Icy water lapped against her chin, filling her mouth whenevershe lost the small pocket of increasingly stale air. Panicky, shestruggled to find a way out, beating her hands against the top andsides of the enclosure, kicking out with her feet. She choked on amouthful of water and tried to spit it out, but the air was gone now.Nothing but water, cold and dark. The chill of it seeped into hervery bones. Again and again she lashed out, struggling fruitlesslyagainst the steel sides and lid of the car's trunk...

She woke with a gasp, drenched in cold perspiration. A lone candleguttered on a shelf across the chamber, its uncertain light castingthe stone walls in sharp relief. She lurched up onto an elbow anddrew a deep, shuddering breath, fighting down the panic, pushing itaway.

"Catherine?"

The voice startled her and she was still scrambling between thedregs of her hellish dream and memories of the night before whenVincent's hand caught her shoulder and pulled her into a tightembrace.

"It's all right," he said. "It was just a dream. I'm here."

She had the panic contained and was drawing a long, calming breathwhen another voice came, this one small and anxious.

"Mommy?"

Instinctively she struggled up, but Vincent's hand restrained her."I'll take care of him," he said, and slid out on the far side of thebed. She heard the whisper of cloth, the clink of metal againstmetal, and then Vincent was rounding the foot of the bed clad only inhis trousers.

Vincent's state of dress made Catherine suddenly conscious of herown nudity and she pulled the sheet to her neck.

"What's wrong, Nicholas?" Vincent asked, bending over him. "Didyou have a bad dream?"

Nicholas seemed unsurprised to see his father here. "No. Mommydid."

Vincent glanced her way sharply, then gathered Nicholas up in hisarms. "Yes, she did," he said. "But it's all right. I'm here, andI'll take care of her."

Nicholas laid his sleepy head on Vincent's shoulder. "Will youmake her be not scared anymore?" she heard Nicholas ask as Vincentcarried him back to his bed. "I don't like it when she's scared."

"I don't either," Vincent answered softly. "I'll do what Ican."

"Daddy?" Nicholas's voice was slurred now. "Rub my back."

"Until you go to sleep," Vincent agreed.

Catherine wondered what would happen after Nicholas went back tosleep. Would Vincent return to sleep beside her? Or, having wakened,would he gather the rest of his clothing and return to his ownchamber? And if he did that, what should she do? She wished she'd hadthe foresight to lay out a robe or coverup of some kind the nightbefore. If she'd known what would happen between them, she wouldhave.

She lay in the near darkness, still shivering from the dream andstraining her ears for the sounds beyond the curtain. At last itparted, and Vincent came out.

"He's asleep," he said, and paused to light a fresh candle fromthe one that flared wildly as it burned up the last of the wax.

"Good," she said into the steadier glow, clenching her teeth tokeep them from chattering.

"You're cold," he observed, and started towards her.

"Wait," she said, and he paused near the foot of the bed, poisedexpectantly.

"Would you... get me a nightgown?"

He glanced at her, covers pulled to her chin, and nodded."Where?"

She had to think, and that helped quash the fear. "My bureau.Second drawer down on the left."

He obeyed, placing the garment on the bed within her reach.

She snagged it and pulled it open so she could sit up and wriggleinto it in one movement.

He waited until she'd smoothed the simple gown down over her hipsbefore climbing gingerly in beside her. He still wore his pants, shenoted, as he pulled up the quilts and held out his arms.

She went into them willingly, glad to have him here.

"Tell me," he said presently.

"What?" she murmured against his chest. His presence had banishedthe fear and his warmth was seeping into her bones. She was beginningto relax.

"Your dream. A nightmare?"

She nodded reluctantly. "But it's gone now."

"Tell me about it."

"I don't want to. I want to forget it."

"Forgetting might be easier if you speak of it first."

She shivered. "No. I'm tired. I want to go to sleep."

He shifted a little and she could sense his unease, but he didn'tpress her. After a while she went to sleep, still cradled in hisarms.

"Did you make Mommy stop being scared in her dreams?" Nicholasasked the next morning as they walked three abreast on their way tobreakfast.

He'd been remarkably incurious about the new sleepingarrangements, but Catherine was grateful both she and Vincent were atleast partially clothed when Nicholas climbed up on the bed to shakethem awake. "Get up," he'd said with his usual morning imperiousness."I'm hungry."

Vincent had gone to his own chamber for fresh clothing, affordingCatherine privacy to get dressed. Nicholas dressed himself as heusually did, and when Vincent returned, they joined him in thecorridor.

"Yes," Vincent said now, shooting her a sidelong glance. "I thinkI helped her not be afraid."

Nicholas looked to her for confirmation. "Did he, Mommy?"

She couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her mouth. "Yes, Nicky.He did."

"Good," Nicholas said. "You have too many bad dreams."

Vincent stopped walking. "What?"

"Bad dreams," Nicholas repeated. "Mommy has bad dreams. All thetime."

"All the time?" Vincent repeated, looking at her.

"Not all the time," she protested. "I've had a few nightmares,that's all. It's nothing."

Vincent looked doubtful, but didn't argue. But later, as shehelped Brooke and Edwin wash dishes, he sought her out.

She smiled when she saw him coming. It had been striking her atodd moments all morning - the memory of last night, and of what theywere to one another now. Not only friends. Not only Nicholas'sparents. But lovers, in the deepest, truest sense of the word.Lovers. Her body tingled with remembrance as he came to stand on theother side of a kettle of soapy dishwater.

The warmth in his gaze said he remembered, too, and she lookeddown, the color in her cheeks not entirely because she was elbow-deepin steaming water.

"Catherine."

"Vincent." How could she have forgotten how just saying his namecould give her pleasure?

"Can we talk?"

She looked again into the big kettle. No more than a half-dozenplates lay in the bottom, waiting to be scrubbed. "Edwin!" shecalled.

Edwin looked over from where he was vigorously plying a dishtowel."Yeah?"

"I'm almost done here. Can you finish up?"

He gave her a knowing grin. "Sure, Catherine," he agreed, andhanded her the dishtowel. "Brooke and I will take care of it."

She dried her hands with the damp towel and turned her back ondishwashing without remorse. Brooke and Edwin were courting, andtunnel talk was betting they'd be married before the year was out.She was sure they'd appreciate the few extra moments alone.

Vincent took her elbow and guided her along a path she soonrecognized as the one leading to the Chamber of the Falls. Neitherspoke until they were seated in the little acoustical island ofquiet.

"Where's Nicholas?" she asked. Last time she'd seen him, he'd beenriding on Vincent's shoulders, ducking low as they passed under thestone lintel of the dining chamber entrance. She knew and trustedthat Vincent would not leave him unattended, but still she had toask.

"He's with Natalie," Vincent replied, unoffended. "Playing withBrian."

"That's one of the highlights of his day. Playing with Brian." Shesmiled. "I think it ranks right behind being with you. He adoresyou."

"He worries about you," Vincent countered. "More than he should,at his age. We talked about it."

Everything inside her drew together and became very still. "Aboutwhat?"

"About you being afraid. About your dreams. Catherine, he says youdream nearly every night."

"Not every night." She shook her head in denial and looked acrossat the mist rising from the base of the falls.

"I'm not certain why it is that he senses your dreams and I donot," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "Perhaps because, untillast night, he was nearer."

She continued to stare at the mist. There was a rainbow arcingacross where an errant ray of light found its way down through somenarrow fissure in the earth's crust and she studied it, noting howthe colors blended seamlessly into one another.

"Catherine, it troubles me that you're having these dreams." Hetouched her arm, and she jumped.

"It's nothing, Vincent. I told you."

"You aren't having terrifying nightmares night after night overnothing," he pointed out. "I want to know what's troubling you,Catherine. Please."

Still she hesitated, and he sighed.

"It's him, isn't it? Gabriel."

She suppressed an involuntary shiver. "No," she said. "I neverdream about him. Never."

"What, then?"

She folded her arms across her upraised knees and placed herforehead on them. Vincent moved closer and put his arm around hershoulders.

"You can tell me," he urged gently. "You can tell meanything."

She remembered her own words to him, years ago, and smiled, just alittle. "I know I can. But they're just dreams. They can't touch mehere."

"Then why do they keep recurring?"

"I don't know," she said wearily. "They just do."

"They're trying to tell you something," he said gently.

She turned suddenly and buried her face against his shoulder."What if," she asked in a small voice, "I don't want to hear whatthey have to say?"

He pressed her no more that day; that night, he came hesitantly toher chamber.

"Shall we walk?" he invited.

"Not tonight, if you don't mind," she answered. "I'm tired."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. "Of course," he said."Perhaps tomorrow." He half turned as if to go, and she sprang up tostop him.

"Wait. I didn't mean... I just thought we could spend the eveninghere. Together."

He turned back. "Yes," he said simply.

Nicholas wasn't in bed yet, so he and Vincent read together for awhile before Vincent tucked him in.

"You really enjoy being a father, don't you?" she asked when heemerged from the alcove.

"Yes," he answered, looking faintly surprised.

"I asked because... because of last night," she said, faltering alittle under his intense blue gaze. "I didn't expect... I hadn'tplanned..." She felt herself flushing and bent her head. "I wonderedhow you would feel if there should be another child."

"Another child?" He sank slowly into the big chair. "Catherine,would you know...?"

"Not yet. Not for several weeks. But it's possible, Vincent. Lookat Nicholas." She looked at him shyly. "And there's tonight, or othernights."

"Another child," he said again. "The thought is more than I cangrasp."

"I could go talk to Father if you'd rather not take a chance," sheoffered.

He gazed at her for what seemed like a long time. "No," he said atlast. "Unless it is your wish. The thought of another child terrifiesme," he confessed. "But it's also a wondrous possibility."

"I'd like another child," she said. "I'd like you to be there thistime. For all of it."

"I want to be," he answered. "I missed so much of Nicholas. Hisfirst smile. His first step. I missed you, growing large with ourchild..."

She ducked her head. "You wouldn't have known me," she said. "Iwas enormous." Fear prickled as she remembered that time.

"Thinking of it frightens you," he said, and took her hand.

She squeezed his fingers, clinging to the safety they represented."I can't help it. I remember how scared I was. How hopeless it allseemed. I wondered if I would ever see my baby, ever hold him. If Iwould ever see you again..." Her voice broke and he let go her handand came to his feet to gather her into his arms.

"It's all right," he murmured, into her ear. "Everything's allright. I'm here."

She clung to him. "I know you are," she whispered. "I know youare."

The razor glittered in the reflected headlights of oncomingcars. Strong hands held her wrists, pinned her shoulders; a fisttangled in her hair kept her from turning her face away from thesharp edge. It bit into her cheek and sliced downward. Shescreamed...

And sat bolt upright in bed.

"Catherine." Vincent was there, pulling her against him. "It's allright. It was just a dream."

Frantically she gathered up the horror and stuffed it down whereit wouldn't disturb Nicholas. Where it couldn't hurt her. Curiously,Vincent's arms made the task harder, not easier.

Nicholas still slept in his alcove; her terror hadn't been enoughto wake him tonight.

She clutched at Vincent's arms and pressed her face into hisshoulder. "I'm okay," she gasped, still fighting for breath. "I'mokay."

"Another dream," he said. "The same?"

She shook her head, suddenly aware that her hair was clammy withperspiration, that her nightgown, donned for propriety's sake beforethey went to sleep, clung to her damply. "Not the same. No."

"Tell me."

"No, I... Vincent, let me go. I need to change..."

She could sense his reluctance, but he released her and she slidfrom the bed and crossed to the bureau, where she pulled a cleannightgown from a drawer. She hesitated a moment, conscious of hiseyes on her. But the damp discomfort of her gown was enough toovercome her shyness and she pulled it off quickly, dragging the dryone on in almost the same movement. She raked her fingers through thehair at the back of her head, lifting it from her neck and fluffingit so it would dry more quickly.

Vincent, clad in his own nightclothes, watched from the bed. Sheavoided his eyes as she returned to slip in beside him. "I'm allright now," she assured him.

"No," he answered quietly, leaning over her. "I don't think youare."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Something's troubling you, Catherine. Something so fierce anddark that you only let it out at night, when you're sleeping."

"No," she protested. "No. I'm fine, Vincent. Everything's fine.I'm safe here. Nicky's safe."

He pounced on the opening. "Is that what troubles you? Yoursafety?"

"No," she insisted. "I told you. It's safe here. I know that. Iknow about the sentries and the paths that always change to make ithard to find the way. And I know you would never let anything touchme here. Or Nicky either." She turned her back to him, pulling hisarm around her waist. "It's okay, Vincent. Everything's okay. Let'sgo to sleep."

He poised on one elbow for a long moment, then sank down into hispillows, pulling her securely into the curve of his body. "Don't beafraid, Catherine," he whispered low, into her ear. "I'm here. I loveyou."

"A picnic?" she asked the next morning.

Vincent nodded, pleased. "Just the three of us. I know a placenear the river where no one goes..."

"Picnic!" Nicholas shouted. "Yay!"

Catherine smiled. "How can I say no in the face of so muchenthusiasm?" she asked. "A picnic sounds wonderful. Shall I go by thekitchen and fix us a basket?"

Vincent put Nicholas off his lap and rose to his feet. "No need,"he said. "I've asked William to prepare something."

She couldn't resist a coquettish smile. "Sure of yourself, weren'tyou?" she inquired.

She thought if he was going to blush, he'd have done it then. "Ihoped," he answered instead, and held out his hand. "Ready?"

Catherine allowed him to help her up. "Get your jacket, Nicky,"she instructed, and snagged a sweater for herself on the way out thedoor.

"We'll stop by my chamber first," Vincent said. "I have a blanketto sit on, and some toys for Nicholas to play with."

Mouse was waiting when they reached Vincent's chamber. "Vincent!"he said in evident relief. "Glad you're here!"

"What is it, Mouse?"

"Need you," Mouse answered, typically cryptic. "Now."

Catherine was sure she was the only one aware of Vincent'ssigh.

"Now, Mouse?"

The young man nodded vigorously, shaggy blond hair flying. "Mychamber. Quick."

"Is it an emergency?"

Mouse frowned. "Kind of," he decided. "New project. Arthur wasplaying, climbed up. Tipped it over. Can't pick it up. Tooheavy."

"Your new project has fallen and you can't lift it by yourself?"Vincent translated.

Mouse nodded agreement.

"Can't it wait, Mouse?"

"No. Also blocks off entrance to Mouse's chamber." He ducked hishead and grinned sheepishly. "Had to crawl to get out." He brushed ata dusty smear across his stomach.

This time Vincent's sigh was clearly audible. "Very well." Heturned. "I'm sorry, Catherine. I'll be only a moment."

She gave him a smile full of mirth. "Don't worry about us,Vincent. We'll wait right here. Won't we, Nick?"

Nicholas nodded his agreement and Vincent followed Mouse from thechamber.

As usual, Vincent's chamber was utterly tidy. Nicholas trotted toa shelf of toys and books kept especially for him, but Catherine sawno small task on which to vent nervous energy. She trailed a fingeralong a row of books on a shelf above his bed, and then touched apillow lightly. Years ago she'd imagined, when she dared tofantasize, herself in this bed with Vincent, loving him. Maybe oneday soon they could ask Mary or Natalie to keep Nicholas overnight,and could make that fantasy come true.

She turned away. A folded newspaper lay on Vincent's writingtable, and she stepped toward it, puzzled. A paper was an odd thingto find here, and she wondered where it had come from.

The date was two days ago, Monday, she noted. The day of theconcert in the park. The memory of that day, and the night thatfollowed, made her smile.

Nicholas was happily fitting shaped blocks into matching holes inthe sides of a gaily painted wooden box, and clearly didn't needentertaining. Catherine sank into a chair and pulled the newspapertowards her, scanning the headlines. It had been so long since she'dread a paper that she felt curiously out of touch, as if the eventsdescribed had nothing to do with her or the world in which shelived.

She turned pages idly, skimming and skipping along, reading a lineor two here, a paragraph there.

And then a photograph, small and slightly blurred, caught her eye.She stared at it for a long time before she could bring herself toread the short article beneath. John Moreno was running forreelection as District Attorney.

His photograph made her skin crawl, but she clamped down on herrevulsion and tried to block out her last sight of him, gazing at herwith something that might have been regret as armed goons caught herarms and prepared to drag her away.

"Mommy?" Nicholas looked her way, a small, puckered frown on hisface.

"It's nothing, sweetheart," she told him. "I'm fine."

After a moment he turned back to his blocks. Catherine pressed herlips together and turned pages swiftly, forcing a wedge ofdetermination between herself and the photograph. And the memory.

She glanced toward the entry, hoping to see Vincent returning. Theopening remained empty and she sighed and set the news section aside.Arts and Leisure was next and she unfolded it, wondering only idlyabout the latest fashions and what was playing on Broadway.

Donatello Sculpture Sold For Record Price. The headlinecaught her eye and directed her attention to another photograph. TheDonatello sculpture was rendered beautifully in bright color andsharp focus, but her attention was fixed on the slight man standingbeside it, his face gaunt and thin-lipped, his bearing at oncearrogant and possessive. She began to tremble and put her hand to hermouth to keep from crying out.

Cruel, calculating eyes stared back at her from the page. Iknow where you are, those eyes said. I can wait.

She thrust the paper away and buried her face in her hands.

Nicholas tugged at her sleeve. "Mommy? Mommy!" His voice rose inagitation and then strong hands gripped her shoulders, drawing her upand she found herself crushed against Vincent's chest.

"It's all right," he murmured. "I'm here."

She clung to him helplessly, her own strength too feeble to holdher up.

"Take a breath," he instructed, and mindlessly she did as he toldher. "And another."

The simple action calmed her and after a moment he moved her awayand looked into her eyes. "Will you be all right for a moment?" heasked. "I must see to Nicholas."

Nicholas. She hadn't even thought of him, and she twisted inVincent's grasp to seek him out.

He huddled on the floor by Vincent's bed, eyes squeezed shut andhands clapped over his ears. She moved toward him automatically, butVincent was ahead of her. He took Nicholas by the shoulders and gavehim a gentle shake.

There was no mistaking the relief that flooded the boy's eyes atsight of his father. "Daddy!" he cried, and hurled himself againstVincent's chest.

Vincent hugged him tightly. "It's all right, Nicholas," hesoothed.

"Mommy's scared," Nicholas whispered. "I need to help her."

Vincent ran a big hand through Nicholas's unruly mop of hair."I'll take care of your mother," he promised solemnly. "But,Nicholas, I need you to do something for me."

Nicholas raised his head, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Do you remember how to reach your grandfather's chamber fromhere?"

Nicholas nodded and pointed. "That way," he whispered.

"That's right. Are you big enough to find your way there, all byyourself?"

"Vincent, no..." Catherine managed through a throat so tightlyconstricted she could scarcely breathe. "He's too little..."

Vincent seemed not to hear. "I want you to go to yourgrandfather," he told Nicholas. "Go straight there, and wait withhim. Tell him your mother's not sick, and that I will take care ofher. Do you understand?"

Nicholas nodded solemnly. "Go to Grandfather and tell him Mommy'sokay," he repeated.

"Good boy," Vincent said. "Are you ready?"

Nicholas nodded and gave an uncertain look to Catherine, whoswayed unsteadily, unable to give further voice to any of thewarnings that pressed her.

Vincent gave Nicholas a swift kiss. "Go now," he said, and watchedNicholas out of the chamber before he turned his gaze back toher.

Catherine had used the time while Vincent dealt with Nicholas tostuff her terror back into its box and clamp the lid on tight.

"I'm all right," she said unsteadily. "I'm okay."

"No," Vincent said, with certainly. "You aren't." His arm wentaround her shoulders and he guided her to a chair.

"I'm fine, now, Vincent," she insisted. "Really."

His steady gaze didn't falter as he knelt beside her. "Whatfrightened you so?" he asked. "What triggered it?"

"Nothing," she said.

"Catherine, that can't be true."

"It is true!" she flared.

"Catherine," he tried again. "I felt your terror. I saw you, whenI came in. You were ashen, trembling."

"But I'm all right now. You can feel that, too."

"I know you have caged your fear," he answered. "But you haven'tfaced it. It isn't healthy to deny the things that frighten you,Catherine."

"What choice do I have, Vincent?" she spat. "You saw Nicholas. Sawwhat it does to him. What else am I to do?"

"You can't sacrifice yourself for him, Catherine. He needs you. Ineed you."

She turned her face away. "I have no choice, Vincent," she said,her voice steely. "And I don't want to talk about it any more."

For a moment she thought he would press her, but instead hesettled back on his haunches and sighed. "Very well. If you'recertain you're all right, I'll go reassure Father and fetchNicholas."

"I'll be fine," she assured him, and sat with fists clenched inher lap, studiously ignoring the crumpled newspaper on the table,until he returned.

Nicholas bounded across the chamber and into her lap. "Are youokay?" he asked, frowning.

"I'm fine, Nicky," she assured him.

He relaxed. "My daddy took good care of you," he said.

"Yes, he did," she answered, but avoided Vincent's gaze.

"I went all the way to Grandfather's chamber by myself," Nicholasbragged. "I didn't get lost even one time!"

"You're getting very big," she agreed. "I'm proud of you,Nick."

"I'm proud of me, too," he said. "Are we going on our picnic now,Daddy?"

"I'm not certain a picnic is a good idea now, Nicholas," Vincentanswered. "Your mother's had a shock."

Nicholas turned to her, his mouth opening in dismay.

"I'm fine, Vincent," Catherine assured for what felt like thehundredth time. "Really. I think a picnic is just the thing."

Vincent gave her a long look and relented. "Very well. Come,Nicholas. You can carry the blanket."

The picnic was a rousing success, at least from Nicholas's pointof view. He gorged himself on cookies, grapes, and cheese, andafterwards, Vincent pulled off boots and socks, rolled up histrousers, and took Nicholas wading in a quiet inlet of the river.

Catherine laughingly resisted their efforts to persuade her tojoin them, content to sit on the blanket and watch. And if the memoryof the photographs in the newspaper sometimes threatened to intrude,she thrust it back ruthlessly. She would let nothing, and certainlynot the man who called himself Gabriel, mar the remainder of theday.

If she was going to dream of him, it should have been this night.Despite her best efforts, his memory had returned again and again tognaw at the edges of her consciousness. When Vincent joined her inher bed, his presence drove it away, but the image returned to haunther as she lay in his arms afterwards. It was a long time beforesleep found her.