Gabriel's Rapture

A

Gabriel’s

Rapture

Sylvain Reynard

OMNIFIC PUBLISHING

DALLAS

Copyright © 2012 by Sylvain Reynard

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

Omnific Publishing

P.O. Box 793871, Dal as, TX 75379

www.omnificpublishing.com

First Omnific eBook edition, May 2012

First Omnific trade paperback edition, May 2012

The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

Any similarity to real persons, living or dead,

is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Reynard, Sylvain.

Gabriel’s Rapture / Sylvain Reynard – 1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-936305-52-0

1. Dante — Romance — Fiction. 2. Contemporary Romance — Fiction.

3. University — Romance. 4. First Love — Fiction. I. Title

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Cover Design by Micha Stone and Amy Brokaw

Interior Book Design by Coreen Montagna

Printed in the United States of America

To my readers,

with gratitude.

Dante following Virgil up the mountain.

Engraving by Gustave Doré, 1870

Prologue

Florence, 1290

The poet dropped the note to the floor with a shaking hand. He

sat for several moments, motionless as a statue. Then, with a

great clenching of teeth, he stood to his feet and swept agitatedly through the house, ignoring tables and fragile items, disdaining the other inhabitants of his home.

There was only one person whom he wished to see.

He strode quickly through the city streets, almost breaking into

a run on his way to the river. He stood at the end of the bridge, their bridge, his moist eyes eagerly scanning the adjacent riverbank for the barest glimpse of his beloved.

She was nowhere to be found.

She would never return.

His beloved Beatrice was gone.

“And of that second kingdom will I sing

Wherein the human spirit doth purge itself,

And to ascend to heaven becometh worthy.”

-Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio, Canto I.004-006.

Chapter 1

Professor Gabriel Emerson was sitting in bed, naked, reading

La Nazione, the Florentine newspaper. He’d awoken early in the Palazzo Vecchio penthouse of the Gallery Hotel Art and ordered room service, but he couldn’t resist returning to bed to watch the young woman sleep. She was on her side facing him, breathing softly, a diamond sparkling on her ear. Her cheeks were pink from the

warmth of the room as their bed was bathed in sunshine from the

floor-to-ceiling windows.

The bed covers were deliciously rumpled, smelling of sex and san-

dalwood. His blue eyes glimmered, traveling lazily over her exposed skin and long, dark hair. As he turned back to his newspaper, she

shifted slightly and moaned. Concerned, he tossed the paper aside.

She brought her knees up to her chest, curling into a ball. Low

murmurings came from her lips, and Gabriel leaned closer so he

could decipher what she was saying. But he couldn’t.

All of a sudden, her body twisted and she let out a heart-wrench-

ing cry. Her arms flailed as she wrestled with the sheet that shrouded her.

“Julianne?” He placed a gentle hand on her bare shoulder, but

she cringed away from him.

She began muttering his name, over and over again, her tone

growing progressively more panicked.

“Julia, I’m here,” he raised his voice. Just as he reached for her again, she sat bolt upright, gasping for air.

“Are you all right?” Gabriel moved closer, resisting the urge to

touch her. She was breathing roughly, and under his watchful gaze, she fanned a shaking hand over her eyes.

Sylvain Reynard

“Julia?”

After a long, tense minute, she looked at him, eyes wide.

He frowned. “What happened?”

She swallowed loudly. “A nightmare.”

“What was it about?”

“I was in the woods behind your parents’ house, back in

Selinsgrove.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows knit together behind his dark-rimmed glasses.

“Why would you dream about that?”

She inhaled, drawing the sheet over her exposed breasts and up

to her chin. The linen was full and white, swallowing her petite frame whole before billowing cloudlike over the mattress. She reminded

him of an Athenian statue.

He ran his fingers gently over her skin. “Julianne, talk to me.”

She squirmed under his piercing blue eyes, but he would not

let her go. “The dream began beautifully. We made love under the

stars, and I fell asleep in your arms. When I woke up you were gone.”

“You dreamed I made love to you, then abandoned you?” His

tone cooled to mask his discomfort.

“I woke up in the orchard without you once,” she reproached

him softly.

The fire in his belly was instantly quenched. He thought back to

the magical evening six years ago when they first met, when they simply talked and held each other. He’d awoken the following morning

and wandered away, leaving a sleeping teenage girl all alone. Surely her anxiety was understandable if not pitiable.

He unwound her clenched fingers one by one and kissed them

repentantly. “I love you, Beatrice. I’m not going to leave you. You know that, right?”

“It would hurt so much more to lose you now.”

With a frown he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pressing

her cheek to his chest. A myriad of memories crowded his mind as

he thought back to what had transpired the evening before. He’d

gazed on her naked form for the first time and initiated her into

the intimacies of lovemaking. She’d shared her innocence with him, and he thought he’d made her happy. Certainly it had been one of

the best evenings of his life. He pondered that fact for a moment.

4

Gabriel’s Rapture

“Do you regret last night?”

“No. I’m glad you were my first. It’s what I wanted since we met.”

He placed his hand on her cheek, tracing her skin with his thumb.

“I’m honored to have been your first.” He leaned forward, his eyes unblinking. “But I want to be your last.”

She smiled and lifted her lips to meet his. Before he could em-

brace her, the chimes of Big Ben filled the room.

“Ignore it,” he whispered fiercely, his arm stretching across her

body, pushing her to recline beneath him.

Her eyes darted over his shoulder to where his iPhone lay on the

desk. “I thought she wasn’t going to call you anymore.”

“I’m not answering, so it doesn’t matter.” He kneeled between her

legs and lifted the sheet from her body. “In my bed, there’s only us.”

She searched his eyes as he began to bring their naked bodies

into closer contact.

Gabriel leaned forward to kiss her, but she turned her head. “I

haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“I don’t care.” He lowered his lips to her neck, kissing across her quickening pulse.

“I’d like to clean up first.”

He huffed in frustration, leaning on one elbow. “Don’t let Paulina ruin what we have.”

“I’m not.” She tried to roll out from under him and take the

sheet with her, but he caught hold of it. He gazed over the rims of his glasses, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I need the sheet to make the bed.”

Her eyes traveled from the white fabric that was clutched between

her fingers, to his face. He looked like a panther waiting to pounce.

She glanced over the side of the bed at the pile of clothes on the floor.

They were beyond her reach.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, stifling a grin.

Julia blushed and gripped the material more tightly. With a

chuckle, he released the sheet and pulled her into his arms.

“You don’t need to be shy. You’re beautiful. If I had my wish,

you’d never wear clothes again.”

He pressed his lips to her earlobe, gently touching the diamond

stud. He was certain his adoptive mother, Grace, would have been

5

Sylvain Reynard

happy that her earrings found their way to Julia. With another brief kiss, he turned away, sliding over to sit on the edge of the bed.

She slipped into the washroom but not before Gabriel caught

sight of her alluring back as she dropped the sheet just outside the door.

While brushing her teeth, she thought about what had transpired.

Making love with Gabriel had been a very emotional experience,

and even now her heart felt the aftershocks. That wasn’t surprising considering their history. She’d wanted him since she spent a chaste night with him in an orchard when she was seventeen, but he’d been gone when she awoke the next morning. He’d forgotten her in the

aftermath of a drunken, drug-induced haze. Six long years passed

before she saw him again, and then, he didn’t remember her.

When she encountered him again on the first day of his graduate

seminar at the University of Toronto, he was attractive but cold, like a distant star. She hadn’t believed then that she’d become his lover.

She hadn’t believed it possible that the temperamental and arrogant Professor would reciprocate her affection.

There were so many things she hadn’t known. Sex was a kind

of knowledge, and now she knew the sting of sexual jealousy in a

manner she’d never experienced before. The mere idea of Gabriel

doing what they’d done with some other woman, and in his case

many other women, made her heart ache.

She knew that Gabriel’s trysts were different from what they’d

shared — that they were assignations not brought about by love or

affection. But he’d undressed them, seen them naked, and entered

their bodies. After being with him, how many of those women craved more? Paulina had. She and Gabriel had maintained contact over the years since they conceived and lost a child together.

Julia’s new understanding of sex changed her view of his past

and made her more sympathetic to Paulina’s plight. And all the

more guarded against losing Gabriel to her or to any other woman.

Julia gripped the edge of the vanity as a wave of insecurity washed over her. Gabriel loved her; she believed this. But he was also a gentleman and would never reveal that their union had left him wanting.

And what of her own behavior? She’d asked questions and talked

when she expected that most lovers would have been silent. She’d

done very little to please him, and when she tried he’d stopped her.

6

Gabriel’s Rapture

Her ex-boyfriend’s words came screaming back at her, swirling

in her mind with condemnation:

You’re frigid.

You’re going to be a lousy lay.

She turned away from the mirror as she contemplated what

might happen if Gabriel was dissatisfied with her. The specter of

sexual betrayal reared its maleficent head, bringing with it visions of finding Simon in bed with her roommate.

She straightened her shoulders. If she could persuade Gabriel to

be patient and to teach her, then she was confident she could please him. He loved her. He would give her a chance. She was his as surely as if he’d branded his name on her skin.

When she stepped into the bedroom she caught sight of him

through the open door to the terrace. On her way, she was distracted by a beautiful vase of dark purple and paler, variegated irises sitting on top of the desk. Some lovers might have purchased long-stemmed

red roses, but not Gabriel.

She opened the card that was nestled amongst the blossoms.

My Dearest Julianne,

Thank you for your immeasurable gift.

The only thing I have of value is my heart.

It’s yours,

Gabriel.

Julia reread the card twice, her heart swelling with love and relief.

Gabriel’s words didn’t sound like they were penned by a man who

was dissatisfied or frustrated. Whatever Julia’s worries, Gabriel didn’t seem to share them.

Gabriel was sunning himself on the futon, his glasses off, his chest gloriously exposed. With his muscular, six-foot-two frame, it was as if Apollo himself had deigned to visit her. Sensing her presence on the terrace, he opened his eyes and patted his lap. She joined him, and his arms enveloped her as he kissed her passionately.

“Why, hello there,” he murmured, brushing a stray tendril back

from her face. He peered at her closely. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

7

Sylvain Reynard

He brushed his lips against hers. “You’re welcome. But you look

troubled. Is it about Paulina?”

“I’m upset that she’s calling you, but no.” Julia’s expression brightened. “Thank you for your card. It said what I desperately wanted

to hear.”

“I’m glad.” He squeezed her more closely. “Tell me what’s both-

ering you.”

She toyed with the belt to her bathrobe for a moment, until he

took her hand in his. She looked at him. “Was last night everything you’d hoped for?”

Gabriel exhaled sharply, for her question had taken him by sur-

prise. “That’s a strange question.”

“I know it had to be different for you. I wasn’t very…active.”

“Active? What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t do much to please you.” She blushed.

He stroked the flushing skin lightly with the tip of his finger.

“You pleased me a great deal. I know you were nervous, but I enjoyed myself tremendously. We belong to one another now — in every way.

What else is troubling you?”

“I demanded that we switch positions when you would have

preferred me on top.”

“You didn’t demand, you asked. Frankly, Julianne, I’d like to hear you demand things of me. I want to know that you want me

as desperately as I want you.” His expression relaxed, and he drew a circle or two around her breast. “You dreamed about your first time being a certain way. I wanted to give that to you, but I was worried.

What if you were uncomfortable? What if I wasn’t careful enough?

Last night was a first for me too.”

He released her, pouring coffee and steamed milk from two

separate carafes into a latté bowl and spreading the tray of food

between them on the banquette. There were pastries and fruit, toast and Nutella, boiled eggs and cheese, and several Baci Perugina Gabriel had bribed a hotel employee to run out and purchase along with the extravagant bouquet of irises from the Giardino dell’Iris.

Julia unwrapped one of the Baci and ate it, eyes closed with pure pleasure. “You ordered a feast.”

8

Gabriel’s Rapture

“I awoke ravenous this morning. I would have waited for you

but…” He shook his head as he picked up a grape and fixed her with a sparkling eye. “Open.”

She opened her mouth, and he popped the grape inside, tracing

his finger temptingly across her lower lip.

“And you must drink this, please.” He handed her a wine glass

filled with cranberry juice and soda.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re overprotective.”

He shook his head. “This is how a man behaves when he’s in

love and he wants his sweetheart healthy for all the sex he plans on having with her.” He winked smugly.

“I’m not going to ask how you know about such things. Give me

that.” She grabbed the glass from his hand and downed it, her eyes focused on his, as he chuckled.

“You’re adorable.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before fixing herself a breakfast

plate.

“How do you feel this morning?” Gabriel’s face grew concerned.

She swallowed a piece of Fontina cheese. “Okay.”

He pressed his lips together firmly, as if her answer displeased him.

“Making love changes things between a man and a woman,” he

prompted.

“Um, aren’t you happy with, uh, what we did?” The pink of her

cheeks faded immediately, leaving her pale.

“Of course I’m happy. I’m trying to find out if you’re happy. And

based upon what you’ve said so far, I’m worried that you aren’t.”

Julia picked at the fabric of her robe, avoiding Gabriel’s probing gaze. “When I was at college the girls on my floor would sit around and talk about their boyfriends. One night they told stories about their first times.” She nibbled at the tip of one of her fingers.

“Only a few of the girls had good things to say. The other stories were awful. One girl had been molested as a child. Some of the

girls had been forced by a boyfriend or a date. Several of them said that their first times were completely awkward and unfulfilling — a boyfriend grunting and finishing quickly. I thought, if that’s all I can hope for, I’d rather stay a virgin.”

9

Sylvain Reynard

“That’s horrible.”

She fixed her eyes on the breakfast tray.

“I wanted to be loved. I decided it would be better to have a

chaste affair of the heart and mind through letters than a sexual

relationship. I had my doubts that I would ever find anyone who

could give me both. Certainly, Simon didn’t love me. Now I’m in a

relationship with a sex god, and I can’t give him anything like the pleasure he gives me.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “Sex god? You’ve said that before,

but believe me, I’m not — ”

She interrupted him, looking him straight in the eye. “Teach

me. I’m sure last night was not as, um…fulfilling as it usually is for you, but I promise that if you are patient with me, I will improve.”

He cursed obliquely. “Come here.” He pulled her around the

breakfast tray and into his lap again, wrapping his arms around her.

He was quiet for a moment, before sighing deeply.

“You assume that my previous sexual encounters were completely

fulfilling, but you’re wrong. You gave me what I’ve never had — love and sex together. You’re the only one who has ever been my lover in the true sense.”

He kissed her gently in solemn confirmation of his words. “The

anticipation and the allure of a woman are crucial to the experience.

I can safely say that your allurements and my anticipation were like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Add to that the experience of making love for the first time…Words fail me.”

She nodded but something about her movement disquieted him.

“I promise I’m not flattering you.” He paused as if he were pondering his next words carefully. “At the risk of being Neanderthal, I should probably tell you that your innocence is tremendously erotic. The

thought that I can be the one to teach you about sex…that someone

so modest is also so passionate…” His voice trailed off as he looked at her intently. “You could become more skilled in the art of love by learning new tricks and new positions, but you can’t become more

attractive or more sexually fulfilling. Not to me.”

Julia leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you for taking such

good care of me last night,” she whispered, her cheeks turning pink.

“As for Paulina, I’ll deal with her. Please put her out of your mind.”

10

Gabriel’s Rapture

Julia turned her attention back to her uneaten breakfast, resisting the urge to argue with him. “Will you tell me about your first time?”

“I’d rather not.”

She busied herself with a pastry as she tried to think of a safer

subject. The financial woes of Europe came readily to mind.

He rubbed at his eyes with both hands, covering them briefly.

It would be far too easy to lie, he knew, but after all she’d given him, she deserved to know his secrets. “You remember Jamie Roberts.”

“Of course.”

Gabriel lowered his hands. “I lost my virginity to her.”

Julia’s eyebrows shot up. Jamie and her domineering mother had

never been very pleasant to Julia, and she had always disliked them.

She had no idea that Officer Roberts, who had investigated Simon’s attack on her a month previous, had been Gabriel’s first.

“It was not the greatest of experiences,” he said quietly. “In fact, I would say it was scarring. I didn’t love her. There was some attraction, of course, but no true affection. We went to Selinsgrove High School together. She sat next to me in History one year.” He shrugged. “We flirted and messed around after school and eventually…

“Jamie was a virgin but lied and said she wasn’t. I wasn’t atten-

tive to her at all. I was selfish and stupid.” He cursed. “She said it didn’t hurt much, but there was blood afterward. I felt like an animal and I’ve always regretted it.” Gabriel cringed, and Julia felt the guilt radiating from him. His description made her almost ill, but it also explained a great deal.

“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “Is that

why you were so worried last night?”

He nodded.

“She misled you.”

“That’s no excuse for my behavior, before or afterward.” He cleared his throat. “She assumed we were in a relationship, but I wasn’t

interested. That made it worse, of course. I graduated from being

merely an animal to being an animal and an asshole. When I saw her at Thanksgiving, I hadn’t spoken to her in years. I asked her to forgive me. She was remarkably gracious.

“I’ve always felt guilty for treating her badly. I’ve stayed away from virgins ever since.” He swallowed noisily. “Until last night.

11

Sylvain Reynard

“First times are supposed to be sweet, but seldom are. While you

were worrying about pleasing me, I was worrying about pleasing you.

Perhaps I was too careful, too protective, but I couldn’t have borne it if I’d hurt you.”

Julia put her breakfast aside and stroked his face. “You were

very gentle and very generous. I’ve never known such joy, and that’s because you loved me with more than just your body. Thank you.”

As if to prove her point, he kissed her deeply. Julia hummed as

his hands tangled through her hair, and she wrapped her arms about his neck. He slid his hands between them to the front of her robe, parting it hesitantly. He lifted his head, his eyes questioning.

She nodded.

He began whispering kisses against her neck and drew his mouth

up to tug at her earlobe. “How do you feel?”

“Great,” she whispered as his lips skimmed down to her throat.

He moved so he could see her face while one of his hands trav-

eled to rest atop her lower abdomen. “Are you sore?”

“A little.”

“Then we should wait.”

“No!”

He laughed, his lips curling up into his signature seductive smile.

“Did you mean what you said last night about making love out here?”

She shivered at the way his voice inflamed her but returned his

smile, winding her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. He opened her robe and began to explore her curves with both hands before

dropping his mouth to kiss her breasts.

“You were shy with me this morning.” He pressed a reverent kiss

over her heart “What changed?”

Julia brushed against the hint of a dimple in his chin. “I will

probably always be a little shy about being naked. But I want you. I want you to look into my eyes and tell me you love me as you move

inside me. I will remember that as long as I live.”

“I’ll keep reminding you,” he breathed.

He divested her of her robe and positioned her on her back.

“Are you cold?”

“Not when you’re holding me,” she whispered, smiling. “Wouldn’t

you rather have me on top? I’d like to try it.”

12

Gabriel’s Rapture

He threw off his robe and boxer shorts quickly and covered her

body with his own, placing a hand on either side of her face. “Someone might see you out here, darling. And I can’t have that. No one gets to see this beautiful body except me.

“Although the neighbors and passersby might be able to hear

you…for the next hour or so…” He chuckled as she inhaled sharply,

a tremor of pleasure coursing all the way down to her toes.

He kissed her, pushing her hair away from her face. “My goal

is to see how many times I can please you before I can’t hold back anymore.”

She grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

“So do I. So let me hear you.”

The blue sky blushed to see such passionate lovemaking, while

the Florentine sun smiled down, warming the lovers despite the

gentle breeze. Beside them, Julia’s coffee and milk grew stone cold and sullen at being ignored. P

After a brief nap, Julia borrowed Gabriel’s MacBook to send an

email to her father. She had two important messages in her inbox.

The first was from Rachel.

Jules!

How are you? Is my brother behaving himself? Have you slept

with him yet? Yes, it is COMPLETELY inappropriate for me to

ask that question, but come on, if you were dating anyone else

you would have told me already.

I’m not going to volunteer any advice. I’m trying not to think too much about it. Just let me know you’re happy and he’s treating

you properly.

Aaron sends his best.

Love you,

Rachel.

PS. Scott has a new girlfriend. He’s been secretive about her

so I’m not sure how long they’ve been dating. I keep bugging

him to introduce me but he won’t.

Maybe she’s a professor.

13

Sylvain Reynard

Julia snickered, glad that Gabriel was showering and not read-

ing over her shoulder. He’d be annoyed at his sister for posing such personal questions. She took a few moments to phrase her response

before typing her reply.

Hi Rachel,

The hotel is beautiful. Gabriel has been very sweet and gave

me your mother’s diamond earrings. Did you know about that?

I feel guilty about it, so please let me know if this upsets you.

As to your other question, Yes. Gabriel treats me well, and I

am VERY happy.

Say hi to Aaron for me. Looking forward to Christmas.

Love, Julia. XO

PS. I hope Scott’s girlfriend is a professor. Gabriel will never let him hear the end of it.

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 friendship.

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.

14

Gabriel’s Rapture

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 sound-

ed 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 Mitchell?”

“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 uncom-

fortable. 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 sex

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.

15

Sylvain Reynard

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 classical style. His brilliant blue eyes narrowed in concentration behind his black glasses, 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.

16

Gabriel’s Rapture

“Richard is old-fashioned, in the best sense.” She smiled. “I love the fact that you’re old-fashioned too.”

Gabriel snorted and continued shaving. “I’m not so old-fashioned,

or I wouldn’t be making mad passionate 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 bastard 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.”

17

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 shining. 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 glasses 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.

Gabriel’s Rapture

“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 cocky grin.

“Oh, I’ll see that you like my lecture, Miss Mitchell. 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 sexier 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 sexier 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.”

19

Sylvain Reynard

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 assistant.

“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?” Lo-

renzo gestured to the room behind them where guests were already

congregating.

“Miss Mitchell has a reserved seat,” said Gabriel pointedly, ir-

ritated 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 embarrass 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 20

Gabriel’s Rapture

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

space 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 glasses 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 sexy.)

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 in-

terlude 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 rehearsed 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 addic-

tion. She was everything to him, and by God, he’d say so publicly.

21

Sylvain Reynard

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.

She smiled, trying to suppress the blush that threatened her

cheeks. She knew the story of Botticelli and Simonetta Vespucci.

Simonetta was referred to as the Queen of Beauty in the court of Florence, prior to her death at the tender age of twenty-two. To be compared to Simonetta by Gabriel was very high praise, indeed.

“I am tackling this controversial topic as a professor of literature, choosing Botticelli’s artwork as a representation of various female archetypes. Historically speaking, there have been many debates as to how close Simonetta was to Botticelli and to what degree she was the actual inspiration for his paintings. I hope to skirt some of those disagreements in order to focus your attention on a straightforward visual comparison of a few figures.

“I shall begin with the first three slides. In them, you will recognize pen and ink illustrations of Dante and Beatrice in Paradise.”

Gabriel couldn’t help but admire the images himself, transported

as he was to the first time he’d welcomed Julianne into his home.

That was the night he’d realized how much he wanted to please her, how beautiful she looked when she was happy.

As he gazed at the quiescence of Beatrice’s expression, he com-

pared her countenance with Julia’s. She sat with rapt attention, her lovely head turned in profile as she admired Botticelli’s handiwork.

Gabriel wanted to make her look at him.

“Notice Beatrice’s face.” His voice grew soft as his eyes met those of his sweetheart. “The most beautiful face…

“We begin with Dante’s muse and the figure of Beatrice. Al-

though I’m sure she needs no introduction, allow me to point out

that Beatrice represents courtly love, poetic inspiration, faith, hope, and charity. She is the ideal of feminine perfection, at once intelligent and compassionate, and vibrant with the kind of selfless love that can only come from God. She inspires Dante to be a better man.”

Gabriel paused a moment to touch his tie. It did not need

straightening, but his fingers lingered against the blue silk. Julia blinked at the gesture, and Gabriel knew that he’d been understood.

22

Gabriel’s Rapture

“Now consider the face of the goddess Venus.”

All eyes in the room except Gabriel’s focused on the Birth of

Venus. He looked over his notes eagerly as the audience admired one of Botticelli’s greatest and largest works.

“It appears that Venus has Beatrice’s face. Once again, I’m not

interested in a historical analysis of the models for the painting. I’m simply asking you to note the visible similarities between the figures.

They represent two muses, two ideal types, one theological and one secular. Beatrice is the lover of the soul; Venus is the lover of the body. Botticelli’s La Bella has both faces — one of sacrificial love or agape, and one of sexual love or eros.”

His voice deepened, and Julia found her skin warming at the

sound.

“In the portrait of Venus, the emphasis is on her physical beauty.

Even though she represents sexual love, she maintains a venerable

modesty, clutching part of her hair in order to cover herself. Notice the demure expression and the placement of her hand across her

breast. Her shyness increases the eroticism of her portrayal — it doesn’t diminish it.” He removed his glasses for dramatic effect and fixed Julia with an unblinking eye. “Many people fail to see how modesty and sweetness of temper compound erotic appeal.”

Julia fidgeted with the zipper on her purse, resisting the urge to squirm in her seat. Gabriel replaced his glasses.

“Eros is not lust. According to Dante, lust is one of the seven deadly sins. Erotic love can include sex but is not limited to it. Eros is the all-consuming fire of infatuation and affection that is expressed in the emotion of being in love. And believe me when I say that it far outstrips the rivals for its affections, in every respect.”

Julia couldn’t help but notice the dismissive way with which he’d

pronounced the word rivals, punctuating his expression with a wave of his hand. It was as if he were casting aside all previous lovers with a mere gesture, while his blazing blue eyes fixed on her.

“Anyone who has ever been in love knows the difference between

eros and lust. There’s no comparison. One is an empty, unfulfilling shadow of the other.

“Of course, one might object that it is impossible for one person, one woman, to represent the ideal of both agape and eros. If you will allow my indulgence for a moment, I will suggest that such

23

Sylvain Reynard

skepticism is a form of misogyny. For only a misogynist would argue that women are either saints or seductresses — virgins or whores. Of course, a woman, or a man for that matter, can be both — the muse

can be lover to both soul and body.

“Now consider the painting behind me, Madonna of the

Pomegranate.”

Again, the eyes of the audience shifted to one of Botticelli’s

paintings. Gabriel noticed with satisfaction the way Julia intentionally fingered one of her diamond earrings, as if she understood his revelations and received them gladly. As if she knew he was revealing his love for her through art. His heart swelled.

“Once again, we see the same face repeated in the figure of the

Madonna. Beatrice, Venus, and Mary — a trinity of ideal women,

each wearing the same face. Agape, eros, and chastity, a heady combination that would make even the strongest man fall to his knees, if he was fortunate enough to find one person who manifests all three.”

A cough that sounded suspiciously as if it were covering a derisive remark echoed throughout the room. Angry at being interrupted,

Gabriel scowled in the general direction of the second row, over Julia’s shoulder. The cough was repeated once more for dramatic effect and a testosterone fueled staring contest began between a clearly annoyed Italian and Gabriel.

Conscious of the fact that he was speaking into a microphone,

Gabriel resisted the urge to curse and, with a scathing look at his detractor, continued.

“Some have argued that it was a pomegranate and not an apple

that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden. With respect to Botticelli’s painting, many have argued that the pomegranate symbolizes the

blood of Christ in his suffering and his subsequent new life through the resurrection.

“For my purposes, the pomegranate represents the Edenic fruit,

the Madonna as the second Eve and Christ as the second Adam. With

the Madonna, Botticelli hearkens back to the first Eve, the archetype of femininity, beauty, and female companionship.

“I’ll go further, by asserting that Eve is also the ideal of female friendship, the friend of Adam, and thus she is the ideal of philia, the love that emerges out of friendship. The friendship between Mary

and Joseph manifests this ideal, as well.”

24

Gabriel’s Rapture

His voice caught, so he took a moment to sip some water before

continuing. Something about the comparison between Julia and Eve

made him feel vulnerable, naked, hearkening back to the night he’d given her an apple and held her in his arms under the stars.

The audience began murmuring, wondering why a polite pause

to take a drink had extended into a break. Gabriel’s color deepened as he raised his eyes to look at his beloved once again, desperate for her understanding.

Her ruby lips parted into an encouraging smile. Instantly, Ga-

briel exhaled.

“Botticelli’s muse is a saint, a lover, and a friend, not a cardboard cut-out of a woman or an adolescent fantasy. She is real, she is

complicated, and she is endlessly fascinating. A woman to worship.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the preciseness of the Greek language

allows one to speak more perspicuously about the different kinds

of love. A modern treatment of this discussion can be found in C.S.

Lewis’s The Four Loves, if you’re interested.”

He cleared his throat and smiled winningly at the room.

“Finally, consider the painting to my left, Primavera. One might expect to see the face of Botticelli’s muse reflected in the central figure in the painting. But consider the face of Flora, on the right. Once again, she bears a similarity to Beatrice, Venus, and the Madonna.

“Surprisingly, Flora appears twice in the painting. As we move

from the center of the painting to the right, you see Flora pregnant, swollen with Zephyr’s child. Zephyr is on the far right, hovering

amongst the orange trees with the second depiction of Flora, as

a virgin nymph. Her expression is marked with fear. She’s fleeing

the arms of her prospective lover and gazing back at him in panic.

However, when she’s pregnant, her countenance is serene. Her fear

is replaced by contentment.”

Julia flushed as she remembered how kind Gabriel had been to

her the night before. He’d been tender and gentle, and in his arms she’d felt worshipped. Remembering the myth of Flora and Zephyr

she shuddered, wishing that all lovers would be as tender with their virgin partners as Gabriel had been.

“Flora represents the consummation of physical love and moth-

erhood. She is the ideal of storge, or familial love, the kind of love manifested from a mother to her child, and between lovers who

25

Sylvain Reynard

share a commitment that is not based solely on sex or pleasure, but is between married partners.”

No one but Julia noticed the white knuckling as he held the

edge of the podium with two hands. No one but Julia noticed the

slight tremor in his voice as he pronounced the words pregnant and motherhood.

His eyebrows furrowed as he collected himself, shuffling his

papers for a moment. Julia recognized his vulnerability for what it was, fighting the urge to go to him and embrace him. She began

tapping one of her tangerine colored stiletto heels in anticipation.

Gabriel caught her sudden movement and swallowed hard be-

fore continuing. “In early writings on Primavera, Flora was asserted to be the likeness of La Bella Simonetta, Botticelli’s muse. If that is true, just on visual inspection alone, we can assert that Simonetta is the inspiration for Beatrice, Venus, and the Madonna, for all four ladies share the same face.

“Thus, we have the icons of agape, eros, philia, and storge all represented by a single face, a single woman — Simonetta. To put this another way, one could argue that Botticelli sees in his beloved muse all four types of love and all four ideals of womanhood: saint, lover, friend, and spouse.

“In the end, however, I must return to where we began, with

Beatrice. It is no accident that the inspiration behind one of Italy’s best-known literary works was given Simonetta’s features. Faced with such beauty, such goodness, what man wouldn’t want her by his side not just for a season, but for a lifetime?”

He gazed around the room gravely.

“To quote the Poet, now your blessedness appears. Thank you.”

As Gabriel ended his lecture to enthusiastic applause, Julia blink-ed back tears, overcome with emotion.

Dottore Vitali retook the podium, extending his thanks to Professor Emerson for an illuminating discussion. A small group of local politicians presented him with several gifts, including a medallion depicting the city of Florence.

Julia remained in her seat for as long as possible, hoping that

Gabriel would come to her. But he was deluged with members of

the audience, including several officious art historians.

26

Gabriel’s Rapture

(For it was considered brash if not egotistical for a mere literature professor to analyze the crown jewels of the Uffizi’s collection.) Reluctantly, she trailed behind him as several members of the

media plied him with questions. She caught his eye, and he gave her a tight, apologetic smile before posing for pictures.

Frustrated, she wandered around some of the adjoining rooms,

admiring the paintings until she arrived at one of her favorites, Leon-ardo da Vinci’s Annunciation. She was standing close, too close really, noting the detail in the marble pillar, when a voice sounded in her ear in Italian.

“You like this painting?”

Julia looked up into the eyes of a man with black hair and very

tanned skin. He was taller than her, but not overly, and was of a

muscular build. He wore a very expensive black suit, with a single red rose pinned to his lapel. She recognized him as one of the guests who sat behind her during the lecture.

“Yes, very much,” she responded in Italian.

“I have always admired the depth that da Vinci gives to his paint-

ings, particularly the shading and detail on the pillar.”

She smiled and turned back to the painting. “That’s exactly what

I was studying, along with the feathers on the angel’s wings. They’re incredible.”

The gentleman bowed. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I

am Giuseppe Pacciani.”

Julia hesitated, for she recognized his last name. He shared it

with the man suspected of being Florence’s most famous serial killer.

The man appeared to be waiting for her to respond to his greet-

ing, so she suppressed the urge to run.

“Julia Mitchell.” She extended her hand in a polite gesture, but

he took her by surprise when he grasped it between both of his hands and drew it to his lips, looking up at her as he kissed it.

“Enchanted. And may I say that your beauty rivals that of La

Bella Simonetta. Especially in light of this evening’s lecture.”

Julia averted her eyes and swiftly removed her hand.

“Allow me to provide you with a drink.” He quickly flagged down

a waiter and took two champagne flutes from his tray. He clinked

their glasses together and toasted their health.

27

Sylvain Reynard

Julia sipped the Ferrari spumante gratefully, as it gave her a distraction from his intense stare. He was charming, but she was wary of him, not least because of his name.

He smiled at her hungrily.

“I am a professor of literature at the university. And you?”

“I study Dante.”

“Ah, il Poeta. My specialization is Dante, also. Where do you study? Not here.” His eyes wandered from her face to her body to

her shoes, before traveling to her face again.

She took a generous step back. “At the University of Toronto.”

“Ah! A Canadian. One of my former students is studying there

right now. Perhaps you are acquainted.” He stepped closer.

Julia elected not to correct him about her citizenship and stepped back once again. “Toronto is a large university. Probably not.”

Giuseppe smiled, showing very straight white teeth that glinted

strangely in the museum light.

“Have you seen Piero di Cosimo’s Perseus Frees Andromeda?” He gestured to one of the adjacent paintings.

Julia nodded. “Yes.”

“There are Flemish elements in his work, do you see? Also, notice

the figures standing in the crowd.” He gestured to a grouping on the right side of the painting.

Julia stepped to one side so she could take a better look. Gi-

useppe stood beside her, a good deal too close, watching her study the painting.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, but I prefer Botticelli.” Stubbornly, she kept her eyes on

the painting, hoping he would tire of standing closer to her and

move away.

(Preferably across the Arno.)

“Are you a student of Professor Emerson’s?”

Julia swallowed noisily. “No. I — I study with someone else.”

“He is considered to be good by North American standards, which

is why he was invited here. However, his lecture was an embarrass-

ment. How did you come to discover Dante?”

28

Gabriel’s Rapture

Julia was about to argue with Giuseppe about his characterization

of the lecture, when he reached out to touch her hair.

She flinched and immediately retreated, but his arms were long

and his hand followed her. She opened her mouth to reprove him

when someone growled nearby.

Giuseppe and Julia turned their heads slowly to see Gabriel, sap-

phire eyes flashing, hands on hips, flaring out his open suit jacket like the plumes of an angry peacock.

He took a menacing step closer.

“I see you’ve met my fidanzata. I suggest you keep your hands to yourself, unless you’re prepared to lose them.”

Giuseppe scowled before his face smoothed out into a polite smile.

“We’ve been speaking for several minutes. She never mentioned you.”

Julia didn’t wait for Gabriel to rip Giuseppe’s arms from his sockets, thus sullying the Uffizi’s pristine floors with his blood. Instead, she stood between the two men and placed a hand on Gabriel’s chest.

“Gabriel, this is Professor Pacciani. He’s also a Dante specialist.”

A look passed between the two men, and Julia realized that

Pacciani was the man who’d rudely interrupted Gabriel’s lecture by muttering and coughing.

He lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“A thousand apologies. I should have realized from the way you

looked at her during your…speech that she was yours. Forgive me,

Simonetta.” His eyes moved to hers and rested there, his mouth parting in a sneer.

At the sound of his sarcasm, Gabriel took a step closer, his fists clenched.

“Darling, I need to find somewhere to put my glass.” Julia shook

her empty champagne flute, hoping it would distract him.

Gabriel took the glass and handed it to Pacciani. “I’m sure you

know where to put this.”

He grabbed Julia’s hand and quickly pulled her away. The guests

parted like the Red Sea in front of them as they made their way

through the Botticelli room.

Julia saw person after person stare at them and she blushed even

more deeply.

29

Sylvain Reynard

“Where are we going?”

He led her into the adjoining tiled corridor and began walking

toward the end of it, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positioned her between two large marble statues perched high atop plinths. She was dwarfed by the towering forms.

He grabbed her purse and tossed it aside. The sound of the leather hitting the floor echoed down the corridor.

“What were you doing with him?” Gabriel’s eyes flamed, and his

cheeks were slightly red, which for him was a rare occurrence.

“We were just making small talk before he — ”

Gabriel pulled her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her

hair and the other sliding down her dress. The force of the contact propelled her until she felt the cold wall of the Gallery against the naked skin of her upper back. His hard body aligned with hers

forcefully.

“I don’t want to see another man’s hands on you again.”

He parted her mouth roughly, penetrating with his tongue, while

his hand slid over the curve of her backside, massaging the flesh with his fingers.

Julia realized instantly that he’d been careful with her every other time he’d touched her. He wasn’t careful now. Part of her was inflamed, desperate for him. Another part of her was wondering what

he would do if she said stop…

He lifted her left leg, pulling her thigh around his hip and pressing against her.

She felt him through the fabric of her dress, hearing the silk

taffeta rustle like a breathless woman. The dress clearly wanted more.

“What do I have to do to make you mine?” he groaned, mouth

against mouth.

“I am yours.”

“Not tonight, it seems.” He tugged her lower lip backwards into

his mouth, nipping it with his teeth. “Didn’t you understand my

lecture? Every word, every painting was for you.” His hand slid up her dress, teasing the skin of her thigh until it reached the string that stretched across her hip.

He pulled back to see her face. “No garters tonight?”

30

Gabriel’s Rapture

She shook her head.

“Then what’s this?” His fingers tugged at the very thin string.

“Panties,” she breathed.

His eyes glinted in the semi-darkness. “What kind of panties?”

“A thong.”

He smiled dangerously before pressing his lips to her ear. “Am I

to assume that you wore this for me?”

“Only for you. Always.”

Without warning, Gabriel lifted her, pressing her against the

cold wall. His lips on her neck, he pushed their hips closer. The long, thin heels of Julia’s tangerine stilettos caught the curves of his ass. He fixed her with wild, blue eyes.

“I want you. Right now.”

With one hand, he tugged at the string until it tore. Suddenly,

she found herself bare. He reached back to stuff the thong in his

jacket pocket, and her heels shifted, digging into his ass so much that he winced.

“Do you know how difficult it was for me to control myself after

the lecture? How I longed to take you in my arms? Conducting small talk was torture when all I wanted was this.

“I wish you could see how sexy you are with your back against the

wall and your legs wrapped around me. I want you like this, except I want you panting my name.”

Gabriel dipped his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat

and Julia’s eyes closed. Her passions were struggling with her mind, which urged her to push him away and take a moment to think. In

a mood such as this, Gabriel was dangerous.

All of a sudden, Julia heard voices echoing down the hallway.

Her eyes flew open.

The sound of footsteps and merry laughter grew closer. Gabriel

lifted his head, bringing his mouth to her ear. “Don’t make a sound,”

he whispered. She could feel his lips curve up into a smile as they pressed against her.

The footsteps stopped a few feet away, and Julia heard two male

voices conversing in Italian. Her heart continued to race as she

strained her hearing for any sign of movement. Gabriel kept stroking 31

Sylvain Reynard

her gently, swallowing her sounds with his mouth. From time to time, he’d whisper sensual things to her — phrases that made her flush.

One of the male voices laughed loudly. Julia lifted her head in

surprise, while Gabriel took that opportunity to kiss her throat, nibbling at the delicate skin.

“Please don’t bite me.”

The murmuring voices echoed around them. It took a moment,

but eventually the import of her words sliced through his aroused, frantic state. He lifted his face from her neck.

With their chests pressed so tightly together, he could feel her

heart. He closed his eyes, as if entranced by its staccato rhythm. When he opened them again, most of the fire was gone.

Julia had carefully concealed Simon’s bite mark with makeup,

but Gabriel found it with his finger, tracing its perimeter lightly before kissing it. He exhaled slowly, very slowly, and shook his head.

“You’re the only woman who has ever said no to me.”

“I’m not saying no.”

He looked over his shoulder and spied two older gentlemen,

deep in conversation. They were close enough to see him if they

looked in his direction.

He turned back to Julia and gave her a sad smile. “You deserve

better than a jealous lover taking you against a wall. And I’m not in favor of being caught by our host. Forgive me.”

He kissed her and traced below her swollen lower lip with his

thumb, removing the slight smear of crimson lipstick from her pale skin.

“I’m not about to undo the trust I saw in your eyes last night.

When I’m in my right mind and we have the museum all to our-

selves…” His expression darkened as he fantasized. “Another time,

perhaps.”

He removed her heels from his backside and placed her on her

feet, leaning over to straighten the skirt of her dress. The taffeta rustled breathlessly at his touch and then forlornly, was silent.

Fortunately, Dottore Vitali and his companion chose that moment to return to the party, their footsteps growing fainter and fainter as they walked away.

32

Gabriel’s Rapture

“The banquet is supposed to begin shortly. I can’t insult them by

leaving. But when I get you home…” His eyes fixed on hers. “The

wall just inside our room will be our first stop.”

She nodded, relieved that he wasn’t angry anymore. Truthfully,

she was somewhat nervous but very excited about the prospect of

wall sex.

He adjusted himself through his trousers and buttoned up his

suit jacket, willing his body to calm. He tried to smooth his hair but only succeeded in making it look more like he had dragged his lover into a dark corner for museum sex.

Museum sex is a peculiar compunction of certain academics.

(But it should not be disdained without trying it.)

Julia fixed his hair and straightened his tie, checking his face and collar for lipstick. When she was finished, he picked up her clutch and her sweater, handing them to her with a kiss. Smirking, he adjusted her panties in his suit pocket so they were no longer visible.

She took an experimental step forward, finding the absence of

her panties surprisingly liberating.

“I could drink you like champagne,” he whispered.

She reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I wish you’d teach

me your tricks of seduction.”

“Only if you will teach me how to love as you love.”

Gabriel escorted her through the empty corridor and down the

stairs to the first floor, where the banquet was just beginning.

P

Professor Pacciani stumbled back to his apartment by the Pitti

Palace in the wee hours of the morning. This was not an unusual

occurrence.

He fumbled with his keys, cursing as he dropped them, and en-

tered the flat, closing the door behind him. He walked to the small room in which his twin four-year-old sons were asleep, kissing them before shuffling to his study.

33

Sylvain Reynard

He smoked a leisurely cigarette as he waited for his computer

to boot up, then he logged into his email. He ignored his inbox and composed a short message to a former student and lover. They had

not been in contact since her graduation.

He mentioned meeting Professor Emerson and his very young

Canadian fidanzata. He mused that although he’d been impressed with Emerson’s monograph with Oxford University Press, the Professor’s lecture smacked of a pseudo-intellectualism that truly had no place in a professional academic lecture. One should either be

intellectual and academic, or one should be a public speaker and

entertaining, but not both. Pacciani queried churlishly if this was what passed for excellence in North American universities.

He ended his email with an explicit and detailed suggestion of

a prospective sexual rendezvous, possibly in the late spring. Then he finished his cigarette in the darkness and joined his wife in their matrimonial bed.

34

Chapter 3

Christa Peterson had a privileged upbringing, so really, there

was no excuse for her vicious nature. She had two parents who

loved each other and their only daughter very much. Her father was a well-respected oncologist in Toronto. Her mother was a librarian at Havergal College, an elite, private girl’s school that Christa attended from kindergarten through grade twelve.

Christa went to Sunday school. She was confirmed as an Anglican.

She studied Thomas Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer, but none of these actions touched her heart. And when she was fifteen years old she discovered the immense power of female sexuality. Once she discovered it, it became not only her currency but her weapon of choice.

Her best friend, Lisa Malcolm, had an older brother called Brent.

Brent was handsome. He looked like so many other graduates of

Upper Canada College, a private boy’s school that catered to Canada’s old moneyed families. He had blond hair and blue eyes and was tall and fit. He was a rower for the University of Toronto’s men’s team and could easily have starred in a J.Crew commercial.

Christa had admired Brent from afar but because of the four-

year age difference, he’d never noticed her. But then, late one night while sleeping over at Lisa’s house, Christa ran into Brent on her way to the bathroom. He’d been extremely taken by her long dark hair,

big brown eyes, and youthful, nubile form. He’d kissed her gently

in the hallway and brushed tentative fingers across her breast. Then he’d taken her hand and invited her to his room.

After thirty minutes of making out and feeling one another

through their clothes, he was eager to take things further. Christa hesitated, because she was a virgin, so Brent began making wild and extravagant promises — gifts, romantic dates, and final y, a Baume & Sylvain Reynard

Mercier stainless steel watch that had been a present from his parents on his eighteenth birthday.

Christa had admired his watch. She knew it well, for Brent trea-

sured it. In truth, she wanted it almost more than she wanted him.

Brent fastened the watch on her wrist, and she stared at it, mar-

veling at the coolness of the steel against her flesh and the way it slid easily up and down her narrow forearm. It was a token. A sign that he desired her so intensely, he was willing to give her one of his most prized possessions.

It made her feel wanted. And powerful.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. But God,

I want you. And I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Christa smiled and let him place her on his narrow bed like

an Incan sacrifice on an altar and gave her virginity up to him in exchange for a three-thousand-dollar watch.

Brent kept his word. He was gentle. He went slowly. He kissed

her and softly explored her mouth. He paid homage to her breasts.

He prepared her with his fingers and tested her to ensure that she was ready for him. When he entered her, he did so carefully. There was no blood. Just large hands rubbing circles on her hips and a

low voice that murmured instructions on how to relax, until her

discomfort disappeared.

As promised, he made her feel good. He made her feel beautiful

and special. And when it was over he held her closely all night. For he was not an entirely vicious soul, driven as he was by carnal needs.

They would repeat this act many times over the next three years,

despite other romantic entanglements. Before Brent entered her, he would always place a gift in her hand.

He was soon followed by Mr. Woolworth, Christa’s grade-eleven

Math teacher. Christa’s encounters with Brent taught her much about men, how to read their wants and desires, how to tantalize and pro-voke, and how to string along and tease.

She teased Mr. Woolworth unmercifully until the man cracked

and begged her to meet him at a hotel after school. Christa liked it when men begged. In the plain hotel room, her teacher surprised

her with a silver necklace from Tiffany. He placed the delicate links around her neck and kissed her flesh softly. In exchange, Christa let 36

Gabriel’s Rapture

him explore her body for hours until he fell asleep, exhausted and sated.

He was not as attractive as Brent, but he was far more experienced.

For every subsequent gift, she would allow him to touch her in old and new ways. By the time their affair ended and Christa moved to

Quebec to attend Bishop’s University, she’d amassed an enormous

amount of jewelry and an extensive knowledge of sexual relations.

Moreover, Christa had become one of few women who viewed the

role of the man-eating seductress as something to emulate.

When Christa completed her master’s degree in Renaissance

Studies at the Università degli Studi di Firenze, her pattern of relationships was fixed. She preferred older men, men in positions of power.

She was excited by forbidden affairs — the more remote, the more

improbable, the better.

She tried for two years to seduce a priest who was assigned to

the Duomo in Florence, and right before graduation, she succeeded.

He took her in the single bed of his tiny apartment, but before he touched her, he wrapped her long, warm fingers around a tiny icon

that had been painted by Giotto. It was priceless. But so, she reasoned, was she. Christa would allow men to have her, but only at a price.

And she’d always bedded the men she wanted — eventually.

Until her first year of PhD coursework at the University of To-

ronto when she met Professor Gabriel O. Emerson. He was by far

the most attractive and sensual of all the men she’d ever met. And he appeared very sexual. His raw, smoldering carnality oozed from

every pore. She could almost smell it.

She watched him hunt at his favorite bar. She noted his stealthy,

seductive approach and the way women reacted to him. She stud-

ied him the way she studied Italian, and she put her knowledge to

good use.

But he spurned her. He never looked at her body. He would gaze

into her eyes coldly, as if she wasn’t even female.

She began to dress more provocatively. He never glanced below

her neck.

She tried to be sweet and self-deprecating. He was impatient.

She baked him cookies and took to leaving anonymous culinary

treats in his mail box at the department. The treats would remain

untouched for weeks until Mrs. Jenkins, the departmental secretary, 37

Sylvain Reynard

threw them into the garbage, worried about a potential infestation of vermin.

The more Professor Emerson rejected her, the more she wanted

him. The more she became obsessed with having him, the less she

cared about receiving gifts in trade. She would give herself to him freely if he would only look at her with desire.

But he didn’t.

So in the fall of 2009, when she had the opportunity to meet him

at Starbucks and discuss her dissertation, she was eager to see if their meeting could turn into dinner and possibly a visit to Lobby. She

would be on her best behavior, but she would be alluring. Hopefully, he would stop resisting her.

In preparation for her meeting, she spent six hundred dollars on

a black Bordelle chemise, along with garters and black silk stockings.

She disdained the matching panties. Every time the garters pulled

across the surface of her skin, she felt inflamed. She wondered how it would feel when Professor Emerson released her stockings from

their bonds, preferably with his teeth.

Unfortunately for Christa, Paul and Julia had chosen to inhabit

the same Starbucks at the same time. Christa knew without doubt

that any impropriety on her part would be eagerly watched and noted by her fellow students. The Professor would know this too, and thus be far more professional than usual.

So when Christa confronted Paul and Julia, she was beyond

pissed. She wanted to insult the two of them so they would leave

before the Professor arrived. She did her damnedest to make sure

that happened. Nevertheless, her attempt at intimidating her fellow graduate students went horribly awry. Professor Emerson arrived

earlier than expected and overheard her.

“Miss Peterson.” Gabriel pointed toward an empty table far away

from Paul and Julia and indicated that Christa should follow him.

“Professor Emerson, I bought you a venti latté with skim milk.”

She tried to hand it to him, but he waved it aside.

“Only barbarians drink coffee with milk after breakfast. Haven’t

you ever been to Italy? And by the way, Miss Peterson, skim milk is for wankers. Or fat girls.”

He spun on his heel and walked over to the counter to order his

own coffee while Christa tried valiantly to hide her rage.

38

Gabriel’s Rapture

Damn you, Julianne. This is all your fault. You and the monk.

Christa sat in the chair that Professor Emerson had pointed out,

feeling almost defeated. Almost, for from her vantage point, she had a lovely view of Professor Emerson’s ass in his gray flannel trousers.

Rounded like two apples. Two ripe, delicious apples.

She wanted to take a bite out of them.

At length, the professor returned with his own damn coffee. He

sat as far away from her as possible, while still technically sitting at the same table, and gazed at her harshly.

“I need to speak to you about your behavior. But before I do, let

me make one thing clear. I agreed to meet you here today because

I desired a coffee. In the future, we will meet in the department as we normally do. Your transparent attempts at engineering social

engagements between the two of us will be unsuccessful. Do you

understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One word from me and you’l be finding yourself a new dis-

sertation director.” He cleared his throat. “In the future you wil address me as Professor Emerson, even when speaking of me in the third person. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Professor Emerson.” Ohhhh, Professor. You have no idea how much I want to scream your name. Professor, Professor, Professor…

“Moreover, you will refrain from making personal remarks about

my other students, especially Miss Mitchell. Is that clear?”

“Clear.”

Now Christa was beginning to seethe a little, but she kept her

reaction to herself. She placed all the blame on Julia. She wanted to drive Julia out of the program. She simply wasn’t sure how to do that. Yet.

“Finally, anything you hear from me about another student or

person connected with the university will be deemed to be confidential, and you will not repeat it or else you will find yourself another dissertation director. Do you think you are intelligent enough to

comply with these very simple instructions?”

“Yes, Professor.” She bristled slightly at his condescension, but

truth be told, she found his grumpiness sexy. She wanted to tease it out of him. To seduce him into doing unspeakable things to her, to —

39

Sylvain Reynard

“Any more abuse directed toward MA students will be brought to

the attention of Professor Martin, the department chair. I believe you are well aware of the regulations governing the behavior of graduate students. I don’t need to remind you about the prohibitions against hazing, do I?”

“But I wasn’t hazing Julia, I was — ”

“No sniveling. And I doubt that Miss Mitchell gave you permis-

sion to use her first name. You will address her properly or not at all.”

Christa bowed her head. Threats of the sort he was making were

not sexy. She’d worked very hard to get into the PhD program at the University of Toronto, and she wasn’t about to let it all slip through her fingers. Not for some pathetic little bitch who had something

cooking with the Professor’s research assistant.

Gabriel saw her reaction but said nothing, slowly sipping his

espresso. He felt no remorse and was beginning to wonder what else he could do to make her cry.

“I’m confident you are well aware of the university’s policies governing harassment. Those policies work both ways. Professors can

file a complaint if they believe they are being harassed by a student.

If you cross the line with me, I’ll drag you to the Dean’s Office so quickly your head will spin. Do you understand?”

Christa lifted her chin and gazed at him with wide, frightened

eyes. “But we — I thought — ”

“But nothing!” Gabriel snapped. “Unless you’re delusional, you’ll

realize that there is no we. I won’t repeat myself. You know where you stand.”

He glanced at Julia and Paul one last time. “Now that we have

dispensed with today’s pleasantries, I’d like to tell you what I thought about your last dissertation proposal. It was rubbish. In the first place, your thesis is derivative. In the second, you’ve made no attempt to provide a literature review that comes close to being adequate. If you cannot amend your proposal to address these issues, you will need

to find another director. If you choose to submit a revised proposal, you will need to do so within two weeks. Now if you’ll excuse me,

I have a meeting that is actually worth my time. Good afternoon.”

Gabriel departed Starbucks abruptly, leaving a rather shell-

shocked Christa staring off into space.

40

Gabriel’s Rapture

She heard part of his speech, of course, but her mind was focused

on other things. First, she was going to do something to get back

at Julia. She didn’t know what and she didn’t know when. But she

was going to shank that bitch (metaphorically speaking) and cut her (also metaphorically speaking).

Second, she was going to rewrite her dissertation proposal and

hopefully win Professor Emerson’s academic approval.

Third, she was going to redouble her efforts at seduction. Now

that she had seen Professor Emerson angry, there was nothing she

desired more than to see him angry with her — while naked. She was going to change his mind. She was going to break through his harsh exterior. She was going to see him kneeling before her, begging for her, and then…

Clearly, the four-inch heels and the Bordelle lingerie weren’t

enough. Christa was going to head over to Holt Renfrew, and she was going to buy herself a new dress. Something European. Something

sexy. Something by Versace.

Then she was going to Lobby to set her third scheme in motion…

41

Chapter 4

In the penthouse of a boutique hotel in Florence, clothes had

been tossed haphazardly across a sitting room floor, trailing

like breadcrumbs from the doorway toward a wall that was no longer blank. Groans and obvious rhythms floated in the air, wafting over a man’s fine handmade shoes, a black bra, a tailored suit tossed wantonly over a coffee table, a taffeta dress puddled into a Santorini-blue pool…

If one were a detective, one would notice that the lady’s panties

and shoes were missing.

The air was thick with the smell of orange blossoms and Aramis,

mingled with the musk of sweat and naked flesh. The room was dark.

Not even the moonlight streaming in from the terrace reached the wall where two nude bodies clung to one another. The man stood upright, supporting the woman, who had her legs wrapped around his hips.

“Open your eyes.” Gabriel’s plea was punctuated by a cacophony

of sound — skin sliding over skin, desperate cries muffled by lips and flesh, quick gulps of oxygen, and the slight thud of Julia’s back against the wall.

She could hear him as he groaned with every thrust, but her

ability to speak had withdrawn as she focused on a single sensa-

tion — pleasure. Every movement of her lover pleased her, even the friction between their chests and the grip of his hands as he held her aloft. She danced on the very edge of satisfaction, breathless with anticipation that the next movement would push her over. Building, building, building, building…

“Are — you — okay?” He was breathing hard, his last word leaving his mouth as a cry as the slightest turn of her ankles pressed her sharp heels into his flesh.

Gabriel’s Rapture

Julia threw her head back and let out a few incoherent sounds

as she climaxed, intense waves radiating out from where they were

joined and speeding along her nerves until her entire body vibrated.

Gabriel felt it, of course, and followed soon after; two deep thrusts and he cried her name into the crook of her neck, his body shaking.

“You worried me,” he whispered afterward. He lay on his back

in the center of the large, white bed while his sleepy beloved curled into his side, her head resting over the surface of his tattoo.

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t open your eyes. You wouldn’t speak. I was worried

I was too rough.”

She moved her fingers along his abdomen to the few hairs that

trailed down from his navel, tracing the texture lazily.

“You didn’t hurt me. It felt different this time — more intense.

Every time you moved, the most incredible feeling passed through

me. I couldn’t open my eyes.”

Gabriel smiled to himself in relief and pressed his lips to her

forehead.

“That position is deeper. And don’t forget all our foreplay at the museum. I couldn’t keep my hands off you during dinner.”

“That’s because you knew I’d lost my panties.”

“That’s because I want you. Always.” He offered her a half-smile.

“Every time with you is better than the last,” she whispered.

His expression grew wistful. “But you never say my name.”

“I say your name all the time. It’s a wonder you haven’t come

up with a pet name you’d rather I use, such as Gabe, or Dante, or

The Professor.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean you never say my name — when

you come.”

She lifted her chin so she could see his face. His expression

matched his tone, wistful and momentarily vulnerable. The confident mask had slipped.

“For me, your name is synonymous with orgasm. I’m going to

start calling them Emgasms.”

He laughed loudly, a hearty, chest-bouncing chuckle that required

Julia to sit up. She joined him in his laughter, grateful that his moment of melancholy had passed.

43

Sylvain Reynard

“You have quite the sense of humor, Miss Mitchell.” He tilted her

chin upwards so he could worship her lips once more before relaxing into the pillows and drifting off to sleep.

Julia stayed awake a little longer as she contemplated the anx-

ious, insecure little boy who revealed himself at rare and unexpected moments.

The following morning Gabriel treated Julia to her preferred

breakfast at Café Perseo, a fine gelateria in the Piazza Signoria. They sat inside because normal December temperatures had returned and

it was rainy and cool.

One could sit by the square all day, every day, and watch the

world walk by. There were old buildings on the perimeter — the

Uffizi was around the corner. There was a tremendously impressive

fountain and beautiful statues, including a copy of Michelangelo’s David and a statue of Perseus holding the dismembered head of Medusa in front of a lovely loggia.

Julia avoided looking at Perseus as she ate her gelato. Gabriel

avoided looking at the legions of beautiful Florentine women in

order to watch his beloved. Hungrily.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a taste? Raspberry and lemon

are great together.” She held out a spoon where the two flavors

commingled.

“Oh I want a taste. But not of that.” His eyes glinted. “I prefer

something a trifle more exotic.” He nudged his espresso aside so he could take her hand in his. “Thank you for last night and this

morning.”

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you, Professor.” She

squeezed his hand and busied herself with her breakfast, such as it was.

“I’m surprised there isn’t an outline of my body vaporized onto

the wall of our room.” She giggled, holding out a small spoonful of the frozen treat.

He allowed her to feed him, and when his tongue darted out to

lick his lips, she found herself light-headed. A bevy of images from earlier that morning flashed through her mind. And one remained.

O gods of sex-god boyfriends who enjoy pleasuring their lovers, thank you for this morning.

She swallowed hard. “You know, that was my first time.”

44

Gabriel’s Rapture

“It won’t be your last. I promise.” Gabriel licked his lips provocatively, eager to make her squirm.

She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. But he was

having none of that. He snaked a hand to the back of her neck and

pulled her closer.

Her mouth was sweet with gelato and the unique taste that was

Julia. He groaned when he released her, wishing he could take her

back to the hotel for a repeat of last night’s performance, or perhaps to the museum…

“Can I ask you something?” She busied herself with her bowl so

she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

“Of course.”

“Why did you say that I was your fiancée?”

“Fidanzata has multiple meanings.”

“The primary meaning is fiancée.”

“Ragazza doesn’t express the depth of my attachment.” Gabriel wiggled his toes in his new, tight shoes. His mouth twitched as he contemplated what to say next, if he should say anything at all. He elected to remain silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Julia noticed what she perceived to be his physical discomfort.

“I’m sorry about my heels.”

“What’s that?”

“I saw the marks on your backside when you were getting dressed

this morning. I didn’t mean to injure you.”

He grinned wickedly. “Occupational hazard for those obsessed

with high-heeled shoes. I wear my love scars with pride.”

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“No, you damn well won’t.”

Julia’s eyes grew wide at the sudden flash of passion in his eyes.

He captured her lips with his before whispering in her ear, “I’m

going to buy you a pair of boots with even higher heels, then I’m

going to see what you can do with them.”

As they strolled across the Ponte Vecchio under a shared umbrella, Gabriel persisted in pulling her into shop after shop, trying to tempt her into accepting an extravagant gift of jewelry — Etruscan reproductions, Roman coins, gold necklaces, etc. But she would only smile

45

Sylvain Reynard

and decline, pointing to Grace’s diamond earrings and saying that

they were more than enough. Her lack of attachment to material

things only made him want to heap them at her feet.

When they reached the center of the bridge, Julia tugged at his

arm and led him to the edge so they could gaze out over the Arno.

“There is something you could buy for me, Gabriel.”

He peered over at her curiously, the crisp Florentine air flushing her cheeks. She was goodness, light and warmth and softness. But

terribly, terribly stubborn.

“Name it.”

Julia paused to run her hand over the barrier that separated her

from the edge of the bridge. “I want my scar removed.”

He was almost surprised. He knew that she was ashamed of

Simon’s bite mark. He’d walked in on her applying concealer that

morning, and she’d grown teary when he asked about it.

She avoided his eyes and continued. “I don’t like looking at it. I don’t like the fact that you have to look at it. I want it gone.”

“We could find a plastic surgeon in Philadelphia, while we’re

home for Christmas.”

“Our time at home is so short. I couldn’t do that to my dad. Or

to Rachel.”

Gabriel shifted the umbrella to his other hand and pulled her

into a hug. He kissed her, trailing down to her neck until he made contact with the mark.

“I will gladly do this for you and more. You just have to ask. But I would like you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“I would like you to talk to someone. About what happened.”

Julia lowered her eyes. “I talk to you.”

“I meant someone who isn’t an ass. I can hire a doctor who will

remove the scar from your skin, but no one can remove the scars on the inside. It’s important for you to realize that. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I won’t be. And stop calling yourself names. It upsets me.”

He conceded her point with a nod of the head. “I think it would

help if you had someone to talk to — about everything. Tom, your

46

Gabriel’s Rapture

mother, him, and me.” He gave her a pained look. “I am a difficult man. I know that. I think if you had someone to talk to, it would help.”

She closed her eyes. “I will, but only if you agree to do the same thing.”

He stiffened.

She opened her eyes, speaking quickly. “I know that you don’t

want to, and believe me, I understand. But if I’m going to do this, you need to do it too. You were really angry last night, and even though I know you weren’t angry with me, I had to bear the brunt of it.”

“I tried to make up for it afterward.” He gritted his teeth.

She reached up to stroke his agitated jaw. “Of course. But it

bothered me that you were so upset over an unsolicited pass from

a stranger. And that you thought that sex would relieve your anger and mark me as yours.”

Gabriel’s face registered shock, for he had never interpreted his

actions in that way.

“I would never hurt you.” He squeezed her hand.

“I know.”

Gabriel looked upset, and the panic in his eyes didn’t abate when

Julia reached up to pet his hair a little.

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? With our scars and histories and all our problems. A tragic romance, I suppose.” She smiled and tried to make light of their situation.

“The only tragedy would be losing you,” he said, kissing her lightly.

“You’ll only lose me if you stop loving me.”

“I’m a lucky man then. I’ll be able to keep you forever.”

He kissed her once more before wrapping his arms around her.

“Therapy was required when I went into rehab. I continued meet-

ing with a therapist for a year or so afterward, in addition to going to weekly self-help meetings. It isn’t as if I haven’t gone down that road.”

Julia frowned. “You’re in recovery and you don’t go to meetings.

I haven’t said much about it before, but that’s a serious problem. On top of that, you still drink.”

“I was a cocaine addict, not an alcoholic.”

She paused, searching his eyes. It was as if she’d uncovered an

old medieval map that outlined the edge of the world with the words here there be dragons.

47

Sylvain Reynard

“We both know that Narcotics Anonymous strongly suggests

that addicts don’t drink.” She sighed. “As much as I will try to help, some things are beyond me. As much as sex with you pleases me, I

don’t want to become your new drug of choice. I can’t fix things.”

“Is that what you think? That I use sex to fix things?” His question was in earnest, and so Julia resisted the urge to respond with sarcasm.

“I think that you used to use sex to fix things. You said as much

to me once, remember? You used sex to combat your loneliness. Or

to punish yourself.”

A dark shadow passed over Gabriel’s features. “It isn’t like that

with you.”

“But when a person is upset, old patterns of behavior emerge. It’s true of me too, except my coping mechanisms are different.” She

kissed him softly but long enough for his panic to recede and for

him to kiss her back.

When they pulled apart they stood wrapped around one another

until Julia decided to break the silence. “Your lecture last night reminded me of something.” She pulled her phone from her purse and

quickly scrolled through some pictures. “Here.”

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.”

48

Gabriel’s Rapture

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.

49

Sylvain Reynard

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.”

50

Gabriel’s Rapture

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 shoul-

ders 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 Profes-

sor Emerson I know and love.”

51

Sylvain Reynard

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

52

Gabriel’s Rapture

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 final y 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.

53

Sylvain Reynard

“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.

54

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.

Sylvain Reynard

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.”

56

Gabriel’s Rapture

“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.

P

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.

57

Sylvain Reynard

P

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.

He plugged his iPhone into the sound system so they could

continue enjoying his Loving Julianne playlist. Then he took her into his arms as they sat on the floor, finishing their wine, while the sounds of medieval chant swirled around their heads. They were

naked, wrapped in blankets, and unashamed.

“The music is beautiful. What is it?” She closed her eyes as she

focused on the female voices, which were singing a cappella.

“‘Gaudete’ by The Mediaeval Baebes. It’s a Christmas song.”

“That’s quite the name for a music group.”

“They’re very talented. I saw them live the last time they came

to Toronto.”

“Oh, really?”

Gabriel smirked at her. “Are you jealous Miss Mitchell?”

“Should I be?”

“No. My arms are full. Completely.”

Their talking ceased against the backdrop of celestial voices as

their kisses began. Soon their bodies were tangling naked next to

the fire.

In the glow of the orange flames, Julia pushed Gabriel down on

his back and straddled his hips. He grinned as he let her lead, welcoming her newfound confidence. “It isn’t so scary, being on top, is it?”

“No. But I’m more comfortable with you now. I think the wall

sex back at the hotel shook loose my inhibitions.”

He wondered silently what other inhibitions he could shake loose

with various kinds of sex — shower sex, for example. Or perhaps, the holy grail of domestic coupling — kitchen table sex.

58

Gabriel’s Rapture

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “I want to please you.”

“You do. So much.”

She reached a hand behind her and lightly touched the top of

his groin. “With my mouth. I feel badly that I haven’t been able to reciprocate. You’ve been so generous.”

His body reacted to her low whisper and hesitant hand. “Julianne,

there’s no quid pro quo here. I do things with you because I want to.” His lips curled up into a half-smile. “But since you’re offering…”

“I know men prefer it.”

He shrugged. “Great sex will always be better. In comparison,

everything else could only be an amuse bouche.” He winked at her wickedly, squeezing her hip for emphasis.

“Is this position okay? With you lying down or…?”

“It’s fine,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly alight.

“I suppose it’s better than me on my knees.” She watched his

reaction from the corner of her eye.

“That’s right. I, on the other hand, am happy to kneel before my

Princess in order to pleasure her. As I have already demonstrated.”

Julia laughed softly. Then her smile disappeared. “I need to tell

you something.”

He gazed up at her expectantly.

“I have a gag reflex.”

A furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “I’d be worried if you

didn’t.”

Julianne avoided his probing expression as her hand slipped

lower. “Mine is kind of strong.”

His hand closed over hers.

“It won’t be an issue, darling. I promise.” He squeezed her hand.

She moved farther down, and he began to weave her hair around

his fingers, tugging playfully.

Julia froze.

For an oblivious moment, he toyed with her long, silken hair.

Then he realized that she wasn’t moving. “What’s wrong?”

“Please don’t hold my head down.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He sounded perturbed.

59

Sylvain Reynard

She remained perfectly still, waiting. For what, he didn’t know.

He let go of her hair so he could lift her chin. “Sweetheart?”

“Um, it’s only because Idon’twanttothrowuponyou.”

“What was that?”

She ducked her head. “I’ve — thrown up — before.”

He stared at her incredulously. “What…after?”

“Um, no.”

Gabriel was silent for some time, then his eyes narrowed. “Were

you sick because of a gag reflex, or because that bastard held you down?”

She cringed, her head moving in the slightest of nods.

Gabriel swore, his anger burning blue. He sat up swiftly, rubbing

his face with his hands.

In the past, he hadn’t been tender with his sexual conquests,

although he’d prided himself on maintaining some vestige of good

manners. Less so when he was doing cocaine. Despite the Baccha-nalia that he’d participated in, parties that had approximated the decadence of Rome on occasion, he’d never, ever held a girl’s head down until she vomited. Nobody did that. Not even the drug dealers and addicts he used to hang around with did that, and they had no boundaries or moral compunctions at al . Only an incredibly

sick, twisted, misogynistic motherfucker would get his kicks from

humiliating a woman that way.

To do such a thing to Julianne — with her gentle eyes and beau-

tiful soul. A shy creature who was ashamed of having a gag reflex.

The senator’s son was lucky he was hiding in his parents’ house in Georgetown under a suspended sentence and a restraining order, or

Gabriel would have appeared on his doorstep in order to continue

their previous altercation. And he would have ended their conversation with more than a few punches.

He shook the murderous thoughts from his head, lifting Julia to

her feet and wrapping her in a blanket. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t sit here after what you just told me.”

Julia’s cheeks reddened with shame, and her large eyes filled

with tears.

60

Gabriel’s Rapture

“Hey.” Gabriel pressed his lips to her forehead. “It isn’t your fault.

Do you understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She smiled thinly, but it was clear that she didn’t believe him.

He led her upstairs and through the bedroom to the en-suite,

ushering her in before closing the door behind them.

“What are you doing?”

“Hopefully, something nice.” He traced the curve of her cheek

with his thumb.

Gabriel turned on the shower, testing the temperature of the

water until he was satisfied. He adjusted the flow until it was gently falling from the tropical rain showerhead. He slowly removed the

blanket from her body and held the shower door open, waiting for

her to step inside before he followed her.

She looked confused.

“I want to show you that I love you,” he whispered. “Without

taking you to bed.”

“Take me to bed,” she pleaded. “Then our evening won’t be ruined.”

“Our evening isn’t ruined,” he said fiercely. “But I’ll be damned

if anyone hurts you again.” He used both hands to caress her hair, parting and moving it so every strand grew wet.

“You think I’m dirty.”

“Far from it.” He took her hand and pressed it over the tattoo on

his chest. “You’re the closest thing to an angel I’ll ever touch.” His eyes held hers without blinking. “But I think we both need to wash away the past.”

He moved her hair to one side, pressing a kiss to her neck. Step-

ping back, he poured some of her vanilla-scented shampoo into his

palm. His fingers worked the liquid into her scalp, rubbing slowly, and eventually sliding down the locks to the ends. He was careful in his movements. If he ever had one moment, one act, to demonstrate

that his love for her was much deeper than a sexual infatuation, now was that moment.

As Julia began to relax, she thought back to one of the few happy

memories she had of her mother. She was a little girl and her mother washed her hair in the bathtub. She remembered the two of them

laughing. She remembered her mother smiling.

61

Sylvain Reynard

Having Gabriel wash her hair was far better. It was a deeply af-

fectionate, deeply intimate experience. She was naked before him,

as he washed away her shame.

He was naked too, but was careful not to crowd her, or to allow

his slightly embarrassed arousal to brush up against her. This was not about sex. This was about making her feel loved.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so emotional.” Her voice was quiet.

“Sex is supposed to be emotional. You don’t have to hide your

feelings from me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging

her. “I feel very deeply about us as well. These past few days have been the happiest of my life.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder. “You were shy when you were

seventeen, but I don’t remember you being so wounded.”

“I should have dumped him the first time he was cruel.” Her voice

shook. “But I didn’t. I didn’t stand up for myself and things got worse.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

She shrugged. “I stayed with him. I held onto the times when he

was charming or thoughtful, hoping the bad times would disappear.

I know that what I told you made you sick, but believe me, Gabriel, no one could be as disgusted with me as I am with myself.”

“Julia,” he groaned, turning her to face him. “I’m not disgusted

with you. I don’t care what you did; no one deserves to be treated that way. Do you hear me?” His eyes flamed a brilliant, dangerous blue.

She covered her face with her hands. “I wanted to do something

for you. But I couldn’t even get that right.”

He pulled at her wrists, lowering her hands. “Listen to me. Be-

cause we love each other, everything between us, including sex, is a gift. Not a right, or an entitlement or an exaction — a gift. You have me now. Let him go.”

“I still hear his voice in my head.” She brushed away a stray tear.

Gabriel shook his head, shifting them so they stood in the center

of the downpour, the hot water spilling over them. “Do you remember what I said in my lecture about Botticelli’s Primavera?”

She nodded.

“Some people think that Primavera is about sexual awaken-

ing — that part of the painting is an allegory for an arranged marriage.

62

Gabriel’s Rapture

At first, Flora is a virgin and she’s afraid. When she’s pregnant, she appears serene.”

“I thought Zephyr raped her.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “He did. He fell in love with her after-

ward and married her, transforming her into the goddess of flowers.”

“Not a very good allegory for marriage.”

“No, it isn’t.” He swallowed noisily. “Julia, even though some of

your sexual experiences were traumatic, you can still have a fulfilling sexual life. I want you to know that you’re safe when you’re in my arms. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t enjoy, and that includes oral sex.”

Gabriel wrapped an arm around her waist, watching the hot

water as it traveled over their naked bodies before splashing to the tile at their feet. “We’ve only been sleeping together for a week. We have our whole lives to love each other, in multiple ways.”

He silently and lovingly soaped the nape of her neck and across

her shoulders with a sponge. Then he traced the lines of her shoulders and the individual bumps of her spine, pausing regularly to place his lips where the soap had been rinsed away.

He washed her lower back and the two little dimples that marked

the transition to her backside. Without hesitation, he soaped each cheek and massaged the backs of her legs. He even washed her feet, grasping her hand and placing it on his shoulder to steady her as he soaped between her toes.

Julia had never felt more cared for in her life.

He attended the front of her neck and the slope of her shoulders.

He washed and caressed her breasts with his hands, putting the sponge to one side as he kissed them. Then he was gently touching between her legs, not sexually but reverently, rinsing the suds that accumulated among her dark curls and finally pressing his mouth there as well.

When he was finished, he took her into his arms and kissed her

like a shy teenager, chastely and simply. “You are teaching me to

love, and I suppose I’m teaching you to love too, in a way. We aren’t perfect, but we can have happiness. Can’t we?” He pulled back so

he could read her eyes.

“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes filled with tears.

63

Sylvain Reynard

Gabriel clutched her to his heart and buried his face in her neck

as the water rained down on them.

P

Emotionally exhausted, Julianne slept until noon the following

day. Gabriel had been so kind, so loving. He’d foregone what Julia had always thought was a man’s basic need — oral sex — and given

her what could only be described as a cleansing of shame. Gabriel’s love and acceptance had its intended, transformative effect.

As she opened her eyes, she felt lighter, stronger, happier. Carrying the secrets of how he humiliated her had proved to be a very heavy burden. With the weight of guilt lifted, she felt like a new person.

She thought it was probably blasphemous to compare her experi-

ence with that of Christian in The Pilgrim’s Progress, but she saw an important resemblance between their respective deliverances. Truth sets one free, but love casts out fear.

In her twenty-three years, Julia hadn’t realized how pervasive

grace was and how Gabriel, who considered himself to be a very great sinner, could be a conduit of that grace. This was part of the divine comedy — God’s sense of humor undergirding the inner workings of

the universe. Sinners participated in the redemption of other sinners; faith, hope, and charity triumphed over disbelief, despair, and hatred, while the One who called all creatures to Himself watched and smiled.

64

Chapter 6

Gabriel awoke in the middle of their last night in Umbria to an

empty bed. Dazed, in a semi-dreamlike state, he extended his

arm to Julianne’s side. The sheets held no warmth.

He swung his legs to the floor, wincing as his bare feet touched

the cold stone. He pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and made his way downstairs, scratching at his bed-mussed hair. The light was on in the kitchen, but no Julianne. A half-drunk glass of cranberry juice sat on the counter next to a remnant of cheese and a crust of bread.

It looked as if a mouse had been there for a nocturnal feeding but had been surprised and scurried off.

Walking into the living room, he saw a dark head resting on the

arm of an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace. In sleep, Julianne looked younger and very peaceful. Her skin was pale, but her cheeks and lips had a rosy hue. Gabriel would have loved to compose a

poem about her mouth and resolved to do so. In fact, her appear-

ance reminded him of Frederick Leighton’s Flaming June. She was clad only in an elegant ivory silk nightgown. One of the thin straps had fallen off her right shoulder, leaving the beautiful curve bare.

Gabriel couldn’t help himself as the pale, smooth skin called out

to him. He kissed her shoulder and crouched near her head, floating a hand over her hair and petting her softly.

She stirred and opened her eyes, blinking twice before smiling

at him.

Her slow, sweet smile set his heart aflame. He actually felt his

breathing speed. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, and the depth of feeling she drew from him consistently surprised him.

Sylvain Reynard

“Hi,” he whispered, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Are

you all right?”

“Of course.”

“I was worried when I reached for you and you weren’t there.”

“I came down to get a snack.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows knit together, and he rested his hand lightly

on the top of her head. “Are you still hungry?”

“Not for food.”

“I haven’t seen this before.” He traced a finger across the neckline of her nightgown, skimming the tops of her breasts.

“I bought it for our first night together.”

“It’s beautiful. Why haven’t you worn it?”

“I’ve been wearing all those things you bought me in Florence.

What did the clerk call them? Basques and body suits? Your taste in women’s lingerie is surprisingly old-fashioned, Professor Emerson.

Next you’ll be buying me a corset.”

He chuckled and kissed her. “I’ll remember to look for one. You’re right, I tend to favor items that leave more to the imagination. It makes the unwrapping so much more enjoyable. But you’re equally lovely in everything and nothing.”

Julia reached over to touch his face and pulled him close for a

deeper kiss. She dragged her lips across his jaw line until she was whispering in his ear. “Come to bed.”

She took his hand and led him past the kitchen table, exchanging

a saucy smirk with him before walking upstairs. She moved him to sit on the edge of the canopied bed while she stood before him, pausing.

She pushed the straps of her nightgown over her shoulders. It

pooled at her ankles, leaving her naked.

In the semi-darkness of the room, he drank in her tempting

curves. “You are an argument for God’s existence,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Your face, your breasts, your beautiful back. St. Thomas Aquinas

would have had to add you as his Sixth Way if he’d ever been blessed enough to see you. You must have been designed and not merely made.”

Julia lowered her eyes and blushed.

He smiled at her pink cheeks. “Am I making you shy?”

66

Gabriel’s Rapture

As if in answer, she took a step closer and pulled one of his hands so it cupped her breast.

He squeezed her softly. “Lie beside me and I’ll hold you.”

“I want you to love me.”

He divested himself of his boxer shorts and moved so she could

join him. Still cupping her breast, he began to kiss her, gently tangling his tongue with hers.

“I breathe you,” he whispered. “You’re everything. You’re the air.”

He teased her breasts with his fingers and planted gentle kisses down her neck, feathering up and down while she urged him on with

confident fingers.

Julia pushed him to recline on his back and straddled his hips.

He kissed between her breasts and took one of her nipples in his

mouth as his hand glided across the surface of her skin, moving

down to test her.

He released her breast in order to shake his head. “You aren’t

ready.”

“But I want you.”

“I want you too. But I want to set your body on fire, first.”

Julia’s desire was countered by Gabriel’s commitment to see that

each of their sexual encounters was pleasurable for both of them. He’d rather delay entrance and satisfaction until she was mad with want, rather than speed along before her body was sufficiently aroused.

When they finally came together, she looked down into open

blue eyes, their noses only a whisper apart. She moved atop him

painstakingly slowly, her eyes closing as she focused on the pleasurable sensation, before opening again. It was an intense connection.

Dark blue, heavy with emotion, gazed up unblinkingly into wide

chestnut. Every movement, every yearning was reflected between

the couple’s eyes.

“I love you.” He nuzzled her with his nose as she gradual y in-

creased her pace.

“I love you too — ” Her last word was interrupted by a low moan.

She reached down to catch his mouth as her movements sped.

Their tongues explored one another, groans and confessions inter-

rupting their connection. He touched her ribs and smoothed over

her waist. He slipped his hands under the curve of her bottom so he could lift her slightly, increasing his leverage.

67

Sylvain Reynard

She’d become addicted to this, to him. She adored the way he

looked at her in these intimate moments and the way in which the

world fell out of focus around them. She longed to feel him loving her, moving inside her, for he always made her feel beautiful. She would have said that any orgasm was an extra gift in addition to the way she felt when they were conjoined.

Making love, like music or breathing or the tempo of one’s heart-

beat, was based on a primordial rhythm. Gabriel had come to read

her body and to know the pace that matched it, like a glove that fits a lady’s hand. It was the sort of knowledge that was at once personal and primary, the kind of knowledge King James’s translators had been referring to when they wrote of Adam knowing his wife. The mysterious sacred knowledge that a lover had for his beloved — knowledge

that was perverted and maligned in less holier couplings. Knowledge that deserved a marriage in more than name.

Julia put her new knowledge to good use, delighting Gabriel with

her body again and again. And the way it felt when he was inside

her — warm and thrilling and tropical and perfect.

He was close, oh, so close. He searched her expression and saw

that her eyes were opened. Every motion of hers was reciprocated by him. Every motion brought both of them pleasure.

As they stared, a great moan erupted from her chest, and then

in a twinkling instant she was throwing her head back and calling

his name. It was a glorious thing for him to see and hear. Julianne finally called his name. Soon he was falling, groaning aloud as his body tensed and then released, the veins in his forehead and neck

straining and relaxing.

A joyful, tender coupling.

She didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t want to feel him leave

her body, and so she curled on top of him, watching his expression.

“Will it always be like this?”

Gabriel kissed her nose. “I don’t know. But if Richard and Grace

were any indication, it will only improve with time. I’ll see the reflection of all our shared joys and experiences in your eyes, and you will see the same in mine. Our history will make it better, deeper.”

She smiled at what he said and nodded; then her face grew sad.

“What is it?”

“I’m worried about what will happen next year.”

68

Gabriel’s Rapture

“Why?”

“What if I don’t get accepted into the PhD program at Toronto?”

He frowned. “I didn’t know that you applied.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to leave me either, but Julianne, the Toronto

program is not for you. You’d have no one to work with. I can’t

supervise you, and I doubt Katherine would take on a multi-year

commitment.”

Julia’s countenance fell.

Gabriel stroked her cheek with his finger. “I thought you wanted

to go to Harvard.”

“It’s so far away.”

“Only a short flight.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “We can see

each other on weekends and holidays. I applied for a sabbatical. It’s possible that I could come with you for the first year.”

“I’ll be there for six years. Or more.” She was close to tears now.

Gabriel saw them swimming and shimmering in her eyes and his

heart ached.

“We’ll make it work,” his voice grew rough. “Right now, we need

to enjoy the time we have together. Let me worry about the future.

I’ll make sure we aren’t separated.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he kissed her.

“The advantage to dating an older, more established man is that

he can give you room to focus on your own career. I’ll find a way to make my job fit around yours.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“It would be grossly unfair to expect you to give up your dream

of being a professor or to have you enroll in a program that is subpar.

I won’t let you sacrifice your dreams for me.” He grinned. “Now kiss me, and let me know that you trust me.”

“I trust you.”

Gabriel held her in his arms, sighing as she rested her head on

his chest.

69

Chapter 7

Christa Peterson sat in her parents’ house in north Toronto,

checking her email a few days before Christmas. She’d been

ignoring her inbox for a week. A relationship she had cultivated in addition to her pursuit of Professor Emerson had run its course, which meant that she wouldn’t be skiing in Whistler, British Columbia,

with her erstwhile lover over the Christmas holidays.

The banker in question had broken up with her via text message.

This was in poor taste, to be sure, but what would be in even poorer taste would be the follow-up email that was sure to be waiting for her, like a ticking bomb lurking in her inbox.

Having steeled herself with a glass or two of vintage Bollinger

champagne, which she had purchased as a gift for the schmuck who

was supposed to take her skiing, she checked her account. And there, sitting in her email, was a bomb. However, it was not the bomb

she’d expected.

To say that she was surprised by the content of Professor Pac-

ciani’s email would have been an understatement. In fact, she felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under her.

The only Canadian woman she had ever seen Professor Emer-

son show even restrained affection to was Professor Ann Singer. Yes, Christa had seen Emerson with various women at Lobby, but never

the same woman twice. He was friendly with other female professors and staff, but only professionally so, greeting them always and only with a firm handshake. Professor Singer, in contrast, was rewarded with a double kiss when he greeted her after his last public lecture.

Christa did not want to rekindle her relationship with Professor

Pacciani. He was sorely lacking in a particular physical respect, and she had no wish to return to the previous intimate encounters that had always left her frustrated and wanting. She had standards, after Gabriel’s Rapture

all, and any man who did not measure up to at least the size of her personal service accessory was not worth screwing.

(And she would have said you could quote her.)

Since she wanted more information about Professor Emerson’s

fiancée, she feigned interest in a spring rendezvous with Professor Pacciani and subtly asked for the fiancée’s name. Then she went

downstairs and finished off the rest of the champagne.

P

The day before Christmas found Julia sitting at the counter of

Kinfolks restaurant in Selinsgrove, having lunch with her father.

Gabriel was doing some last minute shopping with Richard while

Rachel and Aaron drove to the grocery store to pick up the turkey.

Scott was still in Philadelphia with his girlfriend.

Tom had faithfully delivered Julia’s gift from Paul. She’d placed

it on the floor at her feet, and now it was staring up at her, begging for attention like a puppy.

She opened it, deciding it was better to display its contents to her father than to her boyfriend. She gave the bottle of maple syrup to Tom with a smile, she giggled at the toy Holstein and kissed it, but when she unwrapped the Dante and Beatrice figurines her face grew

pale. It was almost as if Paul knew. And yet, he couldn’t have known that Gabriel and Julia were Dante and Beatrice, at least to each other.

While Tom ate his blue plate special — turkey with stuffing and

mashed potatoes — Julia opened Paul’s card. It displayed children

engaged in a snowball fight and the typical Merry Christmas emblazoned on the front. But it was the words that Paul wrote in his own hand that brought a lump to her throat.

Merry Christmas, Rabbit.

I know it was a rough first semester and I’m sorry I didn’t do a

better job of helping you when you needed it. I’m proud of you for not quitting. With a big Vermont hug

from your friend, Paul.

P.S. I don’t know if you’ve heard Sarah McLachlan’s “Wintersong,”

but part of it made me think of you.

71

Sylvain Reynard

Julia didn’t know the song that he was referring to, so the lyrics he omitted did not run through her mind as she examined the card’s artwork more closely. In the center of the image of a snowball fight stood a little girl with long, dark hair in a bright red coat, laughing.

The quotation, the picture, the card, the gift — Paul had tried

to keep his feelings secret, she thought, but he’d betrayed himself.

It was all in the picture of the laughing girl and the song that she would listen to later.

Julia sighed and placed everything back in the box and set it at

her feet.

“So, Gabriel treating you right?” Tom broached the topic of Julia’s relationship in between bites of turkey.

“He loves me, Dad. He’s very good to me.”

Her father shook his head as he reflected on how Simon had had

the appearance of being good and Gabriel had the reality of being

good — and how he had failed to recognize the difference.

“You let me know if he isn’t,” he said, tasting the mashed potatoes.

Julia almost rolled her eyes. Yes, it was a bit late for Tom to play the part of the overprotective father, but better late than not at all.

“When Gabriel and I drove into town this morning we went by

the house. I saw the sign on the lawn.”

Tom wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I put it up for sale a couple

of weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“Why not? I can’t live in a place where my daughter doesn’t feel

safe.”

“But you grew up in that house. What about you and Deb?”

He shrugged and hid his expression behind a cup of coffee. “It’s

over.”

She gasped. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Tom sipped his coffee stoically. “We had a difference of opinion.

And her kids don’t like me.”

Julia fidgeted with her silverware, lining them up so their ends

were even.

“So Deb sided with Natalie and Simon?”

He shrugged again.

72

Gabriel’s Rapture

“It was a long time coming. Truth is, I’m relieved. It feels good

to be a free agent.” He winked at her conspiratorially.

“I’m looking to buy a smaller house. I’d like to use some of the

money I make to pay for your education.”

Julia was surprised. Then she was angry. Her conflict with him had cost her and her father so much — too much to be remedied by

a criminal record and some community service. She was scarred and

her father lost his prospective wife and the Mitchell family home.

“Dad, you should use the money for your retirement.”

“I’m sure there will be enough for everything. And if you don’t

want to use my money for school, then use it to buy beer. From now on, it’s just you and me kid.” He reached out a hand to ruffle Julia’s hair, his preferred gesture of affection.

He excused himself to use the men’s room, leaving her alone to

contemplate her half-eaten cheeseburger and her changed father. She was deep in thought, fingering the glass of ginger ale in front of her, when someone moved to occupy the stool next to her.

“Hello, Jules.”

Startled, Julia turned and found her former roommate, Natalie

Lundy, sitting next to her.

There was a time when Julia had laughingly called her former

friend Jolene, for her beautiful and voluptuous features perfectly matched those described in the song. But that was before Natalie

had betrayed her. Now her beauty seemed harsh and cold.

As Julia stared at her, she noticed something painful about the

way she was dressed — the vintage designer coat with the slightly

frayed cuffs, the expensive boots that were worn and second-hand. On first glance, she looked rich and well dressed. But Julia glanced twice and saw what others could not see — the small town girl who was

ashamed of her blue collar roots and wished to leave them far behind.

“Merry Christmas, Natalie. What can I get for you?” Diane, the

waitress, leaned over the counter.

Julia watched as Natalie transformed from cold and sul en to

cheerful and sunny, slipping into the local accent.

“Merry Christmas, Diane. I’ll just have coffee. I can’t stay long.”

The waitress smiled and poured coffee, then moved to wait on a

group of Tom’s fellow volunteer firemen at the far end of the counter.

73

Sylvain Reynard

As soon as her back was turned, Natalie’s demeanor changed. She

glared at Julia with hate-filled eyes.

“I need to talk to you.”

“You have nothing to say that I want to hear.” Julia moved to

stand, but Natalie subtly gripped her wrist.

“Sit down and shut up, or I’ll make a scene.” Her voice was low,

barely above a whisper. She smiled artificially. No one would know by looking at her that she was threatening Julia, who swallowed

noisily and sat back down.

Natalie released her arm with a punishing squeeze. “We need

to talk about Simon.”

Julia’s eyes darted toward the men’s room, hoping that her father

would reappear.

Natalie continued. “I’m going to assume that your recent mis-

understanding with Simon was unintentional. You were upset; he

said some things he shouldn’t have, you called the police.

“Because of that misunderstanding, Simon now has a criminal

record. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why that record needs to

disappear before he runs for state Senate. You need to fix the misunderstanding. Today.”

Natalie smiled and flipped her hair behind her shoulder, acting

as if she and Julia were engaged in a friendly conversation.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Julia mumbled. “He’s already

plea-bargained.”

Natalie took a sip of her coffee. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Jules. I know that. Obviously, you need to tell the District Attorney that you lied. Explain that it was a lover’s quarrel gone awry, you got your revenge, and now you feel bad about having made the

whole thing up.” She laughed a little too loudly. “Although, I don’t understand how anyone believed that Simon could be interested in

you. Look at you, for God’s sake. You’re a mess.”

Julia bit back a harsh retort, deciding prudentially that silence

was best.

Natalie leaned toward her, pulling the crewneck of Julia’s sweater away from her throat with icy fingers. She examined Julia’s neck

carefully.

74

Gabriel’s Rapture

“There isn’t a mark on you. Show the D.A. your neck and tell

him you lied.”

“No.” Julia moved out of Natalie’s reach, resisting the urge to

show her the bite that she’d slathered with concealer that morning.

She pulled her sweater further up her neck, pressing a hand over the place where Simon had bitten her. It was a phantom pain, she knew, but she could still feel where his teeth had broken skin.

Natalie dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m not asking — I’m

telling you.” She pulled her BlackBerry out of her large handbag and placed it on the counter between them. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to do this, but you leave me without a choice. I have pictures of you that Simon took. They’re very…colorful.”

Julia’s eyes darted to the phone. She tried to swallow, but her

mouth went dry. With a shaking hand, she lifted her glass to her lips, frantically trying not to spill her drink.

Natalie smiled, clearly enjoying the torture she was able to inflict on her former rival. She snatched up the cell phone eagerly, scrolling through the pictures. “I could never figure out how he set up the

shots without you knowing. Or maybe you knew but didn’t care.”

She tilted her head to one side, narrowing her eyes at Julia. “Do you care if everyone in Selinsgrove sees these pictures on the internet?”

Julia scanned the eyes of the townspeople around them, hoping

they hadn’t heard Natalie’s threat. At least no one was looking in their direction. Her first instinct was to run, to hide. But that strategy hadn’t saved her from her mother when she was younger. Her mother

always found her. It hadn’t saved her from Simon, either. He’d been stopped only because Gabriel hit him back.

Julia was tired of hiding. She felt her spine stiffen.

“Simon’s record is your fault. He came to see me to get the pictures.

But you’ve had them all along.”

Natalie smiled sweetly, but didn’t deny the accusation.

“Now you want me to clean up your mess. But I’m not going

to do it.”

Natalie laughed. “Oh yes, you are.”

She looked at the screen again, making a show of bringing it

close to her eyes. “God, your tits are small.”

75

Sylvain Reynard

“Did you know that Senator Talbot wants to run for President?”

Julia blurted.

Natalie tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “Of course I know.

I’m going to work for the Senator’s campaign.”

Julia gave Natalie a long look. “Now I understand. Simon’s re-

cord will be a problem for the Senator, so you need it to go away.

You screwed up.”

“How’s that?”

“If you release those photos, Simon will dump you so fast your

head will spin. And you’ll never get out of this town.”

Natalie waved a dismissive hand. “He won’t dump me. And the

Senator will never know about the pictures.”

Julia felt her heart beginning to race. “If I’m in those pictures, Simon is too. What will the Senator think of that?”

“Haven’t you heard of a little program called Photoshop? I can

edit Simon out and edit someone else back in. But I won’t have to

because you’re going to be a good little girl and do the right thing.

Aren’t you, Jules?”

Natalie flashed a patronizing smile as she placed her BlackBerry

back in her purse and stood to leave, but Julia stopped her.

“He’ll never introduce you to his parents. He told me that. You

can do better than being Simon’s dirty secret.”

Natalie’s expression faltered, then hardened. “You don’t know

what you’re talking about,” she snapped. “He’s going to give me exactly what I want and so are you. If you don’t fix this problem today, I’m posting the pictures online. Enjoy your Christmas.”

She started to walk away but Julia called after her. “Wait.”

Natalie paused, looking at her former friend with undisguised

contempt.

Julia took a deep breath and gestured to Natalie to come closer.

“Tell Simon to make sure the Senator renews his subscription to The Washington Post.”

“Why?”

“Because if you release those pictures, I’ll call Andrew Sampson

at the Post. You remember him, don’t you? He wrote an article last year about Simon’s DUI arrest and how the Senator intervened.”

76

Gabriel’s Rapture

Natalie shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

Julia clenched her fists stubbornly. “If you release the pictures, I have nothing to lose. I’ll tell the newspapers that Simon assaulted me, then sent the girl he keeps on the side to blackmail me.”

Natalie’s green eyes grew very wide then narrowed into serpen-

tine slits.

“You wouldn’t,” she breathed.

“Try me.”

Natalie stared in furious surprise before setting her teeth. “People have been walking all over you for years and you’ve done nothing.

There’s no way you’re going to call up a reporter and spill your guts.”

Julia lifted her chin, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Maybe I’m tired of being walked over.” She shrugged dramatically. “If you release the pictures, you’ll never work for the Senator’s campaign. You’ll just be part of an embarrassing scandal they’ll sweep under the rug.”

Natalie’s ivory skin flushed a deep, dark red.

Julia took advantage of her silence and continued. “Leave me

alone, and I’ll forget about both of you. But I’m never going to lie about what he did to me. I’ve lied to cover for him too many times, and I’m not doing it anymore.”

“You’re just angry that Simon chose me over you,” Natalie spat,

her voice becoming louder. “You were this pathetic, weak little girl who didn’t even know how to give a decent blow job!”

In the awkward silence that ensued, Julia realized that the other

restaurant patrons had stopped talking. She looked around the room, utterly humiliated, as the townspeople stared. Everyone heard Natalie’s crude revelation, including the Baptist minister’s wife, who sat with her teenaged daughter in a quiet corner drinking tea.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Natalie hissed.

Before Julia could respond, Diane suddenly appeared at the

counter. “Natalie, go on home. You can’t come into my restaurant

and talk like that.”

Angrily, Natalie withdrew a few steps but not before muttering

a few choice curse words. “This isn’t over.”

Julia lifted her chin. “Oh, yes, it is. You’re too smart to jeopardize your future by doing something stupid. Go back to him and leave me alone.”

77

Sylvain Reynard

Natalie stared daggers at her before turning on her heel and

storming out.

“What’s going on?” Tom suddenly appeared behind Julia. “Jules?

What’s wrong?”

Before she could respond, Diane told him an extremely sanitized

account of what happened.

Tom cursed and put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Are

you all right?”

She nodded reluctantly before running to the ladies’ room. She

wasn’t sure how she’d ever be able to face the townspeople after what Natalie had shouted. Fighting nausea, she grabbed the top of the

vanity for support.

Diane followed Julia into the washroom. She dampened some

paper towels with cold water and handed them to her. “I’m sorry,

Jules. I should have slapped her upside the head. I can’t believe she’d talk that kind of trash in my place.”

Julia was quiet as she slowly wiped her face.

“Honey, nobody heard a thing that girl had to say. It’s noisy out

there and everyone is talking about how the Santa Claus over at the mall got drunk on his lunch hour yesterday and tried to make out

with one of the elves.”

Julia cringed.

Diane smiled at her sympathetically. “You want me to make you

a cup of tea or something?”

Julia shook her head and inhaled deeply as she tried to compose

herself.

If any god is out there listening, please give all the people in Kinfolks restaurant amnesia, just concerning the past fifteen minutes.

A short time later she reassumed her place at the counter, next to her father. She kept her head down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. It was too easy to imagine the entire restaurant whispering her sins and judging her.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said in a small voice.

He frowned and asked Diane for a fresh cup of coffee and a jelly

doughnut. “What are you sorry about?” His voice was gruff.

Diane served them, patting Julia’s arm sympathetically, and

moved to wait on some tables in order to give them some privacy.

78

Gabriel’s Rapture

“This is all my fault — Deb, Natalie, the house…” She didn’t want

to cry, but somehow the tears welled up and she couldn’t stop them.

“I’ve embarrassed you in front of the whole town.”

Tom leaned toward her. “Hey, I don’t want to hear that kind of

garbage. You have never embarrassed me. I’m proud of you.” His

voice broke slightly and he began coughing. “It was my responsibility to protect you, and I didn’t.”

Julia wiped a tear away. “But now your life is ruined.”

He snorted. “I wasn’t that attached to my life anyway. I’d rather

lose the house and Deb than lose you. There’s no contest. None.”

He pushed the jelly doughnut in front of her and waited until

she took a bite. “When I met your mother, I was happy. We had a

few good years together. But the best day of my life was the day you were born. I always wanted a family. I’m never going to let anything or anyone separate me from my family again. You’ve got my word

on that.”

Julia smiled up into her father’s face, and he leaned over and

ruffled her hair.

“I’d like to swing by Deb’s place to talk to her about what just

happened. She needs to explain to her daughter how to behave in

public. Why don’t you phone that boyfriend of yours and ask him

to pick you up? I’ll see you at Richard’s house later on.”

Julia agreed and wiped her tears away. She didn’t want Gabriel

to see her crying.

“I love you, Dad.”

Tom cleared his throat roughly, without looking at her. “Me too.

Now finish your doughnut before Diane starts changing us rent.”

79

Chapter 8

Gabriel was only too glad to cut his Christmas shopping short.

When he and Richard arrived at the restaurant, they walked

over to the counter to join the Mitchells.

Julia stood up and hugged Gabriel tightly.

“What happened?” He frowned. “You’ve been crying.”

“It’s just the Christmas blues.” Julia noticed uncomfortably that

some of the restaurant patrons were still staring.

“What Christmas blues?”

“I’ll tell you later.” She began to tug him toward the door.

Richard took a moment to greet Tom, and while the two old

friends were talking, Gabriel gently swept Julia’s hair behind her ear in order to whisper something sweet.

A sudden flash caught Richard’s attention — Grace’s earrings.

Clearly, he’d underestimated his son’s new relationship. He knew

that Grace would be happy that their son gave her earrings to Julia.

Grace loved Julia liked a daughter and always considered her part

of their family. Perhaps someday Gabriel would make Julia part of

their family officially…

Gabriel and Tom exchanged polite greetings, and Gabriel picked

up Julia’s Christmas gift from Paul. To his credit, he resisted the urge to say something snide and carried the box without comment.

As the trio approached the door, Officer Roberts walked in. She

was wearing her uniform.

“Hello, Jamie.” Gabriel smiled, but his body tensed.

“Hi, Gabriel. Home for Christmas?”

“That’s right.”

Gabriel’s Rapture

She greeted Julia and Richard, and turned back to Gabriel, notic-

ing the way Julia’s arm was tucked into his elbow.

“You look good. You look happy.”

“Thank you. I am.” He smiled genuinely.

Jamie nodded. “I’m happy for you. Merry Christmas.”

Julia and Gabriel thanked her and quietly exited the restaurant,

reflecting privately on the way forgiveness made certain burdens

lighter.

As they walked through the front door of the Clark house, Gabriel

was plotting with Richard to enjoy Scotch and cigars on the patio.

Julia was still feeling a little shell-shocked from her confrontation with Natalie, but she was so relieved to be home that she pushed

all thoughts of her afternoon aside. She disappeared into the living room while Gabriel and Richard hung up their coats.

“Sweetheart? Can I take your jacket?” Gabriel called. When she

didn’t answer, he followed her.

His next question died in his throat as he skidded to a stop. His

beloved Julianne was frozen like a statue, staring at a woman who

was sitting in the living room with Aaron and Rachel. Instinctively, Gabriel gripped Julia’s waist and drew her backward to his chest.

He watched as the woman rose gracefully from her seat and

floated over to them. She moved like a ballerina or a princess, a

subtle air of old money clinging like perfume to her every movement.

She was tal , almost the same height as Gabriel, with long, straight blond hair and large, ice-blue eyes. Her skin was flawless, and she was model thin except for her generous and perfect breasts. She

wore knee-high black suede stiletto boots, a black wool pencil skirt, and a pale blue cashmere sweater that hung provocatively off of her alabaster shoulders.

She was beautiful. And imperious. She took one look at the

way Julia was tucked under Gabriel’s arm and arched her back like

a Russian blue cat.

“Gabriel, darling. I’ve missed you!” Her voice was rich and clear, with just a hint of a British accent. She embraced him tightly.

Julia wriggled away from them, none too keen to engage in a

group hug.

“What are you doing here?” A myriad of emotions flashed across

Gabriel’s face as she pressed her full pink lips to both of his cheeks.

81

Sylvain Reynard

She kissed him slowly, oozing sensuality. To add insult to injury, she wiped her lipstick stain from his skin, chuckling softly as if it were a private joke.

His eyes fled to Julia’s, and she returned his gaze, eyes tinged

with disappointment.

Before he could say anything, Richard cleared his throat and

stepped forward. She brushed his proffered hand aside and hugged

him.

“Richard. A pleasure as always. I was so sorry to hear about Grace.”

He graciously accepted her embrace and walked over to Julia to

assist her with her coat. After he’d hung it up, he quietly persuaded Aaron and Rachel to join him in the kitchen, denying Paulina her

audience.

“I didn’t know you had two sisters.” She acknowledged Julia’s

existence with a frosty smile. She towered over Julia, who was wearing plain flat shoes, jeans, and a black cardigan. Beside her, Julia felt dowdy and small.

“I have only one sister and you know it,” Gabriel snapped. “Why

are you here?”

Julia came to herself and bravely extended her hand, before Ga-

briel made a scene. “I’m Julia. We spoke on the phone.”

Paulina kept a tight rein on her facial expression, but Julia saw

what she was attempting to conceal — the cold flames of resentment.

“Really?” she laughed artfully. “Surely you can’t expect me to keep track of all the girls who’ve answered Gabriel’s phone over the years.

Unless you were one of the girls I spoke with when I interrupted a ménage? Remember that night, Gabriel?”

Julia withdrew her hand as if she’d been smacked.

“I expect an answer to my question,” Gabriel spoke, his voice

stiff and cold as a frozen lake. “Why are you here?”

Julia tried to step away. The verbal picture Paulina had painted

repulsed her, and she wasn’t sure she could stomach the answer, whatever it might be. Gabriel caught Julia’s arm, pleading with her with his eyes not to flee.

“I came to see you, of course. You wouldn’t return my calls, and

Carson said that you’d be with your family.” Paulina sounded irritated.

“Are you on your way to Minnesota?”

82

Gabriel’s Rapture

“You know my parents don’t speak to me. Anyway, Gabriel, I need

to talk to you.” She gave Julia a venomous look. “Alone.”

Gabriel was conscious of the fact that the kitchen was still within hearing range of the living room. He took a step closer to Paulina, his voice hovering above a whisper.

“Allow me to remind you that you are a guest. I won’t tolerate

your disrespect for anyone, especially Julianne. Do you understand?”

“You never treated me like a guest when you were in my mouth,”

Paulina muttered, eyes flashing.

Julia inhaled sharply, her stomach rolling. If she’d met Paulina a few weeks ago, the encounter would have been awkward and uncomfortable. But meeting her now, after having spent hours in Gabriel’s bed, was incredibly painful.

Paulina knew what it was like to be intimate with him. She

knew his sounds, his smell, the look on his face when he climaxed.

She was taller, more sophisticated, and far more beautiful. And it was clear that unlike Julia, she had no hesitation about performing oral sex. Furthermore, and far more damaging, she’d created a child with Gabriel, something he was now unable to do with anyone else.

Julia tore herself from Gabriel’s grasp, turning her back on the

former lovers. She knew it would be better if she and he maintained a united front. She also knew it would be better to stand her ground rather than retreat. But her spirit had taken a beating at Kinfolks restaurant, and she no longer had the energy to fight. Emotionally exhausted, she shuffled up the stairs without a backward glance.

Gabriel watched her walk away, and he felt his heart plummet

to the soles of his feet. He wanted to go after her, but there was no way he was going to leave Paulina alone with his father and sister. He excused himself for a moment, disappearing into the kitchen to tell Rachel that Julia had fallen ill and to ask if she would check on her.

Rachel climbed the staircase and found Julia exiting the wash-

room on the second floor. “Are you all right?”

“No. I need to lie down.”

When Rachel obligingly opened the door to Gabriel’s old room,

Julia disdained it and walked across the hall to enter the guest room.

Rachel watched as her friend slowly removed her shoes, placing them on the rug next to the bed.

“Can I get you an aspirin or something?”

83

Sylvain Reynard

“No. I just need to rest.”

“Who is that woman? And why is she here?”

Julia spoke through clenched teeth. “You need to ask your brother.”

Rachel’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “I will. But the fact

that I don’t know who she is tells me something. She can’t have been very important if Gabriel never brought her home.” She turned to

leave. “That should tell you something too.”

Julia reclined on the bed, hoping that sleep would take her quickly.

P

Gabriel walked into the kitchen three hours later and found

Aaron and Rachel engaged in an argument over the correct way to

make Grace’s famous chicken Kiev.

“I’m telling you, you need to freeze the butter first. That’s the way your mom used to do it.” Aaron sounded exasperated.

“How do you know? She didn’t say anything about freezing the

butter.” Rachel gestured to the recipe card.

“Grace always froze the butter,” said Gabriel, frowning. “She

probably assumed everyone would know that. Where’s Julia?”

Rachel turned on him, wielding a very large wire whisk. “Where

have you been?”

His jaw tightened. “Out. Where is she?”

“Upstairs. Unless she decided to go back to her father’s house.”

“Why would she do that?”

Rachel turned her back on her brother and resumed beating

a few eggs. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you went out with

one of your ex-girlfriends and left her for three hours. I hope Julia dumps your ass.”

“Honey…” Aaron reproved her, touching her shoulder.

“Don’t.” She pushed his hand away angrily. “Gabriel, you’re lucky

Scott isn’t here. Because he’d have dragged you outside by now.”

Aaron frowned. “What about me? I could drag Gabriel outside,

if I wanted to.”

84

Gabriel’s Rapture

Rachel rolled her eyes. “No, you couldn’t. And right now, I need

you to freeze the God damned butter.”

Gabriel muttered something unintelligible and walked away. He

took his time as he climbed the stairs, trying desperately to formulate an apology that would be worthy of her.

(Not that it was possible, even with his silver tongue.)

He stood outside the door while he gathered his bearings, inhal-

ing deeply before entering. But the bed was empty.

Puzzled, he searched the room. No Julia.

Returning to the hall, he wondered if she’d sought refuge in

Scott’s room, but she hadn’t. The bathroom, likewise, was unoccu-

pied. His eyes alighted on the closed door of the guest room across the hall. He opened it.

Julia was lying in the center of the bed, sound asleep. He contem-

plated leaving her to her dreams but rejected the idea. They needed to talk, away from prying ears, and at least for the next little while his family was preoccupied.

Wordlessly, he removed his shoes and crawled into bed, spoon-

ing behind her. The surface of her skin was smooth but cool. He

wrapped himself around her.

“Gabriel?” She blinked sleepily at him. “What time is it?”

“Six thirty.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

“They were waiting for me.”

“Waiting for you to do what?”

“I was out. When I came back, Richard wanted to speak with me.”

“Where did you go?”

He looked away guiltily.

“Were you with her?”

“Her driver’s license is suspended because of the DUI. I dropped

her off at a hotel.”

“Why were you gone so long?”

He paused, his expression conflicted. “We were talking.”

“Talking? At a hotel?”

85

Sylvain Reynard

“She’s upset about the turn her life has taken. Her appearance

here was a desperate attempt to change direction.”

Julia began curling in on herself, drawing her knees flush against her chest.

“No, no, no,” he chanted, tugging her arms and knees away from

her body, trying desperately to relax her defensive posture. “She’s gone, and she won’t be coming back. I told her again that I’ve fallen in love with you. She has my money and she has my lawyers, and that’s it.”

“That’s never been enough for her. She wants you, and she doesn’t

care that you’re with me.”

He put his arms around Julia’s unyielding body. “I don’t care

what she wants. I’m in love with you, and you are my future.”

“She’s beautiful. And sexy.”

“She’s malicious and petty. I saw nothing beautiful in her today.”

“You made a child together.”

He winced. “Not by choice.”

“I hate sharing you.”

Gabriel scowled. “You will never have to share me.”

“I have to share you with your past — with Paulina, with Profes-

sor Singer, with Jamie Roberts — with countless other women I’m

probably going to pass on the street in Toronto.”

He set his teeth. “I’ll do my best to protect you from such em-

barrassing encounters in the future.”

“It still hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If I could change the past, I would.

But I can’t, Julianne, no matter how badly I wish I could.”

“She gave you what I can’t.”

He leaned over her body, his hand pressing down on the mattress

next to her hip. “If you were thirsty and someone offered you water from the ocean, would you drink it?”

“Of course not.”

“Why?”

She shuddered. “Because the water is salty and dirty.”

“And if someone gave you the choice between that water and a

glass of Perrier, which would you choose?”

86

Gabriel’s Rapture

“The Perrier, of course. But I don’t see what this has to do with her.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you?”

He moved, bringing his chest to hers, kneeling in between her

legs so he could press their hips together. “You don’t see the comparison between you and her? This is my water.” He pressed himself against her again. “You are my water. Making love with you is all I need to quench my thirst. Why would I throw this away for water

from the ocean?”

He moved against her as a reminder. “She has nothing to offer me.”

He lowered his face so their noses were inches apart. “And you

are beautiful. Every part of you is a masterpiece, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. You’re Botticelli’s Venus and Beatrice.

Do you have any idea how much I adore you? You captured my heart

when I first saw you, when you were seventeen.”

Her body began to relax incrementally under his touch and his

quiet words. “How was it left with her?”

“I told her that I didn’t appreciate her dropping in on me and that she was never to do it again. She took it as well as could be expected.”

Gabriel was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. “Come in!”

He rolled onto his side just as Rachel walked in.

“Dinner is on the table, and Tom and Scott are here. Are you two

coming downstairs?” She looked from her best friend to her brother and back again. “Do I need to send Scott up here?”

Julia shook her head. “Did he bring his girlfriend?”

“No, she’s spending Christmas with her parents. I asked him to

invite her but he gave me a big song and dance.” Rachel looked an-

noyed. “Do you think he’s embarrassed by us?”

“More likely he’s embarrassed by her,” said Gabriel. “She’s prob-

ably a stripper.”

“Professors in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” Rachel glared at her brother and stormed out.

Julia looked puzzled. “What was that about?”

His expression tightened. “My dear sister is less than impressed

with Paulina — and me.”

87

Chapter 9

Jt was a different Christmas Eve than any of them had ever ex-

perienced. Grace’s absence was felt most keenly by her husband

and children, Aaron wished that he was already married, and Rachel wished that her chicken Kiev was even half as good as her mother’s, frozen butter or not.

After dinner, Gabriel, Tom, and Richard retreated to the back

porch to smoke cigars and drink Scotch while the rest of the family enjoyed coffee in the kitchen.

“How was Italy?” Aaron asked Julia as the two of them refilled

their mugs from the coffee maker.

“It was great. The weather was good, and we had a wonderful

time. How are the wedding plans?”

“They’re coming along. When Rachel tried to rent one hundred

doves to be released after the ceremony, I put my foot down. I think some of my gun-toting relatives might be tempted to shoot the damn things.” He winked.

“How are your parents?”

“They’re good. Rachel has been including my mom in the wedding

planning, so she’s pretty excited. How are things with you and Gabriel?”

Julia hid her face as she opened the fridge to look for the cream.

“Good.”

“Except for his ex showing up.”

She glanced over at him, and he gave her a sympathetic look.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Aaron toyed with a teaspoon. “Gabriel is different when you’re

around.” He placed the spoon on the counter and rubbed his chin.

“He seems happy.”

Gabriel’s Rapture

“He makes me happy too.”

“A happy Gabriel is about as rare as a hobbit. We’re all glad to

see it. As far as the ex is concerned, well, I doubt they were serious.

Not like the way he is with you.”

“Thanks, Aaron.”

The two friends exchanged a quick hug.

Later that evening, Julia and Gabriel retired to their room at a

bed and breakfast. She was washing her face in the bathroom when

she heard the strains of “Lying in the Hands of God” wafting from

the bedroom.

Gabriel came to stand behind her, wearing nothing but a pair

of navy-blue silk boxer shorts and a smile.

“It isn’t Barry White, but it’s ours.” He watched her for a moment or two, his expression becoming heated. He nuzzled her neck, pushing her hair aside as he fluttered his lips against her skin.

“I want you,” he whispered. “Now.”

He slid his hands underneath her T-shirt, exposing the flesh of

her abdomen above the band of her yoga pants.

“Why don’t you change into one of those pretty things you bought

in Toronto? Or maybe the blue basque. You know it’s my favorite.”

His voice was low as his mouth moved seductively to her shoulder.

“I can’t.”

He smirked. “Not here, love. I’m not sure you’re ready to watch

us in a mirror. Although I wouldn’t mind.”

When he began to remove her T-shirt, she pulled away. “Not

tonight.”

He dropped his arms to his sides, watching her.

She avoided his eyes as she went back to washing her face.

Gabriel frowned and walked away, silencing the stereo in a huff.

Apart from their interlude in the Uffizi, she’d never turned him down.

Of course, they’d only been together a little over two weeks. But still…

Professor Emerson was not used to being rejected by a lover. He

was sure she had her reasons — or at least one reason beginning with P and ending with A. He flopped onto the bed, bringing his arm to rest across his face. Understandably, Julianne was still upset about Paulina’s reappearance. Sex would be the last thing on her mind. Not 89

Sylvain Reynard

to mention the fact that something troublesome had happened to

her at Kinfolks restaurant that afternoon.

Being turned down made him crave her all the more. The scent

of her hair, the feel of her satin skin under his fingertips, the way she closed her eyes tightly just before she came, the sensation of her moving underneath him, with him…

He needed to make love to her to know that it was all right — that they were all right.

Yes, sex was his apple a day, and he needed it. He needed to show

her not with words but with actions that he loved her, worshipped

her, would do anything for her. He needed to know that she stil

wanted him, to hear her whisper his name.

But she didn’t seem to need him. Certainly, she didn’t want him.

Not tonight.

Gabriel’s depressed musings continued until she joined him in

bed. She rested on her side, watching him, but he didn’t acknowledge her. He simply turned off the lamp on the bedside table.

In the darkness, they were both silent as a cold and invisible

barrier sat between them.

“Gabriel?”

“Yes?”

“I need to explain something to you.”

He exhaled slowly, expelling all the air from his lungs. “I under-

stand, Julianne. Good night.” He tried to keep the strain out of his voice but failed, miserably. He rolled away from her.

Julia winced. Now the invisible barrier seemed more like a high,

impenetrable wall.

Men have such fragile, eggshell egos.

She wanted to explain things to him and bring everything out

into the open, but if he was going to be so easily offended, then she would wait until morning. Or later. Julia rolled over and shut her eyes, determined to forget the whole miserable day. She tried to suppress her sniffles, hoping that she could hold the hormonal tears back. The last thing she wanted was for him to catch her crying.