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.
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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.”
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“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.
Sylvain Reynard
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P
After a very enjoyable time in the hot tub, Gabriel prepared an Umbrian dinner. Bruschetta con pomodoro e basilico, tagliatelle with olive oil and black truffles from the villa’s estate, and a cheese course with local artisan cheeses and bread. They ate their fill, laughing and drinking a fine white wine from Orvieto in the candlelight. After dinner, Gabriel made a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the living room fireplace.
He plugged his iPhone into the sound system so they could continue enjoying his Loving Julianne playlist. Then he took her into his arms as they sat on the floor, finishing their wine, while the sounds of medieval chant swirled around their heads. They were naked, wrapped in blankets, and unashamed.
“The music is beautiful. What is it?” She closed her eyes as she focused on the female voices, which were singing a cappella.
“‘Gaudete’ by The Mediaeval Baebes. It’s a Christmas song.”
“That’s quite the name for a music group.”
“They’re very talented. I saw them live the last time they came to Toronto.”
“Oh, really?”
Gabriel smirked at her. “Are you jealous Miss Mitchell?”
“Should I be?”
“No. My arms are full. Completely.”
Their talking ceased against the backdrop of celestial voices as their kisses began. Soon their bodies were tangling naked next to the fire.
In the glow of the orange flames, Julia pushed Gabriel down on his back and straddled his hips. He grinned as he let her lead, welcoming her newfound confidence. “It isn’t so scary, being on top, is it?”
“No. But I’m more comfortable with you now. I think the wall sex back at the hotel shook loose my inhibitions.”
He wondered silently what other inhibitions he could shake loose with various kinds of sex — shower sex, for example. Or perhaps, the holy grail of domestic coupling — kitchen table sex.
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Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “I want to please you.”
“You do. So much.”
She reached a hand behind her and lightly touched the top of his groin. “With my mouth. I feel badly that I haven’t been able to reciprocate. You’ve been so generous.”
His body reacted to her low whisper and hesitant hand. “Julianne, there’s no quid pro quo here. I do things with you because I want to.” His lips curled up into a half-smile. “But since you’re offering…”
“I know men prefer it.”
He shrugged. “Great sex will always be better. In comparison, everything else could only be an amuse bouche.” He winked at her wickedly, squeezing her hip for emphasis.
“Is this position okay? With you lying down or…?”
“It’s fine,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly alight.
“I suppose it’s better than me on my knees.” She watched his reaction from the corner of her eye.
“That’s right. I, on the other hand, am happy to kneel before my Princess in order to pleasure her. As I have already demonstrated.”
Julia laughed softly. Then her smile disappeared. “I need to tell you something.”
He gazed up at her expectantly.
“I have a gag reflex.”
A furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
Julianne avoided his probing expression as her hand slipped lower. “Mine is kind of strong.”
His hand closed over hers.
“It won’t be an issue, darling. I promise.” He squeezed her hand.
She moved farther down, and he began to weave her hair around his fingers, tugging playfully.
Julia froze.
For an oblivious moment, he toyed with her long, silken hair. Then he realized that she wasn’t moving. “What’s wrong?”
“Please don’t hold my head down.”
“I wasn’t going to.” He sounded perturbed.
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She remained perfectly still, waiting. For what, he didn’t know. He let go of her hair so he could lift her chin. “Sweetheart?”
“Um, it’s only because Idon’twanttothrowuponyou.”
“What was that?”
She ducked her head. “I’ve — thrown up — before.”
He stared at her incredulously. “What…after?”
“Um, no.”
Gabriel was silent for some time, then his eyes narrowed. “Were you sick because of a gag reflex, or because that bastard held you down?”
She cringed, her head moving in the slightest of nods.
Gabriel swore, his anger burning blue. He sat up swiftly, rubbing his face with his hands.
In the past, he hadn’t been tender with his sexual conquests, although he’d prided himself on maintaining some vestige of good manners. Less so when he was doing cocaine. Despite the Bacchanalia that he’d participated in, parties that had approximated the decadence of Rome on occasion, he’d never, ever held a girl’s head down until she vomited. Nobody did that. Not even the drug dealers and addicts he used to hang around with did that, and they had no boundaries or moral compunctions at all. Only an incredibly sick, twisted, misogynistic motherfucker would get his kicks from humiliating a woman that way.
To do such a thing to Julianne — with her gentle eyes and beautiful soul. A shy creature who was ashamed of having a gag reflex. The senator’s son was lucky he was hiding in his parents’ house in Georgetown under a suspended sentence and a restraining order, or Gabriel would have appeared on his doorstep in order to continue their previous altercation. And he would have ended their conversation with more than a few punches.
He shook the murderous thoughts from his head, lifting Julia to her feet and wrapping her in a blanket. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t sit here after what you just told me.”
Julia’s cheeks reddened with shame, and her large eyes filled with tears.
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“Hey.” Gabriel pressed his lips to her forehead. “It isn’t your fault. Do you understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She smiled thinly, but it was clear that she didn’t believe him.
He led her upstairs and through the bedroom to the en-suite, ushering her in before closing the door behind them.
“What are you doing?”
“Hopefully, something nice.” He traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb.
Gabriel turned on the shower, testing the temperature of the water until he was satisfied. He adjusted the flow until it was gently falling from the tropical rain showerhead. He slowly removed the blanket from her body and held the shower door open, waiting for her to step inside before he followed her.
She looked confused.
“I want to show you that I love you,” he whispered. “Without taking you to bed.”
“Take me to bed,” she pleaded. “Then our evening won’t be ruined.”
“Our evening isn’t ruined,” he said fiercely. “But I’ll be damned if anyone hurts you again.” He used both hands to caress her hair, parting and moving it so every strand grew wet.
“You think I’m dirty.”
“Far from it.” He took her hand and pressed it over the tattoo on his chest. “You’re the closest thing to an angel I’ll ever touch.” His eyes held hers without blinking. “But I think we both need to wash away the past.”
He moved her hair to one side, pressing a kiss to her neck. Stepping back, he poured some of her vanilla-scented shampoo into his palm. His fingers worked the liquid into her scalp, rubbing slowly, and eventually sliding down the locks to the ends. He was careful in his movements. If he ever had one moment, one act, to demonstrate that his love for her was much deeper than a sexual infatuation, now was that moment.
As Julia began to relax, she thought back to one of the few happy memories she had of her mother. She was a little girl and her mother washed her hair in the bathtub. She remembered the two of them laughing. She remembered her mother smiling.
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Having Gabriel wash her hair was far better. It was a deeply affectionate, deeply intimate experience. She was naked before him, as he washed away her shame.
He was naked too, but was careful not to crowd her, or to allow his slightly embarrassed arousal to brush up against her. This was not about sex. This was about making her feel loved.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so emotional.” Her voice was quiet.
“Sex is supposed to be emotional. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her. “I feel very deeply about us as well. These past few days have been the happiest of my life.”
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “You were shy when you were seventeen, but I don’t remember you being so wounded.”
“I should have dumped him the first time he was cruel.” Her voice shook. “But I didn’t. I didn’t stand up for myself and things got worse.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
She shrugged. “I stayed with him. I held onto the times when he was charming or thoughtful, hoping the bad times would disappear. I know that what I told you made you sick, but believe me, Gabriel, no one could be as disgusted with me as I am with myself.”
“Julia,” he groaned, turning her to face him. “I’m not disgusted with you. I don’t care what you did; no one deserves to be treated that way. Do you hear me?” His eyes flamed a brilliant, dangerous blue.
She covered her face with her hands. “I wanted to do something for you. But I couldn’t even get that right.”
He pulled at her wrists, lowering her hands. “Listen to me. Because we love each other, everything between us, including sex, is a gift. Not a right, or an entitlement or an exaction — a gift. You have me now. Let him go.”
“I still hear his voice in my head.” She brushed away a stray tear.
Gabriel shook his head, shifting them so they stood in the center of the downpour, the hot water spilling over them. “Do you remember what I said in my lecture about Botticelli’s Primavera?”
She nodded.
“Some people think that Primavera is about sexual awakening — that part of the painting is an allegory for an arranged marriage.
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At first, Flora is a virgin and she’s afraid. When she’s pregnant, she appears serene.”
“I thought Zephyr raped her.”
Gabriel clenched his jaw. “He did. He fell in love with her afterward and married her, transforming her into the goddess of flowers.”
“Not a very good allegory for marriage.”
“No, it isn’t.” He swallowed noisily. “Julia, even though some of your sexual experiences were traumatic, you can still have a fulfilling sexual life. I want you to know that you’re safe when you’re in my arms. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t enjoy, and that includes oral sex.”
Gabriel wrapped an arm around her waist, watching the hot water as it traveled over their naked bodies before splashing to the tile at their feet. “We’ve only been sleeping together for a week. We have our whole lives to love each other, in multiple ways.”
He silently and lovingly soaped the nape of her neck and across her shoulders with a sponge. Then he traced the lines of her shoulders and the individual bumps of her spine, pausing regularly to place his lips where the soap had been rinsed away.
He washed her lower back and the two little dimples that marked the transition to her backside. Without hesitation, he soaped each cheek and massaged the backs of her legs. He even washed her feet, grasping her hand and placing it on his shoulder to steady her as he soaped between her toes.
Julia had never felt more cared for in her life.
He attended the front of her neck and the slope of her shoulders. He washed and caressed her breasts with his hands, putting the sponge to one side as he kissed them. Then he was gently touching between her legs, not sexually but reverently, rinsing the suds that accumulated among her dark curls and finally pressing his mouth there as well.
When he was finished, he took her into his arms and kissed her like a shy teenager, chastely and simply. “You are teaching me to love, and I suppose I’m teaching you to love too, in a way. We aren’t perfect, but we can have happiness. Can’t we?” He pulled back so he could read her eyes.
“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes filled with tears.
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Gabriel clutched her to his heart and buried his face in her neck as the water rained down on them.
P
Emotionally exhausted, Julianne slept until noon the following day. Gabriel had been so kind, so loving. He’d foregone what Julia had always thought was a man’s basic need — oral sex — and given her what could only be described as a cleansing of shame. Gabriel’s love and acceptance had its intended, transformative effect.
As she opened her eyes, she felt lighter, stronger, happier. Carrying the secrets of how he humiliated her had proved to be a very heavy burden. With the weight of guilt lifted, she felt like a new person.
She thought it was probably blasphemous to compare her experience with that of Christian in The Pilgrim’s Progress, but she saw an important resemblance between their respective deliverances. Truth sets one free, but love casts out fear.
In her twenty-three years, Julia hadn’t realized how pervasive grace was and how Gabriel, who considered himself to be a very great sinner, could be a conduit of that grace. This was part of the divine comedy — God’s sense of humor undergirding the inner workings of the universe. Sinners participated in the redemption of other sinners; faith, hope, and charity triumphed over disbelief, despair, and hatred, while the One who called all creatures to Himself watched and smiled.
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