t was one of those evenings which, right from the outset, was destined to be perfect.

A few minutes before seven, Paula came downstairs looking for Shane.

She was dressed in a light wool caftan which.Emily had made for her. It was a deep-violet color, simply styled, loose and floating, with unusual butterfly-wing sleeves that buttoned tightly at the wrists. With it she wore a long strand of lavender jade beads, another gift from Emily, who had bought them for her in Hong Kong.

Paula found Shane in the main room. He stood by the huge window, looking out.

She noticed that he had1 lit the many candles they had scattered around earlier and set up a bar on one of the small chests.

The fire blazed in the hearth like a huge bonfire, the few lamps he had turned on glowed rosily, and the voice of Ella Fitzgerald singing Cole Porter echoed softly in the background.

Walking forward, Paula said, "I can see that there's nothing for me to do but sit down and have a drink."

Shane swung around. His eyes swept over her.

As she drew closer he saw that she had stroked purple shadow on her lids, and because of this and the color of her dress, those uncanny eyes appeared to be more violet than ever. Shining black hair, brushed back and curling under in a pageboy, framed the pale face, accentuated its translucency. The widow's peak made a sharp indentation on her wide brow. It was dramatic. She was dramatic.

The strain had gone out of her face. He thought she looked more beautiful than she had in years. He said, "You look nice, Paula."

"Thank you—so do you."

He laughed dismissively. "You mentioned a drink. What would you like?"

"White wine, please."

Paula remained standing near the hearth, observing him as he opened the bottle.

He wore dark gray slacks, a lighter gray turtle-necked sweater and a black cashmere sports jacket. Studying him, she thought: He's the same old Shane, and yet somehow he's not. He is different. Maybe it's the mustache after all. Or is it me? She instantly squashed this possibility.

He brought her the drink. She caught the faint whiff of soap and cologne. He was freshly shaved, his hair well brushed, his nails newly manicured. Paula bit back a smile, remembering how his habit of looking at himself whenever he passed a mirror had driven her grandmother crazy. Emma had even threatened to have all of the mirrors removed from Heron's Nest if he did not curb his vanity. He had been eighteen that particular year and very conscious of his astonishing looks, his husky, athletic build. She suspected he was still most aware of his physical appeal, although he no longer gazed at himself in mirrors—at least not publicly. Perhaps he had learned to accept his striking appearance. She turned to the fire to hide another smile. He was vain, even a little conceited about some of his attributes and accomplishments, and so very sure of himself. Yet there was an inherent sweetness in him, a gentleness, and he was loving to the core with friends and family, and so very kind. How well she knew Shane Desmond Ingham O'Neill.

Shane, pouring himself a scotch and soda, called across to her, "Don't be surprised if Sonny brings his guitar. He usually does. I may accompany him on the piano—give everyone a treat. We might even have a singsong later."

"Oh God, shades of the Herons!" Paula laughed. "You really did stink, you know."

"On the contrary, I think we were rather good," he retorted, also laughing. He joined her. "You and the girls were jealous because we stole the show that summer, were the center of attraction. And you were envious of our smashing rig-outs. I'm surprised you didn't start a girls.' band just to compete with us."

She laughed again. He touched his glass to hers.

Paula stared up at him towering above her, feeling dwarfed by his six feet four inches, and suddenly weak, defenseless, and decidedly female. There definitely was something irresistible about him. The weird feelings he had aroused in her

last night began to stir. Her skin tingled. Her heart missed a beat.

Their eyes held.

Paula wanted to look away but his dark and piercing gaze was hypnotic.

Shane broke the contact, swiftly turning, making a show of searching for his cigarettes as he stifled the urge to kiss her You must be careful, he told himself. He wondered if he had been wrong inviting her for the weekend. He.knew he was skating

on thin ice. I won't see her again while she's in the States. Inwardly he laughed. He knew he would. ' A series of cheery hellos

rang out. To his immense relief Sonny and Elaine walked in.

Shane hurried across the room to greet them, a huge grin surfacing. He was glad he had invited them. His tension eased.

After propping the guitar case against a chair, Sonny grasped his hand, embraced him, said, "Cognac... for after dinner." He handed Shane a bottle wrapped in fancy paper.

Elaine thrust a basket at him. "And here's some of my freshly baked bread for your breakfast," she exclaimed as Shane bent to kiss her cheek.

Shane thanked them, put the gifts on a chest, and brought the Vickerses over to be introduced to Paula.

The minute she met them, Paula knew she was going to like the couple. Sonny was tall, lean, and fair, with a blond beard and merry brown eyes. Elaine, softly pretty and feminine, was one of those women whose genuine sweetness is instantly recognizable. She had an open, friendly face, and her eyes were vividly blue, her short, curly hair prematurely silver.

The three of them sat down, and Shane went to make drinks for the new arrivals. Paula was glad she had chosen the caftan, even though Shane had told her to dress casually. Elaine was wearing black velvet pants with a Chinese jacket of blue brocade and looked elegant in an understated way.

Smiling at her, Elaine said, "Shane told us you're Emma Harte's granddaughter, and that you run her business now. I'm crazy about your London store. I can spend all day there—"

"She's not kidding either," Sonny interrupted, grinning at Paula. "My wife and your store are going to bankrupt me one day."

"Oh, don't pay any attention to my husband, he's the one who's kidding," Elaine said, and continued to rave about Harte's in Knightsbridge.

But when Shane came back with glasses of wine for Sonny and Elaine, the conversation turned to country matters and local gossip. Paula leaned back in her chair, listening quietly, sipping her drink. As the talk ebbed and flowed between Shane and his friends, she soon became aware of his liking for them, recognized how relaxed he was in their company. But then, so was she. They were easy to be with—warm, outgoing, very real and down-to-earth people. Sonny's wit was as quick as Shane's, although not quite as brilliant and astringent, and the two men were soon bouncing funny lines back and forth. There was a great deal of laughter and jollity in the air, and a festive mood prevailed.

After the first half hour, Paula felt as though she had known this engaging couple for years. Individually each of them drew her out, encouraged her to talk about her work, the stores, and both of them were particularly interested in hearing about her famous grandmother. And she, who was generally reserved with strangers, found herself chatting away. She and Sonny discussed music and his composing, and Paula discovered that he had written several Broadway musicals as well as the background music for numerous Hollywood films. Elaine, in turn, talked about her writing career and her books. And she did so in a manner that was not only informative but amusing, especially when she recounted funny incidents which had happened to her when she was on promotion tours. She told a good story, and entertainingly so, and there was a great deal of laughter arid bonhomie among the four of them.

Occasionally Paula stole surreptitious glances at Shane. He was a wonderful host, constantly up and down, taking care of the drinks, changing the records on the stereo, throwing logs on the fire, and steering the conversation around to different subjects, involving them with each other. And he was obviously delighted with the way the Vickerses had warmed to her. He kept smiling across at her, nodding as if in approval, and twice when he passed her chair to do a small chore he squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

Paula had been out to check on the food once, and the second time she rose, Elaine also stood up.

"I'm letting you do all the work," Elaine said, "and that's not fair. I'm coming to help you."

"Things are under control," Paula protested.

"No, no, I insist." Elaine followed Paula out to the kitchen, and as she came through the doorway, she exclaimed, "Everything smells so delicious—my mouth's beginning to water. Now, what can I do?"

"Nothing, really." Paula smiled at her, bent down and took the meat out of the oven, placed it on a platter. "Well, there is one thing... Could you cover this with silver foil, please?"

"Consider it done," Elaine said, tearing off a large piece of the silver paper, tucking it around the leg of lamb. She stood watching Paula and, after a-moment, she said, "It's a lovely evening. I'm so glad you're here. And you certainly cheer

Shane up."

"Do I really?" Paula swung to face Elaine, gave her a curious puzzled look. "You make it sound as if he's been down in the dumps."

"We think he has. Sonny and I worry about him a lot. He's so nice, generous, very engaging, and pleasant and charming.

Still..." She shrugged. "To be truthful, he's always up here alone, never brings... friends, and there are times when he seems despondent, melancholy." She shrugged again. "Of course, England is a long way off and—"

"Yes, I do think he gets a bit homesick," Paula volunteered, pivoting, turning her attention to the oven again.

Elaine stared at.Paula's back, her brow puckering. "Oh, but I didn't mean it that way—" She stopped abruptly as Shane walked in, swinging the corkscrew in one hand.

He said, "I think I'd better open the wine, let it breathe for a while." He proceeded to do so, remarking to Paula, "I suppose the meat has to stand and bleed for fifteen minutes or so, before I carve it. Well, I might as well hang around, keep you company."

Elaine slipped out quietly, leaving them alone.

' "It was a wonderful dinner," Elaine said, putting down her dessert fork and spoon, looking across the table at Paula. "And I'd love to have the recipe for this trifle. It was yummy." "And the recipe for the Yorkshire pudding," Sonny suggested. He flashed his wife a sly but loving grin, added, "And I know Elaine won't take offense when I tell you that her puddings come out like great lumps of soggy dough."

Everyone laughed.

Paula said, "I'll write them out for you tomorrow." A smile of pleasure tugged at her mouth. "You're both very good for my ego. I've never had so many compliments about my cooking."

"That's not true," Shane exclaimed. "I've been giving you praise for years. You never pay attention to anything I say, that's your.trouble," he groused, but there %vas laughter on his face.

"Oh.yes I do," Paula shot back. "And I always have."

Chuckling, Shane pushed back his chair. "I'd better retreat to the kitchen, make the coffee."

"I'll assist you," Sonny said, springing up, walking out after him.

Elaine sat back in the chair, studying Paula. How arresting and unusual her looks were. She wondered how old she was. Earlier, Elaine had decided she must be in her late twenties, perhaps even thirty. But now, in the soft candlelight, Paula looked much younger than that; her face held the vulnerability of a little girl's, and she was most appealing. Conscious she was staring rudely, Elaine said, "You're a beautiful woman, Paula, and so very accomplished. No wonder he's miserable most of the time."

Paula instantly stiffened, put down her glass unsteadily. "I'm afraid I'm not following you."

Elaine blurted out, "Shane... he's crazy about you! It's written all over his face, and reflected in everything he says. What a pity you're so far away in England. That's what I was getting at earlier—when we were in the kitchen."

Paula was stunned. She managed, "Oh but, Elaine, we're just old friends, childhood friends."

For a split second Elaine thought Paula was joking, continuing the banter which had punctuated.the good talk during dinner. Then she saw the horrified expression on Paula's face. "Oh my God, I've said the wrong thing obviously. I'm so sorry. I just assumed you and Shane were having..." Her voice trailed off miserably.

Paula pushed back her sense of dismay. "Please don't look so stricken, Elaine. It's all right, really it is. I understand. You've simply mistaken Shane's brotherly affection for me, read it to mean something else, something entirely different. Anybody

could make that error."

There was an awkward silence as the two women regarded each other. "Both were at a loss for words.

Elaine cleared her throat. "Now I've gone and spoiled a lovely evening... me and my big mouth." Her expression was chagrined, apologetic. "Sonny says my mouth's always open and my foot's always in it. He's right."

Wanting to make her feel comfortable, Paula murmured softly, "Oh please, Elaine, don't be embarrassed. I'm not. I like you, and I do want us to be friends. And look here, why wouldn't you jump to conclusions. After all, I am staying here with him, living under the same roof, and we are rather free and easy with each other. But then we grew up together, and we've been around each other all of our lives. There's a certain kind of naturalness between us, and it could easily be misinterpreted. But our relationship is not what you think." Paula attempted a laugh, glanced down at her hands. "I've just realized I'm not wearing my rings tonight, and we haven't discussed my personal life, so you couldn't possibly know that I'm married."

"Oh well, then that explains everything!" Elaine cried, immediately flushing. She shook her head. "There I go again... Forgive me, PauUi. My apologies. I'm saying all the wrong things tonight. I've probably had far too much to drink."

Paula summoned another light, dismissive laugh. "I think we ought to talk about something else, don't you? Shane and Sonny will be back at any moment."

"Agreed. And please don't say anything to Shane... about what I assumed. He'll think I'm a real busybody."

"Of course I won't say anything," Paula reassured her. She rose. "Let's go and sit by the fire."

As the two of them walked across the floor, Paula slipped her arm through Elaine's companionably, said in a low voice, "Try not to look so upset, so worried. Shane'll spot that straightaway. He's very intuitive. It's the Celt in him, I suppose. When I was little I actually believed he could read my mind... he was always second-guessing me in the most maddening way."

Elaine merely smiled at this remark as she lowered herself into a chair. Although she had recovered some of her composure, she was cursing herself under her breath. How stupid she had been to presume they were having an affair. But who wouldn't think that... there was an intimacy between them, a kind of bonding, and Shane devoured Paula with his eyes, hung on to her every word. It was transparent that he was in love with her, no matter what Paula believed. And who's she kidding? Only herself. Well, self-delusion is a very human trait, Elaine thought, and stole a look at Paula, who sat in the chair opposite. Whether she knows it or not, she adores him. And not just as an old friend would... it's much more than that, more complex, and it runs deeper. Still, perhaps she hasn't realized the extent of her feelings for him. And I ought not to have said anything. Elaine chastised herself again.

But a few seconds later, when Shane brought the tray of coffee to the fireplace, Elaine saw Paula's eyes instantly fly to his face, detected curiosity and a new and avid interest glittering in them. Elaine thought: Who knows, maybe I wasn't so foolish—maybe I've done them both a big favor by speaking out of turn.

Shane served the coffee. Sonny poured cognac, and ten minutes later he fetched his guitar and began to play. He was a classical guitarist and immensely talented, and the others sat back, captivated by his playing and his music, entranced by the magic he created for them.

Paula was only half-listening. She was thankful not to have to make conversation. Her mind was in a turmoil. Elaine had stunned her, and much more than she had permitted the other woman to see. But the shock was receding and she tried to sort out her troubled thoughts.

She was positive that Elaine had simply misunderstood Shane's attitude, his behavior toward her. On the other hand, what if Elaine was correct? Elaine had asserted that her.marriage explained everything—meaning, of course, that it explained Shane's unhappiness, which they had apparently detected. Paula suddenly remembered the incomplete thought she had had that afternoon when she had been dozing on the sofa. She had been dwelling on the past few days, thinking that Shane was his old self, the way he was before her marriage. Something had clicked in her head, but then she had fallen asleep. Now that thought became whole, fully formed. Shane had changed, had dropped her, the moment her engagement to Jim had been announced. Why? Because he was jealous. That was the obvious explanation. How stupid she had been not to recognize this before tonight. But why hadn't Shane made it clear to her that he cared for her, when she was still free? Perhaps he had not understood that, until it was too late. It all made sense suddenly.

Paula leaned back in the chair, shattered by her conclusions. She closed her eyes, letting the music lap over her. She thought of Shane. He sat only a few feet away from her. What were his thoughts and emotions at this moment? Was he really in love with her? Crazy about her, so Elaine had said. Paula's heart clenched. And what about me? How do I feel about Shane? Am I unconsciously responding to vibrations emanating from him? Or am I in love with him?... Have I always been in love with

him without knowing it? She tried to examine her innermost emotions, take stock of her feelings. She floundered.

They left at eleven forty-five.

Shane saw them out.

She knew what she was going to do.

Rising, she walked over to the chest, retrieved the bottle of cognac, carried it back to the fireside. She refilled their brandy balloons, placed the bottle in the center of the coffee table, threw a couple of logs onto the fire.

Then she sat down on the sofa to wait for him.

A few minutes later she heard his step, glanced around as he came in. She smiled across the room at him.

Shane faltered, surprised to see her sitting there, holding another drink. He frowned. "Are you planning to stay up all night? I would've thought you'd be half dead by now. It's been a long day, you worked so hard in the kitchen, shouldn't we go—"

"I just got a second wind!" she cried, cutting him off before he suggested they go to sleep. "I'm having a nightcap. I've poured one for you. Aren't you going to join me?" When he did not reply, she laughed gaily. "Oh, don't be such an old spoilsport, Shane."

He hesitated fractionally. He was afraid of being alone with her. He had been much too aware of her this evening. His desire for her had flared time and time again. His emotions were near the surface. He had sunk a lot of booze. He suddenly wasn't sure whether he could trust himself with her. This thought instantly annoyed him. He wasn't a callow youth, out on his first date, itching to make a conquest. He was a grown man. And he was with the girl he had known all his life. Yes, he loved her. But she trusted him. He was a gentleman. And he could handle himself. Still, I ought to put an end to the evening now, he thought. He said, "Well, just one for the road. I'd planned for us to go riding tomorrow morning—bright and early."

He strolled over to the fireplace, striving to appear offhand. He reached for the drink she had poured, stepped away from the coffee table, planning to sit in the chair next to the hearth.

Paula patted the sofa. "No, sit here, Shane, next to me. I want to talk to you."

He tensed, looked at her alertly, searching her face. Her expression was neutral, placid even. It baffled him. She was usually much more animated. "Okay." He sat as far away from her as -possible, squashed himself into the opposite corner of the sofa.,

"Cheers," Paula said, leaning closer, knocking her glass against his.

"Cheers." Their hands accidentally touched as they lifted their glasses. He felt a spark of electricity shoot up his arm. He pushed himself even farther into the corner, crossed his legs. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

"I'd like to ask you a question."

"Go on, then..."

"Will you tell me the truth?"

He eyed her, suddenly wary. "It depends on the question. If I don't like it, I might be evasive in my answer."

She gave him an odd look. "You and I always told each other the truth when we were children. We never dealt in lies then... I'd like it to be like that between us again."

"But it is!"

"Not really, Shane." She saw the surprise registering in his eyes. "Oh yes," she said, "it's been like old times this week, I admit, but there has been an estrangement between us for almost two years. Please don't even try to deny that." There, it was out at last. "In fact," she went on quickly, "you've been cold and distant with me for the longest time. When I asked you about your remoteness, your absence from my life, oh, ages ago now, you brushed me off with silly excuses. Pressure of work, travel, you said." Paula placed her drink on the coffee table and stared hard at him. "I never really believed you in my heart of hearts. And that brings me to my question"—she paused, her eyes stayed on his face—and it's this: What awful thing did I do to you, to drive you out of my life? You—my oldest and dearest friend."

He stared back at her, unable to make any kind of response. If he told her the truth he would reveal himself, his real feelings. If he lied, he would hate himself for doing so. Anyway, she was clever. She would spot the lie immediately. He swallowed, put his drink down, looked ahead at the fire, his face reflective. Better to be silent.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

Paula, her eyes fixed on him, knew suddenly what his terrible dilemma was. Oh my darling, she thought, open your heart to me, tell me everything. Her love for Shane flowed through her, sweeping all else aside. She caught her breath in astonishment as she finally acknowledged her feelings. She longed to put her arms around him, to expunge the sadness on his face with her kisses.

The silence lengthened.

Paula said softly, "I realize how difficult it is for you to answer my question." There was only the merest hesitation before she finished, "And so I will do it for you. You dropped me because I became engaged to Jim and then married him shortly afterward."

Still he did not dare open his mouth, afraid of giving himself away. So she had guessed. But exactly how much had she guessed. He blinked, continuing to focus on the dancing flames. He knew he could not let her see his face until he had wiped it clean of all emotion.

Eventually he half-turned to her, said slowly, in,a voice that was strangely hoarse, "Yes, that's the reason I put distance between us, Paula. Perhaps I was wrong to do that. But... you see... I thought... that Jim wuld resent me, yes, and that you would too. After all, why would either of you want an old chum like me loitering on your doorstep..." He left the sentence unfinished.

"Shane... you're not telling me the truth... you know you're not, and so do I."

It was the inflection of her voice that caught his attention, prompted him to swing his head. In the bright glow of the firelight the pallor of her face had acquired a curious luminosity, a pearly sheen. The violet eyes had darkened, burned with an unfamiliar look he could not fathom. He noticed a vein pulsing rapidly in her neck. She parted her lips as if to say something, but remained silent. That expression in her eyes. Again it struck him with unusual force. His desire for her raged through him. His heart thudded, an internal shaking gripped him. It took all of his self-control to remain seated, to stay away from her. Then he knew what he must do—he must get up, walk out, leave her. But he found he could not move.

They gazed at each other.

Paula saw his love, no longer concealed, leaping out from his brilliantly black eyes. Instantaneously Shane saw her love fully revealed, saw the yearning on her face, the longing and desire that hitherto had been only his to disguise, to withhold.

The shock of recognition transfixed him.

And then with sureness, absolute certainty, they moved at precisely the same moment.

They were in each other's arms. Their mouths met. Her lips were warm and soft and they parted slightly, welcomed him. Their tongues grazed, caressed, lay still. He pushed her down onto the mound of pillows, his left hand holding the nape of her neck, his right smoothing her hair away from her face, stroking her cheek, her long neck. Her hands pressed into his shoulder blades, then moved up into his hair, strong and firm on his scalp. He began to kiss her as he had wanted to kiss her for so long, with passion and force, his mouth hard and demanding on hers, his tongue thrusting, their breath, their saliva, mingling. But unexpectedly his kisses became gentle, tender, as he moved his hand onto her breast. He held it firmly, then slowly stroked it until the nipple sprang up hard under his fingers. His heart was slamming against hers.

They pulled apart at last, their breathing labored. He looked down into her face. His eyes impaled hers. She reached up, touched his face, traced one finger across the line of his long upper lip under the mustache.

Shane stood up, undressed rapidly, flung his clothes onto the chair. Paula did the same, and they came together on the sofa with extreme urgency, their hands clutching at each other. He took her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest, kissing her face, her hair, her shoulders. Then he pushed himself up on one elbow, bent over her. How well he knew this body. He had watched it grow from infant to child to young woman. But he had never seen it like this—entirely naked, every inch of it exposed to him, waiting for him. He let his hand slide down over her high, firm breasts, onto her flat stomach, along the edge of her outer thigh, then her inner thigh, smoothing, caressing, touching every part of her until they came to rest on that soft black vee of hair that concealed the core of her womanhood. He covered it with his entire hand, moved his body so that he could rest his face against her thigh. His fingers seemed to move of their own accord, gently seeking, probing, learning her. And finally he brought his mouth down to join with his fingers in their tender exploration.

Shane felt her immediately stiffen. He stopped, lifted his head, stared up along the slender stretch of her body, met her widening eyes. She was watching him intently, her expression baffled, alarmed. He smiled. So much for her marriage. His way of loving her, giving her pleasure, was seemingly new, and most transparently so. This sudden insight, the thought of her inexperience, delighted and thrilled him. At least no other man had touched her thus.

Her tenseness increased. She tried to raise herself on her elbows, opened her mouth to speak.

He murmured, "Be still, let me love you."

"But you, what about you?" she whispered.

"What's a few more minutes after all the years I've waited for you."

Paula fell back against the cushions, sighing lightly. She closed her eyes, let her body go limp, allowed him to do as he wished with her. Her senses were beginning to reel, not only from the suddenness with which they had come together, but from his passion and sensuality. The way Shane was kissing and touching every part of her was unfamiliar, erotic. With his knowledge, expertise, and sensitivity he knew exactly how to arouse her fully. He excited her as she had never been excited before, and she opened up to him uninhibit-edly. Quiver upon quiver ran through her as his mouth and fingers loved her with delicacy, then fervency, and always with consummate skill. They seemed to transmit a scorching heat, struck the core of her being with an exquisite sensation that she had never known had existed until this moment. The heat was spreading, searing her body. "Oh, Shane, Shane, please don't stop," she gasped, unaware that she had spoken.

He could not answer unless he stopped, and he could not stop now. He was being carried along by her mounting excitement.

It matched his own. He was aroused as he had never been before, and her desire for him was thrilling, a powerful aphrodisiac. He intensified his concentration on er, savoring the warmth of her, bringing her to the pinnacle of ecstasy. He knew that any moment she would spasm. She did, and he lifted himself on top of her, joined himself to her with a power and force that made them both cry out. She clung to him, screamed his name. He brought his mouth down hard on hers. She cleaved to him, her body arching. They began to move in unison, their mutual passion rising.

Shane opened his eyes. The room was brilliant with light. And he who had so recently craved darkness now wanted that, light... blinding, glittering light. He wanted to see her face, catch every flicker of emotion that crossed it, needed to know that it truly was she whom he was loving. He pushed himself up, his hands braced on each side of her, and she lifted her lids, staring into his face. He stared back. He began to move again and with rapidity and she followed his lead and not once did his searching eyes leave hers. Suddenly he slowed the rhythm, wanting to prolong their joining.

He suddenly understood that this went far, far beyond mere sexual possession. He was possessing her soul, her heart, her mind, as she was possessing his. She was his dreamlike child of his childhood dreams... in his arms at last... truly his at last. She belonged to him now. He held the world in his arms. The pain he had lived with ceased abruptly. His old life fell away... down... down... into a dark void... A new life was beginning... he was someone entirely new. He was a complete man... made whole as he came up... up into the blinding, blinding light where she waited in the center of the radiance.

They were mesmerized by each other. Their eyes locked, became wider as their scrutiny intensified. They looked deeper, deeper still, endeavoring to convey the extent and strength of their emotions, and they saw into infinity, saw their own souls

and each other's. And everything was made clear.

She is my life, he thought. And oh the blessed peace of it.

She thought: There is only Shane. There only ever has been Shane.

He started to move against her, slowly at first and then more urgently and without restraint. She matched him, was as unrestrained as he. Their bodies entwined. Their mouths joined. They became one.

As he felt his life's essence flowing through him into her, he cried out, "I love you, I have always loved you, I will love you until the day I die."

Shane's bedroom was much larger and more spacious than the one he had given her, but it was warm because the entire barn was centrally heated.

As in her room, a huge brass bed dominated the space. Paula now lay propped up against the mound of snowy pillows, a down comforter tucked around her chest, only her bare shoulders revealed. She sighed, filled with contentment and an extraordinary feeling of inner peace, and of completeness. The physical release she had experienced with Shane was wholly new to her. She had never achieved satisfaction before, and she marveled at him, at herself, and at their lovemaking. How unselfish and tender he was, and oh how she had responded to his emotion, to his yearning desire for her. And because of his genuine understanding of her, his caring, their loving had been natural, uninhibited, full of exultation and joyousness, a true bonding in every way.

When they finally doused the lights in the main room and crept upstairs carrying their clothes, she had believed their mutual passion was entirely spent. Exhausted, they had lain here in this great bed, their bodies touching, holding hands under the sheet, and they had not stopped talking. And then quite suddenly their desire for each other had flared unexpectedly, and they had made love for the second time with the same urgent need and breathlessness.

Shane had turned on the lamp, thrown back the bedclothes, telling her he must look at her, know that it was really she, must witness the emotions he was evoking in her. The kissing, the touching had been unhurried and voluptuous, and again he had brought her to that blissful state of fulfillment before taking her to him, and had led her into new regions, murmuring what he wanted, showing her how to further excite him, love him as he had loved her. And she had done so willingly, lovingly, taking pleasure from his pleasure. But he had stopped her when he was on the brink, had pulled her on top of him, his body thrusting upward to join with hers. And together they had reached greater heights of rapture than the first time.

Shane had finally switched off the lamp and, wrapped in each other's arms, they had tried to sleep, but it had eluded them. They were too keyed up and conscious of each other, needed to prolong their newfound intimacy. And so they had begun to talk in the dark, and then a few minutes ago Shane had gone downstairs to make tea for them.

Paula leaned forward and glanced at the clock on the small campaign chest at his side of the bed. It was nearly four. We made love endlessly, she thought, but not mindlessly. Oh no, not mindlessly at all. She had not realized until tonight how beautiful the sexual union between a man and a woman could be. In fact, she had always thought that sex was not what it was cracked up to be. How wrong she had been. But it has to be the right man with the right woman, she said under her breath. She sank into the pillows, another sigh escaping as she waited for Shane to come back.

He did so a moment or two later, carrying a laden tray and singing at the top of his voice.

"Who do you think you are? A pop star?" she cried, sitting up in bed, grinning at him.

His answer was to gyrate his body at her several times and leer in an exaggerated fashion.

He brought her the mug of tea and the plate of ginger biscuits she had requested, put his own tea and chocolate biscuits on his bedside chest. Continuing to hum the melody, he slipped off his robe, threw it across a nearby chair.

She looked at his broad back, massive shoulders, and strong arms, and admiringly so. He was a big, well-built man, and she had seen him in swimming trunks for years. So why did his powerful physique seem so startling to her tonight? Because now she really knew him? Because she had learned about his body as he had hers, and in the most intimate way?

As he swung around he noticed that she was staring at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was just thinking I've never seen you so brown." She giggled. "But you've got a white bottom."

"And you too, madame, will have a brown back and a white bottom by this time next week." He strode over to the bed, unself-conscious in his nakedness, and got in next to her, kissed her cheek. "If I've got anything to do with it, that is."

"Oh," was all she said, gazing at him.

"Yes. I have to go to Barbados on Tuesday. Come with me, Paula." His eyes appealed.

"Oh, Shane, what a lovely idea. Of course, I'll come with you." Her face instantly dropped. "But I couldn't get away until Wednesday."

"That's all right." He turned to get his mug of tea, took a sip. "It'll give me a chance to do some of my work. Actually, I will have to spend some time every morning in the administrative offices. But we'll have the afternoons... and all those beautiful nights." His smile was suggestive, his dancing black eyes wickedly teasing.

She said, with a small smile, "I've been dying to go to Barbados—to see the Harte boutique."

'He lifted his brows. "Aha, so that's why you agreed, and so readily. And I thought you were after my body again."

Paula gave him a light, playful punch on his arm. "Oh, you!" She drank her tea. It tasted good, hot and refreshing. And she felt good. No, wonderful. And filled with wonderment. She reached out, took a chocolate biscuit from the plate on his lap, munched it, then took another.

"I wonder what a psychiatrist would make of that?" Shane said.

"Make of what?"

"This constant desire of yours to eat off my plate. You've been doing it all of your life, and perhaps it has some hidden sexual meaning. Do you think it's a form of oral gratification, linked in some way to me and your feelings for me?"

She threw back her head and laughed, enjoying him, being with him. "I don't know. And I'll try to stop doing it, but childhood habits are hard to break. As a matter of fact, very seriously, I've really got to curb my appetite. I haven't stopped eating since I've been with you. Anyone would think I've been on a starvation diet."

Shane merely smiled, thought: You have, my darling, in more ways than you know.

They finished their tea and biscuits, continuing to chat about the trip to Barbados, and Shane was delighted she was so obviously thrilled and excited about the prospect of spending five days with him in the sun. At one moment Shane got out of bed, found his cigarettes, and opened the window. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" he asked, climbing back into bed.

"Not at all." Paula edged closer to him, so that their legs touched and their shoulders grazed, -wanting the closeness of him.

"Happy, darling?" he asked, glancing at her through the corner of his eye.

"Very happy. Are you?"

"As never before."

There was a short silence, then Paula confessed, "I've never made love like that before."

"I know you haven't."

"Was it that obvious... my inexperience?"

He chuckled, squeezed her hand, said nothing.

She said, "But you're very experienced, Shane." She stole a look at his face. Jealousy, an unfamiliar feeling, trickled through her. "You've had a lot of women."

He was not certain if this last remark was a question or a statement. "You've heard all the gossip about me and my romantic escapades over the years."

"The stories were all true, then?"

"Yes."

"Why not me, Shane?"

"That's fairly obvious, easy to answer. Because of Emma and Blackie, their relationship, the closeness and involvement of our two families. But even if I'd understood my true feelings for you, Paula, I wouldn't have dared come near you, tried to make love to you. I'd have been skinned alive, and you know I would." He thought of Dorothea Mallet's words, added, "Before your marriage, you were sort of—well, the crown princess of the three clans. And, therefore, inviolate. A man doesn't sleep with a woman like you, have an affair with her. He proposes marriage. Sadly, regrettably, I didn't know that I wanted you desperately, or how I felt about you when you were available, unattached. I was too close to you, I suppose."

"I understand." She looked at his face. A feeling of possessiveness came over her, and the jealousy intensified. She asked softly, "Those other women... did you make love with them the same way you made love with me tonight?"

He was momentarily startled by the question. He was on the verge of lying, not wishing to hurt or upset her, and then he knew he should be honest. Opting for the cold truth, he said, "Yes, sometimes, but not always, not with all of them. You and I made love in the most personal and intimate way there is, Paula. Most of my former girlfriends didn't arouse that kind of desire, that need in me—as you do. Oral sex is... well, extremely intimate, as I just said. I've got to be very emotionally committed to want that." He half-smiled.

"It's not something I have ever been able to do indiscriminately, Paula."

She nodded. "I think that it probably springs from the urge and the desire and the compulsion to totally possess the other person."

"Oh yes, yes, it does." He gave her a penetrating glance.

"Since you've been in New York—" She paused, hating herself for prying, but she could not help it. She cleared her throat. "Have you had a lot of affairs?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because of you." Shane drew on his cigarette, exhaled, said, "My bedroom liaisons have been pretty disastrous ever since the day I understood that I loved you." He turned his head, looked deeply into her eyes. "Actually, I've had a lot of trouble in that direction... Ive been impotent."

He saw the surprise and dismay cross her face. She stiffened against him slightly, but she said not one word.

Shane went on, "I managed to make it occasionally, if the room was dark and my partner did not shatter my fragile fantasy... my fantasy that it was you whom I was with. If I could hold the image of you in my mind, then it was all right. But for the most part it's been bloody difficult."

Without mentioning names, he told her then about his experience in Harrogate the afternoon of the christening, and recounted other devastating incidents. He felt neither shame nor embarrassment talking to Paula in this most self-revealing manner. He was glad to unburden himself, and as he continued to speak he acknowledged that he was only following his old pattern of confiding in her, sharing his secrets with her as he had when they were children.

Once he had finished, Paula reached up, put her arms around his neck, held him close. "Oh, Shane, Shane darling, I'm so sorry I caused you such pain and heartache."

He.stroked her head, pressed it closer to his shoulder with one hand. "It was hardly your fault." He then asked softly, "When did you discover how you felt about me?"

"I've been very conscious of you since I came to New York. Last night, then again this evening, the strangest feelings began to stir in me. I realized I desired you sexually, wanted you to make love to me, and I to you. Suddenly—when we were talking after Elaine and Sonny left—it dawned on me that I was in love with you."

He did not speak for a few seconds, then he said, "I didn't bring you up here to seduce you, Pau—"

"I know that!"

"I just wanted to be with you, spend time with you. I've missed you very much." There was a short pause. "I've had a golden rule for years—no married women. I never wanted to take something that belonged to another man."

"I believe I belong to myself," she said.

Shane was silent. He was eaten up with curiosity about her marriage, and his jealousy of Jim was rife, but he was reluctant to embark on this subject, afraid of spoiling the mood that presently existed between them.

Paula remarked evenly, "Surely you know I wouldn't be here with you like this, Shane, if I were happy in my marriage."

"Jesus, Paula, of course I do! You're not promiscuous. I know you'd never play around just for the sake of it." He scowled, eyed her closely through his narrowed gaze. "It's not working, then?"

"No. I've tried, Shane, God knows I've tried. I'm not blaming Jim. I think it takes two to create a disaster. I don't hate him, he's not a bad person. We're not right together, that's all there is to it. We're incompatible in every way." She bit her inner lip. "I'd like to leave it at that... for tonight, anyway. All of a sudden I don't want to talk about my marriage."

"I know, darling, I know."

For a short while they were silent, lost in their own reflections. But eventually Paula murmured, "Oh, Shane, what a mess I've made. If only we could turn the clock back."

"Ah, but that's not possible... and time is not so important, you know. And you mustn't think about yesterday or tomorrow, only today. Anyway, time isn't portioned out and then encased in little capsules. Time is like a river. The past, the present, the future all flow together to become one long continuing and never-ending stream. We get echoes of the past every day of our lives, and we see images of the future as we live in the present. Time gone and time yet to come is all around us, Paula, and time is a dimension unto itself."

She looked up into his familiar and well-loved face, and in her mind's eye she saw the man as he had been as a boy, recalled his preoccupation with the Celt in himself and his Celtic forebears and Celtic legend. That old dreamy look born of his mysticism filled his eyes, and his deep introspection was evidence in his expression and she knew that he was lost somewhere in the far, far distant past. And then he blinked, gave her a funny little lopsided smile—one she remembered so well. The man instantly became that small boy at Heron's Nest, and their, childhood was all around them, encompassing them, filling this room. And she knew that Shane was correct in the things he had said about time being like a flowing river, and she reached out and touched his arm and told him this.

He said slowly, thoughtfully, "And there's another thing, Paula. Life has its own intricate pattern... There is a grand design, really. What has already happened in our lives was meant to happen, Perhaps to show us the way, lead us to each other. And the future is already here with us, now, at this very moment, whether we're aware of it or not." He put his hand under her chin, lifted her face to his, looked deeply into her eyes. "And we're not going to think about anything except this weekend. We'll take each "day after that as it comes." He leaned into her, kissed her lightly, drew back. "Don't look so serious. Life has a way of taking care of itself, and I have a feeling that we are going to do just fine together."

Her throat tightened with a rush of emotion. She clung to him, whispered, "I love you so much, Shane. How could I.have ever not known that!"

"You do now, and that's all that matters, isn't it?"