Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno 2)
“That isn’t going to happen to Julianne.”
“How does she know that?” Richard tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. “Marriage is more than a piece of paper. It’s a mystery. In fact, there’s a Midrash that suggests that marriage is made in heaven between soul mates. Don’t you want to be with Julia forever?”
“What I want is immaterial. I won’t rush her into making a life-changing decision in the middle of the academic year,” Gabriel muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s too soon.”
“Pray that you don’t wait until it’s too late,” Richard countered, gazing sadly at Grace’s photograph.
With these words, then, ringing in his ears, Gabriel sat watching his soul mate sleep on Christmas morning.
As if she could hear his thoughts, she stirred, a nameless anxiety wafting over her. A moment later she rolled toward him, her fingers making contact with the silk at his hip.
In the darkness of the room, Gabriel looked like a gargoyle—a gray, motionless figure that stared back at her from behind his glasses in stony silence. It took a moment for Julia to recognize him.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Her face creased in puzzlement. “But you’re sitting half-naked in the dark.”
He gave her a tentative smile. “I’m waiting for you to wake up.”
“Why?”
“So we can open presents. But it’s early. Go back to sleep.”
She slid closer to him, searching for and finding his hand. She kissed the back of it and pulled it toward her heart.
He smiled and pressed his palm flat against her chest so he could feel her heart beat. His face grew serious.
“Forgive me for last night.” He cleared his throat roughly. “I don’t want you to think that sex is all I want. It isn’t.”
Her smile faded. “I know that.”
He moved his hand to stroke her eyebrows with his fingers. “I desire you, obviously. It’s difficult for me not to touch you, not to want to be with you that way.”
His hand floated across her cheek, hesitantly. “But I love you, and I want you to be with me because you want to be. Not because you feel obligated.”
She leaned into his hand. “I don’t feel obligated. There were so many times when you could have pressured me, like the night we were in your old room and I—I took my top off. But you were patient. And when it was our first time, you were wonderful. I’ve been lucky to have you as my lover.”
She gave him a sleepy smile. “Why don’t you come over here? I think we could both use some rest.”
Gabriel slid under the covers and cuddled close to his beloved. When her regular breathing indicated that she’d fallen asleep, he whispered a few promises to her in Italian.
When Julia awoke she was treated to breakfast in bed. Then she was nagged impatiently until she agreed to accompany Gabriel to the sitting room. He was so excited he was practically bouncing.
(In a very dignified and professorial way, of course, despite his lack of shirt.)
A small, Charlie Brown Christmas tree had been conveniently “borrowed” from the bed and breakfast’s parlor and was placed in the center of the room. Several brightly colored parcels rested beneath it. Two large, red stockings embroidered with the names “Julianne” and “Gabriel” were each sitting in a corner of the loveseat.
“Merry Christmas.” He kissed her forehead, feeling very proud of himself.
“I’ve never had a stocking.”
He led her to the loveseat and placed the stocking in her lap. It was filled with candy and panties that had Yuletide images on them. And in the toe was a flash drive that contained video of a certain tango against the wall at the Royal Ontario Museum.
“Why haven’t you had a stocking before?”
“Sharon didn’t always remember Christmas and my dad didn’t think of it.” She shrugged.
He shook his head. He hadn’t had stockings either, before he came to live with the Clarks.
Julia pointed to a couple of presents that were wrapped in red and green plaid and sitting on the coffee table. “Why don’t you open your gifts first?”
Gabriel beamed and sat on the floor by the tree, cross-legged. He picked up a small box and tore at the paper with abandon.
Julia laughed at the sight of him, this very proper professor sitting in his spectacles and underwear, attacking his presents like a four-year-old.
Gabriel opened the box and was very surprised at what he saw inside. Nestled in cream-colored silk was a pair of silver cufflinks. But these were no ordinary cufflinks. These cufflinks bore the shield of the city of Florence. He gazed at them in wonder.
“Do you like them?”
“I love them, Julianne. I’m just surprised. How did you…?”
“While you were at one of your meetings, I walked over to the Ponte Vecchio and bought them. I thought they would look good with your fancy shirts.” She looked at the floor. “I’m afraid I bought them using some of my scholarship money. So really, you bought them for yourself.”
Gabriel rose to his knees and shuffled over to her, kissing her in gratitude. “That money is yours. You earned it. And the cufflinks are perfect. Thank you.”
She smiled at the sight of him kneeling in front of her. “There’s another gift for you.”
He grinned as he found a second small, flat present. Underneath the wrapping paper he found a framed eight-by-ten inch reproduction of Marc Chagall’s painting Lovers in the Moonlight.
Inside the enclosed card Julia had written a few sweet nothings, declaring her love and her gratitude at finding him again. She also added another, more important, gift.
I’d like to pose for your photographs.
All my love,
Your Julia.
XOXO
Gabriel was speechless. His eyes met hers with a questioning look.
“I think it’s time you had some photographs of us to hang on the walls of your bedroom. And I would like to do this for you. If that’s all right.”
He moved to join her on the love seat and kissed her deeply. “Thank you. The painting is lovely, but what is far more lovely is you.” He grinned. “Your fondness for Chagall will be our inspiration. But I think we’ll have to practice our poses first.”
He moved his eyebrows suggestively, before leaning forward to tug her lower lip into his mouth.
“You are the greatest gift,” he murmured. He felt her lips move into a smile beneath his mouth, and he pulled back to retrieve one of her gifts from under the tree.
She rewarded him with shining, eager eyes. When she opened the small box, she found a compact disc that he’d recorded for her, entitled Loving Julianne.
“It’s the playlist that we listened to in Florence,” he explained.
“Thank you. I was going to ask you for a copy of those songs. They’ll bring back happy memories.”
Underneath the jewel case she found a series of gift certificates for various spa treatments at the Windsor Arms Hotel in Toronto, some of which had various exotic sounding names such as Vichy shower and seaweed and salt body wrap.
She thanked him, reading the titles aloud until she came to the last certificate.
Arrangements have been made for you to see a plastic surgeon in Toronto as soon as we return. Based upon the information I provided, he’s confident that your scar can be removed completely. You don’t need to worry about it anymore,
Gabriel.
He released the page from her tense fingers, smiling apologetically. “I probably shouldn’t have included that in the box. Sorry.”
Julia caught his hand. “Thank you. I thought I would have to wait. But this is the best gift you could have given me.”
Gabriel exhaled deeply and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “You are worth it,” he declared, his eyes blazing.
She smiled a little and peered around him, gazing at a large box that was still underneath the Christmas tree.
“There’s one more present. Is it for me?”
He nodded.
“Well, can I open it?”
“I’d rather you waited.”
She frowned. “Why? Do you want me to take it to Richard’s house? To open it in front of your family?”
“God, no!”
He ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a half-smile. “Sorry. It’s just kind of—ah—personal. Would you wait and open it tonight? Please?”
She looked at the gift curiously. “Judging by the size of the box, it isn’t a kitten.”
“No, it isn’t. Although if you wanted a pet, I’d buy one.” He looked suspiciously at the open box that was sitting by the door.
“What was in your gift from Paul?”
Julia shrugged, pretending that she hadn’t known that question was coming. “A bottle of maple syrup, which I gave to Dad, and a couple of toys.”
“Toys? What kind of toys?”
She appeared indignant. “Children’s toys, of course.”
“Didn’t he give you a toy bunny a couple of months ago? I think he has some kind of rabbit fetish.”
Angelfucker.
“Gabriel, you have a fetish for women’s shoes. Professor Pot, meet Mr. Kettle.”
“I’ve never denied my aesthetic appreciation for women’s footwear. They’re works of art, after all,” he said primly. “Especially when a woman as lovely as you is wearing them.”