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.