Gabriel's Rapture Page 6

  He took the phone from her hand and gazed at an exquisite painting. In it, St. Francesca Romana cradled an infant child with the assistance of the Virgin Mary, while an angel looked on.

  “It’s beautiful.” He returned her phone.

  “Gabriel,” she said softly. “Look at the painting.”

  He did. And the strangest feeling passed over him.

  She began to speak in a low voice. “I’ve always loved this painting. I thought it was because there are similarities between Gentileschi and Caravaggio. But it’s more than that. St. Frances lost some of her children to the plague. This painting is supposed to portray one of her visions of what happened to those children.”

  She searched Gabriel’s eyes to see if he grasped her meaning. But he hadn’t.

  “When I look at this painting, I think of your baby, Maia. Grace is holding her, surrounded by angels.” Julia pointed to the figures in the painting. “See? The baby is safe and loved. That’s what Paradise is like. You don’t have worry.”

  Julia looked up into his face. His pained, beautiful face. Gabriel had tears in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to comfort you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping him tightly.

  Eventually, he wiped at his eyes. He hid his face in her hair, feeling grateful and relieved.

  The following afternoon, the rain stopped. So the couple took a taxi up to the Piazzale Michelangelo, which provided a sweeping view of the city. They could have taken a city bus like regular people, but Gabriel was not like regular people.

  (Few Dante specialists are.)

  “What did Rachel say in her email?” he asked as they admired the tiled roof of the Duomo.

  Julia fidgeted with her fingernails. “She and Aaron said hello. They wanted to know if we were happy.”

  Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all?”

  “Um, no.”

  “So?”

  She shrugged. “They said that Scott had a girlfriend. That was about it.”

  “Good for Scott.” He chuckled. “Was there anything else?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  He cocked his head to one side. “Because I can tell when you’re hiding something.”

  He began to run his fingers up and down the soft flesh at her waist, a particularly ticklish spot.

  “You aren’t going to do that in public.”

  “Oh, yes I am.” He grinned and began moving his fingers with purpose, trying to tickle her.

  She started giggling and trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her close.

  “Come on, Julianne. Tell me what Rachel said.”

  “Stop tickling,” she gasped, “and I’ll tell you.”

  Gabriel stilled his hands.

  She took a deep breath. “She wanted to know if we’d, um, slept together.”

  “Oh, really?” His lips turned up into a half-smile. “And what did you say?”

  “I told the truth.”

  He searched her eyes. “Anything else?”

  “She said she hoped you were behaving yourself and that I was happy. And I said yes—on both counts.” She waited for a moment, thinking about whether or not she should mention the email from a certain Vermont farm boy.

  “But there’s something else. Go ahead.” He was still smiling indulgently.

  “Well, Paul emailed me.”

  Gabriel scowled. “What? When?”

  “The day of your lecture.”

  “Why didn’t you mention this before?” he fumed.

  “Because of this.” She gestured to the irritation visible on his face. “I knew it would upset you, and I didn’t want to do that when you had to speak in front of a room full of important people.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said that you passed Christa’s dissertation proposal.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “He wished me a Merry Christmas and said that he was sending something to me in Selinsgrove.”

  Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s my friend. It’s probably maple syrup, which I will gladly give to my dad. Paul knows that I have a boyfriend and that I am very, very happy. I’ll forward the email to you, if you like.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Gabriel’s lips thinned visibly.

  Julia crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You were eager to have me spend time with Paul when Professor Pain was around.”

  “That was different. And I don’t particularly wish to discuss her ever again.”

  “Easy for you to say. You don’t keep running into people I’ve slept with.”

  Gabriel glared.

  Julia clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to say.”

  “As you may recall, I have run into at least one person with whom you’ve been sexually involved.”

  He turned and walked away, approaching the edge of the lookout. She gave him a moment or two to himself, then she stood beside him and cautiously wrapped her little finger around his. “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Thank you for rescuing me from Simon.”

  Gabriel scowled. “You know that I have a past. Do you intend to keep bringing it up?”

  She lowered her gaze to her shoes. “No.”

  “That remark was beneath you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He kept his eyes trained on the city that was spread out before them. Red tiled roofs shone in the sun, while Brunelleschi’s dome dominated the view.

  Julia decided to change the subject. “Christa was behaving strangely at your last seminar. She seemed resentful. Do you think she knows about us?”

  “She’s sour because I haven’t welcomed her outrageous advances. But she met the deadline for her revised proposal and her work was acceptable.”

  “So she wasn’t—blackmailing you?”

  “Not every woman is your rival for me,” he snapped, pushing away her hand.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “That remark was beneath you.”

  After a moment, the anger seemed to seep out of him. His shoulders slumped. “Forgive me.”

  “Let’s not waste our time together arguing.”

  “Agreed. But I don’t like the idea of Paul emailing you. Although I suppose you could be friends with worse persons.” Gabriel sounded unusually prim.

  She smiled and pressed her lips to his cheek. “There’s the Professor Emerson I know and love.”

  He pulled out his phone so he could take her picture against the background of the beautiful view. Julia was laughing, and he was taking picture after picture when his phone began to ring. The not so dulcet tones of London’s Big Ben sounded between them.

  Julia gave him a challenging look.

  He grimaced and pulled her into an intense kiss. He cupped her face with his hand, determinedly parting her lips with his own and gently slipping his tongue inside.

  She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him closer. And all the while, Big Ben chimed.

  “You aren’t going to answer it?” she finally got a chance to ask.

  “No. I told you earlier, I wasn’t going to speak to her.”

  He pressed his lips to Julia’s once again, but only briefly.

  “I feel sorry for her,” Julia said.

  “Why?”

  “Because she created a child with you. Because she still wants you, but she’s lost you. If I were to lose you to someone else, I’d be devastated.”

  Gabriel huffed impatiently. “You aren’t going to lose me. Stop that.”

  Julia smiled weakly. “Um, I need to say something.”

  He moved back.

  “This is coming from my concern for you. I want you to know that.” She looked at him in earnest. “I feel sorry for Paulina, but it’s clear that she’s been holding what happened over your head in order to keep you in her life. I’m wondering if she gets into trouble just
so you’ll rescue her. I think it’s time for her to develop an emotional attachment to someone else. Someone she can fall in love with.”

  “I don’t disagree,” he said stiffly.

  “What if she can’t be happy until she lets you go? You let her go and you found me. It would be a mercy on your part for you to let her go so she can find her own happiness.”

  Gabriel nodded grimly and kissed her forehead but refused to say anything more on the subject.

  The rest of their stay in Florence was a happy one, a counterfeit honeymoon of a sort. They frequented various churches and museums during the day, in between returns to their hotel, where they would make love sometimes slowly and sometimes madly. Every evening Gabriel would choose a different restaurant for dinner, and they would walk home afterward, pausing on one of the bridges to make out like teenagers in the cool evening air.

  On their last evening in Florence, Gabriel took Julia to Caffé Concerto, one of his favorite restaurants, which was positioned on the banks of the Arno. They spent several hours over a multi-course dinner, leisurely talking about their holiday and their burgeoning sexual relationship. They both confessed that the past week had been an awakening of sorts—for Julia, an awakening to the mysteries of eros; for Gabriel, an awakening to the mysteries of the four loves intertwined.

  In conversation, he finally revealed his surprise. He’d rented a villa in Umbria for their second week of holidays. He promised to take her to Venice and Rome on their next vacation, possibly in the summer after they visited Oxford.

  After dinner, Gabriel led her one last time to the Duomo. “I need to kiss you,” he whispered, pulling her body close to his.

  She was going to reply, she was going to tell him to take her to the hotel and mark her body in a deeper way, but she was interrupted.

  “Beautiful lady! Some money for an old man…” A voice called to her in Italian from the front steps of the Duomo.

  Unthinkingly, Julia leaned around Gabriel to discover who was speaking. The man continued, begging for money so he could buy something to eat.

  Gabriel caught her arm before she could approach the steps. “Come away, love.”

  “But he’s hungry. And it’s so cold.”

  “The police will come around and carry him off. They don’t like panhandlers in the city center.”

  “People are free to come and sit on the steps of a church. Sanctuary…” she mused.

  “The medieval concept of sanctuary no longer exists. Western governments abolished it, starting with England in the seventeenth century.” Gabriel grumbled as she opened her purse and withdrew a twenty Euro note.

  “So much?” He frowned.

  “It’s all I have. And look, Gabriel.” She gestured to the man’s crutches.

  “A clever ruse,” he complained.

  Julia fixed her lover with a very disappointed look. “I know what it’s like to be hungry.” She took a step in the beggar’s direction but Gabriel pulled her back.

  “He’ll spend the money on wine or drugs. It isn’t going to help him.”

  “Even a drug addict deserves a little kindness.”

  Gabriel flinched.

  She looked over at the beggar. “St. Francis of Assisi didn’t make his charity conditional. He gave to whoever asked.”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to win an argument with Julianne when she invoked St. Francis. No one could win against that kind of argument.

  “If I give him something, he will know that someone cared enough to help him. No matter what he does with the money that will be a good thing. Don’t deprive me of an opportunity to give.” She tried to step around Gabriel but he blocked her path. He took the bill from her hand and added something to it from his own pocket, then he handed the money to the beggar.

  The two men had a quiet exchange in Italian, and the poor man blew kisses to Julia and tried in vain to shake Gabriel’s hand.

  He retreated, taking her arm and leading her away.

  “What did he say?”

  “He asked me to thank the angel for her mercy.”

  Julia stopped him so she could kiss at his frown until it morphed into a smile. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not the angel he was referring to,” he growled, kissing her in return.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, a limousine met the happy couple at the train station in Perugia. The driver conveyed them down the winding roads to an estate near Todi, a medieval village.

  “Is this the villa?” Julia was in awe as they traveled up the long, private drive to what looked like a mansion on a hill. It was a three-story stone structure that sat on several acres of land dotted with cypress and olive trees.

  As they drove, Gabriel pointed out a large mixed-fruit orchard that in warmer weather grew figs, peaches, and pomegranates. Nestled beside the villa was an infinity pool surrounded by a bed of lavender. Julia could almost smell the fragrance from inside the car, and she vowed at that moment to gather a few sprigs to perfume the sheets of their bed.

  “Do you like it?” He searched her face eagerly, hoping that she would be pleased.

  “I love it. When you said you were renting a villa, I didn’t think it would be so opulent.”

  “Wait till you see inside. They have a fireplace and a hot tub on the upstairs balcony.”

  “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

  “Who said anything about needing a bathing suit?” He moved his eyebrows suggestively, and Julia laughed.

  A black Mercedes sat in the driveway so they could visit the neighboring villages, including Assisi, which was a destination of particular interest for Julia.

  The housekeeper of the villa had stocked the kitchen with food and wine in anticipation of their arrival. Julia rolled her eyes when she discovered several bottles of imported cranberry juice in the pantry.

  Professor Gabriel “Overprotective” Emerson strikes again.

  “What do you think?” he asked, settling his hands on her waist as they stood together in the large, fully equipped kitchen.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “I was worried you wouldn’t like being in the middle of Umbria. But I thought it would be good for us to spend some quiet time together.”

  Julia arched an eyebrow. “Our times together usually aren’t quiet, Professor.”

  “That’s because you drive me mad with desire.” He gave her an impassioned kiss.

  “Let’s stay in tonight. We can cook together, if you like, and maybe relax by the fire.”

  “Sounds good.” She kissed him once again.

  “I’ll carry the luggage upstairs while you explore the house. The hot tub is on the terrace just outside the master bedroom. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

  She acquiesced with a smile.

  “Oh, and, Miss Mitchell…”

  “Yes?”

  “No clothes for the rest of the evening.”

  She squealed and scampered up the stairs.

  Not only was the house tastefully decorated in various shades of cream and white, but it boasted a very romantic master bedroom on the second floor that was punctuated by a canopy bed. Julia found herself trying the bed out just for a moment before taking her toiletry case into the washroom.

  She unpacked her makeup and placed her shampoo and bath gel in the large, open shower. She pinned her hair up and took off all her clothes, wrapping herself in an ivory towel. She’d never skinny dipped before, but she was looking forward to it.

  As she folded her clothes and placed them on the vanity, she heard music coming from the bedroom. She recognized the song “Don’t Know Why” by Norah Jones. Gabriel thought of everything.

  His voice outside the bathroom door reconfirmed that. “I brought up some antipasti and a bottle of wine, in case you’re hungry. See you outside.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” she called.

  Julia looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and her cheeks
were a healthy pink. She was in love. She was happy. And she was (she thought) about to christen the hot tub with her beloved underneath a darkening Umbrian sky.

  On her way to the terrace, she saw Gabriel’s discarded clothes hanging over the back of a chair. The cold evening breeze wafted in through the open door, ruffling her hair, making the pink of her skin pinker still. Gabriel was naked and waiting for her.

  She walked out onto the terrace and waited until she had his complete attention. Then she dropped the towel.

  * * *

  Near Burlington, Vermont, Paul Virgil Norris was wrapping Christmas presents at his parents’ kitchen table: presents for his family, for his sister, and finally, for the woman for whom his heart pined.

  It was, perhaps, surprising to see a two-hundred-pound rugby player with bolts of Christmas wrap and Scotch tape, painstakingly measuring before he put scissors to paper. A bottle of maple syrup, a stuffed toy Holstein, and two figurines were proudly arranged in front of him. The figurines were a curiosity, something he’d found in a comic book store in Toronto. One was supposed to be Dante, dressed as a crusading soldier with St. George’s cross on his chain mail chest, while the other was a blond-haired, blue-eyed anachronism of a Beatrice in the garb of a medieval princess.

  Sadly, the toy company neglected to make a Virgil action figure. (Virgil, apparently, was not worthy of action.) Paul begged to differ, and so he decided to write to the toy company to alert them to their regrettable oversight.

  He wrapped each item carefully and placed them in a cardboard box with bubble wrap. He signed a Christmas card with a few words, trying desperately to sound casual in order to disguise his growing feelings, and taped the box shut, neatly addressing it to Miss Julianne Mitchell.

  * * *

  After a very enjoyable time in the hot tub, Gabriel prepared an Umbrian dinner. Bruschetta con pomodoro e basilico, tagliatelle with olive oil and black truffles from the villa’s estate, and a cheese course with local artisan cheeses and bread. They ate their fill, laughing and drinking a fine white wine from Orvieto in the candlelight. After dinner, Gabriel made a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the living room fireplace.