Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno 3) - Page 54/127

He brushed his lips against hers in a manner that could only be described as perfunctory.

“That’s not a very good kiss,” she pouted. “You’re perched on the edge of the bed like a gargoyle, glowering at me. What’s the matter?”

“I am not glowering.”

She sat up and placed her arms around his shoulders.

“Then kiss me like you mean it, non-glowering-gargoyle-like husband of mine.”

His dark brows knitted together. “A gargoyle? You’re hell on a man’s ego, Mrs. Emerson.”

“You’re far more beautiful than me, Professor. But I’m fine with that.”

“Don’t blaspheme.” His expression darkened.

She sank back against the mattress, groaning in frustration.

“I love you, Gabriel. That means I’ll put up with a hell of a lot from you. But I won’t let you shut me out. Either talk to me or I’m going home.”

She felt his eyes before she met them—two glowing and angry sapphires in the nether darkness.

“What?” he growled.

“If I go and stay with my dad, he’ll talk to me. I can take care of him and Diane when they get home from the hospital. You’re acting as if you can’t stand the sight of me.” She rolled to her back, staring up at the canopy.

“Beatrice.” His voice was pained. “If you need to see your dad, we’ll go together. But I would never let you make that trip alone. I’ll be damned if you go home without me.”

She hazarded a small smile.

“Now there’s the Gabriel I married. I thought I’d lost you.” She removed his glasses, placing them on the side table. Then she pulled him under the covers with her.

He rolled onto his side, facing her. Then, ever so lightly, he found her lips in the darkness.

“Finally.” She rested her head against his chest. “Tell me why you’re so grim.”

“I don’t think you want to hear this right now.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fine. You said you thought I wished you were someone else so I could f**k you.” His tone grew sharp. “Never say something like that to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It isn’t true. I swear to God, it isn’t true. I left that life behind and God help me, I do not want to go back there.”

“I wasn’t asking you to go back there. I was hoping you’d work out your bad mood with me, instead of sitting outside brooding.”

“I wasn’t fantasizing about f**king other women, I assure you.” He sounded angry. “And what we have is too important to cheapen.”

She sat up swiftly.

“There was nothing cheap in what we did last night. We love each other. We’d both received upsetting news. We needed comfort.”

“I was selfish.”

“It was mutual. Remember? I wanted you. I needed you. If you were selfish, then so was I. But I don’t see it that way. Yes, it was more aggressive and vigorous than we usually are. But you promised me I was safe with you. And I felt safe. You promised me we could be adventurous. Last night was one of our adventures. And in giving, we both received.”

She tried to keep a straight face. But couldn’t.

She smiled widely, trying to restrain a snicker.

In a flash, she was on her back and he was over her, their noses inches apart.

“I don’t think St. Francis would approve of you taking part of his prayer and applying it to our sexual activities,” he growled.

“Francis believed in love and in marriage. He’d understand. At the very least, if he disapproved, he’d be silent about it.”

Gabriel closed his eyes and shook his head. But a smile played across his mouth.

When he opened his eyes, they were tender.

“I could live with you forever and still you would surprise me.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Gabriel, because you’re stuck with me. Even when you’re in a foul mood. I’m not ashamed of what we do with our bodies, because it also involves our souls. I don’t want you to be ashamed either.”

He nodded and kissed her reverently.

She kissed him back.

“You tell me that I’m safe in your bed. But I want you to know that you’re free in mine. All the baggage, all the things from our past, they don’t matter here.”

He stroked her jaw with his thumb. “Okay.”

“Now will you tell me why you were so upset last night?”

“Not yet.” A shadow fell across his face. “I just need a little time.” He toyed with the diamonds in her ears. “You have my heart. Never doubt that.”

Julia rested in his arms, but it was a long while before sleep claimed her.

Chapter Thirty-three

Julia was not a psychologist. She’d spent time in therapy and was familiar with twelve-step programs and recovery. But she tried very hard not to diagnose others. In the case of her husband, she couldn’t help herself. Something was troubling him. Something disturbing enough to cause him to return to his old coping mechanisms.

She suspected that whatever was upsetting him was related to the news they’d received from Tom and Diane, but she wasn’t certain. Correlation is not causality, and so it was possible that the two events were merely coincidental.

Without knowing what was wrong, she didn’t know how to help him. Or how to comfort him. She felt as if a dark cloud hung over them, despite Gabriel’s concerted attempts to behave as if nothing were wrong.

She knew better. And his unwillingness to share his burden wounded her.

As their time in Umbria drew to a close and they prepared to travel to Florence, she resolved to do her best to be supportive and loving. But she was determined that if he hadn’t confided in her by the time they returned to Cambridge, she would take matters into her own hands.

During the previous summer, Gabriel had volunteered at the Franciscan orphanage in Florence during his separation from Julia. But as the staff quickly discerned, he was not the ideal volunteer. He didn’t take direction, he gave it. He didn’t hesitate to make changes to the workings of the orphanage, or to make demands about the facilities and food. And when the staff protested that they didn’t have the money to implement his changes, he simply paid for them himself.

In sum, the director of the orphanage, Fra Silvestro, welcomed his donations but was relieved when the Franciscans over at Santa Croce persuaded Gabriel that his skills would be better utilized in leading tours and giving lectures on the life of Dante.