His voice was soft again.
He took a risk and began running his fingers through her long, damp curls. “You smell like vanilla,” he whispered.
“It’s your shampoo.”
“So you think I’m bossy?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel sighed. “It’s habit, I suppose. Years of living alone have made me boorish, and I’m out of practice with being considerate. But I’ll try to watch how I speak to you in future. As for Paul and the pet names, it’s insulting that he refers to you as a rabbit. Rabbits end up as entrées, so that needs to stop. But what about kitten? I thought that was rather…sweet.”
“Not when you’re twenty-three and petite and trying to be taken seriously in Academia.”
“What about when you’re twenty-three and beautiful and someone who’s thirty-three and a professional academic says it to you because actually, he thinks you’re seriously sexy?”
Julia pulled away. “Don’t make fun of me, Gabriel. That’s mean.”
“I would never make fun of you.” He gave her a serious look. “Julianne, look at me.”
She kept her eyes on the floor.
He waited somewhat impatiently until she met his gaze again. “I would never make fun of you. And certainly not about something like that.”
She grimaced and looked away.
“But perhaps kitten is a lover’s word.”
Julia reddened as he continued unpacking the groceries. At length, he turned to her. “It meant a great deal to me to fall asleep with you in my arms last night. Thank you.”
She avoided his eyes.
“Look at me, please,” he breathed.
Their eyes met, and Julia was surprised at Gabriel’s expression. He looked worried. “Are you ashamed of coming to my bed?”
She shook her head.
“It reminded me of our first night together.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up this morning. I was awake at dawn. The sight of you sound asleep reminded me of da Vinci’s La Scapigliata. You looked very serene with your head resting on my shoulder. And very, very beautiful.” He reached across the breakfast bar and tenderly pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So you slept—well?”
“Too well. Why did you light candles in your bedroom?”
He ran his thumb across one of her eyebrows. “You’d already told me what you thought about the darkness. I wanted you to see Holiday’s painting and me. I didn’t know how you’d feel about staying the night. I was worried you’d run.”
“That was, um, considerate of you. Thank you.”
His hand stilled against her cheek as his blue eyes pierced into hers, scorching her. “I am a good lover, Julianne, in all senses of the word.”
When he withdrew, she tried, almost in vain, to catch her breath. “Tell me why you disliked me so much.”
“I didn’t dislike you. I was distracted and short-tempered during the first seminar. You seemed familiar to me. I asked you a question so you’d show me your face. When you ignored me, I lost my temper. I’m not used to being ignored.”
She chewed her lip slightly.
“I realize that isn’t an excuse—I’m just offering an explanation. Simply looking at you elicited very strong feelings. I didn’t know where they were coming from, and I resented them. My resentment quickly spiraled into something vicious. But my rudeness to you was absolutely inexcusable.” Gabriel reached over to free her lip from her teeth. “I was punished for it afterward. Scott telephoned to tell me Grace had died, and that she died whispering my name because I wasn’t there. He told me her deathbed distress was my fault…”
Julia took his hand in hers and without thinking, kissed it. “I’m so sorry.”
Now he brought his lips to hers and pressed them together tightly. They remained still for a few moments until he began shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“I’m hungry,” she murmured, interpreting his signal.
“Shall I feed you?”
Julia nodded, growing a good deal too warm as she recalled how he had fed her the night before.
“Latté or espresso?” He turned to the espresso machine.
“Latté, please.”
She stood for a moment, watching him, before taking a closer look at the irises he’d purchased.
“Could you put those in water, please? There’s a crystal vase on top of the sideboard in the dining room. You can move the hyacinths from last night or leave them where they are.”
She walked over to the buffet, admiring its ebony beauty once again, and fetched the empty vase. “I heard your music last night. It was beautiful.”
“I find classical music soothing. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“You didn’t. Why did you choose irises?”
“Fleur-de-lis,” he said simply, placing her latté, which he had poured into