Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel's Rapture

“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.