FRIENDS

"What do you mean, his existence has to be kept a secret? Cathy, you can't be serious! First you vanish for two days, and then you show up telling me you were rescued by a mysterious stranger who..."

"He's not a stranger, Joe," Catherine cut him off. "He's a friend."

Joe threw up his hands in a gesture of exasperation and released a frustrated sigh. "So, what do you expect me to do now?" he asked, staring at her accusingly. "Why are you telling me all of this when I can't use it?"

"Because I thought you were my friend, too," Catherine replied, her voice suddenly small in the face of the burden she knew she was placing on Joe's shoulders.

"Cathy, that's not fair," Joe complained, his brown eyes filling with concern as they bored into hers.

"I know that, Joe," she conceded. "But I honestly don't know what else to do."

Joe sighed again. "That makes two of us, kiddo." He walked around the desk and seized her shoulders, gently pushing her in a chair. "O.K., let's start at the beginning," he suggested. "You said that guy who was called 'Doctor' had you abducted to force information from you...about that friend of yours who has to remain a secret. Right?"

"Right," she confirmed.

"And you're absolutely sure that that...friend of yours is not involved in any criminal action?"

"Absolutely," she said, deliberately stretching the truth a bit, since killing someone -- even if only in self-defense -- was certainly not exactly legal.

"But he did kill the guys who held you captive?"

"One of them. But, Joe, it was..."

"It was in defense of you," Joe interrupted her. "You already explained that to me. So, which one was that? The one with the broken neck or..."

"The one with the broken neck," Catherine replied.

Joe eased himself down on the edge of his desk, dangling one leg. "So, who mauled those other two guys?"

"The other victim of the Doctor," Catherine answered carefully.

"The other victim? But, Cathy, you..."

"I know," she said, lowering her eyes for an instant to gather her thoughts. "Look, Joe, I wasn't alone in that cage in the basement. The Doctor was an obsessed man. He had bought a...strange-looking man from a curiosity show to run tests with him, with no regard whatsoever for that man's humanity and dignity. He kept him in a cage, tortured him, and humiliated him for at least six months."

"I see," Joe interjected. "That would explain the shape those other two bodies were in. But I still don't know what to tell the police." Growing deadly serious, Joe bent forward to look deep into Catherine's eyes. "Where is that man now, Cathy?"

"Joe, please understand. That man is in his late sixties or mid-seventies. He's already suffered his life sentence. He's free for the first time in his life. If we surrendered him to the police..."

Joe raised his hands in a gesture of defense. "I know, I know, and believe me, Cathy, I do understand, but that isn't going to solve our problem." He pushed himself from the table and walked over to the window, standing with his back to her. "Why does that special friend of yours have to hide? We've come so far; maybe it's time you told me the whole truth."

Catherine's mind worked feverishly as she tried to come to a decision. Squeezing her eyes shut, she searched for an answer deep inside her heart. Vincent's voice came back to her as he had told her he trusted her. She rose to her feet and crossed the room, joining Joe at the window. "First of all, he isn't just a friend, Joe. He is the man I love." Casting Joe a quick sidelong glance, she took in the rigid set of his shoulders as if he were bracing himself for a blow. Drawing a deep breath, Catherine continued. "It's because of his appearance that he lives in secrecy, hiding himself from the eyes of ignorant and uncaring people, people to whom a different color of skin, or even a different opinion, is enough reason to hate and inflict pain, or even kill. He and I...are destined for each other, Joe. One day, I may even go and live with him in his world, but the time hasn't come, yet, for him to accept that. He believes that I deserve more than a life in hiding. He thinks that I cannot live without..." She swept the view before her with a gesture of her hand. "...without all that."

"What if he's right?" Joe asked softly.

Catherine shook her head. "There are no guarantees. I know that. But I know him like no one else. We are connected in ways I don't even pretend I understand. I feel that he needs time to come to understand the true beauty of who he is. He's always been looked at as someone apart from others, even from those he lives with, and that's what he believes will never change. But it has changed already. All I have to do is make him see that."

Silence settled between them as they looked out over the city, each keeping to their own thoughts. After a while, Joe said quietly, "We will find a way to get out of this, Cathy. And you know what? I'm crazy enough to be glad that you confided in me."

She turned and hugged him fiercely, no longer fighting the tears that welled up in her eyes. Leaning back, she saw that his eyes were brimming, too. "You have a heart like his," she whispered, moved deeply by what she saw mirrored in his face.

"I guess I'd better take that as a compliment," he said, a lopsided smile curving his lips.

She gave him a broad grin, hugging him close again. "Thank you, Joe," she mumbled into his shirt and felt him nod against her head.

"Now, back to your desk, Chandler," he commanded with mock severity. "I have some thinking to do."

*

"Thanks for guiding me Below, Kipper," Catherine said, ruffling the boy's curly hair affectionately.

It was late afternoon and she had finally managed to get away from the office. She was eager to talk to Vincent, to tell him about her conversation with Joe, and to reassure him that Joe could be trusted completely.

"My pleasure," Kipper called back over his shoulder as he scurried away. She smiled after him, marveling once again at the wonderful children who lived down here in this underground world. Well, they were being reared by a bunch of wonderful people after all, she mused fondly. Vincent's chamber was empty, so she headed for Father's study. Descending the small staircase, she scanned the room, disappointed when she found it empty.

"Ah, Catherine," Father's voice came from above her head, and she looked up to see the old man leaning over the railing of the upper level, waving a hand at her. "I'll be with you in a second."

While waiting for Father to hobble down the spiral staircase that connected the two levels of the study, Catherine surveyed the room once more.

"I'm afraid Vincent has not yet returned from the falls," Father remarked, interpreting her searching look correctly. "He and Johannes left for the chamber of the falls this afternoon, since Johannes expressed his desire for swimming lessons."

"Swimming lessons?" Catherine repeated, her voice betraying how perplexed she was.

Father chuckled amiably. "Yes. Vincent thought it necessary for Johannes to be able to swim before he could be allowed to explore our world on his own. We have so many pools and ponds down here that someone who cannot swim may find himself in serious danger."

Catherine nodded. "Do you have any idea how long they will be gone?" she asked.

"Vincent said they'd be back for supper. That would be in about two hours."

"Then I 'm going to wait for him in his chamber," Catherine said resignedly, deliberately ignoring Father's barely restrained curiosity to learn how her first day at the office had gone and what she had told her boss. She needed to talk to Vincent first.

Once in the chamber, she decided that she might just as well go to the falls and see how far the lesson had progressed. She knew the way by heart, remembering that she had found it on her own before. That had been when she'd happened upon Vincent as he was just about to take his bath. Her heartbeat accelerated at the poignant memory, and she smiled to herself as she all but skipped along the path that led down to the entrance. Stepping through the opening, she caught sight of Johannes, wading bravely through the chest-deep water. Then she looked up and saw Vincent leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his bare chest and a contented expression on his face. He seemed to be perfectly aware of her furtive scrutiny, yet he didn't move.

"Vincent?" she called out softly.

He pushed from the wall and walked over to where she was standing, his wet jeans clinging to his body. Without looking at her, he pointed at Johannes who attempted to swim a few strokes on his own. "Isn't he amazing?" Vincent remarked, shaking his head and smiling. "He's never been in water of this depth before. He only told me that the sight of the ocean scared him to death when he had to go aboard the ship that brought him over from Europe. It must have been a nightmare."

"I guess so," Catherine said, watching Johannes disappear in the waves and resurface again. "His courage is indeed admirable."

Vincent was looking at her now, his blue eyes solemn and intense. "Without that courage, Catherine, he would hardly be alive now."

Catherine nodded in understanding, surprised when Vincent drew her close and hugged her against his naked chest. The damp hair felt soft beneath her cheek, and she couldn't refrain from rubbing back and forth, soaking up his scent and the incredibly intimate sensation of his skin against hers. She exulted in his apparent lack of restraint and modesty and savored every second of the closeness he was permitting so unexpectedly.

"He looks just like me," Vincent remarked, seemingly out of context. "He is every bit as hairy as I am."

Stunned by his frankness, Catherine leaned back and looked up in his face. "I remember that you couldn't dive into the water fast enough when I happened upon you in here for the first time," she reminded him, smiling.

He chuckled softly. "There were many things that I didn't know back then."

"Like what?" she prompted. He didn't answer right away, but kept looking at her enigmatically. Raising her brows in question, she nudged him gently. "I'm dying to know."

"We'd better give Johannes privacy to leave the pool," Vincent replied evasively, releasing her in order to retrieve his shirt and vest. She watched with rapt attention as he got dressed, delighted that he was able to act in such a carefree way before her eyes.

Side by side, they left the chamber of the falls, stopping outside to wait for Johannes. Vincent leaned against the rocky wall, glancing at her from under his still damp bangs. "You didn't sense my coming Below today, did you?" she observed.

"I was concentrating on Johannes," Vincent explained. "That is why my awareness of you was a little muted."

"It's good to know that even I can still surprise you sometimes," she teased lightly.

Returning her smile, he straightened and reached for her hand. "Catherine," he began, but at that moment Johannes emerged from the entrance behind them.

"Good evening," he said, his pronunciation heavily accented, and as Catherine saw the childlike smile beaming on his face, she couldn't help but give him a brief hug. Only then she remembered that Johannes had always recoiled from being touched. This time, however, he didn't even tense but accepted her sudden display of affection meekly.

"Now, what are we to do with him," she said in mock exasperation. "He's perfectly able to speak English and hides it from us for so long."

Johannes chuckled and shook his head as he walked past them, heading for the living area. Vincent looked after him, astonishment clearly written across his face. After a few steps, Johannes turned and waved for them to follow him. "Supper," he said impatiently and walked on.

Catherine giggled. "I would say he's adjusted rather quickly," she remarked, taking Vincent's hand. "We'd better hurry or he'll give us a lecture for dawdling."

*

"So, what did Joe say?" Vincent inquired when supper was over and they were alone in his chamber. Catherine sat down on his bed, looking up at him as he stood beside his writing table. His tension was evident in every line of his posture as he waited for her answer.

"That he needs to think," she replied. "But he is going to help us, Vincent."

"And how much...did you tell him?" Vincent pursued hesitantly.

"Only that you are different, and that people like the Doctor are the reason why you live in hiding."

"How...was Joe's reaction to that revelation? He must have been quite surprised that you have a...friend...like that."

"I told him the truth, Vincent. I told him that you are more than a friend. That you are the man I love." Catherine's heart twisted in her chest at the astonishment that registered on Vincent's face. Rising to her feet, she walked over to him and took his hands. "You're still having difficulty believing that, aren't you," she stated, searching his eyes for that certain spark of intimacy between them which always reassured her of his inner commitment to their love. There, underneath the blue sparkle of vulnerability, she finally detected the glimmer of confidence which told her he knew all of it and accepted it gladly, gratefully, if with a touch of wonderment. He pulled her to him, and she stepped into his embrace, hugging him fiercely.

"It is one thing to feel that love, Catherine," he said huskily. "But it's something else to admit to it openly."

"Not for me," she contradicted, looking up at him. "I'm proud of you and ashamed of a society that is unwilling and unable to accept you and see you for who you are."

"Oh, Catherine," he gasped, clearly moved by her words. "I'm afraid for you; afraid that your openness will only bring you hurt."

"Nothing can hurt me," she hurried to reassure him, "as long as you are safe and you love me."

"How could I not love you?" he breathed, bowing his head to nuzzle her mouth before he took her lips in a kiss. "You are my life," he murmured. "That will never change."

She pressed into him, clinging to him with the same desperation she had just felt in his kiss. "As you are mine," she whispered soulfully. "Without you there is nothing."

His eyes were deep and emotion-filled as he gazed down at her, and she hoped against hope he would ask her to stay, to live with him in his world. When his lips parted and he took a breath of air, she thought, for a moment, that it was going to happen, that he would ask her at last, but he only released a ragged sigh, cupping the back of her head and gathering her close again.

*

Although Catherine trusted Joe with her life, it was with apprehension that she opened the door to his office and peered inside.

"Come on in," Joe urged as he caught sight of her. She complied wordlessly and eased herself into a chair opposite him.

"Look! This is how we have to play it," he began without preamble. "I'm not comfortable with stretching the truth, but if we're careful, it will be the truth, at least for the most part."

"O.K.," Catherine managed hoarsely.

He inclined his head, acknowledging her compliance. "Let's state the facts. You were drugged and abducted, unable to recognize your abductors or find out what they wanted. You were pushed into that cage which already held another prisoner. He didn't speak English, so you couldn't talk with him to find out why he was held captive in there. After about two days the lab caught fire, and your co-prisoner managed to get you out. You passed out and weren't able to see where he took you. Let's reiterate here that you were in no condition to be aware of what happened on the upper floor. Did I get that right so far?"

Catherine nodded, deciding that Joe's version didn't even stretch the truth too much. There were only a few omissions that she could certainly live with.

"O.K.," Joe continued. "Now we're facing about twelve hours we can't account for. I guess you were...with him...that night. Well, let's just assume your mysterious co-prisoner took care of you through the night before he deposited you in the park and vanished. That doesn't sound any more unlikely than the rest of the story." Joe sighed in frustration. "I care about you a lot, kiddo, but I seriously hope that you won't put me through stuff like that too often. I wanna live to collect my pension, you know."

Catherine felt a weight being lifted from her chest. "Thank you, Joe," she said, flashing him a grateful smile. "I owe you."

"You bet," he groaned, leaning back in his chair and pointing his pencil at the door. "There's work to be done, so..."

He raised his brows suggestively, and Catherine rolled her eyes in mock exasperation as she pushed herself from the chair. "I'm on my way, boss," she called back over her shoulder as she headed for her desk.

The workload was considerable, indeed, which meant bringing work home with her again. She'd have to get a message to Vincent that she wouldn't be able to go Below tonight. With a sigh of regret, she dialed Joshua's number.

*

A dozen things went through Vincent's mind as he left the classroom and headed for his chamber. Jeremy would need some tutoring with reading, and Geoffrey a little help with writing. Erin was still too shy to read in front of the class. He would have to think of something to give her a gentle nudge toward more self-confidence.

On entering his chamber, he saw Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" lying face down on his writing table. He remembered wistfully how he had read to Catherine for the first time. His thoughts focused on her and the difficult situation she had to face Above. Wondering if Joe had come up with some solution to their impasse yet, Vincent remembered that Catherine had sent word she had work to do tonight and wouldn't come Below. With a sigh, he picked up the book and turned it in his hands, but when he sat down and tried to read, he found himself too restless to grasp the meaning of the words, a telltale sign that it was time to do some mental exercising.

He changed into a soft thermal shirt and loosely fitting cotton trousers and sat down on the rug to begin one of his regular exercises in meditation. Although his attempts at centering himself weren't always successful, he exacted them faithfully, knowing that this kind of discipline was vital to his equilibrium.

Tonight, as he assumed his position, the loose ends of unresolved everyday matters seemed particularly persistent. Incoherent images drifted by his inner eye: of the cage, of Catherine imprisoned behind those bars, of the children coming to him for help, of people who asked his counsel. Concentrating on his breathing, he made a deliberate effort to distance himself from the stream of thoughts that tumbled through him.

Suddenly a warm feeling of anticipation spread through his body. He smiled at the soft, tingling sensation that teased his solar plexus, but sobered instantly as it shifted down to the base of his spine, leaving something akin to sexual arousal in its wake.

That had happened before, and Vincent had learned how to deal with it. He monitored the flow of energy closely, synchronizing it with his breathing as he visualized golden light filling him, surrounding him, anchoring him.

The tingling sensation slowly crept up along his spine and manifested itself in the region of his heart. It caressed his throat and exploded between his eyes, leaving him adrift in a pleasant state of momentary oblivion.

The instant he became conscious of his body again, he felt like every cell of his being were charged with a strange kind of energy, like someone was caressing every part of him from within. The image of Catherine swam before him, and as he reached out to touch her, he saw himself being held by her. Inevitably his concentration plummeted back down into his groin, a soft stirring of desire beckoning sweetly.

Vincent moaned, lifting one hand as if to trace the contours of her face. Their gazes locked and held, and his heart fluttered wildly in his chest as he felt himself permeated by her essence. At that moment the longing to be within her, to fill her with himself, with all that he was, became so overwhelming that he couldn't resist plunging into her exultantly. His heart burst with elation as she opened up to him, joyously welcoming him inside her heart.

Suddenly his control faltered and he was swept away, a vortex of spinning colors sucking all the light from him and leaving him in utter darkness. Catherine's astonishment surged against his despair, and there was a flicker of fear -- his or hers, he couldn't tell -- before his awareness of her faded and he snapped his eyes open, facing his chamber again. Vincent caught himself desperately squeezing the pouch that contained Catherine's rose. '...to keep you safe whenever the darkness presses in,' he heard her voice in his mind.

Try as he might, he was unable to relax again, so he struggled to his feet and started a restless pacing, ignoring the prickling in his legs after the long time of disuse. What had happened? How could he have let things get so out of hand? He dropped down on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. The bond was still vibrating with the same kind of energy which had filled him only a short while ago...before the darkness had cast its shadow over him.

He straightened abruptly, sucking in a shuddering breath. What if she had felt it? What if the bond had transmitted his emotions to her? What if his reaching out through the bond had enabled the darkness to touch her as well?

"No!" he gasped, leaping to his feet. His knuckles stood out whitely as he gripped the edges of the table forcefully and, leaning heavily on his arms, dropped his head. For a moment he dared not think nor feel, hoping it had all been just a nightmare without real consequences. And then something stirred in him again, quickening his blood, calling out to him, coaxing him tenderly to open up...and let go...

Trembling, he closed his eyes, and the darkness returned, shrouding him in its impenetrable robe of blackness.

"Vincent?" He whisked around at the sound of Catherine's voice, believing it was just a hallucination, resulting from his confused mind and shaken spirit. But there she was, standing in the doorway, her desire to touch him clearly written across her face.

"Don't come...any closer," he managed hoarsely, ashamed that she should see him like this. To his vast relief she complied and remained where she was.

"I felt you calling me," she said quietly. "And so I came."

Her name was a rough whisper in his throat, its mere sound fueling the need in him to close the distance between them and crush her to his chest. But he just stood frozen to the spot, unable to meet her eyes.

"What is it?" she inquired softly.

"Something...happened," he replied, barely able to find his voice.

"I know," she said, the radiance of her face all but mocking his dismal thoughts. "Vincent, for the first time I could feel you within me. I thought I would die with joy. How did you do that? I..."

"By being irresponsible," he interrupted. "I was careless and didn't pay enough attention to the barriers that keep you safe."

"Barriers that keep me safe?" she echoed incredulously. "But, Vincent, I've always wanted to feel you, to be as close to you as possible."

"But it is not possible," he groaned helplessly, returning to his bed and dropping down again.

She crossed the room and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. "No," she disagreed. "We both felt that not only is it possible, but that it's meant to be."

"We both felt the fear as well," he retorted hopelessly, recalling how the darkness had driven her image from his soul.

Catherine's hand was light upon his shoulder as she shook him gently. "The fear you probably sensed in me was when I felt you withdraw. Vincent, I wanted you there within me. When that feeling was gone, I felt empty and alone."

He caught at her wrist, but didn't dislodge her hand. "Catherine, I cannot discuss that now. I am still too shaken. I must regain my composure first. So many things have been happening at the same time that I'm afraid they might become confused and hopelessly tangled."

"What do you mean?"

His shoulders slumped and he expelled a sigh. How should he begin to explain to her what he barely understood himself? Inhaling deeply, he decided to at least try. "Light and darkness, to begin with; hope and despair; longing for tenderness and primal need."

She slid from his side, kneeling down on the rug in front of him. "Vincent," she said entreatingly, "Don't you see? Those are only the opposite sides of one and the same thing. There is hardly one without the other. Only those who know the darkness can appreciate the light. Only those who know despair are truly courageous when they lift their hearts in hope. And love will only find completion if tenderness and need blend and become one."

Slowly he allowed himself to meet her eyes. He wanted so much to believe her, to be able to trust himself as much as she trusted him. His head spun with conflicting impulses, and he no longer knew what was the right thing to do. A few minutes ago he'd been certain that he must send her away in order to protect her. Now he felt as if he needed her close so that he would be able to drive the darkness away, should it return. Yet her nearness unsettled him, tortured him, beckoned to him in ways he was unable to accept. A groan rumbled through him as he pushed himself to his feet, tempted to bolt from the room. But Catherine rose swiftly and stood in his way.

"No," she breathed. "Not this time. This time you won't bear this alone."

Tears ran down his cheeks and moistened the fabric of his shirt. She bent forward to kiss them away, and he captured the back of her head in his palm, holding her close. Her breath was hot on the skin of his throat, and he swallowed as another wave of intense desire coursed through him. Releasing her instantly, he took a hasty step in retreat.

"Catherine, please," he implored. "It is not safe to be with me...when I am...like this. I cannot concentrate, cannot think..."

"Then don't think," she told him. "I'm here. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Vincent swallowed down the bitterness that rose in his throat. Catherine had never appeared more fragile to him than at that moment; yet it was she who wanted to protect him. The oddity of it almost made him smile, but as her arms stole around his waist and she pressed her cheek to his heart, he grew instantly serious again.

"Catherine," he pleaded. "Don't. I can't..."

"You don't have to," was all she said, pulling him over to the bed. "Come," she commanded softly. "Let me hold you, Vincent."

For an instant his mind cleared, and he knew with absolute certainty that all his possible ways of reacting had narrowed down to two options. He could either flee or succumb. There was nothing in between. If he fled, he would hurt her, praying that she would forgive him. If he stayed, he would make love to her, praying that he wouldn't hurt her.

"Which one will it be, Vincent?" she asked shakily, reading him like an open book. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he fought for his decision. Her warmth drew him; his passionate longing drove him on; yet he remained immobile until the silence between them became all but oppressive. He clenched his fists to keep from touching her, but she reached for his wrists, coaxing his hands to uncurl again. "Come," she repeated. "It's time. Don't fight it."

He couldn't remember having moved, but suddenly she was beneath him on his bed, all softness and beauty as she lifted her face to him like a flower would rise to the light. He sought her mouth, drinking from her lips, allowing himself to be drawn into her love as her arms snaked around his body, holding him tight. Tiny points of light sparkled at the edge of his consciousness, and he opened his eyes, finding himself enfolded in her steady gaze as she looked up at him solemnly. "I love you," she whispered, her words like a ray of heat that rushed down his spine and centered in his groin. His need to push against her, to take her and possess her, grew overwhelming, but she tempered it with the tenderness of her touches and the unwavering trust he could see in the depth of her eyes. Hiding his burning face in the curve of her neck, he lay very still as he savored the closeness between them, the steady rhythm of her pulse beneath his lips, the gentle flow of energy between their souls.

There was a moment when she shifted under his weight. Instantly his arms tightened around her, holding her in place. "Don't go," he begged hoarsely.

"Never," came the whispered reply, and that one word broke the dam that he had fought so hard to maintain between his hunger and her need. She had pledged herself to him; she would not leave; she was his. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he began to move, feeding on the waves of desire that reached him across the bond. There was no way of telling who initiated their undressing, but the moment when their naked bodies touched for the first time was scorched in his memory with blinding intensity. The dry warmth of her skin drew his hands to skim along her body, to touch her in places he'd never dared dream of. She was touching him, too, exploring him, learning him, and he came alive beneath her palms as she urged him toward the center of her need. Oh, to let go! No longer having to hold back! It was sheer and utter bliss. He would have tried to prolong their pleasure, to control his movements, had he known a way to resist her rhythm as she pulled him along, plunging him headlong into a brilliant wave of shuddering release.

There was a span of time when he couldn't remember breathing, thinking, or even feeling. There was no need to. Her presence beneath him, within him, sustained him and gave him everything he needed. When he finally lifted his head from her chest, he didn't know if he was awakening from sleep or simply returning to his mortal self after having faced a moment of immortality.

Catherine's features were relaxed and radiated contentment and peace as she lay against his pillow. He noted with relief that at some point he must have automatically taken most of his weight off her body. His arm was still draped around her, though, and his shoulder rested against her waist. She sensed his silent regard and opened her eyes. The smile she gave him was so full of love that it took his breath away. Yet he experienced a sudden sting of uncertainty.

"Forgive me, Catherine," he murmured against her breast. "I'm inexperienced, and I..."

She silenced him with a sensuous kiss. "Not anymore," she murmured, her voice muffled against his lips. "Not anymore."

Too moved for words, he turned on his back, pulling her with him and cradling her close. Her breath was warm on his neck and the weight of her body soft and pleasant on top of his own. In spite of himself Vincent felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stared up at the rocky ceiling of his chamber, thinking. The only way to get rid of temptation, he quoted silently, remembering Oscar Wilde's words once again. However, there had been no way of imagining the sweetness of yielding, and Vincent doubted that he would ever be able to resist again.

Catherine had fallen asleep in his arms, and he pulled up a blanket, covering her solicitously. If only he could always hold her this close, he thought, his heart heavy with the impossibility of it. If only he could keep her safe and protected within the circle of his arms. That was the deepest agony of love, he mused sadly: having to let go despite the overwhelming desire to hold on.

SHADOWS