If only he knew why everything was changing – if only he knew that he wasn’t losing his mind, that’s all.
These changes had all begun just a week ago.
He had visited Catherine at her home, as he had grown used to doing so often of late. Simply since things had deepened somewhat in their relationship, Vincent had found it nigh impossible to keep away from her.
He was sure she didn’t know this of course – he would die if she did – he had denied his feelings to her with the utmost of care, even succeeded in denying it to himself, once. But no more, no more could he deny the fact that he wanted her, and desperately so as a man wants the woman that he loves.
But it could never be!
That was the sadness. That was where the heartbreak threatened to overwhelm him. How could one as beautiful as Catherine, even contemplate allowing hands such as his touching her, gliding over her soft curves, moulding his body to hers...
Vincent groaned, would every time he thought of her lead to thinking of her like this?
Why could it not be as simple as once it had been?
Where was the innocence now?
The friendship? They’d shared such a sweet and tender friendship, and it had been enough. And it had been more than he had ever expected to share with a woman of the world Above.
So when had it all changed?
Why did it seem that suddenly the warm affectionate embraces were no longer enough? Why now, when he held her, had he wanted only to lose himself in her warmth? To never let her go?
Laying his head back against the wing of his great chair, Vincent inhaled a deep breath – arh there – yes it was definitely there – that sweet smell that he associated with the perfume that Catherine favoured wearing – did she know what that scent did to him? Would she continue to wear it if she knew?
He didn’t know why it was so strong here in his chamber. At first he had assumed that the lingering scent was from Catherine’s infrequent visits, but just lately the scent seem to be clinging to every rock and crevice of his tunnel home. Although it was strongest here, strongest in his own chamber.
If he knew he might well be embarrassed – he might well run for the lower catacombs and stay there until his fevered body had calmed sufficiently to deal with this new turn of events.
But he didn’t know, and if Catherine had her way he never would.
This was deception pure and simple, a devious way to keep the man she loved stepping forth in the right direction.
All week Vincent had been aware of Catherine’s mischief. He could sense her humour and that in turn lightened his troubled spirit. Though his body hungered for her touch, his heart was washed with peace and tranquillity by her fun-loving mood.
Tonight he would see her, after seven long days apart – seven days in which nothing had been resolved.
Vincent couldn’t quite grasp the reason behind that. Always when he had been with Catherine in his feverish frame of mind, he had come away with the firm resolve that the next time they met he would be strong – no, stronger – able to remember who he was, what he was. Positive that what they had was a dream and could be no more.
Always he had been able to attain this resolve so that when he saw Catherine again, he could be sure that he would never do or say anything that might frighten her away from him.
In his chamber he had no clock – had no need of one – he knew time by instinct, and he knew that within two hours he would be holding Catherine in his arms, and the week of longing before would have flown away as if it had never been. And he wanted that, oh so bad, but dare he? Dare he go to her this time – being that this time, he had not succeeded in quenching the burning flames of desire he had taken home with him after the last time they had been together?
Suddenly – and he didn’t know why – but suddenly that time was upon him – before he’d had time to work things out in his mind.
Catherine was coming Below!
It was unusual that she would do that, when they had arranged to meet at a certain time.
If, for some reason she would have been delayed, she would have sent a note, but rarely did she come Below so seemingly impulsively.
Yet he could feel her – and his heart thudded painfully – he was afraid – he wanted to run, to hide, yet he was frozen to the spot, he could not go – he did not want to go.
Alongside his heartbeat was the sound of her own, and she was stilling, her excitement of moments earlier calming, and Vincent felt that someone had intercepted her descent to his chamber.
That little bit of respite made him relax, he was able to breathe again, to compose himself – yet her scent wafted around his nostrils, drawing him up from his chair and like one hypnotised he went to meet her.