the arms of her prospective lover and gazing back at him in panic.

However, when she’s pregnant, her countenance is serene. Her fear

is replaced by contentment.”

Julia flushed as she remembered how kind Gabriel had been to

her the night before. He’d been tender and gentle, and in his arms she’d felt worshipped. Remembering the myth of Flora and Zephyr

she shuddered, wishing that all lovers would be as tender with their virgin partners as Gabriel had been.

“Flora represents the consummation of physical love and moth-

erhood. She is the ideal of storge, or familial love, the kind of love manifested from a mother to her child, and between lovers who

25

Sylvain Reynard

share a commitment that is not based solely on sex or pleasure, but is between married partners.”

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.

26

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.

27

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?”

28

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

Pacciani 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.

29

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?”

30

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.