“Richard liked to spoil her. Especially in Paris.”
“You are very like him.” She stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek.
“Wait till we arrive in Florence.” He pulled her close and kissed her passionately before releasing her.
“So what will you be doing with the guys? Not a — strip club?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, looking a great deal too adorable.
Gabriel frowned. “Do you think I’d do that?”
“Isn’t that what boys do on their nights out?”
He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Do you think Rachel would approve of such an excursion?”
“No.”
“And what about me, do you think that’s what I want?”
Julia looked away and didn’t answer.
“Why would I go look at other women when the most beautiful woman in the world shares my bed every night?” he protested, kissing her lightly.
“The only woman I want to see naked is you.”
Julia giggled. “What was my question? I can’t remember what I was asking you.”
He smirked. “Good. Come here.”
Later that evening, when the house was dark and everyone had retired, Julia slipped into Gabriel’s room wearing a simple blue nightshirt. He was sitting in bed reading. He was shirtless and wearing his glasses, his knees bent up casually.
“Why, hello there.” He smiled, placing The End of the Affair on his nightstand. “You look lovely.”
She placed her crutches to one side and fingered her nightshirt gratefully. “Thanks for going to my dad’s to pick up my things.”
“You’re welcome.” He held out his hand, and she crawled into bed next to him.
He kissed her before he noticed that she was still wearing Grace’s Hermès scarf. He tugged on one of the ends of it. “Why are you still wearing this?”
Julia lowered her eyes. “I don’t want you to have to look at my scar.”
He lifted her chin. “You don’t need to hide from me.”
“It’s ugly. I don’t want to remind you.”
He stared deeply into her eyes, searchingly. Then he slowly undid the scarf. He pulled on it so that it gently brushed across the back of her neck and fell into his hand. She felt herself goose-pimple from the sensuous trail of silk across her skin, coupled with Gabriel’s blazing gaze. He placed the scarf on his nightstand and leaned over to press his lips against the mark repeatedly.
“We both have scars, Julianne. Mine just aren’t on the skin.”
“I wish we didn’t,” she whispered. “I wish I was perfect.”
Gabriel shook his head sadly. “Do you like Caravaggio?”
“Very much. His painting of The Sacrifice of Isaac is my favorite.”
He nodded. “I always preferred The Incredulity of St. Thomas. Richard has a copy of it in his study. I was looking at it today.”
“I always thought that painting was — strange.”
“It is strange. Jesus appears to St. Thomas after the resurrection, and Thomas places his finger in the spear wound in Jesus’ side. It’s quite profound.”
Julia did not see the profundity, so she remained quiet.
“If you want to wait until your scar disappears, Julianne, you’ll wait forever. Scars never disappear. Caravaggio’s painting made that point clear to me. Scars might heal and we might forget about them in time, but they’re permanent. Not even Jesus lost his scars.” Gabriel rubbed his hand across his chin thoughtfully.
“If I’d troubled myself to stop being selfish, I would have realized that.
And I would have treated Grace and my family with greater care. I would have treated you with greater care in September and October.” He cleared his throat. “I hope that you’ll forgive me for the scars I’ve given you. I know that they’re many.”
Julia crawled into his lap and kissed him forcefully. “You were forgiven a long time ago and for far more than leaving scars. Please, let’s not speak of this again.”
The two almost-lovers shared a quiet moment before Gabriel asked her how her evening went.
Julia squirmed. “He cried.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. Tom Mitchell cried? I don’t believe it.
“He described what he found at the house. And when I told him what happened before you rescued me, he cried. I told him about some of the fights and the things he used to say to me. And my Dad cried, right in the middle of a fancy restaurant.” She shook her head. “We both cried. It was a mess.”
Gabriel pushed her hair out of her face so that he could see her better. “I’m sorry.”
“There were some things I needed to say, and he listened — maybe for the first time in my life. At least he’s trying. That’s a big step already. And when all of that was out of the way, we talked about you. He wanted to know how long we’ve been seeing one another.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said that we hadn’t been seeing one another for very long but that I…
liked you. I told him that you’d done a lot for me and that I cared about you.”
“Did you tell him how I feel about you?”
She wore a shy expression. “Well, I left out the part about you wanting to make love to me in Florence, but I said that I thought that you liked me.”
Gabriel frowned. “I like you? Really, Julianne, is that the best you could do?”
She shrugged. “He’s my dad. He doesn’t want to hear the sentimental stuff. He wants to know if you’re still doing drugs and getting into fights.
And if you’re monogamous with me.”
Gabriel winced.
She hugged him tightly. “Of course, I told him that you were a model citizen and that you treated me like a princess. That I don’t deserve you.”
“Well, that’s a lie.” He kissed her forehead. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Nonsense.”
They kissed softly for a moment or two, and Gabriel took off his glasses and placed them on top of his book. He turned out the light and spooned her blissfully.
Just as they were drifting off to sleep, Julia whispered, “I love you.”
When he didn’t respond, she assumed he was already dreaming. She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, snuggling backward against his chest. A strong arm flexed across her waist, pulling her tighter still.
She heard him inhale deeply and pause. “Julianne Mitchell, I love you too.”
Chapter 30
Julia awoke the next morning to the feel of something warm pressed close to her heart and a gentle breeze of breath across her neck. Upon closer inspection, she realized that Gabriel’s large hand was cupping her right breast as they spooned together. She giggled and shifted against his grasp.
He growled at her sudden movement.
“Good morning, Gabriel.”
“Morning, beautiful.” His lips found her cheek and kissed it.
“I take it you…slept well.”
“Very well. And you?”
“Well, thank you.”
“Does this bother you?” His hand caressed her gently through her nightshirt.
“No. It feels good.” She rolled over to face him.
He slid his hand to the small of her back so he could pull her into a deep kiss.
“Julianne.” He brushed a few wisps of hair out of her eyes. “There’s something I would like to say to you.”
Her brow furrowed.
He traced a single finger across her eyebrows, smoothing out the worry lines. “Don’t frown. It’s something nice. I think.”
She looked up at him expectantly.
His eyes were large and dark and serious. “I love you.”
She blinked twice and a smile slowly crept across her face. “I love you too. I thought I was hearing things when you said it last night.”
He kissed her tenderly. “I wasn’t sure you heard me, either.”
“You know, you said it to me before.”
“When?”
“The night I rescued you from Christa. I put you to bed, and you called me Beatrice. You said that you loved me.”
He swallowed noisily. “Julianne, I’m sorry it took me so long to say it properly.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against the stubble on his chin. “Thank you.”
“No, darling. I should be thanking you. I’ve — never felt this way before.
It makes me realize how much time I’ve wasted.” Gabriel’s eyes grew sad.
Julia kissed him softly. “We both had a lot of growing up to do. It’s better this way.”
“I regret the way I treated those other women. And that I wasted my time with them. You know that, don’t you?”
“I regret being with him. But there’s nothing either of us can do about it now except be happy that we found each other.”
“I wish we could spend the day in bed.” His voice was suddenly wistful.
She laughed. “I think that would shock and scandalize your relations.”
“Most likely. Damn them.”
They both laughed until their laughter morphed into passionate kisses.
She was the first to retreat. “Can I ask you something?”