoughts and feelings would finally scare

him away for good. That he could not, or would not respond as she

secretly wished to such a confession. And she could not allow him to

desert her, no matter how much she wished for things to be different…

*******

The operative staking out Catherine Chandler’s apartment had finally hit

pay-dirt. El iot had almost given up, figuring he’d been mistaken after all

in his suspicions. He was not at all pleased with the discovery, but it

finally gave him a target to aim at.

He frowned at the photographs in his right hand and the piece of paper

with the neat notation in the other. Both detailed the quotation that had

been found on the folded-down flyleaf of a carefully hidden book of

Shakespeare’s sonnets the operative had uncovered in Catherine’s

bookcase. Like it was precious, and she didn’t want it to be easily found.

There was also a pressed red rose inside the book, marking the location

of one of the sonnets. The sonnet’s last two lines caught El iot’s frowning

attention. He traced them with his well-manicured fingertip.

For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings…

Cleon’s man had copied the quotation, then photographed everything

before replacing the book exactly as he had discovered it. He’d been

paid the fat bonus El iot had promised. El iot returned to read the flyleaf

quotation again slowly, trying to pierce its ultimate truth.

With loves light wings did I o’er perch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out…

Vincent

“Vincent…” El iot breathed roughly. He frowned. “The conqueror…”

So the guy had a name after all. And a powerful one at that. But he was

also a hopeless romantic and a fool. Choosing love over money was not

an option, not in El iot’s book. Money was power, it gave you leverage

over the competition and made your mark in the world. And this guy

Catherine was seeing was competition, all right.

El iot smiled tightly as he studied the flowing script with deep curiosity. It

looked as if it had been written with a fountain pen, but there were no

hesitation marks or ink blots where the pen had stuttered in its passage

over the paper. And by the smooth slope of the lettering the guy

appeared to be left-handed. That smacked of a broad imagination and

powerful drive.

In fact, everything about the dedication spoke of power and certainty. Of

the confidence this unknown man had about his place in the world and

his right to exist, to be able to send love notes to Catherine asking for

her love in return. Vincent gave no quarter and expected none to be

given.

“But then nor do I.” Despite his chagrin over the discovery, El iot found

he had a lurking admiration for the guy Catherine had been seeing

behind his back.

He was a truly worthy opponent. Now all El iot needed to do was meet

the man, and set him right about how things now stood with Catherine.

She was private property and this Vincent guy had better get used to

that!

*******

“I know it’s late and I’m really sorry to bother you, Miss Chandler. I know

you’re a very busy young woman, but…” Catherine’s elderly neighbour

from her floor put a restraining hand on her arm as the younger woman

hurried from the elevator towards her apartment door. “I thought you

needed to know.”

“What is it, Mrs. Tigwall?” Catherine frowned at the interruption. The old

woman was the building’s resident busy-body, always with her nose in

someone’s business. Catherine tried hard to keep it out of hers.

Mentally she frowned at her wristwatch and hoped this wouldn’t take

long. It was already after 7 o’clock in the evening and Vincent would be

waiting for her on her balcony. Their time together was so precious.

“Well…” The old lady drew Catherine to one side, her lined face

becoming conspiratorial. “That boy, you know, the one who’s been riding

the elevators for the last couple of weeks. This tall…” She held one hand

above the level of her own age-bowed shoulder. “Yankee’s baseball cap,

denim shirt and grey chinos. Harmless looking enough, I guess. They

always are, dear…”

“Go on…” Catherine’s wandering attention snagged and held. “What of

him?”

“Seems he wasn’t what he said he was.” The old lady’s faded grey eyes

sparkled with intrigue. “I decided to follow him down in the elevator the

other day, after I saw him once too often hanging around your door. He

doesn’t live in the building at all. Said he lived on the third floor, when I

asked him last week. But he went right past it to the lobby. Knew he’d

lied because he acted like he didn’t want the guard seeing him when he

headed out for the street. I watched him down to the corner.”

“You followed him…” Catherine echoed, frowning. “Was that wise?”

“Kid didn’t scare me.” The old lady stiffened. “Thing is, it’s where he went

that’s so odd.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear this, but please go on,” Catherine urged.

“Burch Towers…” The old lady leaned closer, her voice dropping to a

stage whisper pregnant with meaning. “The boy walked right in, as if he

owned the place. Went all the way up to the top floor too, I watched the

numbers on the elevator.” Her eyes fixed on Catherine’s for any sign of

reaction. “El iot Burch is your boyfriend, isn’t he?” A knowing smile

curved her lips and she pounced at the troubled look in Catherine’s

eyes. “I thought so, you want to know more, eh? Burch was here too, the

other day. I saw you and him when I came back with my mail. You were

talking with him, but you didn’t let him in. He had those three great

brutes with him again.” She grimaced, her eyes wide with intrigue. “Thing

is, what’s the boy got to do with a rich man like Burch?”

“Thank you for the information about the boy, Mrs Tigwal .” Catherine

stepped away. “I wil deal with that. But I am afraid you are very wrong.

El iot Burch and I are nothing to each other. Never have been, never wil

be.”

“Oh, but, I was so sure you two would be getting married. It’s been in all

the papers, and you look so good together.” The old lady made a grab

for her arm, but Catherine avoided the contact. “And I’ve already

reported the boy, so if he comes back he’l be arrested. Surely that

deserves something…”

“Thank you, Mrs Tigwall,” Catherine replied sharply. “You have done

well, but now I really must go…” She fished for her keys in her purse,

finding and inserting the right one in the lock, before opening her door.

“Well, there’s gratitude for you…” her neighbour huffed as she flounced

towards her own door, head held high, thin body stiff with indignation. “I

was only trying to help…”

Catherine stepped inside, shutting her front door sharply and leaning

back against it. Mentally she recalled the boy, his open, cheeky face and

broad smile. He looked like he knew more than he was telling and it

gave him a kick to hoodwink her. But how could he be used as a stooge

for El iot? To what end?

The ongoing puzzle was distracting, the facts scarce, and none of them

fit together. Catherine pushed away from the door and hurried to change

out of her office suit into something more comfortable. But stil the

thought nagged at her. What could the boy and El iot possibly have in

common…?

*******

Vincent was waiting for her on the balcony when she opened the doors

and pushed through the curtains. She walked slowly into his embrace

and gloried in the feel of his powerful arms closing around here. She

sighed long and deeply, causing Vincent to rest his cheek against the

top of her head and draw her closer stil . They stood that way, leaning on

each other for some minutes, before Catherine finally pulled back and

looked up.

“Hello, Vincent…” Once more the thought of asking him inside her

apartment with her rose unbidden, in her mind, and she opened her

mouth to make that suggestion when her breath caught and she gasped.

“Vincent…no…of course…Oh, I’m such a fool…”

“What is it? What has happened?” Vincent was instantly alert to the

sharp change in her mood . “Tell me!”

“There was a boy…” Catherine took a quick turn around the small

balcony, coming back to stand in front of him again. “A couple of weeks

ago my keys went missing from my purse…or so I thought.” She glanced

into the dark apartment. “After you walked me up that morning…the

morning after I fell asleep on you.” A slight flush warmed her cheeks

momentarily, only to flee again just as quickly, leaving her chil ed. “I

didn’t think anything of it at the time, but he must have lifted my keys

from my bag and somehow had them copied.” She looked into the

apartment again, studying every clinging shadow and dark corner. “And

he used them, I just know it.”

“Why would he do that?” Vincent’s frowned, putting a hand on her arm,

to hold her stil .

“El iot…because he works for El iot…” Catherine inhaled deeply,

expelling her breath angrily. “That man…he wil do anything, risk

anything…it is unforgivable!”

“How is El iot involved in any of this?” Vincent’s sharp gaze searched the

shadows. “To what end?”

“Oh, El iot doesn’t need an excuse,” Catherine flared angrily. “He sees

what he wants and goes after it. But he has been in here. I just know it.

Or someone who works for him!” She rounded to face her love, indignant

fire sparking in her shadowed green eyes. “Someone to do his dirty

work! He’s found something that has led him to you, or the belief he

knows about you! It’s too dangerous, Vincent and I would never forgive

myself if anything happened to you because of me. We are no longer

safe to meet here. We must go Below immediately.”

“No, Catherine…” Vincent shook his head slowly at her agitation. “Not

even El iot would be bold enough to come here at night. I wil admit he is

a dangerous man who wants you, and does not count the cost.”

Vincent’s keen eyes lanced the surrounding shadows. “But to go to such

lengths. It is possible?”

Catherine’s laugh was short and wry. “With that man anything is possible

and nothing is quite as it seems. Not him literally, of course, he would

have sent in a Manning operative to do his dirty work.” Her furious eyes

widened. “I was right, of course. It was that kid, the one in the elevator.

He did get too close. He stole my keys, copied them somehow and

replaced them in my bag without my knowledge.”

“El iot must want you very badly to go to that kind of trouble.” Vincent

slowly turned full circle, stil probing the shadows and finding nothing.

“There is no one here, Catherine.”

“No, whoever he was he’s been very careful. But stil I know things were

moved, and I’ve had a feeling of being somehow violated. Everything

has been too neat, too ordered. I could have sworn my tablet of phone

messages had been flipped closed one day, when I’d left it open. My

bil s were in a neater pile than I’d left them. Even my dirty dishes had

been stacked in the sink, and who does that? Little things I just couldn’t

shake it. I put it all down to lack of sleep and my job.”

She set her fists on her hips, glaring around the room. Her eyes settled

on the bookcase and its carefully hidden book of sonnets. If it been

moved, she couldn’t say, but it chil ed her even further to think it may

have been. “I wil get the super to replace all the locks first thing

tomorrow and put in a dead bolt. Oh, El iot, you are such a fool. And

more fool me for believing you could ever change.”

She looked back at Vincent. “I’m so sorry,” she confessed. “I asked you

into my world, asked you to stay and thereby putting you and your whole

world at risk.”

“I disagree,” Vincent pulled her back into his embrace. “There is nothing

to apologise for. There will always be the El iots of this world. He has

made his choices. He fought for you the only way he knew how, even if

he lost you. I can admire him for that. I would fight with everything I

have, to keep you by my side.”

“You’re being much too generous to that man,” Catherine snapped.

“El iot deserves a good ticking off and I am just the one to give it to him.”

Her searching eyes fell on the Rodin exhibition flyer lying on the table

inside the door.

She picked it up, showing it to Vincent. “I had made up my mind not to

go, after all. Make a clean break of it. But I stil need to know what he

found and where. Defuse the situation and make him believe he’s found

out nothing at al about you. A little smoke and mirrors wil do nicely.”

She began to smile. “And I wil tell you al about it the moment I get

back.” As she spoke she leaned back into his embrace, and laid her

cheek against his shoulder.

“And I will be waiting…” Vincent drew her deep into his arms, holding her

tight against the possibility of his no longer being able to come to this

place, because of one man’s ongoing obsession…

*******

Sipping her champagne, Catherine stood before the Rodin statue,

surveying it with clinical detachment. Or that is what she wished any

casual observer to think. Inside she was a mess of nervous tension and

seething annoyance.

She had yet to see El iot, but she knew he was attending the gala, the

cluster of reporters and television camera lights in the distance told her

that. No doubt he would come to find her in his own good time. She was

not looking forward to seeing him again, but her resolve was unchanged.

The strength of her resolve would carry her through their next encounter.

But she wished Vincent could have been close at hand…

“But, he can’t be…” She inhaled, squaring her shoulders. Tonight she

was going to settle the situation between her and El iot. She would not

marry him, no matter how much pressure he applied to get his own way.

He was too used to having everything exactly as he wil ed it to be. Her

heart was already spoken for, she could not betray Vincent with another

man, however many obstacles stood in the way of their ultimately being

together. Her father would get over his disappointment in time. It was her

life after all, and she intended to start living it by some new rules.

Her eyes followed the sensual lines of the statue. “Vincent, it is

beautiful…” she whispered, wishing again her love could be here to see

it. It made her heart ache. She half-raised a hand towards the statue,

wanting to reach beyond the security ropes and caress the cool marble.

She could almost feel the man’s hand caressing her own hip…

“There are signs everywhere saying you must not touch the exhibits,” a

very familiar voice remarked quietly beside her. And the hand that now

rested against her hip was indeed real! A very familiar hand too, her soft

flesh yielding to the gentle, warning pressure of his claws.

“Vincent…?” Catherine all but squeaked with dismay. Her heart leapt

into her throat. She turned to find him standing calmly beside her. “How

did you…? I mean, what are you doing here? You must leave, before

someone sees you! Go back to my balcony and wait for me there!” She

made a tiny push at him, trying not to be obvious.

“See me, yes…” Vincent shrugged, letting his hand fall even as his eyes

travelling over her elegantly formal costume of a fourteenth century

English gentlewoman, complete with fan and beribboned reticule, before

rising to study her frightened eyes behind her fantastical mask of black

feathers and ribbons that covered her entire face, except for the

generous curve of her mouth.

“But recognize me as an uninvited intruder, I very much doubt that would

be possible since none here appears to be who they really are.

Remember our Halloween adventure? Surely on such a night as this, in

such a sea of masked strangers, I can truly be myself.”

As he spoke, he swept a hand down the front of his own costume, taking

a step back from her, and Catherine could only stare in awed wonder.

The full length of his black evening cloak bil owed around him as he

watched her reaction closely. Attired as a seventeenth century French

gentleman in formal style, his black thigh boots clung lovingly to his

powerful legs over black leather breeches. Lace ruffles fell to his hands,

neatly concealed beneath black leather gloves. A silk waistcoat of black

and silver set off the deep ruffles of a cream linen shirt beneath the

severe cut of his evening jacket. Someone had gone to a great deal of

trouble. Catherine wondered who would have such skil s in the world

Below.

For once Vincent’s hair was combed and tamed, tied back into a ponytail

with a single silver ribbon. His black, wide brimmed hat complete with

nodding ostrich feathers cast most of his face into concealing shadow.

His beautiful, beloved face, where his deep-set blue eyes gleamed,

patiently watched and waited for her reaction. He looked as immovable

as a rock, and just as stubbornly set in the earth. Her heart quailed.

“How did you get in here?” Catherine demanded furiously, in a low voice.

“Why did you come? It’s so dangerous for you here. Father must be

having several different kinds of fit right now! And for once I would agree

with him!”

“I did not tell him where I was going Above, and I came to see this.”

Vincent swept a hand at the statue. “As to how I attended the gala

without an invitation…that was easy. When we were children, Devin and

I always made use of the museum’s basements and hallways. It was

often our night-time playground, until they installed the new security

system and ruined our fun. We almost got caught that night. Of course

Father never knew. There is stil an old entrance hidden beneath the

main building, if you know where to find it.”

“Just as well,” Catherine muttered, her eyes hunting the immediate

foreground, praying they were not being observed. She indicated the

statue. “Now you have seen this, you must go. You cannot be here! It’s

far too dangerous. El iot could appear at any moment.”

“If it wil give you peace, then I wil leave.” Vincent slanted his head

regretfully at her, but the shadows of his hat could not conceal the

determined gleam in his eyes. “However I would rather stay. It was not

dangerous the night we walked the city on Halloween. We didn’t waste

the opportunity to be together that evening.” He glanced back at the

statue. “It stil amazes me that such beauty as this, and Father’s chess

set, can be carved out of cold marble and made to seem as if alive. It is

almost as if there truly is a spirit living within the stone simply waiting to

be discovered.”

“This is not the time or the place to be talking about chess,” Catherine muttered worriedly. “And this isn’t Halloween. You need to go before it’s

too late. Please…”

“So you decided to come to my little party, after all. You’re looking very

lovely tonight. Who’s your friend, Cathy? Anyone I might know?”

The silken question from behind her made Catherine start badly. She

swallowed tightly, before turning her head, schooling her face into one of

studied surprise.

“El iot…” She arched her brows. “I didn’t see you there.” For the moment

they stood alone, the throngs of party-goers having moved away to

where the buffet tables stood, groaning with free food and drink.

“Obviously.” El iot’s eyes moved beyond her to Vincent, studying his tall,

broad frame inch by inch with predatory thoroughness.

The ever-wary beast within Vincent bristled at the other man’s narrow-

eyed inspection, and a barely suppressed growl hovered in his throat.

Nor did his eyes miss the proprietary hand El iot placed on Catherine’s

arm, drawing her closer to him. His own gloved hands curled into fists at

his side.

“El iot Burch.” El iot extended his free hand. “Under that great cat mask

you could be anyone, a friend or a rival. But I’m sure I don’t know you. I

think I would remember you. Yes, I would remember.” He switched his

attention to Catherine, his taut smile lethally urbane. “Where are you

manners? Aren’t you going to introduce me, Cathy?”

“No, you do not know me, El iot Burch,” Vincent growled softly, ignoring

the other man’s stil out-stretched hand. “We move in completely

different worlds, you and I. My name would mean nothing to you and is

of no importance.”

“I disagree, but I’l let that pass, for now…” Unabashed by the other

man’s warning tone, El iot shrugged, dropping his hand to his side.

“From over there, you two were looking quite close before. Like I was

interrupting something important. How do you know my Cathy?”

“We were just looking at the statue.” Catherine pointedly removed her

arm from his grasp. Attempting to distract his attention, she said quickly,

“This whole thing must have cost you a fortune. You have been too

generous, or cunning.” Her look was tight and challenging.

“Impressed?” El iot cocked his head at her, but his grey eyes never left

Vincent’s. “I did all this for you, Cathy. I know how much you love the

classics. I’ve made a point of finding out al about you.” His mouth turned

down at the corners. “I can do so much more for you, if only you would

let me.” He lowered his voice as he moved closer, coming between them

and turning his back on Vincent.

“You are being rude, El iot,” Catherine told him coldly. “I think this

discussion is over. And I think I have seen enough. I have a heavy work

schedule on Monday. Good night, El iot.” She turned to walk away,

shoulders braced. Then she stopped, turning back to glare at him. “No,

that should be goodbye, El iot. For good. I know what you did, how you

managed to find your way into my apartment. You used that boy, a child,

against me. Any means to an end, I think you once said to me. That was

unforgivable. I had the locks changed, so you can throw your worthless

set away.”

“He might be young in years, but that ‘child’ has a world of experience,

and none of it good. Do not underestimate him.” El iot’s dark brows drew

together with displeasure. “I am sorry I had to use him to get to you, but

not sorry for what I have done for you, to keep you with me. I had to

know what, or who, my competition is.”

He squared his shoulders defensively, his angry expression showing a

flash of remorse. “But I wil deal with that boy so he won’t bother you

again. I’m not a bad man, and I do love you.” His eyes flicked briefly to

an impassive Vincent who did not react. El iot looked back. “Al ’s fair in

love and war, Cathy.”

“Don’t call me that!” Catherine flared. “I didn’t give you the right, and if

this is your idea of what love means...” She turned away again, tossing

him one final dismissive glare over her shoulder. “Then I pity you, El iot.

But I could never love you.”

“You’re angry and overwrought right now.” El iot raised a dismissive

shoulder. “Very well, this round is yours. I concede on this occasion to

the better player.” Again he eyed Vincent. “So, tell me, Ms. Chandler, are

you going home to Vincent tonight?”

El iot’s silky question brought Catherine spinning around to face him

again. Her dangling reticule banged heavily against her thigh. Horrified

questions about how could he possibly know that name, and exactly

where did he find it, flared through her mind like sparks, making her feel dizzy with concern. She dared not ask, of course, knowing he was

waiting for her to react with horror. In her apartment though, that much

was obvious. The name ‘Vincent’ appeared in precious few places, and it

utterly offended her to think that anyone had touched either the book of

sonnets, or some other keepsake she held as precious. But that had to

be it.

She bit the scattered thoughts back, catching her bottom lip between her

teeth to prevent their escape. Behind El iot’s arrogant stance she could

see Vincent bristling with anger. She needed to diffuse the situation and

quickly, before someone got hurt.

“Are you talking about my old English Lit teacher?” Catherine shrugged

and frowned, feigning confusion. “What on earth for, I don’t understand?

What has he to do with anything?” She shook her head slowly. “He’s

eighty if he’s a day, and besides, he lives in Chicago now. I haven’t seen

him in years. Oh, El iot, is that all you have? I feel sorry for you, truly I

do.” She managed a scathing laugh. “Give it up, you won’t win. It’s over.”

To say El iot looked taken aback was an understatement. Behind him

Vincent’s broad shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter.

Smiling triumphantly, Catherine held out her empty champagne glass to

El iot and he took it automatically. “Good night, El iot. I won’t be seeing

you around any time soon. Believe that, if nothing else. There is nothing

left between us, and I wil never be your Cathy.”

Stepping around the other man, Vincent crooked his arm for Catherine to

place her hand on his elbow. “May I have the pleasure of escorting the

fair lady home?” he asked in a low, intimate tone that broadened

Catherine’s smile.

She swept a slight curtsy, her skirts rustling softly. “Thank you, sir. I

would like that.” They quickly left the room, hurrying towards the

museum entrance, before El iot could collect himself enough to prevent

their exit by demanding answers, or sending someone to stop them.

“You refused to give El iot your name. That was wise,” Catherine

remarked softly as she collected the silk cloak that complimented her

costume. “Let him go on thinking Vincent is an 80 year old man.”

Vincent’s broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Oscar Wilde would have

approved. There is power in a name. Power in knowing the one that

belongs to your rival.” The last sentence was out before he could call it

back. He settled the beige silk on her white shoulders. The white queen.

She’s smooth as the silk, infinitely more enjoyable to hold...and yet…

“You and El iot are not rivals.” Catherine’s reply was both predictable

and firm. She reached to strip off her mask, twining the ribbons around

her fingers before pushing the whole thing into her reticule along with her

fan. “How could you be?” Her brow furrowed. “But he is stil a very

dangerous man. You must never underestimate him. He goes after what

he wants, no matter what the cost.”

“I won’t, I can assure you of that.” Vincent inclined his head as they

wound their way through the myriad of costumed guests, Catherine

being careful to keep them away from the all-seeing eyes of the cameras

and the nosy event reporters swirling around them. Everyone leaving

was being photographed and speculated about.

It was El iot’s style to make a huge splash in all the papers, marking him

as a force to be reckoned with in a city that did not tolerate losers and

upstarts. They found the courtyard area and fountain were less crowded,

but costumed guests stil strolled everywhere, obviously reluctant to

leave El iot’s excessively fulsome largesse.

They had taken several steps down the block before Vincent continued

softly, “You say we are not rivals. But is it because you do not care for

him that you can so easily walk away tonight and not look back? Or

because I cannot compete for you with a man like him...in that way, no

matter what you feel for me?”

Catherine jerked to a halt in the middle of the crowded street. It forced

Vincent to do the same, and the mass of night-time humanity flowed

around them. “What I feel for you…” Catherine’s green eyes studied him

helplessly. “I…” Her slim shoulders fell. “It is indefinable…” Her lawyer’s

mind balked at that complete lack of definition. She sighed and tried

again. “I have the sense of it being as intimate as my own shadow, and

yet as large as the universe itself, and a bil ion times more complicated. I

don’t know.” Pain entered her expression. “Do you understand?”

“I understand almost too well. It is all right, Catherine. You don’t have to

try and define your answer.” Vincent clasped her linked hands. He

followed the stream of costumed pedestrians around them, with his

eyes. “Please forget I asked such a foolish question. It’s a beautiful

night. We shouldn’t miss it.” He offered her his arm again, the courtly

gesture he so regularly used.

He was offering her a way out of the pressing comment, of the confusion

engendered by her answer, if she wanted it. Vincent felt that he was

dangerously close to spoiling the evening, and was trying to right their

ship, keep the lightness of the night afloat, and the necessary distance

between them that had always been there, unspoken and

unacknowledged.

Vincent frowned, sensing the deepening of her confusion. No matter

how many times he held her close, or allowed her to fall asleep leaning

against his shoulder, he never felt he had truly reached her. Make her

believe in what he saw. Al he could offer was to go on doggedly reading

her poetry in the hope of reaching her innermost self and making her see

what he saw. He meant what he had said to his father. Her beauty that

shone from both from without and within… always… and Catherine

herself was completely unaware of it on any deeper level, beyond what

the mirror showed to her every day.

To his surprise Catherine ignored his arm. “I love you. You and El iot

aren’t rivals because you can’t be. You’re the only man I can even think

about now. No one else can compare to what I have with you. Al of it.”

“Ah, Catherine…” Vincent felt the words wash over him. But I’m not a

man, Catherine. Or at least, not all of me is. And you’re the white queen,

remote and unattainable. Her beautiful declaration warmed him,

however, and it sparked an honest reply.

“You are the first thing I think about when I open my eyes in the morning.

And last I think of, upon closing them,” Vincent told her as Catherine’s

shoulder was bumped by a rather portly pirate. The man stumbled back,

apologising incoherently, before hurrying on, wine fumes floating back

from him.

“But that isn’t enough?” Catherine asked. “Not any more…”

Vincent’s eyes followed the pirate, unable to hold his love’s gaze. “I don’t

know what it is. I know it’s all I have, Catherine. That I would fight El iot,

fight anyone to hold it. But that...that it’s like the dawn that’s going to

chase me Below again, in a few hours. It’s inevitable, and it’s beautiful,

but it isn’t something I can be a part of, the way other men can be. The

light wil always be for them as the dark is for me. I accept that fate,

however unwil ingly.”

He looked back to her fair face and his gaze held hers. “Father once

asked me if the precious gift of our love is good enough to last us both

for a lifetime.” His shoulders lifted and fell. “I couldn’t answer him, not

then. And now…” His shoulders moved again. “It’s all right that I can’t

share some things with you and I understand. What we have now is

worth everything to me.”

Catherine’s confusion deepened. He did? She wasn’t sure if she did.

“Understand what?”

“That there are things other men can share with you. Things you can

share with them. Which I can’t. Father also made that very plain to me

some nights ago. He said this is your world, and I have no place in it. He

only wants what is best for us…and yet…”

“I see…” Catherine’s brows knitted together. “Are we stil talking about

the dawn, here?”

“Yes. And…no.” Vincent shifted his stance, uneasily aware the course of

this odd conversation had somehow veered off onto dangerous ground.

Silently he offered his arm again, crooked and ready to receive her

clasp, signalling her usual acceptance of the inevitable separation to

come. She always had before…

“Since it is a clear night…” To his surprise Catherine refused to take his

outstretched arm and grabbed his hand, instead. “We’re going to watch

the dawn arrive,” she declared, attempting to move him onwards. “It’s

already Sunday, so I am not doing anything today, beyond lying in bed

and reading a week’s worth of newspapers. And so, as of now, nor are

you.”

She tugged him, trying to move him forward. The effect was one of

dragging at an object that refused to move easily. “If you’re worried, we

can send a message to Father…” Her eyes pleaded for his

understanding. “Sax wil stil be playing his instrument up the street

somewhere, working the stragglers. If we hurry, we can find him before

dawn.”

More urgent tugging at his sleeved mantle seemed to activate Vincent’s

curiosity. “Are we going to the area near the bridge, again?” He began

lengthening his stride. “I enjoyed that night. It was so peaceful there.” His

gaze slanted to hers. “Before we were interrupted, that is…”

“There wil be no interruptions this time.” Sliding her arm though his,

Catherine hugged him with both hands wrapped tight around his upper

arm. “We’re going to my apartment.” The whole idea made her shiver,

but she wasn’t cold.

“We are?” Vincent allowed himself to be shepherded by his determined

love down the street to where they found the old man stil playing his

sax.

He took their message with a sidelong glance at them, but he forbade to

comment, promising to make sure the note was delivered immediately.

As he replaced the mouthpiece between his lips, his rheumy, dark eyes

flicked sideways, indicating they were blocking the paying customers

coming from the reception. They made for good pickings.

“Thank you,” Vincent acknowledged simply as they stepped out of the

way. It all seemed so easy to accomplish.

“Come on…” Taking his arm again, Catherine urged Vincent onwards

until they arrived at the entrance to Catherine’s apartment building.

There he set his feet and refused to go further, saying softly, “It is better

that I take the roof path to your balcony. We have given El iot enough to

think about this evening and he wil come looking for you soon enough.

Also that boy may stil be around.”

“That man…” Catherine fumed, but quickly acquiesced to his request.

She shrugged her shoulders regretfully. “You are right, of course. I wil

see you up there. Don’t be long…”

Taking the steps up to the front door of her building, she paused, turning

for one final glimpse of Vincent but he had already vanished, set on

whatever path it was that took him to her roof. Biting her lower lip in

agitation she hurried to her front door. Inside she turned, securely

locking and rechecking all security, and the dead bolt, before casting her

reticule onto the nearest chintz sofa and kicking off her shoes.

She hurried towards the French doors, unlocking and flinging them wide

to the early morning air, and the broad shadow that lurked in the darkest

corner. Vincent came forward to catch her in his arms and she ran

barefoot into his embrace and the massive wings of his cloak closed

around her once more. This was where she belonged, this is where she

truly knew herself and it felt so good the lean on his solid strength once

more.

“Catherine…” Vincent murmured against her ear, his arms tightening

further.

Before she could reply he swung her up and off her feet, turning slowly,

before setting her down again, breathlessly happy and blood racing. She

leaned back to smile up at him, his eyes dark and mysterious in the

darkness, but she could feel the love shining out of them through their

intimate connection.

The new intensity of his mood gave her the courage to speak the words

she had been holding back for the last few weeks. “There are things you

need to know about me, Vincent, and some of them are not good.” She

put her head down, burying her face in his chest. “I wish it could be

otherwise.”

“I’m here…” Vincent sighed, gathering her closer stil . His love was

nervous. More nervous than he was, and that was just a tad ironic,

considering.

“Are there things I should know? Are you sure you wish to tell me,

Catherine?” He could sense the feelings shifting through her. The ones

he’d been sensing for months, the ones he’d told Jacob about. She was

afraid of this. Afraid it would not lead where she prayed it would. Afraid

the act called ‘love making’ would not be part of ‘love’ for them, but part

of something else. Something... lonelier. Something that was already

known and expected. And understood.

Catherine drew back to look up at him. “I wanted to share the dawn with

you. I want to watch your face, see how blue your eyes are when

sunlight warms them, and the day is beginning. I want...so much more...”

She looked down at her beautiful gown as she said it. She knew she

wanted that dream she had dreamed when she was young and so

innocent of life and love. Before her mother had died and she became

painfully aware of how her world worked…

“And you worry that I might not want the same things as you, Catherine,”

Vincent asked softly.

Her generous lips curved wryly. “We aren’t playing to my long suit here,

Vincent. I was once...very stupid and thoughtless, for a long time. I let

this be something else, sometimes. And I can’t take that back, can’t fix it

so that I’m--” Her voice faltered.

Vincent’s heartbeat gathered pace. Less used. Catherine was about to

say ‘less used’ and I have to stop her.

“A heart does not always go where a hand guides it,” he interrupted her,

drawing her closer again. “But some hearts go where hands have never

been,” he whispered, barely touching the hair at her temple with a

pointed nail. “Trying to find out who you are while giving yourself away...

It’s an impossible thing, Catherine. A thing al of us face, all of us

struggle with. I help raise girls into young women, and let them go

Above, into your world. Do you think none have come back, in tears?

There are lessons we all must learn.”

“And I have…” Catherine raised her eyes to his, then lowered them

again, tears threatening. “They never tell you you’re going to leave a

piece of yourself behind every time you fall for someone. That you’l feel

like less that you ever thought possible. You’re supposed to feel...” she

moved one shoulder before continuing, “I don’t know…liberated, I

guess.”

“Nothing costs more than that kind of freedom,” Vincent said, thoroughly

understanding, simply because he did. “We must ask for what we want,

not just accept what we have, simply because it is so.”

Catherine went stil , her eyes suddenly wide and dark with trepidation.

“Then I wil ask you to come inside…please.” As she spoke she slid her

hands down to enclose his, tugging at him gently. “Just for a little while.

It’s cold out here, and we could be warm inside. We can wait and watch

for the dawn.”

“Catherine…I…” Vincent watched her for a long time, so long she felt as

if her heart would beat out of her chest, so long did he divide his glance

between her and the shadowed limits of her ‘inside’ world. His lips parted

as if he was about to speak, and then to her stunned relief he inclined

his head slowly, in the barest of acknowledgement of her request. Pulse

quickening even further, Catherine tugged more firmly at his hands,

urging him on by walking slowly backwards, until first her bare feet and

then his booted ones crossed his self-imposed line and they stepped

down into the living room.

But he moved no further and she didn’t try to force him. The immovable

stone had returned. But she was encouraged when he folded his arms

beneath his cloak, looking around with deep interest.

“Thank you, Vincent.” Catherine stared up at him, nodding slowly. She

released one of his hands, maintaining her grip on the other, no doubt in

the fear he may retreat if she let him go, turning to survey the room

trying to decide what they should do next. She reached out to flick on a

nearby lamp, shedding muted light into the room.

Stil clutching Vincent’s hand, her eyes roamed their surroundings

seeking inspiration while they waited for the dawn to arrive. They could

play cards or listen to some music… She already knew his tastes. Then

her eyes darted across to the bookcase… or read the book of sonnets

Vincent gave her after the first time she had been foolish enough to fall

for El iot’s considerable charms.

Sensing her inner turmoil, Vincent moved closer, looking down at her

with compassion. “And I would not wish one change for you. Only that

you understood it better, so that you could make peace with it. Only that

your heart felt... how much is waiting for you. If you would only al ow it

in.”

“I’m almost afraid to want it,” she whispered, knowing in her heart she

was. “I don’t deserve it…or you.” She slid both her hands back within his.

“I have never felt this way before.”

Vincent lifted one slender hand to his lips. “Be more afraid of what the

fear has cost you.” He brushed a kiss across the back of her delicate

fingers. She’s trembling.

“More afraid of the toll the loneliness takes. But don’t be afraid of a

yesterday you can barely remember, or a scattering of nights you wish

you could forget. Don’t give those times the power to steal your joy,

Catherine. You are worth so much more than those memories. I wish

you could see what I see within you. The light that shines so brightly it

hurts my eyes to look at you sometimes. We can only make the best of

always…”

“You make it sound so easy.” Catherine blinked, and realized she had

allowed her joy to be stolen. While she hadn’t become ‘jaded’, exactly,

she had become heartsick, from time to time. Love had not come for her.

Not the lasting kind.

And now it was here and she was sure she didn’t deserve it. She’d lived

a life of privilege, with no consequence for her bad decisions but what

they did to her, inside. It could never be there with El iot, he was not

astute enough to see what she really needed. The men she had dated

and known concentrated on their own needs at the expense of hers.

She realized how heavy a toll “Fashion Law” Cathy had paid for her

breezy lifestyle. How much “having done worse than Tom Gunther” had

cost her, and for how long. She hadn’t become as hard-hearted as many

of the people she knew. But her heart had taken a beating, from each

failure. And there had been more than a couple of those. How much it

had cost her father in both time and money to rescue her from the folly of

her own making. She was sometimes surprised he stil loved her.

She’d posed nude in an art class as an act of defiance, and held onto

Stephen Bass for too long as an act of desperation. A fear of being

alone and unloved once more. Had felt fire that burned both hot and out,

not understanding why that was. Dated people she had ‘no chemistry’

with and not understood why that was, either. But loneliness beckoned

from just beyond the fringes of her vision. Having nothing to do on a

Friday night was almost a cardinal sin in her world, so she had often

‘made do’, rather spend the night alone with her father.

“I did not say it would be easy.” Vincent released her and stepped back.

For a heart-stopping moment Catherine thought he was going to leave

her, but instead he began tugging the cushions off the back of the

nearest couch, settling them onto the carpet in front of the open doors so

they could watch the dawn arrive. He pushed the filmy balcony curtains

wide to the night air.

“How long do we have?” she asked, hurrying to help.

“Forever, if you wish for it to be so,” he replied. “But until dawn, a couple

of hours yet. It’s either very late…or early.” He smiled.

Catherine dimpled him a matching smile as she pulled a fluffy throw off

the back of the couch and spread it on the floor, in front of the cushions.

“How many times have you seen the dawn, Vincent?” she asked,

bending over to straighten the corners.

“More than a few, but mostly from the entrance to the drainage tunnel,

and none for very long,” he replied, looking searchingly into the night.

“The evening we went walking was the first time I’d seen it rise over the

water. It was incredible.” His eyes tracked back to hers. “I wanted to kiss

you that morning, with the sunshine on your face and love in your eyes.”

He shook his great head with regret.

“I know, Vincent. And so did I wish for that, beyond anything.” Catherine

moved close, taking one of hands between hers. “Wil you read to me

while we wait?” she asked. “I think there is a certain book of sonnets

begging to be read tonight.”

“If that is your wish.” Vincent settled the cushions against the back of the

couch as Catherine returned with the book, turning off the table lamp as

she came.

She moved on to light some candles, drawing in the intimacy of the

moment. The room was cast into shimmering darkness as the skyline

twinkled, before them beyond the balcony wall. Whether she was

intentionally doing so or not, she was making a very intimate space.

Looking up she held out the book towards him wordlessly.

“Shakespeare knew everything…” Vincent took it and read the note he

had left with the book that long ago night. The night he had been

prepared to allow Catherine to love another. He moved to settle down

onto the blanket, allowing her once more to make her own decisions.

“For thy sweet love remembered…” Catherine quoted the sonnet Vincent

had marked with the pressed rose, as she moved closer. She studied

the long length of his legs thrust out before him. It was not a view of him

she had seen before. He usually towered over her. Now his bent head

was level with her abdomen, and she longed to move close enough to

hug him against her lower body. Feel his arms enfolding her at thigh

level…

She jumped, startled by the erotic image. “Would you like some wine?”

she asked, as if she were just now remembering her manners.

I want only you. Vincent kept the words in check, but only barely. He had sensed the intoxicating trend of her thoughts, but he would make no

move to persuade Catherine the night could end so very differently if she

so wished it. He watched her. “I want what it pleases you to have.” She

must find the courage to come to him, ask him for what she desired.

“Yes…” Catherine sighed. “Perhaps we better not. I had champagne

earlier. I might fall asleep on you again. I’ve made some famously bad

decisions on more than one glass of wine.” She raised helpless

shoulders. Again that ghost of loneliness raised it head.

Suddenly the sound of her telephone ringing was loud in the room.

Catherine started badly, but she made no move to reach for it. She knew

who is was and she was not going to answer. She would leave El iot to

talk to her answering service. But when her own voice cut smoothly in,

asking for the caller to please leave a message and she would return

their call as soon as possible, there was nothing but a long silence

before the sharp click of disconnection.

“That wil not happen again.” Catherine crossed the room quickly and

removed the receiver from its cradle, placing it on the table. “Now, where

were we?”

“Enjoying the Bard…” Vincent kept his eyes down, focused on the slim

book in his clawed hands. He was unaccustomed to the noise of a

ringing telephone, and he disliked the strident sound that had tried to

shatter their mood. He also knew who had been on the other end of the

line, but he didn’t comment.

He settled for turning the pages slowly, savouring the beauty of the

written word. El iot’s attempt to reach her had unsettled Catherine.

Vincent could sense she was growing nervous again, being near him

now. He could feel her uncertainty reaching out to him. With El iot she

knew the rules, how the game was played and what was ultimately

expected of her.

This was something so very different. He prayed he would make her see

that…given enough time.

Finally Vincent looked up when the silence became almost painful.

“Catherine, nothing has to happen tonight that you don’t want. If all we

do is allow me to see a painted sky and speak the Bard’s words as time

ticks past, I promise you I wil not find the evening lacking.”

“I am not afraid.” She came to kneel beside him, gathering her feet up

under the large skirt of her gown, the silk of her cape stil lightly dusting

her shoulders. “The first thing I ever remember about you is the sound of

you reading to me,” she gave the non-answer for an answer. “I could

have listened to you forever…Please, go on…”

“Very well…” Vincent began to read the sonnet he had marked with the

dried rose, his voice low and haunting in the dimly-lit room.

Catherine closed her eyes and was instantly transported back to another

room and another time. Again she could smell earth and dampness,

candle wax and kerosene. Stone walls hemmed her in whenever she

reached to touch anything familiar beyond the prison of her facial

bandages, and she could hear the crackling of a fire somewhere close at

hand.

Underscoring al was the fact that there was no background noise of

cars, or televisions, no radio chatter.. . no awful shril of an interfering telephone…and she had been aware with every fibre of her being that

he was there too…somewhere close at hand, hidden as always within

the shadows… Always…

Vincent concluded quietly “…like to the lark at break of day arising from

sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love

remembe’d such wealth brings, that then I scorn to change my state with

kings…”

“So beautiful…” Catherine breathed as she opened her eyes and looked

at him. “You bookmarked that sonnet the night I knew I could never be

with El iot. The night you welcomed me back, and didn’t demand I

apologise, for the mistakes I could have made with him. Because of him.

You are remarkable.”

Vincent lifted one powerful shoulder. “There was no apology to be made.

The poem was about how I felt. I wanted you to know. That I was yours,

no matter your choices. That I would always be yours. I have no choice

in that.”

“Because you already knew how I felt? Al of it?”

“You were feeling things deeply that night, Catherine. You often do.”

“I felt like I needed to ask your forgiveness,” she confessed, a shiver

passing through her flesh. “I was foolish…”

Again those words spoke inside her mind, making her gasp. ‘Without

you I am nothing, and if you abandon me I wil never love another…

Please do not leave me here, alone and cold in the dark, without your

love…’

“Alone, in the dark…” Vincent whispered, looking up as vital awareness

rippling through their bond, making him more aware of her than ever

before. “But you are the light, Catherine. It is I who was alone, trapped in

the dark places.”

He shook his head slowly. “You feel you have to ask my forgiveness. For

what? Being sure you wanted a life with a man who could give you

everything and not count the cost? What would you have said? ‘Forgive

me for being a beautiful woman with the world before her?’ I would have

understood, you know. Painfully so, but I would have known everything.

That is our gift and our burden. Wherever you go, wherever you are, I

am with you, always. You live with me, in me…”

Her love endured much just to be with her. Catherine swallowed against

the strong of tears. “There was more to it than that. I hurt you deeply.”

He didn’t deny it. “And then you returned to me. And we were never the

same, after. I have felt your aloneness too, Catherine.”

“I know…” Catherine moved uncomfortably. “El iot was like a holdover

from my old life. He was the easy way out. The way I could take and not

have to... not have to deal with the feelings I knew were coming.

Feelings for you. Feeling even now I can’t define or explain. I wish I

could.”

“Would that make them easier or more pleasant to contemplate?”

Vincent looked out into the lightening dawn sky. “In Father’s study,

there’s an old chess set. It’s been there ever since I can remember. He’s

been gifted others over the years, but the one near his desk is the one

he almost always plays with. The one he teaches the children on. He

taught me and Devin with it. My brother detested the deep game taking

hours or days. He liked to show off by moving the pieces like quicksilver

and winning every time, against all the odds.”

“Go on,” she encouraged, eager for more.

Vincent drew a long breath, expelling it slowly. “Of all the pieces, the

queen is the one the years have worn most smooth. She’s beautiful, and

strong. The strongest piece on the board, the one most apt to move, to

conquer all before her.”

Catherine frowned. “But isn’t it the king you need to capture to win the

game?”

“Yes. But everyone knows that if the queen is taken, the king will likely

fall. It’s only a matter of time. He is lost without his consort. She is

everything to him, his alpha and omega, his beginning and his ultimate

end. He stands or falls with her, for her.”

Catherine blinked at his sudden vehemence while nodding her limited

understanding of the game, even as she remembered the chess set in

Jacob’s room. She had witnessed some epic battles and enjoyed the

experience.

Vincent put the book aside. “In chess, white makes the first move. The

white queen has had my hands on her more than any other piece on the

board. Her neck is smooth ivory. Like yours.”

“Like mine?” Catherine lifted an involuntary hand to her neck. Her eyes

glimmered in the soft candlelight.

“Always…” Vincent watched her through hooded eyes. “Do you have any

idea how…unattainable you are to me? How like that ivory queen?

Remote, beautiful and serene. How at odds that makes us?”

“I’m not a queen. And I’m certainly not made of ivory. And I have made

some terrible mistakes in my life…you truly don’t know how bad some of

those were, Vincent. I need to tell you—”

“No, you do not…” Vincent reached to press a silencing finger over her

lips. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out

even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never

writ, nor no man ever loved…”, he quoted another sonnet as he went up

on his knees before her, turning her around so he could gently tug on

the bow holding her cape together. It slithered off her shoulders, pooling

at her knees. “Love alters not, Catherine. And it never wil . Believe that, if

nothing else, tonight.”

“You seem so certain…” Catherine shivered at the erotic contact.

“Are you certain?” Vincent whispered in reply, brushing the luminous

skin of her bare shoulder with his warm mouth. Just a touch. A barely-

there touch. His warm breath made her skin shiver.

“N-no, I’m not at all certain.” She sighed it and he could feel her

immediate response. The warning of her arousal arced between them.

“No?” he asked, dropping a soft kiss on the point of her shoulder, then

another near her neck. He could feel her pulse jump. He could feel his

own do the same. His softly furred fingertips traces the line his mouth

travelled.

“I’m not certain of anything right now,” she said, feeling his hands settle

at the top of her arms and lift, a little, carefully to be sure his claws didn’t

mark her skin.

“Shall I tell you what I am certain of?” he asked it close to her ear, before

he pressed his unusual mouth to just below her jawline.

“What?” Catherine breathed, eyes closing in ecstasy.

“That you are made of something far more rare than ivory. Something far

lovelier, and infinitely more precious.” He settled his mouth at the curve

of her neck and felt desire explode down her spine, to settle in her

midsection. She held her hands up, in surrender’s pose, and tilted her

head back, allowing him greater access. “And I can barely believe that

you could ever love me…”

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know there were twin tracks of tears

on her cheeks. He’d felt them fall from inside his mind as he caressed

her gorgeous throat. Words echoed to him, through her, spoken in her

soft tones… ‘Without you I am nothing, and if you abandon me I wil

never love another… Please do not leave me here, alone and cold in the

dark, without your love…’ They made his heart weep with sorrow that his

love could have been so hurt, so lost as to not see her own value. Know

her own inner strength.

He had given that back to her, no one else, no man of this Above world.

He alone had done that. He had mended her broken spirit and made her

whole again. The thought flooded his soul with light. He could be

everything to her, that the others could not…or ever be. It was an

intoxicating revelation.

“Please…don’t stop. Not yet…” He wasn’t sure if Catherine thought it or

said it, he only knew it was what she felt, as he sent his tongue out to

taste her skin for the first time. It was what he heard from her, one way

or the other. Her soft neck moved against his touch.

As he moved closer stil he could see the setting moon painting her tears

silver. He back arched as she gasped and kept her hands up, the fingers

loosely curled.

“Please…” This time he knew she’d said it.

“Queens don’t have to say ‘please,’ Catherine,” he murmured it as she

felt his hands slide to the long zipper that held the back of her dress

closed.

“This one does.” She didn’t open her eyes as she heard the rasp of the

zipper as it slid down, felt the fabric parting, down her back. She did hear

his indrawn breath, knew he was seeing the long length of her back, and

the creamy band of her strapless bra. It had been a necessity for an off-

the-shoulder gown.

“You have no idea how lovely you are, do you?” He caressed the line of

her shoulder again, then she felt him turn his hands over so that the

back of his fingers rested just above her shoulder blades. Slowly, he

trailed them down over her skin. Skin that suddenly felt like it was too

warm, too sensitive.

She lowered her arms and let the loose dress come down, knowing it

would pool at her waist. His touch stuttered over the elastic of her bra,

then resumed the slow course down her back. He stopped when the

fabric would let him go no further, then traced his way back up. Down...

up. It was a slow motion caress and she could feel his eyes on her.

He repeated the motion and then held her shoulders with his furred,

clawed hands as he planted a kiss on the nape of her neck. She

shivered, and bit back a whimper of delight.

“You’re trembling.” He planted his palms flat, feeling the warmth and the

tremors that flowed through her.

“I know.” She was. It was a thing she couldn’t stop, and a thing she

couldn’t control. And a thing that had never happened before. His hands

strayed to the band of her bra. Is this how it always should have been?

she asked silently.

‘Yes…’ Vincent replied, his beautiful voice honeyed and low inside her

mind. ‘ Always…’

“Wil you undress for me? At least as much as I am? I won’t turn

around,” Catherine asked, before his fingers could undo the hook and

eye clasps.

“Of course,” he answered, liking the enveloping darkness, liking that her

back was to him. It wouldn’t always be. But it was good, for now.

She heard the rustling of his clothing, heard the brocade vest drop as he

shrugged clear of it and the linen shirt being pulled over his head. Then

the understanding that he was half naked behind her was a temptation

all its own.

She scooted her legs under and went up on her knees, as he returned to

her, so he could embrace her from behind. His nude torso pressed

against her back.

God... Muscle. And heat. Hair and a broad chest like a wall, behind her.

The dress fell farther down and his arms came around her, embracing.

He rubbed his front against her back, glorying in the sensation of being

skin to skin. She could feel the warm tension in him, hear the low

murmur of approval that was nearly a growl, as he clasped her to him.

“How can such beauty be mine?” She heard the catch in his voice at the

question, a small stutter in the otherwise somnolent baritone of sound.

“I ask myself that same thing about you,” she said, clasping her arms

over his. She kissed his flexing bicep. “I don’t think I’ve ever known the

answer. I only know that this is what I have dreamed of…for so long

now.”

Vincent enveloped her and his hands were everywhere. Her neck, her

shoulders, her fabric clad breasts, her waist. He pushed the stiff fabric

down as far as it would go, seeing the shimmering lace of her underwear

and the creamy skin of her stocking clad thighs. What is this?

Stockings. Topped with a satin ribbon and held up by a wide band of

lace. He let his fingers trail over them. They felt like a rich call to sin.

Palms full of skin, he trailed up her thighs, over her silk clad hips to the

line of her bra, knowing this time she wouldn’t delay him. She was

unbelievably smooth and her skin sheened like a luminous pearl, lit from

within.

He tugged on the elastic, and it gave way, leaving a pink line on her skin

where the bra had held fast. His seeking tongue laved the mark on

instinct, stil holding the halves of her bra in his hands.

She sighed her pleasure, long and low, as his mouth made to repair the

abrasion to her back. Then his sensitive lips found something else. A

mark no kiss could ever remove. A scar.

An indentation below her right scapula. A thin line of scar tissue... and it

had been meant for him. Vincent lifted his head to study the mark, and

Catherine sensed he’d found the scar left by Mitch Denton’s bullet. Her

love’s voice was rough. “You were hurt because of me. Because of

someone I knew.” She felt his ardour shift, and change into something

more protective. “I am so sorry for that.”

“No…” She shook her head and reached for the combs that held her hair

up. “I was hurt because I was trying to save people who needed saving.

And then I was saved because you were there. You are always there.”

She felt him kiss the mark again, felt his mouth warm the skin, his

tongue taste the scar.

“And I had a dream of you I wouldn’t trade for anything. Ever. We were

walking down fifth avenue in the sunshine,” she retold it.

He lifted his head from the kiss. “And I bought you ice cream,” he

remembered it. She’d been woozy from the drugs, and he’d stood in her

hospital room, a sentinel against any further hurt coming to her. She’d

told him the dream. He was surprised she remembered it.

“And no one looked twice.” She did remember. “Oh, Vincent, how I long

for that to be so…”

“And this…?” He gently let the bra down, knowing that he would see the

uninterrupted line of her back for the first time. Perfect. He wanted to

kiss each knot of her spine, wanted to lay her down on the blanket and

trace the line of her silky under-things where they hid her treasures from

his pilgrim’s eyes. The nip of her waist was almost impossibly small, the

curve of her hips a feminine violin of loveliness. She was so tiny before

him, pushing her way clear of the ostentatious gown, and kicked it away

as she toed her way clear of her slippers, and shoved them aside within

the pile. She crossed herself, with her arms, shyly.

Vincent’s great heart took another devastating hit of pain. Someone had

made his love feel inadequate, there. Some fool. Some bumbling idiot

with a crass comment or a stray criticism. She would have been judged

as too small, or too fine, too brittle seeming. Not enough of a prized

possession, with her small breasts and slim legs, to make some other

man’s stupid ego proud to have her on his arm.

Vincent wasn’t sure how he could be so certain. But he was. He could

even feel her shimmer of trepidation, in their bond. And he knew she

was none of these things she had been accused of. She was strong, like

the finest silk thread, or that marble queen with her serene gaze and

indestructible body.

But someone had measured her, and found her wanting. More than

once, he’d guess. And she carried the scar of that, stil . Just like the scar

on her back. No, not like that one. That one she had no care for. This

one, she did and it had hurt her immeasurably.

“My queen is a beautiful fantasy, made real. Made warm. Made for me,”

he said, not sure how to take this hurt away, only knowing he had to try.

He knelt at her back, again, and let her both feel and hear it as he undid

his belt and let it drop open. He undressed no further, but let her feel the

warmth of him, and the wil ingness of him. An erection he wasn’t

bothering to conceal pressed itself into her back, and he swept his arms

around her torso, pulling her against him, revelling in the sensation. He

closed his eyes, bowed over her, and let all that she was seep into his

soul.

She undulated her back against him, the suggestion as old as Eve .

Soon. Soon, lover. “Wil you let me touch you?” she asked, not sure if

she was supposed to stay in this position, facing away from him.

“I think I’l die if you don’t,” he rumbled, giving the nape of her neck a

parting kiss before he moved around her.

Cheeks, nose, forehead... he planted soft, undemanding kisses on her

as she kept her eyes closed. His hair brushed her collar bone. He held

her crossed arms steady as he softly kissed his way across her closed

eyes. Her arms would come down when she wil ed it, and not a moment

before. But now she was caught, and her desire to touch him required

she drop her arms so she could use her hands. It wasn’t a hard choice

for Catherine to make.

Her left palm settled at the centre of his solar plexus as the right one slid

longingly up the side of his neck. She felt his pounding heart under his

palm as she brought his head down for a kiss.

His massive chest crushed hers to it as the kiss went from one of

exploration to dark fire. The unique cleft of his upper lip caressing her

mouth sent shivers racing through her from head to toe.

“You are truly beautiful…” she managed to say, feeling the wealth of

muscle beneath her palms. His hair was a softer silk than the rumpled

cape that now lay bunched somewhere near her feet. His erection was

warm steel as he cupped her backside with one palm, to keep her close.

“I am only ever what you’l let me be. Especially here,” he said, caressing

her backside through the silk, and knowing every word was true. “To

unwish the past is to remake yourself into someone neither of us would

recognize, Catherine. It has made you who you are, here and now. If it

would spare you pain, I would have it so. Yet…” His blue eyes looked

wistful, and his bare chest, for all its glory, made him look vulnerable.

“And yet that wouldn’t be fair, would it?” Catherine asked.

“Denying who you are, or were, makes no more sense than me denying

who I am,” Vincent said frankly. “I am what you see now.”

“Yes…” Catherine moved closer to him, letting him know she would

change nothing of what he was. “And you are mine…”

“El iot did what he did because he wanted to say what you would be to

each other. Wanted to say it with no other voice present.”

“And I hear too many voices, sometimes,” Catherine confessed. “People

telling me what they expect. What I’m supposed to want. It’s gotten me

in terrible trouble with myself, sometimes, Vincent. And again, I’m so

sorry for that.”

He held her in a loose embrace, absorbing her regrets, letting her know

with his strong, steady presence that he would always be what she

needed, for as long as he could. She rubbed her nose against the

wealth of hair on his chest, loving the sensation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she confessed,

smiling. It was a simple smile, and a girlish one. Both out of place here,

and exactly right. Something inside her was reaching back for the

Catherine she had been. The Catherine she’d been before bad

decisions had swallowed her light, and left her stumbling to find her way.

“We have to be more than just what I allow. We have to be,” she said

with conviction, and he hid a soft smile against her neck. We will be.

Reach for us, Catherine. You know I’l always be there for you. Always

love you. Until the end of time and beyond…

“Do we?” he whispered the question as he brushed her ear. The simple

question brought her ardour clamouring back. He felt her shift her

weight, in her stocking clad feet. There was a fire building inside her, and

he felt the heat.

“Ye-yes,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath. She held his neck to

steady herself. “We have to be what we both say.” She planted a line of

kisses across his chest.

He blessed her for her lovely benediction. “Then I say I hold you high as

heaven, my beautiful, beautiful Catherine. My love. My only love. For

always.” His husky voice rasped over the last word.

“And I swear I wil only love you. Forever. For always,” Catherine

breathed, making a bargain, between them. “Beyond the end of time…”

“Then it’s the Beginning of Always.” He placed a gentle finger under her

chin to raise her beloved face for a kiss. “And I am beyond blessed.”

She finished undressing him, delighting in unbuckling the soft leather of

his boots, and drawing them down his legs. When she slid her fingers

along his bare calf to remove his socks he tensed with want, and when

she eased his dark trousers down and stopped to plant a kiss on his

bare knee he groaned, arching his hips on instinct.

He was bare, and beautiful, covered with the long, soft down of body

hair that marked him as forever different from other men. He was every

shade of gold, from the tones in his skin to the lighter ones in his hair to

the darker ones that covered his muscular body. She trailed kisses

across torso until he caught his bottom lip with his upper teeth, his fangs

gleaming in the greying dark as he tried to keep the growl in his throat

from coming forth.

“Shhhhhhh…” She petted him. “I won’t tease. Not this time.” She stroked

her sweet palms down his thighs and he sighed, knowing their joining

was close. She’d forgotten to be self-conscious about her delicate

breasts now, and he loved the view.

He longed to say something, anything, but the words got jammed in his

throat and he could only growl, softly but with intent. The rumbling found

a small echo in the room.

“I know, my love, I know…” When Catherine laid down beside him and

trailed her stocking-clad foot up his leg, he needed no further urging.

Vincent leaned over to slip her underwear off her soft-skinned body and

felt her subtle compliance as she pressed their bodies together then

shifted so that she was laying on her back, her arms stil keeping them

close. She was making this first move easy for him, this dance she knew

well. But this time it was so different in both rhythm and pace.

Her fingers were gorgeously subtle curves of want, dancing from the

breadth of his shoulders and down to press into the small of his back.

The slender length of her legs rose to curl around him, pinning and

trapping his hardness against her lower abdomen. Her hips shifted once

more, her knees widening to accept him into a world he had never

known before. The hooded beauty of her green eyes looked into his and

she smiled, his name a whisper and a benediction on her parted lips.

Vincent responded in the only way he could. Loving her to completion

was the priceless gift he could give her now. Between sharpening

breaths of rising anticipation there came the moment when Catherine

rose against him and made them one. A subtle, easy thrust of his hips

against her and it was done, so easily he wasn’t sure it was

accomplished, until the star-shot explosion behind his eyelids assured

him it was. Al the colours and reflections of their bond was there,

impossible to deny.

Catherine was warm velvet and the deep secrets of womanhood, while

he was tension and build. Easy. Smooth. His queen was locked in

stil ness, for a moment, and then his queen became a dream of soft

words and gentle petting of any place she was able to reach easily. She

called his name, long and low, and it burned a path right through him.

His love’s utter satisfaction was a gorgeous thing, blinding in its beauty

and simplicity, it held him speechless for a moment. Then he wondered if

the flash of light inside his mind was his reaction or hers, within the

bond, letting itself be known. She felt like she was falling. She felt like

she was flying. Her heart-rate lifted and raced off before her.

I feel as if I’m soaring to a place where everything shimmers and

floats…

Fly then, my love.. . I am with you, always…

The memory of the book of sonnets left on her balcony came unbidden,

but not unwelcome. It had been Vincent’s gift and benediction. Catherine

loved that book. And him…

Vincent reached down to draw one stocking clad leg up higher, loving

the sensation it gave him when her angle shifted. He knew he was close

to ending this, and he knew he never wanted it to end. Or, if it did, only

to begin again…

“Please...end it now…” It was a hoarse whisper torn from the depths of

his soul as the sky began to lighten, over his shoulder. He knew what he

was asking for. They both did.

Catherine’s soft purr of sound was a tiny match for his own more intense

growl as she drew the other leg up to match its twin, and twined both

around his back, letting him feel the softness of her silk clad foot against

his tense backside.

Her eyes were matching lambent witch-fires of intent, reflecting she was

truly being well-loved. She pulled herself up so she could say the words

into his ear. “Kings don’t say ‘please,’ Vincent.” Then she tightened her

grip. Everywhere! Flexing everything internal and around his waist she

brought a subtle pressure to bear on him such as he had never know.

The sentence exploded in his brain, the power of it, and the freedom

inside it. If he thought her royalty, she thought no less of him. They were

equals here. Beautifully matched mates. Like the sun chasing the moon.

Like the queen protecting the king. As if the being who wasn’t sure how

much of him was a man loving the amazing woman who was sure he

was man enough for this, man enough for her. For always…

A warrior’s scream fil ed the room as the greying sky turned lighter, as

the beautiful woman held onto her matchless mate through his tremors.

His climax felt endless, and they both gloried in it, his labouring body

revelling in hers, pressing deep, then deeper, as each fresh spasm

shook him. His testes stayed tight, and tense, emptying into her in

quaking tremors that had his weight levered up on his arms, his head

down near her ear, panting hard, moaning pleasure into the soft skin of

her neck and he tasted salt.

She is perspiring, he thought. Then he realised the truth. No, those

splashes of moisture were tears. His. Ones he hadn’t been aware he’d

shed, until some portion of sanity returned. He drew a long, shuddering

breath, releasing is gustily.

The arch of his great back bowed him over her, and he lingered inside

her, aware he was making her hot from the furnace that was his hair-

covered body. His head was pressed to the throw, one hand cradling her

head, the other, his own as he tried to find the wil to move off of her. He

moved his hips back, subtly, aware that his release meant he couldn’t

stay inside her much longer, anyway.

“No…” She tightened her legs around him, just wanting to hold him for

as long as she could. Those internal muscles flexed again, subtly

warning him against any withdrawal.

“Too heavy…” He had no idea where he’d found the capacity for speech.

“I am too much for you…”

“Not by half,” she lied, laughing softly before urging him to press more of

his weight down on her. He did, and she purred her approval into his

softly tufted ear, loving him.

His entire body felt like tone-less muscle, lax and weak. He knew he’d

crush her if he gave her his full weight, but needed to take the pressure

off his forearms. He compromise by gently rolling to one side, taking her

with him.

She drew her leg up higher on him, resting it on his hip as the lip of

bright sunlight came dancing its way inside her balcony door. The

terrace where they so often stood at night was now taking on morning

colours.

The light and colours Vincent had previously seen behind his eyelids

shot through the orange and blue sky, points of dazzling light reflecting

off the windows of nearby buildings piercing his night-accustomed eyes.

He had to duck his head to become used to the brightness. The rays

painted such vivid colours behind his lids, he had rarely seen before.

“Are you all right?” Catherine rose beside him, concerned at his soft

groan.

“I am…” Vincent shifted his body, trying not to crush her when he

couldn’t quite see where she was within the brightness of the dawning

light. He made a sound of regret when his body slipped out of hers. They

both did. But it was time to move.

“Where are you going?” Catherine reacted with alarm.

“Not far at al .” Vincent rose to his knees, crouching as he turned his

back to the light, so he could see her better. “Catherine, my love, if you

say I have to wait a hundred years to have that again, I’l only ask you

when I have to start counting from.” His mouth curved. “Now, or five

minutes ago from now,” he continued, stroking her slightly damp bangs

back from her forehead with his fingertip. Her eyes were luminously

green and fil ed with tears. But he knew they were not the tears of regret

that she had so often shed before in the aftermath of loving.

It was stil some minutes before Catherine finally found her voice. She

gloried in the feel of his tender touch exploring her face. “I think the

Beginning of Always deserves better than that,” she said, loving the look

of sated desire in his blue eyes. “How about we let dawn creep in the

room, and decide before the sun clears the skyline?”

“I think I can wait that long…” Vincent tore his gaze away from her

beloved face to look over his shoulder, checking the progress of the

sunlight streaming into the room, half-shuttering his eyes against the

glare. He was aware of Catherine sitting up beside him, he could sense

her gaze moving over the curve of his chest and the resting strength of

his crouched thighs. And what lay nestled between, quiescent for now

and once more enclosed in its surrounding of soft golden fur. That which

had given them both pleasure, and he could sense her interest was

more desirous than it was clinical.

He remained completely inert, allowing her to look her fil . They were

both suspended in a space he had so often desired, but never thought

could ever be. He was not ashamed of his nakedness. Could this

precious gift be enough to last them both for a lifetime? There was truly only one way to find out…

He watched her watching him. He would make no apologies for his body,

it was his and the only one he would ever possess. But he knew she

was not judging him, far from it. The bond between them hummed with

intent and expectation. She almost appeared to be measuring his

stamina. A soft laugh rumbled deep with his chest, a small smile curving

his mouth as he remained crouched and waiting.

Little did Catherine know that with his great strength and endurance

Vincent could outlast the most vigorous of men, and often had, in any

serious crisis Below. This was a different kind of crisis, but required the

same rapt, and undivided attention. She would not be disappointed if

she chose to further their mutual exploration.

Catherine studied the picture Vincent made, crouched there in the

dawning light, like some great, mythical warrior from another time long,

long ago. Waiting expectantly for a call only he could hear. And he was

all hers, now and forever. The thought made her shiver with anticipation.

They had made that pact, but she stil wasn’t used to it. This would last

them both for a lifetime, she would make sure of that, if nothing else.

She watched the hair on his legs turning golden, tipped with lambent fire.

And the dawning awareness of that most vital part of his body, which

reacted instantly to her gaze caressing it lovingly and with intent.

Vincent’s returning erection rose, tight and hard against his lower body,

and he did nothing to hide it. Not from her, never again.

Again, so soon…a voice inside Catherine whispered enticingly. She saw

his reaction, and smiled. Yes!

Vincent moved and came back down to her, stretching out beside her

like some great, glorious creature, barely tamed and here only because

she wil ed it to be. He smiled at her knowingly, fangs bared and

gleaming in the daylight, the hardness of him pressing against her inner

thigh.

“Then I would say that is only a few minutes from now,” he said, laying

his questing hand lightly on her hip as the man in Rodin statue had done

for his love. Asking, not demanding. Requesting, not taking. A free

exchange of mutual delight. “And my white queen holds my desire as a

precious thing. You are so beautiful…”

He took her open palm, and kissed it lovingly, then leaned in to brush

the damp stockings down her legs, rolling them off her toes as if he had

done it a thousand times before. He only knew he now wanted her as

bare as he was. Clothed only in sunshine and their love.

“I hold all of you as precious, Vincent,” she said earnestly. Dawn warmth

was starting to kiss her toes. Her gaze drifted and she sighed. “Al of

you…”

“No more precious than I hold you. Always…I swear,” he answered,

understanding the lambent pleasure of a slow burning passion rising in

both of them. He was both utterly sated and wanting to start again, and

marvelling at the sensation. It enamoured him further to know she felt

the same.

“It was you who made me beautiful…Do you truly know how much I love

you?” she asked, cupping his golden cheek. He was her lover, now. She

could ask that question and know the answer would be honest. He

would never be less than that, again.

“I do…” he said, pressing his hand over the top hers. Of course he did.

The singing of the bond between them told him. As did everything about

her, right now. “And I promise you I wil always treat that like the

incredible gift it is. That I wil treasure it as no man ever could.” He

kissed her palm again, then spared one for her forehead. “Or ever wil …”

“Oh, Vincent…”

“I want to go to your bedroom as the sun rises more.” He shared his

most immediate wish with her. One that would not wait another moment

to be heard, to be shared. “Lay on my back with you close against me

and watch the light paint you with golden fire, while we love each other.”

“Are you sure?” Catherine asked softly. “I mean, I want that too. You

have no idea for how long I have desired that.” She dimpled fetchingly,

as a sudden thought assailed her. “You do know the weather forecasters

promised us rain last night and this morning? I am so glad they were

wrong...again.”

Vincent tilted his head at her. “If it had rained, then I would have lit all the

candles in the room instead. Made our own sunlight to bathe you with.

You are my queen.”

Morning light was starting to brighten the room. The picture he painted

brought tears to her eyes. Tears mixed with knowledge. This very

different man, who was something more than a man, truly loved her. He

would always love her. Through the good times, and the bad. His always

made her feel beautiful and brave, strong and smart, and incredibly

sexy. And he would love her with his dying breath.

“As long as what the king gets to have the queen gets to have, too.” She

made him the promise, smiling through her tears. “And a shower wil do

nicely, for both of us later…much later…”

“Then come with me, my love and we shall see where this new journey

takes us once more…” He gathered her in her silken cloak and scooped

her up in his strong arms.

His legs were delightfully unsteady as he made his way through the

louvered doors to her bedroom, kneeling on the edge of the bed to lay

his love on the covers like a gift waiting to unwrapped once more. He

didn’t need her breathless urging to ease his weight down beside her

and welcome Catherine into his arms once more. And at the Beginning

of Always, they each got their wish once again as dawning light fil ed the

room with magic…

*******

Sitting in his limo, in the lightening dawn, El iot frowned at the frontage of

Catherine’s building. He knew she was in there, he had called her before

leaving the museum, and made an impersonal contact with her answer

phone. He had not left a message. When he rang again the busy signal

mocked his frustration. He had given up on the third attempt knowing

she was dismissing him.

His mouth turned down with distaste. The museum party had been a

raging success and he’d made a huge splash with the press, got the

undivided attention of the city fathers. But stil he felt hollow and

incomplete inside. He sighed, knowing it had always been that way,

even when he was a young and untried youth. Finding someone to love

had not been easy…

In the beginning he hadn’t needed, or wanted, anyone to share the

triumph with him. He grew accustomed to being alone by simple

necessity. Now he was alone again, but not from choice. And the one he

wanted was unattainable, for the foreseeable future. He had seen

Catherine, and he knew his life would never be the same again…

Shafts of sunlight had already begun to paint the colours of the day by

the time he’d arrived at her building. El iot had sent his chauffeur to

make discreet enquires and he was assured Ms. Chandler was at home,

but no, she was not receiving any visitors. She had made that

abundantly plain to the night guard. There were to be no exceptions,

however powerful and ready with a significant cash persuasion.

El iot’s man had ascertained Catherine had returned alone and there

was no sign of the powerfully built, French-costumed gentleman of the

previous night at the museum. The man who had walked away with her

right under El iot’s disbelieving eyes.

His hands itched to tear that fantastical cat-mask from the guy’s face and

uncover the real man, before he wrapped his fingers around his throat

and squeezed the life from him. Probably not an easy task, given the

size of the guy, but the street fighter within El iot longed for some course

of action, anything rather than this inert inaction. Frustration seethed

through him.

“I know he’s in there…” El iot’s eyes narrowed, as he studied Catherine’s

floor. “I can feel…and she wants him there with her.” He wouldn’t use the

boy again, he had assured her of that and he would keep his word. “But

there must be another way.” He had to know…

“Did you say something, sir?” The chauffeur’s gaze met his in the rear

vision mirror, his bored expression giving way to faint hope.

“Nothing of importance.” El iot sighed heavily, casting one last lingering

glance at the building before rolling up the window. “Very well, you can

take me home. There is nothing more to be seen here…for now.” He

remembered the whiskey bottle in his penthouse that was only half-full.

He could do it some serious damage before returning to his office.

He hadn’t finished speaking before the car was put into motion and they

drew smoothly away from the curb. El iot’s hand clenched in his lap.

There would be a next time. Catherine had said there would never be,

but El iot didn’t give up that easily. He was not cut from the cloth of a

coward or someone who admitted defeat. One day she would need him

again, and he would be there for her. He had so much to offer her, if only

she would allow him to show her. What could the other guy possibly

have, that he didn’t?

“Vincent…” El iot breathed. The name rolled off his tongue and the taste

was bitter. “I know you’re in there. Where and how you got in, I don’t

know. But we wil meet again, I can assure you of that. The game is not

over yet. And next time I will win, see if I don’t…”

~THE END~

“Wherever you go, wherever you are, you stand for us, for our

dream. You carry our light…That too is your destiny…”

Wherever the journey takes you, may you go with love…

~ C.J. La Belle