Chapter Seven
There was still light in Father's study, and Vincent decided to visit, postpone the moment when he would be alone with his thoughts.
"Father?"
The tunnel leader raised his eyes from his book. "Oh, Vincent! Back already? So how was the concert? Did you and Catherine have a nice time?"
"Yes, very nice, Father!"
"Good! I only hope the walk wasn't too much for Catherine."
"She assured me that she was well when I took her back to her chamber." Vincent answered.
"Hmmmpf, she always says that!" Father retorted. "It may be true for the moment, but it might be less and less so in the next weeks, as her pregnancy progresses." He looked intently at his son. "I count on you to help me convince her that she will have to slow down on some of her activities! You know how stubborn she can be!"
"I will do my best." Vincent promised. "But you should not worry yourself, Father. I'm sure Catherine will not do anything that might endanger her child."
The older man smiled wryly. "I'm entitled to worry! It's my privilege, both as a physician and a father."
Vincent gave him a sharp look. A father? Did Father consider Catherine as his daughter? He certainly treated her as such, and from Catherine's attitude toward the tunnel leader, Vincent could tell the feelings were reciprocal. There was familiarity and warmth in their relationship, which didn't exclude occasional conflicts between those two strong personalities... but he knew they trusted and valued each other deeply.
He frowned as the incongruous thought struck him that it would make Catherine his... sister, of sorts. He had to admit that what he felt for her wasn't exactly brotherly!
"What's wrong, Vincent?" Father inquired.
"Nothing, Father." He felt unable to discuss his feelings for Catherine with his parent, who until now had been suprisingly silent about their obvious closeness and the amount of time they spent together. Vincent had several times wondered about Father's lack of reaction on that matter. After the discussions they had had in the past about the things that 'could never be' for him, he had expected at least a warning, a sermon or two about the dangers of such a relationship, but nothing had come, and it puzzled him some. Even if he hated to recall what had happened in his youth, Vincent was aware he should not forget it, either, and it wasn't like Father not to have reminded him. Maybe it was due to the older man's visible affection for Catherine. Or... had something happened in those lost three years that had made him change his mind? The thought caused an uneasy flutter in Vincent's stomach.
"Vincent?" Father worried.
Vincent got hold of himself and smiled apologetically to his parent. "I'm afraid I'm not much company, tonight. I'll leave you to your reading. Goodnight Father."
"Goodnight, Son! Remember that I'm always here if you need to talk."
Vincent silently nodded, and left. Father watched him go with thoughtful eyes. Obviously something was troubling Vincent, something he was not ready to discuss, and it wasn't difficult to guess what! Like all the tunnel dwellers Father had watched Vincent with Catherine over the last three months, seen him fall in love with her all over again, and he'd rejoiced that their ill-fated relationship had been granted another chance to blossom, freed from many of the obstacles it had previously met, himself included! Yet it didn't mean things had become suddenly easy for his tormented son. Vincent and Catherine still had a long way to go, and Father wished he could remove some of the thorns still remaining in their path, part of which he had himself sown...
He shook his head. Hadn't he had proof enough that their love was strong enough to overcome all obstacles? He had to trust them, trust that everything would be all right, in the end, for the two children of his heart.
************
"Catherine, may I come in?"
"Of course, Mary!"
"I have something for you!" the older woman said with a somewhat smug smile. "It's your Winterfest dress!" She laid it on the bed, wrapped in a white sheet.
"Mary, you shouldn't have done something for me! I was planning on wearing one of those lovely maternity dresses Olivia lent me."
"Oh no!" Mary protested. "This year everyone Below is having new clothes for Winterfest! Do you remember Mr Greene? He's one of our Helpers. He sells fabrics, and regularly sends down some unsold remnants."
Catherine did know Mr Greene quite well, as a matter of fact, but she only nodded noncommittally.
"I reckoned so." Mary said with a hint of a smile. "Well this year he's been incredibly generous to us, both with quantity and quality. Sarah, Olivia and I have been able to make something new for everyone out of what he said were his 'leftovers', with some fabric to spare!" She gestured toward the dress. "Come on, look at it!"
Catherine carefully unwrapped the dress and gasped. "Oh, Mary!"
The dress was magnificent, and poignantly familiar, its deep red velvet softly shining in the candlelit chamber. It was an almost exact copy, pregnancy version, of the dress she wore on the portrait painted by Kristopher Gentian.
Tears rolled down Catherine's cheeks as she silently stared at the gown, and Mary finally worried. "Are you all right, Catherine? Maybe we shouldn't have..."
Catherine turned to hug the older woman. "It's so beautiful! Thank you so much!"
"You're welcome, dear, but the pleasure was for us!" Mary answered. "When we saw that piece of velvet, Sarah and I had exactly the same idea. I don't think we could have done anything else with it! Father has hidden the painting somewhere, but Elizabeth provided sketches for us to work from." She touched the front of the dress. "Of course we've had to add some extra material here, but once you've had your baby it can be easily modified, so you can go on wearing it. Now would you try it on and let me see how it fits?"
*******
Vincent closed his belt around his new vest and smoothed the material over his hips, enjoying the lush touch of velvet under his hands. The vest was beautiful, if a somewhat unusual color for him to wear. He was used to more muted tones, shades of brown, grey or beige, and the rich, deep red had surprised him at first, but he had to admit he liked it a lot. It contrasted in a striking way with his favorite ruffled shirt, and the new black trousers Mary had made for him. The leather trimmings and thongs on the vest matched the shade of both his belt and thigh-high boots and, though his chamber had no mirrors, Vincent reckoned his appearance was as satisfactory as it could be. He wondered if Catherine would... find him to her liking...
Tapping on the pipes drew him out of his musings. The Helpers were arriving, Catherine must be waiting for him. He threw his cloak over his shoulders, took his candle and left his chamber.
Catherine was standing in front of the old-fashioned, full size oval mirror in her chamber and examined herself with a critical eye. She'd definitely put on some flesh since her arrival, thanks to William's cooking, but not too much. Just enough to fill the dress's deep décolleté in a very satisfactory way, and pregnancy certainly did wonders to her breasts! The cleverly arranged velvet folds in front accommodated her bulging stomach without concealing it. She looked unmistakably pregnant, but beautifully so, and was looking forward to Vincent's reaction. She firmly intended to dazzle him!
She threw a wistful look to the leather pouch on her nightstand. How she wished she could wear her crystal! It would be just perfect with this dress, but the moment had not come yet. Instead she had settled for a heart-shaped ruby pendant she had inherited from her mother. Fitting, if only second-best choice. She was fumbling with the fastening when she heard the beloved voice behind the chamber's curtain. "Catherine?"
"Please come in, Vincent, I'm almost ready!"
Vincent pushed the curtain apart to enter the chamber and remained frozen at the entrance, seized by a vision of beauty such as he could not remember having ever beheld.
Was he dreaming? Could such perfection exist here, in his world, or had it surged from his deepest fantasies to taunt him?
The vision addressed him with Catherine's voice, pulling him out of his contemplation.
"Could you help me, please, Vincent? I can't manage to fasten this thing!"
He slowly closed the distance between them, filling his eyes with the sight of her, the contrast between the deep red velvet he recognized (Oh, Mary!) and the strikingly generous surface of exposed ivory flesh softly glowing in the golden, flickering light. Then her words finally sunk in, and the idea of approaching his hands to her bare neck filled him with panic. "Catherine, I don't know if..."
She waved his protest away. "It's not difficult, I just can't see what I'm doing!"
Reluctantly he took the jewel from her hand, put his candle down next to hers on the table and went behind her to pass the chain around her neck, studying the simple, but tiny fastening. His claws were somewhat of an obstacle, but he'd learned to work around that, and managed to close the chain, thrilled to the core by the fleeting contact with Catherine's naked flesh. Then he remained there, unable to take even a single step away, fascinated by the fragile, elegant curve of her shoulders. He breathed in deeply the sweet flowery fragrance of her freshly washed hair, and the stronger, more spicy one rising from her décolleté, on which his position offered him a taunting, plunging sight. Slightly embarrassed he raised his eyes and found himself looking at the mirror, in front of them. At first all he could see was Catherine, the beauty of her dress and the way it fit her pregnant body. She was a red rose in full bloom, a ripe, enticing fruit, and Vincent's breathing quickened as to his great shame and shock his own body began to react to her proximity. He started to move away from her, but Catherine was faster. Reaching to her side she grasped his hand, and brought it to her stomach in the most natural way.
"Can you feel it, Vincent? 'Little One' is excited by Winterfest, he's dancing already!"
Vincent's gaze rose to her radiant face in the mirror. "A jig, it would seem." he answered as casually as he could. Then he froze. There, in the mirror, just above Catherine's hair, was a pitiful mockery of a face, with just enough humanity in it to enhance its bestial features. And that face was his!
How could he dare stand so close to her, look at her, touch her? How could he dare... desire her?
He would have pulled away from her in self-disgust, maybe to run to some deep, dark tunnel, but for her small hand still holding his own firmly to her restless stomach. He felt the agitation inside her body quiet down as the small back came to nestle under his palm, and the baby's unfocused contentment radiated to him through their inexplicable connection, soothing his anguish somehow, until he was able to meet Catherine's gaze in the mirror. She smiled at him, looking serenely happy.
"Mmm! Thank you, Vincent! Not that I don't like Little One to have some exercise, but it also feels good when it stops!"
She relaxed against him as she spoke, and as if of its own will his free arm rose to circle her body, pulling her to him in a possessive embrace. The move was instinctive, surging from the deepest part of him, and executed before his conscious mind even had time to react. As soon as he held her a small inner voice instantly rose to scream at him that he shouldn't be doing that, but he felt unable to let Catherine go. Holding her was so good! Catherine herself didn't want him to let her go, and made it clear by leaning trustingly back into his embrace with a little sigh of contentment, her hand rising to settle on his wrist.
Emboldened by Catherine's acceptance Vincent dared to look at the mirror again, studying their reflection as dispassionately as he could. Catherine, first, beautiful and serene, her body relaxed, her face bearing a dreamy, satisfied expression that made it impossible to doubt that she was exactly where she wished to be! It helped Vincent face the sight of his hairy hand, rendered even more conspicuous by the ruffled cuff it emerged from. It lay across Catherine's fragile throat, its long, clawed fingers splayed over her naked shoulder in a way which would have looked dangerous, almost predatory, without the presence of another hand on it. Amazingly small and smooth in comparison, Catherine's hand rested fearlessly on the furred back of his own, her slender fingers caressing it in an almost imperceptible motion. Those two hands could hardly have been more different from each other, yet Vincent had to admit that they felt good together. That they looked right together.
His eyes ventured further up, following the waves of Catherine's honey tresses mingled with his own hair, to finally meet a defiant blue gaze he hardly recognized as his own. The ...creature... man...(man?) staring back at him looked so self-assured, so certain of his right to be holding Catherine in that intimate, possessive embrace! She's mine! Anything wrong with that? the blue eyes silently challenged.
There had to be several very good reasons to find something wrong with that, but right now Vincent couldn't recall a single one of them, and they would not have mattered anyway. The calm assurance reflected in the mirror was his, and the features facing him didn't look inhuman any more, their expression both tender and fierce as he tightened his hold on Catherine's soft, yielding body.
They were different, yes, but they looked good together. They looked right. They looked... familiar? A strong feeling of déjà-vu swept over Vincent, making his head spin, and for a second he thought he was remembering, but the fleeting impression disappeared as it had come and he dismissed it. The present was enough to hold his entire attention, as he became more and more aware of the sensual intimacy of their posture. His body was responding to Catherine's closeness, to the sweet, enticing scent of her, to the contact of her soft curves pressed against him, and the satiny warmth of her naked flesh burned through the palm of his hand, sending tingling, hot waves throughout him. He knew he should pull away from her before she took notice of his arousal, yet he stayed, unable to let go of her warmth, allowing himself for a few more moments the bittersweet bliss of holding her as a man would, of desiring her as a man would. For a few more moments he beheld his impossible dream in the mirror, a man holding the woman he loved, and who loved him back.
Catherine kept very quiet, shamelessly basking in the intimate warmth of Vincent's embrace. She could hardly believe this was happening. There, in the mirror in front of her, was Kristopher's painting come to life! With a few differences, which helped her still hold on to a few certainties... On the painting Vincent had been wearing gloves, and of course she hadn't been pregnant! But those were only details. What she had loved most in the portrait were the feelings it evoked. The intimacy, the trust, the certainty, the... belonging, she could now see them all, plainly, openly visible in their reflection. She could feel them too in the way Vincent held her, without a trace of shyness. The quickening of his breath and a subtle tension in his muscles told her of his arousal and, tight as he held her there was no way she could ignore the growing hardness against her back, but he didn't seem to even try to hide it from her. He was looking at them in the mirror and deep inside she was sure that at this moment he saw them as a couple, he saw himself as a man.
A hot wave of desire rose inside Catherine, taking her by surprise. With a small moan she pushed her body back against Vincent's, seeking closer contact with the hard bulge she felt.
The response was a low growl, and the slight, but distinct thrust of his hips against her. She felt him press fervent kisses in her hair, and his hand left her shoulder to travel downward. "Oh, Catherine!" he husked in her ear.
"Catherine? Are you ready? It's time!"
The voice outside the curtain startled them both. Instinctively they jumped apart and when Mary entered they were very properly standing a full yard away from each other.
"Oh, Vincent! Here you are? You should be going too, everybody is waiting for you!"
Catherine hastily grabbed her cloak, and turned around, apparently to allow Vincent to help her put it on, but in fact to hide her burning cheeks from Mary's sharp eyes. "We'll be right there!" she said, hoping her voice was steady.
"I'll tell everyone. Don't forget your candles, dears!"
As she walked out of the chamber, Mary couldn't help a smile. They had done their best, but they hadn't fooled her! She was sure something had been going on before she entered the chamber. Good! That was exactly what that dress was meant for...