Gabriel's Rapture gi-2
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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.
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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.
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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?”
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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
Pac
ciani 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.
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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?”
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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.
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“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
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.
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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.