Gabriel's Inferno: Gabriel's Rapture Part 46

She sighed, and just like that she knew that tonight was going to be very, very difficult. She walked around the side of the house and down the little paved driveway, gasping when she rounded the corner.

There were flowers and greenery, wisps of sea gra.s.s and elegantly trimmed boxwood, and in the very center of the garden stood what looked like a Sultan's tent. A fountain sat on the right side of the green s.p.a.ce, featuring a marble statue of Venus. Underneath the fountain was a small pond filled with white and red Koi.

Julia walked toward the tent so she could peer inside. And what she saw pained her.

In the tent was a low, square bed, exactly like the futon that graced the terrace of the suite she'd shared with Gabriel in Florence. In the suite where they'd made love for the first time. On the terrace where he fed her chocolates and strawberries and danced with her to Diana Krall under the Tuscan sky. The futon where he made love to her the following morning. Gabriel had tried to reproduce the ambience of that terrace down to the very color scheme of the bedclothes.

The voice of Frank Sinatra seemed to float from somewhere closer to the house, while almost every flat, fireproof surface held a tall, pillar candle. Ornate Moroccan lanterns were suspended from crisscrossed wires overhead.

It was a fairy tale. It was Florence, and their apple orchard, and the wonders of an Arabian night. Unfortunately for Gabriel, the extravagant gesture begged the question: if he was resourceful enough to construct a Moroccan caravan in his garden, why couldn't he have told her he planned to return?

Gabriel saw her standing in his garden, and his heart leapt. He wanted to pull her into his arms and press their lips together. But he could see from the set of her shoulders and the stiffness of her spine that such an act would be unwelcome. So he approached her carefully.

"Good evening, Julianne." A silky voice caressed her ear as Gabriel leaned in from behind her.

She hadn't heard him approach, so she s.h.i.+vered slightly. He rubbed one arm and then the other, up and down, in an act that was supposed to be comforting but in reality caused a deep erotic flush to dance across the surface of her skin.

"I like the music," she said, pulling away from him.

He extended his palm as an invitation. Cautiously, she placed her hand in his. He pressed an unhurried kiss to her knuckles before releasing her.

"You're stunning, as always."

Gabriel's eyes slowly drank in the sight of Julia in her plain black dress, her pale, shapely legs in a pair of black ballet flats, and the way the gentle whisper of wind blew a few strands of hair across her glossy, reddish lips as she turned to face him.

"Thank you." She waited for him to comment on her shoes, for his eyes rested on them a little longer than was polite. She'd worn the flats because they were comfortable and because she wished to a.s.sert her independence. She knew he wouldn't like them. Surprisingly, however, he smiled.

Gabriel was a little more casually dressed in a white linen s.h.i.+rt and khaki pants, with a navy linen jacket. His smile was perhaps his most decorative a.s.set.

"The tent is beautiful."

"Does it please you?" he whispered.

"You always ask me that."

Gabriel's smile faded slightly, but he resisted the urge to frown. "You used to like the fact that I am a considerate lover."

Their eyes met and Julia looked away. "It's a lovely gesture, but I would rather have had a letter from you or a telephone call three months ago."

It appeared as if he wanted to argue with her, but in an instant his expression changed.

"Where are my manners," he muttered. He offered his elbow, escorting her to a small bistro table that was set up in a corner of the stone patio.

Small white lights shone down on the patio from the branches of an obliging maple. Julia wondered if Gabriel had hired an exterior decorator just for the occasion. He pulled out her chair, and when she was seated, gently eased it closer to the table. She noticed that the centerpiece on the table was filled with orange and red gerbera daisies.

"How did you manage all of this?" Julia unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap.

"Rebecca is a wonder of New England industriousness."

Julia gave him a questioning look, but her question was soon answered when Gabriel's housekeeper served dinner. Rebecca was tall and plain and wore her salt and pepper hair in a short bob. Her eyes, which were large and dark, sparkled with amus.e.m.e.nt. Julia divined quickly that Gabriel had taken Rebecca into part of his confidence, at least as far as this evening was concerned.

Despite the elaborate decor and the perfect music, dinner was a simple affair by Gabriel's standards: lobster bisque; a pear, walnut, and Gorgonzola salad; steamed mussels with frites; and then finally and most gloriously, a blueberry tart with sour lemon ice cream. Gabriel served her champagne, the same Veuve Clicquot he'd served the first time she dined at his apartment. That evening seemed so long ago, even though it was less than a year.

They made small talk during their meal, discussing Rachel's wedding and Scott's girlfriend and her son. Gabriel described the things he liked about his house and those he didn't, promising Julia a tour. Neither of them were in a hurry to begin discussing the events leading up to their separation.

"You aren't drinking?" She noticed that he'd imbibed only Perrier with his meal.

"I quit."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Why?"

"Because I was drinking too much."

"Not when you were with me. You pledged not to get drunk anymore."

"Precisely," he said.

She looked at him carefully, at the way his eyes indicated there was a very unpleasant experience behind his words. "But you enjoyed drinking."

"I have an addictive personality, Julianne. You know this." He smoothly changed the subject to something more pleasant.

When Rebecca served dessert, he and Julia exchanged a look.

"No chocolate cake tonight?"

"Non, mon ange," Gabriel breathed. "Although I'd love nothing more than to feed you again."

Julia felt her cheeks grow red, and she knew it would be a poor decision to go down that road with him before they had their conversation, but as he gazed at her with undisguised pa.s.sion, she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I'd like that," she said, quietly.

Gabriel smiled as if the sun had just returned to the sky after a protracted absence and quickly s.h.i.+fted his chair so he was seated next to her. Close. Very close. So close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck, which goose pimpled in antic.i.p.ation.

Gabriel picked up Julia's dessert fork and placed some pie and ice cream on it and turned to face her.

As she gazed at him with longing, his breath caught in his throat.

"What is it?" She looked at him in alarm.

"I'd almost forgotten how lovely you are." He traced the curve of her cheekbone with his unenc.u.mbered hand and brought the fork to her lips.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and at that moment, Gabriel's heart soared. Yes, it was a little thing-almost inconsequential if one were to consider what tales to tell a confidante. But Julia didn't trust quickly or easily. The ease with which she made herself vulnerable to him made his heart beat quick and his blood pump fast.

She hummed at the mixture of flavors, opening her eyes.

He couldn't help himself. He leaned closer so their mouths were parted by mere inches and whispered, "May I?"

She nodded, and he pressed his lips to hers. She was sweetness and light, gentleness and goodness, and the burning and searing goal of all of his earthly hunts and fascinations. But she didn't belong to him. So he kissed her gently, like he first kissed her in the orchard, with both hands tangling in her long, curled hair. Then he pulled back to watch her face.

A contented sigh escaped her ruby lips as she sat with eyes closed, floating.

"I love you," he said.

Now her eyes were open. Her expression reflected an unnamed emotion, but she didn't say it back.

When dessert was well and truly over, Gabriel suggested they take their espressos to the tent, dismissing Rebecca for the evening. Night had fallen on this little patch of Eden, and like Adam himself, Gabriel led a blus.h.i.+ng Eve to his bower.

She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the futon against the cus.h.i.+ons, nervously chewing her fingernails while Gabriel lit the candles in the Moroccan lanterns. He took his time, adjusting them so their light flickered over the futon seductively. Then he lit the other candles that were scattered throughout the tent. Finally, he lay on his back next to her, hands behind his head, angled so he could see her face.

"I'd like to talk about what happened," she initiated.

Gabriel gave her his full attention.

"When you showed up outside my apartment I didn't know whether to hit you or kiss you." Her voice was low.

"Didn't you?" he whispered.

"I didn't do either."

"It was never your nature to be vindictive. Or cruel."

She took a deep breath and began. She told him how it broke her heart to have left message after message with him, only to have them unacknowledged. She told him about her surprise at finding his apartment abandoned. She told him about the kindness of his neighbor, and Paul, and Katherine Picton. She spoke of her continued sessions with Nicole.

Julia was too busy fussing with her espresso to notice how unsettled he'd become. When she mentioned how the textbook he'd pa.s.sed to her had ended up on her shelf unopened, Gabriel cursed Paul.

"You aren't allowed to curse him." Her tone was sharp. "It wasn't his fault that you put your message in a textbook. Why didn't you choose a volume out of your personal library? I might have recognized it."

"I'd been ordered to stay away from you. If I'd put a volume from my library in your mailbox, Jeremy would have noticed it. As it was, I chose a textbook and I placed it in your mailbox after hours." He huffed in frustration. "Didn't the t.i.tle mean anything to you?"

"What t.i.tle?"

"The t.i.tle of the textbook: Marriage in the Middle Ages: Love, s.e.x, and the Sacred."

"What should it have meant, Gabriel? For all I knew, you'd labeled me as your Heloise and left me. I didn't have any reason to think otherwise and you didn't leave me with one."

He leaned forward, eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "The textbook was the reason. The t.i.tle, the photo from the orchard, the image of St. Francis trying to save Guido da Montefeltro..." His voice cracked, and he paused, in agony. "Didn't you remember our conversation in Belize? I told you I'd go to h.e.l.l to save you. And believe me, I did."

"I didn't know you'd sent me messages. I overlooked the textbook because I didn't know it was from you. Why didn't you call me?"

"I couldn't talk to you," he whispered. "I was told that the Dean would interview you prior to your graduation and that he would ask if you'd heard from me. You're a lovely woman, Julianne, but a terrible liar. I had to send messages in code."

Julia's surprise registered immediately on her face. "You knew about the interview?"

"I knew about a great many things," he said stoically. "But I couldn't tell. That's the point."

"Rachel told me not to despair." She captured his gaze for a moment. "But I needed to hear those words from you. Our last night together, you had s.e.x with me, but you wouldn't talk to me. What was I supposed to think?"

Tears overflowed her eyes. But before she could wipe them away with her hand, Gabriel's tugged her from her safe corner into his outstretched arms. He pressed her to his chest and kissed her head, before wrapping his arms around her back.

Somehow, the feel of his arms around her made her cry harder. He squeezed her gently.

"My pride was my downfall. I thought I could court you while you were my student and get away with it. I was wrong."

"I thought you chose your job instead of me." Julia's voice was filled with hurt. "When I discovered you'd moved out of your apartment...Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Forgive me, Julianne. My goal was not to hurt you, I promise. I regret everything that you described." He kissed her forehead once again. "I need to tell you what happened. It's a long story. And only you can tell me how it ends..."

Chapter 45.

Julia pulled away so she could see his face better, bracing herself for what was to come. Her sudden movement seemed to cause the scent of her hair to waft over to him.

"Your hair is different," he murmured.

"A little longer, perhaps."

"It doesn't smell of vanilla anymore."

"I changed my shampoo." She sounded curt.

"Why?" Gabriel s.h.i.+fted his body to eliminate the gap between them.

"Because it reminded me of you."

"Is that why you aren't wearing your earrings?" he asked, fingering her earlobe.

"Yes."

He paused and gazed at her, his hurt evident.

She looked away.

"I love you, Julianne. No matter what you think of me or what I did, I promise that I was only trying to protect you."

She moved to lie on her side, careful not to touch him.