"...for the sands of time inscribe, and having writ, move usonward, down the path of ecstasy sublime. And neither devotion norinnocence shall beguile it back to alter even half a line. As yourhands caress me, oh so gently, thy supple mouth rests against mybrow. And in that moment of sweet torment, your love both captivatesand frees me. In having you am I blessed with all that Heaven dothallow..." p.a.k.

ALL THAT HEAVEN DOTH ALLOW

By Trisha Kehoe

Turning for a last look at the one she loved, as though never tosee him again, the woman spoke in a quiet, hesitant tone. "I don'twant to leave you, especially... now."

Eyes the shade of tempest-tossed winter seas clung to Catherine's,glanced away, then reclaimed her gaze. One could get lost in thoseeyes and not mind if you weren't ever found again.

For a moment, Vincent didn't answer, as though in not respondingimmediately he could keep her here, with him, for one more beat ofhis heart. Finally, in that velvet-soft voice only he possessed, hereplied, his words tinged with a subtle edge of stoic acceptance, "AsI do not want you to go, Catherine. Yet, I know you must."

With a final, lingering touch to the side of her face, he took astep backward, certain that if he didn't do it now, he would never beable to do it. How he wanted to give voice to the plea trapped in histhroat, to beseech her to stay here, with him, but years of keepinghis deeper feelings to himself would not permit him to express themaloud, at least not yet. Instead, he said solemnly, "Each time wepart is difficult, for... both of us. But parting is sometimesunavoidable."

Catherine nodded. "I know. I'll return as soon as I possibly can.Hopefully, the closing arguments won't take more than a fewhours."

"I shall be here, waiting." 'Hours?' he thought. 'No, not hours --an eternity.'

"I should be back soon." Looking up at him, Catherine smiledbrightly. A shade too brightly, as she tried to alleviate the look ofdejection Vincent didn't realize was mirrored in his eyes.

"Yes," he murmured looking away. "I know how heavily this casedepends on your testimony. I recall the depth of feeling in yourvoice when you discussed it with me, earlier."

Catherine's jaw tightened angrily. "We have a good chance ofgetting that fiend off of the streets, away from children. How couldhe brutalize a child the way he did, Vincent?" Realizing, naturally,that there were no answers to some questions, she sighed heavily,continuing, "In my job, I see so much violence, so much cruelty,every day, but I'll never understand what makes people act as they doat times. If I can help Joe get a conviction today, Andy Charbonewill never hurt another child! He'll spend the rest of his lifebehind bars, where he should be, where he deserves to be!"

Feeling her anger and pain rip through his soul, Vincent nodded,agreeing with her, but said nothing. What could he say?

Her face was pale, pinched with emotion. "I can still see himstanding over that little boy. I saw what he did to that child!" Hereyes sought his. "And so did you."

"I shall never forget that night," Vincent replied, his words tautwith barely suppressed rage. Exhaling roughly, he swallowed hisanger, then forced it to the back of his mind. It would serve nopurpose to relive what they had seen that horrific night. He had beentaking a moonlight stroll with Catherine...

Still smelling the blood, seeing the ravaged body of a child inhis minds-eye, he turned his thoughts outward, away from the memory,saying, "There is another reason you must testify." Pivoting on hisheel, he pressed the palms of his hands to the cool surface of thetunnel stones, fighting desperately to constrain his anger. "I cannotgo into your courts to tell them what I saw. So you must do it,Catherine." Turning to face her, he went on, "You must be there forboth of us, to denounce him; to finish what I... cannot."

Catherine's eyes darkened purposefully. "He'll pay, Vincent. Hewill! I'll do everything I can, I promise." Dropping a kiss to theside of his face, and a second one to his mouth, she hugged himfiercely for a moment, then reached for the rung of the ladderleading Above. "I really must go, but I'll be back so soon you won'teven have time to miss me."

Beginning the climb to the basement of her apartment building,Catherine didn't hear Vincent's parting words. She wasn't meant tohear them. They were spoken wistfully; tinged with sadness. "And yet,watching you go, I already miss you, Catherine. My love."

* * * *

As the woman he cherished beyond life vanished into the bluishveil of light leading from his world into hers, Vincent's eyesremained fixed on the point where Catherine had been standing.Staring at the spot for many moments, shaken to the depths of hissoul, a sensation of wretched loneliness swept through him.

Putting one finger to his mouth, still feeling her warm lipsthere, he closed his eyes and sighed. The ache of parting from herwas so strong. This ache, this emptiness within him, was this alsopart of loving; part of physical love? Physical...

Ducking his head shyly, he began reliving the last few hours overagain in his mind, in his heart, as he knew he would until his lastearthly breath. The warmth of Catherine's mouth, the scent of herskin, the feel of being lost inside of her, had rendered him nearlywitless. There was no longer any judicious reason to keep hisemotions buried deeply within, or to deny them. Not after lastnight.

As his consciousness formed mental images of making love toCatherine, no traces of darkness reached out to hinder him, or tostrike out at him. The light of her love had ended that darkness --forever.

Her eyes were the lamps that lit his world. Her courage andsincerity had vanquished all of the twisted, tortured places withinhim. Catherine's love had truly saved him.

Searching his soul, Vincent waited for the old doubts andmisgivings to rear their destructive heads, to rise from within, as ablighting mildew would, to destroy a rose -- the rose of hismemories.

But there were no doubts, or any shadows of them. None. Nomalevolent specters of the past, or of his other 'self', reproachedhim, nor taunted him. Or shamed him. From the ashes of a life ofisolation, he had been reborn complete, inwardly serene, and oh, sodesperately in love.

He and Catherine had won.

As that thought shifted to a more conscious level of existence,his powerful form began to quake with relief. Thank God his hands hadnot hurt her! He could never hurt her. He knew that now. In the timeit took for that truth to be acknowledged and accepted, he felt morealive than he had ever imagined possible, and free at last tosurrender to emotions and feelings he had once been so certain wouldnever be allowed to surface -- not in him.

As these newly budding, mysterious sensations rushed through him,he sought vainly to slow his irregular breathing. Desire, passion,the freedom to touch, to love a woman with all that he was. Thesethings were now his. His! How he exalted in that knowledge. For thefirst time, he truly felt like the man Catherine had always been socertain he was from the beginning of their relationship.

Probing his soul, the very essence of his uniqueness, thissolitary, gentle being sought interpretations of the barely containedpassions rising from within.

Swaying backward to rest against the rock wall behind him ascomprehension engulfed his senses, Vincent gasped, alarmed by thefervor of his own emotions. With his left palm to his breast, hestrained to come to terms with all that had happened to him. Throughhabit hard to break, he fought against the realization, yet still itevolved. He could be aware of his passion and feel no shame everagain in allowing that to happen. What was this excitement, thisutter joy which ran rampant through every part of him? Was this, too,part of total love? Oh,he hoped so with all his heart. Not since hewas very young had he felt so utterly at peace with his surroundings-- with everything! Another gift given to him by Catherine.

Catherine!

Barely contained exhilaration flared in his breast, assailingevery fiber and nerve ending in his body, as a dam would when itexploded past all restraint. Merely to think her name unleashedsomething so powerful within him.

A sensuality he had never experienced before made him momentarilydizzy; unsteady.

Ah yes! To know passion, to share it without restriction with her.Rejoicing in this new freedom coursing through him, Vincent welcomedthese emotions into his life, celebrating their arrival with tears ofgratitude.

Suddenly shaking so badly, he thought he'd surely collapse if hedidn't sit down, he took a slow breath, released it, then tookanother, exhaling slowly again as he fought for mastery over hisbody, but he didn't seem to have any strength left in his legs.Suddenly, he was as weak as a newborn babe.

"Oh, my dearest love... "

Calling out to her, he sank gradually to the floor of the tunnelcorridor. A fleeting, but unusually expansive smile etched into thefurrowed corners of his mouth, his mind awhirl with sensations andmemories. What had he done? What had they done? Never had he, in hiswildest fantasies, dreamt that this -- this was what loving couldbe.

It was as though he were caught up in the eddies of a tidal pool,drowning in need. It was terrifying -- and glorious! His entire bodytingled as though it had come to life for the very first time.Perhaps it had.

Nearly frantic with yearning, Vincent rested his head back againstthe rock wall, fighting for composure. Ah, this hurt too deeply. Thispart of love was one he had never known could wound to the heart. Hisbody was rigid with desire... with such an all-consuminghunger...

Thinking of Samhain nearly three years earlier, and the heroicIrish woman he had met that night, Vincent smiled. At last able toadmit that Bridget O'Donnell's words to him that night were true, hewhispered, "Yes Bridget, ah, 'tis such a sweet pain... "

Succumbing to the memories of what had taken place between he andCatherine, twin orbs of an inconceivable shade of blue flashedluminously, then filled with tears. Alone in the gray murkiness ofthe tunnel passageway, giving his tears freedom, Vincent lowered hishead to his bent knees, weeping openly in tribute to the courage anddevotion of an extraordinary lady. Catherine. His lady. Only his.Forever his.

* * * *

Frantically digging her keys from the pocket of her jacket,Catherine opened the door to her apartment and slammed it behind heras she made a mad dash for the bedroom. Forty minutes. She had fortyminutes to shower, change, and get downtown to the MunicipalCourthouse.

'Damn it', she thought, 'Of all the times to have to leave him!'After struggling out of her fleece pants, top, and underwear, andflinging them to the edge of the clothes hamper, she twisted theshower faucets to the 'on' position. Running one hand under thewater, waiting impatiently for it to reach a bearable temperature,Catherine took a deep breath and then, smiling, she took an evendeeper one. A strangely new, yet hauntingly familiar scent filled hernostrils.

"Vincent... " Stepping into the shower, she closed her eyes for amoment and leaned back against the tiles. "Hm... "

The scent of his body still clung to her skin; a spicy odor,intermingled with a hint of smoke from years of living in theproximity of candle vapors. And it was as sexy as hell. She loathedwashing his scent off, but she knew if she didn't she would never getthrough the next few hours without totally losing her mind.

Stretching to ease the taut muscles in her back and shoulders,Catherine grabbed the soap and began to wash, wincing as variousparts of her body stung just a little. Oh, but such a pleasant,incredibly exquisite sting was this.

Here and there her skin was still highly flushed from the touch ofhands callused from years of rough labor, and from probing kisses.Oh, such kisses!

Glancing down at her body, she gasped, then took a second look.Oops. There was a tiny scratch on the inner edge of her left knee.Good. She hoped it stayed there forever. To her, it was a token ofVincent's ardor, as well as a symbol of his courage -- although thathad never needed proving. Not to her.

Catherine touched the minute scrape with the tip of her finger.She would gladly have kept it forever, letting it become a part ofher, for it was also a testament to his passion. In the steamybathroom, she rubbed at a sudden rippling of gooseflesh pricking herskin. And what passion.

Vincent had made love to her last night. Exceptionally shy, butgloriously ardent love.

Running her tongue slowly over her teeth, savoring the lingeringtaste of him as one would a delicate vintage of perfectly maturedcognac, Catherine reached out blindly for the shower wall, suddenlyfeeling a bit dizzy.

The flavor of his mouth still saturated hers. She touched hertongue to her bottom lip, deciding that he tasted a little likepeppermint, with a slight hint of oranges and something else shecouldn't quite distinguish. Yes, he did taste almost sinfully good,she decided, smiling.

And Vincent felt good -- and moved splendidly. Giggling, shewondered if anyone had ever told him that he had an adorable dimpleon his lower left buttock, or the most magnificent set of walkingaway buns she'd ever seen on any man? No, she couldn't quite pictureanyone telling him that. She'd like to tell him. Of course, it mightbe years before he would be ready to hear words such as those, ifever. Catherine smiled, deciding that he would hear them -- someday.

Wrapping her body in a thick, blue towel as she stepped from theshower, she twisted a second one around her hair and wriggled hertoes into the deep pile bathroom rug.

The word 'good' seemed much too ordinary to use in definingVincent. He was far beyond being merely good. He was delicious.

Still unsure of the exact order of circumstances that had begunwith a shy kiss and ended with him making love to her, Catherinepursed her mouth. Thinking hard, she tried to sort out the memoriesin an analytical fashion; to recall them in the proper sequence. Shewas a lawyer, after all. But it was no use, she just couldn'tremember and wondered if she ever would?

Vincent had been reading to her from Rilke's LETTERS TO A YOUNGPOET. They'd been sitting just inside of the grate which led out intoCentral Park. Did he bend over to nuzzle her hair, as he enjoyeddoing, just as she looked up at him? Or had she looked up first? Ohwell, the way it happened wasn't important at the moment. What wasimportant was it did happen. Someone moved.

The next thing she had become aware of was the feel of Vincent'strembling lower lip resting against hers. It was the lightest ofcontact, but their mouths were touching. Then, he drew back slightlyand looked at her, gasping. So had she. Eyes wide, with either shock,surprise, or perhaps a combination of the two, he'd frozen as stillas death. Whatever happened next, Catherine knew it had to beVincent's decision. He had closed his eyes for a moment, and as hedid, she had wondered if he was remembering his own words from twoyears earlier? Of the night he had told her, '"One either movestowards love or way from it, Catherine. There is no otherdirection".'

As the strength to hold on to the book of poetry seemed to deserthim, the small tome had fallen unnoticed to the dusty culvert floor.For the space of a solitary beat of her heart, Vincent had staredinto her eyes, searching for... what? Answers perhaps, to so many,many questions?

Seeming to find what he needed in her eyes, he had whispered hername, then put his hands somewhat tentatively on her shoulders. Andthen at last, Vincent had moved toward love.

His mouth had brushed softly against hers a second time, like amoth with trembling wings, drawn closely to a flame he knew mustconsume him. With a half-strangled sound, his lips had partedslightly; hopefully. Hungrily. Shaken as she put her arms around hisneck, he had pulled back just a bit, seeming to return to his senses.Eyes wide with shock, or perhaps fear, locked to hers, then clampedshut. At that moment, Vincent's long, solid jaw had tensed, as thoughhalf expecting to be rebuked or even slapped for having theeffrontery to take such inappropriate liberties with her.

Catherine had known if she scorned him at that moment, it wouldhave truly destroyed him.

When her reaction had been to melt into his arms, he had gainedthe courage to put his lips against hers again, a little more firmly,a fraction surer of himself. A groan had come from one of them. Him?Her? Both? It made no difference. Suddenly, fiercely, they had beenlost in each other's taste and touch, yielding all to desire.

His first kisses had been almost reverent, hesitant, yet sotrusting. Convinced, finally, that this woman would not reproach him,and had absolutely no fear of him, that she truly did want him as hewas, for what he was, the strain of a lifetime seemed to have visiblylifted from his broad shoulders, and perhaps from his very soul aswell.

Time became as nothing. Had it stopped, or had it become suddenlyendless? No matter, they had all the time in the world.

Burying his face in the nape of her neck, his voice has beentight, husky with feeling. "I...I love you, Catherine. So much -- sodeeply. Know this. I do love you with all that I am, with all that Icould ever become."

And she had given him the only answer possible to give one youloved so much. "As I love you, Vincent. I will always love you.Always!"

Cupping his chin in one hand, Catherine had slipped the other tothe inner lining of his cloak. With a smile of encouragement, she hadmoved her hand slowly, gently, from the middle of his back to thenape of his neck, stroking him as you would a startled deer. Then,she urged his head down to her.

With his eyes seeming to pierce her soul, and nearly ebony withlonging, Vincent had come willingly, and oh, so eagerly, toward her,needing her as much as she needed him. Holding her hands in his, hehad repeated her last word. "Always?" His voice had been so soft,unsure, and filled with pain. Dear God, such pain.

Catherine had fresh tears well up in her eyes at the tone ofincredulity in that single word. Even then, there with her, likethat, he was still afraid to trust. Had he thought perhaps that she,too, would leave him eventually? People did leave, even those theycared for, many times. Devin had left him. So had Lisa.

Vincent's bottom lip had trembled as he held back all of thequestions she knew he wanted so much to ask, but couldn't; all of theemotions which he couldn't give voice to, as he fought back tears.Kissing away the two or three drops of wetness that had escaped andspiraled down over his prominent cheekbones, Catherine had held himclose. Comforting him as you would a child overcome by some unnamedfear, she had begun rocking him gently back and forth, taking hisanguish as her own, feeling his sorrow binding him to her for as longas time and life would allow, for only death could part them now. Ifeven death would ever dare!

Sensing the years of his aloneness fall away at last, like theperverse leaves on the ice-laden branches of a tree, she had made asilent pledge she would never break. She would love and protect thisgentle being in every way she possibly could, in any way she had to,from ever -- ever, being hurt by people or anything else for the restof her life. Vincent deserved such a pledge. He had earned it. Andshe had vowed there and then to return to him full measure all of thedevotion, all of the respect, he had always given her since theclimatic night he'd found her.

Wanting to curse all of the people, both friends and strangers,who had caused this vulnerable soul so much sorrow in his life, shehad instead swept the tousled, amber-toned bangs away from hisbrimming eyes. Leaning forward, the promise of constancy had beenwhispered into his mouth. "I will love you and be with you always,Vincent. Always."

Then, she had kissed him with a depth of yearning that was nearlyfrightening in intensity.

* * * *

Waiting for Joe to finish giving his testimony in the pendingcourt case, Catherine leaned back in an archaic looking, highlyuncomfortable wooden chair, fidgeting impatiently. Two hours and shehadn't been called to the stand yet, damn it!

Hoping her friend would be his usually terse, prudent self -- atleast while in court, she thought, 'Let's go, Joe. We've alreadyproven the case. I want to get this over with and get out of here,now. Maybe you don't have anything better to do than be in thismiserable courtroom, but I do. My life is waiting!'

Seeming to be listening carefully, although she truly wasn't atthat moment, having heard Joe go over his speech at least ten timesat the office, Catherine let her mind travel back once again to thedominant force in her life and all that he meant to her.

Fighting off a sudden urge to shriek her happiness aloud, sheshifted in the chair until no one could see her face. Closing hereyes, she savored the memories of the gentle way Vincent hadresponded to her, how he had tasted when, with her encouragement,he'd began hesitantly moving his mouth and hands on her. Then, shesmiled, thinking of his body. Oh, his body! He had been kissing hermore confidently with each passing moment, as though finding his waydown a path he had thought never to travel. Then, suddenly, he'dpulled away from her, jumped to his feet and helped her up, askinghuskily if she would come with him. Come with him?! Catherine knewshe would have willingly followed him anywhere, even into the verydepths of Hell itself.

As soon as she had taken his outstretched hand, he'd led her downa section of the tunnels she didn't recognize, explaining on the waythat the path led toward a series of rooms called MeditationChambers. Only recently carved, the chambers served those who neededsome time alone to think, perhaps to find solace, or to resolveproblems of a personal nature.

When she had asked, "Or a place to love undisturbed?" Vincent hadseemed to nearly choke for a moment, before replying that he couldn'tbe certain of that. Then, he had turned to face her and in atrembling voice asked if he had taken too much for granted; if shewas insulted by his intentions? Lastly, he asked if she truly wishedto be here with him, knowing full well what could conceivably happenif she stayed Below tonight?

Catherine had merely pointed ahead of her, to an area where thepassage divided into two separate walkways. Then, she'd asked himquite calmly -- she thought -- which path she should take?

Finding the answers to all of his longings reflected on her face,a flicker of hope had exploded in Vincent's beautifully slanted eyes.Nearly dazzling her, it had warmed Catherine to the soles of herfeet. As his various misgivings seemed to diminish a bit more, he hadswiftly reclaimed her hand and strode toward the path on theright.

The chamber he led her to was small, sparsely furnished, and veryclean. As though always kept in readiness for anyone needing timealone to mourn the passing of a loved one; or perhaps just to be bythemselves for a while, as lovers would, in a world with so littletrue privacy.

Catherine could still picture the cozy chamber in her mind.

Over the entrance lay a pair of heavy, patched velour drapes,which when drawn assured the occupant or occupants of the roomabsolute privacy. When Vincent had peered over at her and slowlydrawn those drapes together, she remembered her mouth going dry andher heart seeming to pound in her ears.

Along one wall rested an antique walnut, four poster bed. At thehead of it lay an abundance of plump stuffed pillows of variousshapes and sizes. One of Mary's lovely handmade quilts in assortedshades of beige and lavender hung nearly to the floor from threesides of the stately bed. Next to the four poster was a small chairand an aged, but highly polished bureau. On the top of it sat achipped porcelain basin, two glasses, and a covered decanter, perhapsfilled with sweet, cool water from the cavern of the TripleFalls.

She had gazed about the room while Vincent stuck a match and litseveral candles. Watching him at that moment, she wanted to twirl andtwirl about the chamber in sheer happiness, but instead walked overto where he was standing and hugged him as hard as she could,giggling as he gave a small grunt of surprise from the unexpectedstrength of her embrace.

Oh, yes, Catherine had loved that chamber -- for a variety ofreasons.

Turning to look at her, in much the same way he had the day theyprepared Olivia's anniversary surprise, Vincent had asked softly ifthe room was pleasing to her -- if she would be comfortablethere.

Instead of answering his question in words, she had sat on thesmall chair, taken off her shoes and stockings, then loosened the topbuttons of her fleece shirt. She hadn't removed it, hoping that hewould feel secure enough eventually to do it himself. It had taken awhile, but Vincent had removed it.

* * * *

As the courtroom voices buzzed around her head, Catherine staredat her hands. Yes, she had felt quite at home in that chamber lastnight. Any place could be home. It could be a sumptuous apartment, alog cabin, a small chamber ... or a TREE. If the one you loved sharedit with you, you were home.

Allowing her thoughts to drift for a moment, a tiny smile playedat the edges of her mouth...

* * * *

It had taken her nearly an hour to induce Vincent to let her helpunfasten and then free him of his shirt and vest. But not the pants!That had taken a very long time, and when he finally convincedhimself to step free of them, she had been more than a littlesurprised to discover he wasn't wearing briefs, or anything else forthat matter!

Extremely embarrassed that he had not foreseen that thisparticular fact would have been discovered, not quite meeting hereyes he had explained that some of the soap used in the laundry Belowwas very harsh to his skin. If the slightest residue of it remainedin any of his clothing, he would itch for days, all over.

Fighting off a grin, Catherine nibbled on her lower lip. Well, ithad been one less layer to be removed, possibly saving her at leastanother hour of time -- exceedingly precious time.

Vincent's strong hands had shaken badly as he had helped herunlatch, then discard the cumbersome metal belt encircling his waist.At last, gulping nervously, he sat down on the edge of the bed, easedout of his heavy boots and socks, then stood up, facing her.

When he'd rested his hands on her shoulders, she had felt himscrutinizing her, watching carefully as she ran her eyes down hisbody; having to know her first reaction to him. Saying nothing, shehad unsnapped the one fastening at the waist of his jeans, carefullyunzipped them, and then stopped, allowing him to make the finaldecision; one which was only his to make.

With a look on his face that closely resembled one of sheerterror, Vincent had finally pushed the jeans down over his hips andlet them slide slowly to the floor in a rumpled heap.

Her initial reaction upon seeing his body for the first time wasall Catherine could recall right now. Splendid. That single worddescribed him perfectly. Vincent had indeed been splendid to lookupon as he'd stood before her, naked to her eyes; vulnerable to thesoul.

And oh, how afraid he had been of not pleasing her. She had seenthe dread in his eyes just as he hung his head, awaiting herassessment -- as though, even then, he was still more than a littleafraid that she would see his body and instantly spurn him. And thatwould have been the end of this, and of him.

But to reject or hurt Vincent had been the last thing on her mind.Devouring him with her eyes, she had noted the solidity of his body;the firm thighs that led down to long, muscled legs. Legs that shookjust a little as he had stood before her utterly still, seeming to bebarely breathing. The look in his eyes had told her he would like todo nothing better than run and hide, but he hadn't run. He hadn'tmoved a muscle. And he did have muscles. Oh yes.

Standing there uneasily on very large and uniquely hairy feet,with his legs slightly parted, Vincent had endured her glances ofnatural curiosity for as long as he could. Taking steadying, evenbreaths, seeming not to know what else to do with his hands, he hadfolded both arms across his chest, hiding them.

His massive, nearly barrel-shaped chest, covered with tightlycurled amber colored hair, had delighted Catherine. She'd wanted torake her fingernails through that mass of curls and wind everyspringy one around her fingers. There and then, she had promisedherself that one day soon she would do exactly that.

Although she hadn't meant to embarrass him, she simply had to takea peek further down, between his thighs. When she did, she couldremember losing the ability to think clearly for a moment. At times,seeing something or someone truly exquisite caused her that reaction.He was so beautiful.

Locking her gaze to his fully aroused penis and softly stirringtestes, she closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at him again.No, his passion certainly wasn't something which could be concealednow. Sighing, she had tried to coax her heart back to its usualtempo.

Nodding her head encouragingly, she had reached for his hands andplaced them just at the edge of her open top. Shivering as his longfingers closed around the material, Catherine remembered smiling,watching him discover that his hands truly were meant to give love,just as every part of him was meant to give it.

Allowing her emotions to flood their connection as never before,the only thing she had wanted to do then was kiss every single,blessed solitary inch of him -- top to bottom, back to front. Shewanted to eat him up, as one starving would savor a feast. For that'sprecisely what Vincent was -- a feast for the senses.

Catherine had wanted to touch him, and oh, how she had needed himto touch her. In a jerky motion, as though truly surprised by hercomplete acceptance of him, Vincent's head had snapped up. Eyes widewith astonishment had looked where she had placed his hands, theninched down slowly to look at her body with an endearing timidity. Hehad appeared to appreciate what he saw, although he hadn't said aword. He didn't have to, for when he looked up again, she had seenall of his emotions shimmering in his eyes. Everything he was feelingat that moment had been reflected there, in those exquisite,startlingly blue eyes.

Moving his left hand carefully upward, Vincent had run a curvednail just along the edge of the lace teddy she was wearing, seemingto be terrified that his claws would snag or rip it. When she hadarched her back, pressing into his bashful stroking, he had sensedher joy and her need of him, seeming to know instinctively she wantedhis touch other places as well.

Then, Vincent had stopped for a moment, breathing harshly, asthough his entire body had gone momentarily weak; her need of him,her love of him, capturing his heart all over again. Sensing hercomplete trust, and shuddering with relief, he smiled at her. Not thecrinkle of a smile that merely curved the corners of his mouth upwardthen quickly disappeared, nor the tight-lipped smile he usually gaveeveryone. This time, Vincent had absolutely BEAMED at her,impulsively exposing all of his teeth and the tips of his fangs. Oh,those wonderful teeth! And, when he grinned at her, as Catherine hadnever seen him grin before, that smile lit up her world.

With growing assuredness, Vincent had gently eased the straps ofher camisole from her shoulders, and then slid the bit of silk upover her head. Sitting on the bed next to her, he had lowered bothhands to lovingly cup her bare breasts, asking in a feathery whisperif anything he was doing was displeasing? When she had said no, heasked the next question silently with his eyes, by focusing them onher breasts, and she knew immediately how badly he needed to tasteher.

Catherine's mind had cried out for the touch of his mouth, and hehad given her what they were both so desperate to have -- all of hislove, all of his yearning. Vincent had offered her the truth of whathe was, all that he needed, and she had accepted him without amoment's hesitation.

Closing his eyes, he had begun running the pads of his thumbsslowly over her breasts. Moaning, as though lost in the pleasure ofat last being able to touch her in such a way, Vincent had shudderedstrongly. Taking one aching bud into his mouth, with a hushed whimperthat had nearly broken her heart, he began doing what he had alwaysdreamt of doing -- suckling sweetly at a woman's breast.

The feel of his warm mouth and searching tongue, the sounds he hadbegun to make as he tugged a bit more forcefully on her, the urgencyof his hands as they kneaded her flesh, had almost made her lose hermind! As if he knew her agony and shared it completely, Vincent hadpulled back, bringing her with him to rest against his chest. Holdingher so closely that the curls there tickled her just a little,Catherine had known, of course, how desperately he was struggling tocontrol his need -- and to contain both his impatience and hishunger.

Tilting her chin up, he stared at her through eyes glazed withpassion, told her he loved her, then claimed her mouth with anunyielding explosion of sensation and taste that left her brandedforever.

* * * *

Even now, the memory of that kiss clutched at the center of her,causing tiny prickles of heat to race through her womb. No man she'dever known in her life before Vincent had ever given her suchpleasure in the smallest of touches, or caused her to become socompletely unglued at the sounds of his ecstasy.

Catherine knew. She had known since the day she fell in love withhim -- or had she always loved him, that there would never be anotherman in her life. Who would want anyone else after Vincent? The ideawas ludicrous.

* * * *

He had stopped caressing her suddenly, the look on his face one ofdistress... discomfort. In a low voice he had told her that he wasn'treally certain of what he should do next, that he needed herhelp.

Urging him back onto the pillows, she had taken control -- atleast for the moment. How innocently he had followed her lead,allowing her to guide him onward toward consummation, as she revealedto him all that making love was. How it could be.

Slowly, patiently, Catherine had shown the man she loved that totouch her as he wanted to, and to respond to her touch, was a naturalthing -- holding fear for neither the one doing the caressing, norfor the one receiving it. With her leading the way, Vincent hadlearned how completely love could unite two people into a singlenessof being, unconditional... eternal -- if they allowed it to evolvenaturally, withholding nothing from one another.

Realizing, of course, that Vincent wouldn't be able to endure toomuch stimulation this first time, she had gently coaxed him to parthis legs. Settling herself between his thighs, she placed herselfover him, then eased him into her with a single downward twist of herhips.

Oh, that feeling was indescribable. Having him.

Whimpering in pleasure as he filled her completely, she had taughthim how to move, what to do. He had done all she asked withouthesitation, with utter trust.

Hearing his soft groans, feeling him grow impossibly harder andlonger inside of her, she had known he was very close to release.Easing slowly onto her back, she had helped him to position his bodyover hers. He had moved her carefully beneath him, so excited, soeager, he couldn't hide it. It was time. She'd felt his penis brushagainst her thigh, rock hard, betraying his agony. Reaching betweenthem, she'd grasped him gently, guiding him, encouraging him.

Vincent had gasped with pleasure as he once more found himselfsheathed completely within her warm, willing body.

Although he had been incredibly aroused he had continued takingonly very small strokes within her, moving as though afraid she wouldbreak. Coaxing him to move, she had lifted both of her feet up andlocked them tightly around his tensed bottom. In that same moment, ajarring moan escaped from in-between Vincent's clenched teeth.Breathing heavily, he had quickly eased out to the edge of her body,fighting to hold back his first climax. But Catherine hadn't wantedhim to do that. She'd known that in time, he would certainly learnhow to control his release, but not this time. This time was just forhim.

Needing his completion almost as much as he did, she had reachedbetween their bodies again. Stroking along the ridged sides of him,from the base to the top of his steely length with knowing fingers,she had discovered, as she thought she would, that the one she lovedwas throbbing, incredibly large, and already dripping semen. Afterspreading the wetness into the small pucker of flesh at the roundedhead of his phallus with her finger, she moved her hand to gentlystroke the delicate mounds beneath it.

Immediately, an anguished whimper had risen from him. Burrowinginto her palm, unable to stop himself, Vincent had groaned hisconfession, telling her plaintively that if she continued touchinghim in that way, he would not be able to control himself, and that hewanted her pleasure to come before his.

Reaching up, she had touched the side of his face, kissed the tipof his nose, then his quivering lower lip, and told this beautiful,innocent being that this was what happened to most men the firsttime. That it was nothing to be ashamed of, and to simply allow it tohappen.

Understanding her, knowing she wasn't disappointed in him, Vincenthad immediately loosened all restraint. Moving fast, hard and verydeeply, he had rolled his hips down. One hand went to her breast, theother rested at her left hip, tightening imperceptibly as his franticneed of her had taken utter control.

Then, all too soon, the time of his first climax was upon him;powerful, unconquerable. His body tensed, but only for a moment, asecstasy led him towards a world that consisted solely of her bodysheathing his most intimate part.

Urging him to completion, she had begun dropping a lingering trailof hot, wet kisses to his bare breast. Stiffening against her, heburied his face into the pillows as his long denied instincts were atlong last given their freedom.

Just at the edge of fulfillment, Vincent had suddenly stoppedmoving, seeming to be embarrassed at the rumbles of pleasure hecouldn't prevent from welling up in his throat. Knowing she wouldhear him, he'd fought to subdue the sounds, but they couldn't bemuffled. He wasn't yet aware, of course, that it was all right toallow himself this freedom of expression.

Hearing him, sensing how uneasy he was and how annoyed he was athis lack of command over himself, she had quickly reassured him,telling him that to give voice to one's pleasure was an expected,normal reaction, in most people. She told him of her happiness atinspiring such a response in him and that she welcomed it with allher heart.

In a private place within Vincent that only he knew of, her wordsseemed to have freed an inner force long buried, long forbidden. Thepotency of his unique maleness had crashed to the surface and tookhim, and oh, it was breathtaking to behold.

Tiny whimpers had escaped Vincent as his ardor quickly became toomuch to be borne for one more second. He had quickened inside of her,his eyes never leaving hers, as though only by focusing on her couldhe be certain he wasn't hurting her in any way. She knew hispleasure, had sensed his excitement; it was her own yearning mirroredin his eyes.

With a gasp of disbelief, his momentum had intensified. Whisperingher name, tears of joy had welled up in Vincent's eyes, falling tolie warm and wet against her breast. The expression on his belovedface as his orgasm surged upward from his groin, hot...uncontrollable, was beyond envisioning. Better than a dream from her-- more than he had ever hoped for.

When he had instinctively tilted his hips down and began to thrustdeeper and harder, loosening all control, and expelled his seed, itswept heatedly through every part of her womb, lifting her to a stateof incredible oblivion she hadn't known existed. But, of course,she'd never had Vincent make love to her before. And oh, the look hehad given her as he regained strength enough to shift his bodyslightly to one side of hers, knowing he was too heavy to stay wherehe was for any great amount of time, was truly indescribable.

Easing her over to lay on top of him, Vincent had gathered herinto his arms, fighting for words, wanting to share his deepestfeelings with her, but he didn't seem to be quite able to say thosewords aloud -- not yet. A lifetime of aloneness and inhibitionsweren't that easily overcome. In time, Catherine knew, he would learnhe could tell her anything. And in her heart, she had already knownwhat he wanted to say, or at least some of it. How could she not knowwhat he was feeling? She had always known.

Vincent's extraordinary eyes had gleamed in the candlelit chamber,his face awash with so many conflicting emotions: love, peace,elation, and such a delightful expression of infinite pleasure.

Then, suddenly, a soft chuckle drifted through the chamber as henuzzled his furry nose into the nape of her neck. His skin had feltwarm from the candlelight, which bathed it in a wonderfullyburnished, golden hue. Kissing the side of his jaw, she held himquietly to her breast, savoring the moment, as women will. Yes, shehad known what he was feeling -- the miracle of it radiated from hiseyes, his smile, his touch; from each and every part of him.

They had lain together quietly for some time, gathering strength.Then, astonishing her, Vincent had asked if it was "allowed" to makelove again so soon. When she had laughed and said that it wasdefinitely allowed, his eagerness as he reached for her the secondtime was charming and very precious to her. Everything about him wasso special, so untainted.

And the unharnessed force of his passions the second time theymade love...

In the humid courtroom, Catherine smiled enigmatically, basking inher memories.

* * * *

Finally getting some strength back in his legs, Vincent managed tofind his way to his chamber without bumping into too many tunnelwalls. Once inside, he gratefully collapsed onto his bed.

He had been aware of Catherine's thoughts and emotions from themoment she had left his side. He continued to share them with hernow, and those emotions were slowly destroying him, decimating him,driving him wild. Surging from within him was an inherent maleness ofwhich he had never been truly aware, heightening each sensation ofhis newly acknowledged masculinity.

Reasonably certain that these nearly overwhelming urges would, intime, be if not dominated, at least held in check when necessary, herested his large frame back against the bed pillows, enjoying hisinborn sensuality of nature, finally admitting that it was anintrinsic part of him.

As visions of Catherine stimulated every nerve ending in his body,he rubbed his left thumb gently along a small suede pouch hangingfrom his neck. Inside was her mother's rose, something as dear to himas untold wealth would be to another. Stroking it lovingly, his mindsoared. This rose and Catherine were one and the same to him -- giftsbeyond price.

Lost in thought, Vincent stared at the ceiling, enjoying thesensation of peace washing over him. The Bond he and Catherine sharedwas stronger at this moment than he had ever hoped it could be. Sincethe previous evening, the flow and pattern from within it had changedever so slightly, seeming to expand more than he had everenvisioned.

Tilting his head, he listened carefully for a moment. Yes, he feltcertain it had changed. Lying here alone, he could still feel theirconnection so strongly it was as though his Beloved was in thechamber beside him; as though he were still lost inside of her,loving her with every part of himself -- mind and body.

Catherine's love, in all of its myriad shapes and depths, was acertainty of which he'd always been conscious, and yet at thismoment, the sumptuous richness of it, and the absolute ferocity ofher devotion, undid him. The scope of constancy and the unendingcourage that she had shown in accepting him, loving him, and wantingonly him, was nearly overpowering.

Vincent not only sensed her heart beating in tune with his, heknew her innermost thoughts. The subliminal images of them joinedphysically permeated every level of consciousness, every fiber of hisvery being. It felt astounding. If felt... glorious! The emotionalpull was a kaleidoscope of swirling shapes of every pattern, size andcolor. But, this montage of impressions was not one of his ownmaking. These feelings were Catherine's! How they warmed him. Did sheno longer feel it necessary to conceal anything from him, hewondered? Ah, if only that were true! If this was what was happening,how long he had wished for this, dreamt of it -- hungered for it.

Or was this new closeness due to the joining of not only theirbodies, but of their very souls forever, so that now they were'truly' one? Either way, it felt wondrous to have her so close... soimpassioned.

Sighing heavily, Vincent put his right hand over his heart.Catherine's thoughts were not merely enervating, they were also quiteunnerving. To understand, at last, how much she wanted him, to graspher need of him, was satisfying, but also quite humbling. To be ablenot only to welcome her love, but to be free to accept it withoutself-reproach was...

"Ah!" His body stiffened as a torrent of feelings rushed throughhim, centering in his groin. He knew these sensations now forprecisely what they were -- his sensuality, his passion. He also knewthey would surely decimate him if they remained unfulfilled.

"Oh, my Love, my dearest love," he groaned, "Please returnquickly, before this hunger for you entirely consumes me?"

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Vincent reached forhis journal, then hesitated. Pulling his hand back, he closed hiseyes. No. He couldn't write any of these longings down. There weresome emotions that just could not be expressed on paper- not even tooneself.

Blissfully surrendering to Catherine now, as he had last night,knowing there was simply no use fighting it any longer, he blinkedback the tears threatening to spill down his face. Ah, such sweet,sweet surrender! To give all in this way -- for how could he excludeher from any part of himself ever again? All barriers were not onlydown, they were in shards, as they should have been years ago.Trusting her, Vincent settled his long frame back onto the bed asalternating visions of her face and form encompassed him.

Flinging his left forearm over his eyes and fighting vainly tostifle a bevy of delighted chuckles, he was oh, so sweetly vanquishedby a tiny slip of a woman! Feeling more than a little disgraced,disconcerted at his weakness, Vincent tossed his flowing mane backfrom his eyes as every drop of blood in his veins exploded with ahundred lusty urges he knew only Catherine could ever nourish,fulfill, or end.

Secretly enjoying his tormented state, he conceded defeat in muchthe same way he did everything -- graciously, his mind lost in herimage. Even if he had wanted to turn from her now, which wasinconceivable, how could he? How could he not love her? It would beeasier to give up his life than to ever stop loving her. Conceding,at long last, that the seed of a man truly did exist within him, howcould he not want to share this with the woman he cherished, and onlywith her?

Finally, he did believe Catherine. He was what -- and who, shewanted. She lived within him as the other half of his soul, and neveragain could he forbid either of them the pleasure of sharing, trulysharing, what they felt. And although he would never deserve all shegave him, or truly comprehend her devotion to him, this radiant,generous woman, truly was his LIFE.

Naturally, he had read all of the books available in Father'slibrary regarding the technical aspects of the uniting of male andfemale, but books were, after all, merely books. The words there hadnot prepared him for the act of love itself. No text, no matter howthorough it was, could have prepared him for the miracle ofintegrally experiencing such intimacy. He was as one blind who hadbeen led towards the radiance of physical enlightenment and, oh, theexhilaration of finally being able to see that brilliance withoutfear.

Riding the swell of wild passions that taunted him, Vincent letthem carry him away as he contemplated that wondrous second time theyhad exalted in their love.

* * * *

With great caution, still afraid of being animalistic, unaware asyet that he could never be, he had begun loving Catherine first withhis mouth. She wished him to do this, and had asked if he wanted to.If he wanted to! His beautiful lady had seemed delighted when heasked which touch was allowed and which wasn't.

When she'd answered that there were no boundaries regarding thelicense of touch, he hadn't been prepared for her words, nor for hertotal confidence in him. The ability to trust fully, withoutreservation, came slowly to those who had been spiritually wounded asdeeply as he had been, by people and events of the past. But he didtrust Catherine,

He'd been nearly ravenous to savor her. To fill himself with hertaste, as a man kneeling at the well of a long sought oasis wouldquench an infinite thirst. There were hungers within him he knewwould never be completely satisfied, but with her guidance andunderstanding heart, he could alleviate them, for now. He treasuredthe memory of how Catherine had welcomed this need in him, gloried init, as he moved his tongue over her body. Moving carefully, awarethat his tongue was very coarse, he'd begun his journey of discoveryat her left ear lobe. Then, in slow increments, using his mouth, noseand hands, he had edged downward on the bed until his lips restedjust at her small toes.

* * * *

The memory of what he done next still astonished him, but he feltno shame. He'd... he'd nibbled on her feet! When Catherine hadgiggled, then shifted on the bed to begin doing a bit of nibbling ofher own, he had nearly lost his mind, and his acute sense ofjudgement, but that hadn't frightened him. He had known preciselywhere he was, and what he was doing. He was stimulating both of them,readying their bodies for an act of exquisite sensuality.

For an hour or perhaps a bit longer they had touched, tasted, andlearned one another as people in love do. But then, the time finallycame when the sweet teasing and loving caresses just weren't enough.Not nearly enough.

Even knowing that it would happen, desire had still caught both ofthem unprepared, flinging them headlong toward a desperate quest forrelease. Furies had risen in his blood that would not, could not, becontained, or denied, ever again.

Catherine's body had called to his like a honey-scented drug, awoman's elixir; his woman.

He had become as flame, searing into her, as his body hadresponded to that call, turning that elixir of womanliness intoprimal orgasmic smoke. It had been impossible to turn aside theirhunger for each other, or to forbid its natural fruition. Theirpassion was too new, their need of each other too extraordinary.

* * * *

Hugging a pillow to his chest, Vincent became a prisoner of hisown memories. His body tensed, every muscle trembling, as he relivedthe moment of that second explosive dual climax. To have shared thatwith her... How badly he had wanted to take more, give more, neverwanting to leave her again. Selfish of him, perhaps, but it had beenan honest reaction. He had desperately wanted more.

He remembered looking down at Catherine, thinking that her smallbody was too delicate to sustain his weight again so soon. Yet, shehad encouraged him to love her, and love her is what he had done.Taking several deep, nervous breaths, he'd knelt between her thighs.Searching her face, he'd asked with his eyes what she would have himdo, how best to grant her what they both wanted.

Catherine's response had been quite explicit, leaving no doubt asto what she needed from him -- no doubt at all. Urging him closer,her hand had captured his length, stroking slowly, but eagerly. Oh,dear God, the pleasure... the pleasure!

Thinking of it now, his reaction to her touch still astonished himmore than a little. He fought to remember. Had he shouted or criedout at that moment? Or... Vincent gripped the quilt beneath him inclenched fists.

* * * *

No, he hadn't shouted or cried aloud, but as a rumbling growl-likesound welled up from private regions inside of him, for a moment he'dthought the darker side of his dual nature had risen. Not only had itterrified him, it had humiliated him to hear those sounds. ButCatherine would have none of that.

When he would have turned from her, she had pleaded with him tostay, reassuring him that whatever his reactions were, they were apart of him, and she wasn't afraid of them. He could yell, roar,bellow, do whatever was natural for him, whatever brought him themost pleasure. She understood and accepted every part of him,whatever made him what and who he was.

Catherine then insisted that she cherished his reactions becausethey were his. He had finally allowed himself to believe her, andallowed her words to chip away at a caustic ache in his very soul. Hethought how much he wanted her small hands on every part of him, inhim, through him. Never in his life had he ever wanted anything...anything so badly as Catherine's hands touching him.

Whispering to her of the depths of his love, he'd entered herbody. Angling his pelvis downward, he'd fought against crying out inecstasy when Catherine had thrust upward at that same moment,sheathing all of his rigid flesh in one fluid motion. And howdesperately he'd wanted to drive harder into her, to take herquickly, feverishly, without thought.

But he hadn't done that. To him, their joining was not an act ofmating. It was a pledge, a covenant between them, and he would nottaint it with carnal lust. He would not.

Discovering that he could maintain a semblance of control if heconcentrated on her pleasure and not his own, he begun movingachingly slowly within her, cherishing her.

Catherine's joyous murmurs deepened, becoming more pronounced ashe'd submerged himself fully, then withdrew from her slick heatagain, then again, and yet again, never wanting to leave her, neverwanting to stop. Oh, how good she'd felt to him, how pliant, howincredibly fluid her hidden places were -- yielding, yet grasping,all at the same time.

When her soft cries of rapture had heightened to a crescendo ofonly his name, again and again, she'd caught him around the buttockstightly with her fingers, urging him down. Ah! How that had soundedto him, to hear her cry his name aloud in that way, at thatmoment.

An almost sinful pride had swelled in his breast as he'd focusedonly on her, devoting himself to bringing to her all of the ecstasyhe possibly could. When she'd arched against him, flushed andwide-eyed, her climax had inflamed him.

Then, something happened he wasn't prepared for. The special,hidden places in Catherine's body had spasmed, clutching at him,holding him firmly within her, as a silky wetness met his last,nearly frenzied thrusts. Running her tongue over his breast, she thenblew the warm breath out against his already overheated flesh. Thathad been the crowning blow, sealing his fate. All defenses, allcapacity to impede his orgasm, had deserted him. He had begun to moveunyieldingly deeper, explosively harder, then...

Vincent tilted his head, fighting to remember. Had he merelythought the words or had he indeed shouted them aloud, telling herthat ejaculation was beginning for him? No matter, one glance at hisface and she surely must have known that his time was upon him.

As pure desire reached out and dealt him a mighty blow, his hipshad snapped down spontaneously, beyond thought, just as his groinmuscles convulsed. Lifting to the palms of his hands and tensing hisforearms, he had climaxed mercilessly, the part of him which was mostmale flowing hotly into the deepest recesses of Catherine's body. Theorgasm seemed never to end -- he hadn't wanted it to end.

How responsive his Beloved had been, how willing to receiveeverything he offered her. And he had given Catherine the only thingshe had ever truly wanted -- himself, heart, soul, body and hisquintessence, scattering it in undulating eruptions of semen into hermoist femininity.

It had been almost spiritual, that moment of oneness. Time seemedto...

* * * *

"Time? What... time?!"

Jerking upright from the pillows and instantly returning to thepresent, Vincent's eyes flew to a nearby mantel timepiece. No. Itsimply wasn't possible! It was nearly four in the afternoon?! He'dbeen lying here wallowing in his own imaginings for that long a spanof time, and he hadn't even showered yet!

Leaping from the bed, he grabbed three towels, a bar of soap, abottle of shampoo and stuffed them into the pockets of his cloak ashe yanked it on. Then, carefully lifting a single red rose from asmall vase on the corner of his desk, he placed it lovingly in aninner pocket of his cloak. A rose for a rose.

Tapping out a hasty message to anyone interested, telling themthat he would be gone for the remainder of the day, and perhaps farinto the night, he bolted towards the Triple Falls, undoing thebuttons on his vest as he sped down the passageway.

* * * *

Cursing Joe, his lengthy court discourse, her missing briefcase,and all taxicabs in general, Catherine rapped on the cab window. "Letme out here, please." Flinging the money at the driver, she boundedfrom the passenger side of the taxi like a tightly coiled spring.

Nearly five o'clock and she was just getting out of that miserablecourthouse! Well, at least Andy Charbone had gotten what he deserved-- a life sentence with no chance of parole. The jury had adjudgedhim sane, much to his lawyer's disgust. No second 'hearing' at alater date, no pleas of 'But, my client is reformed, your Honor.' No.Not this time! They got him!

After squandering ten precious minutes freshening up in thecourthouse ladies room, she had fought the crowds pouring out oftheir office buildings at this time of day. Oh, what a mess! Didn'tpeople work anywhere else in this city?!

Accepting the fact that Vincent wouldn't be able to meet her thisearly, for it was nearly broad daylight, she still chose to gothrough Central Park to return to him. Removing her high heels,Catherine broke into a fast walk, then a fully unleashed sprint. Asshe neared the entrance to the culvert, her thoughts went to the lasttime she'd run through the park like this, to him -- into hisarms.

That night, Vincent had been waiting for her with such a look ofimpatience on his face, with such eagerness and love, even now thememory of it made her shiver. Glancing up into the waning light ofthe late afternoon sun, she thought, 'He'll meet me at thegrate.'

Just then, a flash of something golden glinted at the edge of theshrubbery surrounding the culvert, immediately catching herattention. Nearly stumbling in shock, her eyes widened. Vincent wasstanding there, out in the open, and his hood was down! Outside? Inthe daylight? What was he doing? Had he lost his mind? Glancingaround anxiously, she waved to him.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Vincent shyly returned herwave, then ducked his head, watching cautiously for interlopers.Fully aware of how dangerous this was for him, he fought the oldterrors rising from within, wanting to see her in the sunlight, andknew she had always dreamt of seeing him this same way. So, he woulddo this. No matter how much it terrified him to be here, he would dothis, for Catherine.

As she neared him, the sun glittered like a thousand jewels thathad somehow been caught up in her hair. Dear God, she was so lovely.As his lady cleared the last barrier of shrubs between them, Vincentopened his arms wide. Yes, my Love, hurry. Hurry!

Even from this distance, she could tell that Vincent had justwashed his hair. In the soft breeze, that glorious wild manefluttered about his shoulders like the halo of an angel. That's whathe was, an angel come to earth. And he was hers.

Vincent's cloak glided around his legs, seeming to caress histhighs, as he opened his arms, waiting for her to fill their terribleemptiness.

Sobbing with joy, Catherine flung herself against his chest. Shewas safe. She was home.

Curling his lower body slightly as she threw herself against him,Vincent gathered his best Beloved to his heart, then buried his facein her hair.

As though the power to speak had been wrenched from him by thesheer wonder of holding her close once again, he was unable to sayanything but her name. "Catherine... "

He didn't have to say anything. She knew. Aware that he would havesensed it anyway, Catherine had to tell him. "Oh, I've missed you! Wewon, Vincent. We won. We got Charbone off the streets for good!"

Vincent smiled, but made no reply. Won? Yes, Catherine had wontoday, and last night they both had won... everything.

Finally able to release her death grip on the man she loved, sheturned him towards the culvert opening and the tunnels, then gesturedback towards the park, asking, "What are you doing out here likethis?"

"Waiting for you." When Vincent glanced at her from beneath hislong lashes, she could see a tiny smile tugging at the corners of hismouth.

"Yes, I could see you were waiting for me." With that, she laughedaloud. "So, is this your usual reaction to passion?" Her eyesglittered as she lightly teased him, then grew very round at hisanswer, and the new openness he seemed to have when speaking to her.And yet, he was still so endearingly shy.

Answering her, Vincent tried to keep his voice from cracking witheverything he was feeling at this moment. "My... usual... reaction topassion? I wouldn't know, my Dear, since this is my first experiencewith that particular emotion."

Catherine's eyes darkened with sudden trepidation. "But, if anyonehad seen you. The risk... "

"... was mine to take," he interrupted, his voice resolute.Reaching the safety of his world, Vincent turned to face her."Catherine, there are so many things I want to give you that I cannever give you. One moment in the sunlight... " Reaching for her, hegrazed her lips ever so carefully with the pads of his fingers. "Itwas not enough, but it's all I have to... offer."

"No, it's not all you have to offer me, Vincent. You give meeverything I'll ever need. Everything. But the courage for you to dowhat you just did... " Suddenly overwhelmed by the depth of herfeelings for this man, Catherine hugged him around the waist with allof her strength. Staring up into his joyous face and that wondrousgrin he still wore, she studied him for a moment. "I thought I knewyou so completely."

"Hmm," he responded in a noncommittal tone of voice. "As I thoughtI knew myself. It would appear that surprises are going to be our lotin life." Touching the side of her face, he tilted his head to theleft and smiled at her, continuing, "Would you object to that, myCatherine?"

"Certainly not," she replied, grinning back at him. "Just don'tgive me too many of them all at once, okay?" Studying him, she restedher right hand against his stubbled cheek, loving him so much it hurt-- it physically hurt.

"I can see that I'm going to have to keep an eye on you."

"Only... one eye?" The words were solemnly spoken, but the twinklein Vincent's eyes betrayed him. Taking her hand in his, he glancedaway, astonished at his own boldness, then quickly changed thesubject. "I... I would like to prepare supper for you. The long dayin court must have been extremely difficult, and you are surelytired. I hope the meal I have planned will please you." Then, he didsomething totally unexpected. Instead of turning for the passageleading Below, he took the path Catherine knew led to herapartment.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her heart pounding; praying herintuitions were right.

"I took the liberty of utilizing the key you gave me many monthsago and persuaded Kipper to take some supplies to your apartment. Ithought I would prepare supper there." Stopping in his tracks,Vincent turned to face her. "You don't mind?"

'Mind?' She thought. 'Mind?!'

Taking her silence for approval, Vincent reached into his vestpocket and held out the rose to her. He had removed all of the thornsearlier, of course, knowing that his Dearest Treasure sometimes had a'problem' with them.

"Oh, it's lovely. Thank you." Accepting his gift with her righthand, the other went into her pocket. "I have a gift for you,too."

"You... do?" Looking like a child waiting for Christmas, Vincentwatched intently as she unwrapped a small cellophane packet. "What isit?"

"Chocolate." Breaking off a small piece, she popped it into hismouth. "I must really love you, to share my chocolate."

"Hm, yes, this is good." Sighing, Vincent leaned back against thetunnel wall, bringing her with him. "Is there anything as wonderfulin this world?"

"As chocolate? Only one other thing -- you." As she licked at thebit of sweetness that hadn't quite made it into his mouth, Catherinefelt his body stiffen, then relax against hers.

"What... What are you doing?"

"Thanking you for my rose," she answered, continuing to kiss andtaste him until he thought to go instantly and quite splendidlymad.

Pulling himself up to his full height, he settled Catherine backon her feet, slightly away from him, as he tried to remember how todraw a simple, ordinary breath. "Come." Catching her fingers in his,he wove them together, as she had woven their hearts together longago. "A proper thank you cannot even be contemplated here. We shouldgo. Another day shall end soon."

Gripping his fingers, Catherine murmured, "And then?"

Identical pools of china blue flashed at eyes the shade of newspring grass. "And then begins the magic of our night, Catherine. Mylove."

The End