Gabriel's Inferno: Gabriel's Rapture Part 2

Julia's second email was from Paul. It could be said that he pined for her, but also he was grateful to have maintained their friends.h.i.+p. He would rather keep his longings to himself than to lose her entirely. And he had to admit that since she'd begun seeing her boyfriend Owen, her very skin glowed.

(Not that he would have mentioned it.) Hey Julia, Sorry I didn't get the chance to say good-bye before you went home. I hope you have a good Christmas. I have a gift for you. Would you give me your address in Pennsylvania so I can send it?

I'm back at the farm trying to find time to work on my dissertation in between large family gatherings and getting up early to help my dad. Let's just say my daily routine involves a lot of manure...

Can I bring you something from Vermont?

A Holstein of your very own?

Merry Christmas, Paul.

P.S. Did you hear that Christa Peterson's dissertation proposal was accepted by Emerson?

I guess Advent really is the season of miracles.

Julia stared at the computer screen, reading and re-reading Paul's postscript. She wasn't sure what to make of it. It was possible, she thought, that Gabriel accepted Christa's proposal because she threatened him.

Julia didn't want to bring up such an unpleasant topic during their vacation, but the news troubled her. She typed a short reply to Paul, giving him her address, then she emailed her father, telling him that Gabriel was treating her like a princess. She closed the laptop and sighed.

"That doesn't sound like a happy Julianne." Gabriel's voice sounded behind her.

"I think I'm going to ignore my email for the rest of our trip."

"Good idea."

She turned to find him standing in front of her, wet from the shower, hair tousled, a white towel wound around his hips.

"You're beautiful," she blurted before thinking.

He chuckled and pulled her to her feet so he could embrace her. "Do you have a thing for men in towels, Miss Mitch.e.l.l?"

"Maybe for one particular man."

"Are you feeling all right?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly, his expression hungry.

"I'm a little uncomfortable. But it was worth it."

His eyes narrowed. "You need to tell me if I'm hurting you, Julianne. Don't hide things from me."

She rolled her eyes. "Gabriel, it doesn't hurt; it's merely uncomfortable. I didn't notice it during because there were other things on my mind-several other things. You were very distracting."

He smiled and kissed her neck loudly. "You need to let me start distracting you in the shower. I'm tired of showering alone."

"I'd like that. How are you feeling?"

He pretended to ponder her question. "Let's see-loud, hot s.e.x with my beloved inside and outside...Yes, I'd say I'm great."

He hugged her close, and the cotton of her robe absorbed some of the water droplets from his skin. "I promise it won't always be uncomfortable. In time, your body will recognize me."

"It already recognizes you. And misses you," she whispered.

Gabriel moved the top of her robe aside so he could kiss the slope of her shoulder. With a gentle squeeze, he walked to the bed, retrieving a bottle of ibuprofen and handing it to her.

"I have to run over to the Uffizi for a meeting, then I have to pick up my new suit at the tailor's." He appeared concerned. "Would you mind shopping for a dress by yourself? I'd go with you, but my meeting won't leave me with much time."

"Not at all."

"If you can be ready in half an hour, we can walk out together."

Julia followed Gabriel into the bathroom, all thoughts of Christa and Paul forgotten.

After her shower, she stood in front of one of the vanities, drying her hair while Gabriel stood at the other. She found herself glancing over at him, watching as he carried out his shaving preparations with military precision. Finally, she gave up putting on lipstick and simply leaned against the sink, staring.

He was still naked to the waist, the towel now low on his hips, as he painstakingly shaved in the cla.s.sical style. His brilliant blue eyes narrowed in concentration behind his black gla.s.ses, his damp hair impeccably combed.

Julia suppressed a laugh at the degree to which his quest for perfection was manifested. Gabriel used a shaving brush with a black wooden handle to mix European shaving soap into a thick lather. After spreading the foam on his face with the brush, he shaved using an antiquated safety razor.

(For some professors, disposable razors simply aren't good enough.) "What?" He turned, noticing that she was perilously close to ogling him.

"I love you."

His expression softened. "I love you too, darling."

"You're the only non-British person I've ever heard use the term darling."

"That isn't true."

"It isn't?"

"Richard used to call Grace that." Gabriel gave her a sad look.

"Richard is old-fas.h.i.+oned, in the best sense." She smiled. "I love the fact that you're old-fas.h.i.+oned too."

Gabriel snorted and continued shaving. "I'm not so old-fas.h.i.+oned, or I wouldn't be making mad pa.s.sionate love with you outside. And fantasizing about introducing you to some of my favorite positions from the Kama sutra." He winked at her. "But I am a pretentious old b.a.s.t.a.r.d and a devil to live with. You'll have to tame me."

"And how shall I do that, Professor Emerson?"

"Never leave." His voice dropped, and he turned to face her.

"I'm more worried about losing you."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

Chapter 2.

Julia stepped out of the bedroom, feeling nervous. Gabriel had made arrangements for her to shop on his account at the local Prada boutique, and she'd chosen a Santorini-blue V-necked, sleeveless dress made of silk taffeta. Its A-line shape boasted a full pleated skirt and was reminiscent of the kind of dress worn by Grace Kelly in the 1950s. It suited Julia perfectly.

However, the boutique manager had wanted the accessories to modernize the dress, and thus she chose a sleek silver leather clutch and a pair of tangerine patent leather stilettos that Julia found perilously high. To complete the ensemble, a black cashmere wrap was provided.

She stood hesitantly in the sitting room, her hair long and loosely curled, her eyes bright and s.h.i.+ning. She wore Grace's diamond earrings and her string of pearls.

Gabriel had been seated on the sofa in the living room, making last minute changes to his lecture notes. When he saw her he took off his gla.s.ses and stood.

"You're stunning." He kissed her cheek and twirled her so he could admire her dress. "Do you like it?"

"I love it. Thank you, Gabriel. I know it cost a fortune."

His gaze drifted down to her shoes.

She blinked. "Is something wrong?"

He cleared his throat as his attention remained riveted to her feet.

"Um...your shoes...they're-ah-"

"Nice. Aren't they?" She giggled.

"They're a good deal more than nice." His voice grew thick.

"Well, Professor Emerson, if I like your lecture, perhaps I'll continue wearing them after..."

Gabriel straightened his tie a little and gave her a c.o.c.ky grin. "Oh, I'll see that you like my lecture, Miss Mitch.e.l.l. Even if I have to deliver it to you personally, between the sheets. And it isn't my bedroom, it's our bedroom."

She blushed, and he pulled her into his arms.

"We should go," he said, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Wait. I have a present for you." She disappeared and returned with a small box that had Prada emblazoned across the top.

He seemed surprised. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

Gabriel smiled and carefully lifted the lid. He pulled back the tissue paper to find a lightly patterned Santorini-blue silk tie.

"I like it. Thank you." He kissed her cheek.

"It matches my dress."

"Now everyone will know that we belong to each other." He immediately removed his green tie, tossing it onto the coffee table, and began tying Julia's gift around his neck.

Gabriel's new suit had been custom made by his favorite local tailor. It was black and single-breasted with side vents. Julia admired the suit a great deal, but even more so, she admired the attractive figure in it.

There is nothing s.e.xier than watching a man put on a tie, she thought.

"May I?" she offered, as Gabriel struggled in the absence of a mirror.

He nodded and bent forward, placing his hands around her waist. She adjusted his tie and fixed his collar, running her hands down his sleeves until they rested on the cufflinks at his wrists.

He gazed at her curiously. "You straightened my tie when I took you to Antonio's. We were sitting in the car."

"I remember."

"There's nothing s.e.xier than having the woman you love fix your tie." He took her hands in his. "We've come a long way since that first night."

She reached up to kiss him, taking care not to sully his masculine mouth with her lipstick.

He brought his lips to her ear. "I don't know how I'm going to keep the Florentine men at bay this evening. You'll have to stay very close to me."

Julia squealed as he put his arms around her, lifting her so he could kiss her properly, which required Julia to reapply her lipstick and both of them to check their appearance in the mirror before they left their room.

Gabriel held her hand during the short walk to the Uffizi and even after they were whisked to the second floor by a rather pudgy gentleman wearing a paisley bow tie who introduced himself as Lorenzo, Dottore Vitali's personal a.s.sistant.

"Professore, I'm afraid we have need of you." Lorenzo glanced between Gabriel and Julia, his eyes darting to their conjoined hands.

Gabriel tightened his grip.

"It's for the-how you say-on the screen? PowerPoint?" Lorenzo gestured to the room behind them where guests were already congregating.

"Miss Mitch.e.l.l has a reserved seat," said Gabriel pointedly, irritated that Lorenzo was ignoring her.

"Yes, Professore. I shall accompany your fidanzata personally." Lorenzo nodded respectfully in Julia's direction.

She opened her mouth to correct his characterization, but Gabriel pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, murmuring a promise against her skin. Then he was gone, and Julia was escorted to her place of honor in the front row.

She took in her surroundings, noting the presence of what looked like members of Florence's glitterati mingling with academics and local dignitaries. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, enjoying the whispering sound of the taffeta beneath her fingers. Given the appearance of the other guests, along with the presence of a bevy of photographers, she was glad that she was well-dressed. She didn't want to embarra.s.s Gabriel on this most important occasion.

The lecture was being delivered in the Botticelli room, which was devoted to the finest of his works. In fact, the lectern was situated in between the Birth of Venus and the Madonna of the Pomegranate, while Primavera hung to the audience's right. The artwork on the wall to the audience's left had been removed, and a large screen had been hung, on which Gabriel's PowerPoint slides would be projected.

She knew how unusual it was to have a lecture in such a special s.p.a.ce and silently said a prayer of thanks for this incredible blessing. When she'd spent her junior year in Florence she'd visited the Botticelli room at least once a week and sometimes more often. She found his art both soothing and inspiring. As a shy American undergraduate, she never would have imagined that, two years later, she would be accompanying a world-renowned Dante specialist as he lectured in that very room. She felt as if she'd won the lottery a thousand times over.

More than one hundred people crowded into the room, some even spilling into the standing area at the back. Julia watched Gabriel as he was introduced to various important looking guests. He was a very attractive man, tall and ruggedly handsome. She especially admired his gla.s.ses and the way his sleek, dark suit fit perfectly.

When he was blocked from her view by other people, she focused her attention on picking out his voice. He chatted amiably, switching seamlessly from Italian to French to German and back to Italian again.

(Even his German was s.e.xy.) She grew warm as she remembered what Gabriel looked like under his suit, his form naked and strained above her. She wondered if he was having similar thoughts whenever he looked at her, and in the midst of her private musings, he made eye contact and winked. His momentary display of playfulness put her in mind of their interlude on the terrace that morning, and a pleasant tremor traveled up and down her spine.

Gabriel sat politely through Dottore Vitali's introduction, which took no less than fifteen minutes as he painstakingly rehea.r.s.ed the professor's accomplishments. To the casual observer, Gabriel appeared relaxed, almost bored. His nervousness was telegraphed by the way he unconsciously shuffled his lecture notes, notes that were merely an outline to the remarks that would come from his heart. He'd made a few last minute changes to his lecture. He couldn't speak of muses, love, and beauty without acknowledging the brown-eyed angel who'd bravely given herself to him the evening before. She was his inspiration, and she'd been so since she was seventeen. Her quiet beauty and generous goodness had touched his heart. He'd carried her image with him as a talisman against the dark demons of addiction. She was everything to him, and by G.o.d, he'd say so publicly.

After much flattery and applause, he took his place behind the podium and addressed the crowd in fluid Italian. "My lecture this evening will be somewhat unusual. I am not an art historian, yet I will be speaking to you about Sandro Botticelli's muse, La Bella Simonetta." At this, his eyes sought Julia's.