Gabriel moved closer, and Julia shut her eyes as his scent washed over her. He gently unwound the scarf from her neck with both hands and placed it on the sofa between them. Then he reached out to trail the knuckles of one hand down the column of her throat.
“You are so lovely,” he murmured. “No wonder all eyes were on you this evening.”
She tensed at his words, and he pulled back, stifling a groan.
Her eyes found her feet, and she realized that she’d been so distracted she hadn’t bothered to remove her boots. But he hadn’t complained.
“I’m sorry for putting my boots on your couch. I’ll take them off.” She fingered one of the zippers, but Gabriel moved quickly to kneel on the carpet.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes widened in confusion.
“I’ve been admiring your boots. Very much.” He lightly grazed her high heels with his hands.
“Rachel helped me choose them. She has great taste, but the heels are always too high.”
He regarded her seductively. “Your heels could never be too high. But let me free you.” At the sound of his voice, husky and adoring, Julia’s heart skipped a beat.
His hands hovered over her knees, where the tops of the zippers rested. “May I?”
She acquiesced and held her breath.
Reverently, he unzipped her boot and gently ran his fingers down her calf to her ankle, freeing her. He repeated this procedure on the other leg, placing the boots next to the sofa. Then he lifted her right foot and began to massage it lightly with both hands. Julia moaned in spite of herself and bit her lip sharply in embarrassment.
“It’s all right to voice your pleasure, Julianne,” he encouraged. “It reassures me that I don’t repulse you completely.”
“You don’t repulse me. But I don’t like seeing you on your knees,” she whispered.
His pleased expression faded. “When a man kneels before a woman, it’s a gesture of chivalry. When a woman kneels before a man, it’s unseemly.”
Julia moaned once again involuntarily. “How did you learn to do this?”
He gave her a puzzled look.
“How did you learn to massage feet?” she clarified, flushing more deeply.
He sighed. “A friend.”
Probably a black-and-white photograph friend, thought Julia.
“Yes,” said Gabriel, as if he’d anticipated her question. “I would like to extend my attention to the rest of your body, but I don’t think a full massage would be possible for us, at least not now.” His eyes darkened slightly as their eyes met.
He switched his attention to her other foot and lowered his eyes. “I already hunger for your body, Julianne. I’m not strong enough to touch you chastely, not if you were laid out before me wrapped only in a bed sheet.”
They sat in silence for a few moments while Gabriel tended to Julia’s feet. At length, he sat back on his heels, running light fingertips up and down her stockings.
“I’ll drive you home, if you wish, and we can talk tomorrow. Or you can stay here. You could sleep in my room, and I’ll take the guestroom.” He searched her eyes uncertainly.
“I don’t want to prolong this,” she offered. “So I’d like to talk, if that’s all right.”
“That’s fine. Can I offer you something to drink?” Gabriel motioned toward the kitchen. “I can open a bottle of wine. Or fix you a cocktail.” He gazed at her intensely. “Please let me do something for you.”
A flame ignited in Julia’s middle, flaring up and passing over her. But she suppressed it. “Water, please. I need a clear head.”
He stood up and walked to the kitchen. Julia heard him wash his hands followed by the sounds of the refrigerator and freezer doors opening and closing. He returned to her with a tall glass filled with Perrier, ice, and pieces of lime.
“Um, Gabriel, would you excuse me for a minute?”
“Take as long as you need. Come to the fire when you’re ready.” He attempted a smile, but his face was too tense to make it genuine.
She disappeared with her drink, and Gabriel assumed she was using this opportunity to steel herself for the next revelation from his miserable, damned existence. Or maybe she was going to lock herself in the bathroom and demand to speak to him through the door. Not that he would blame her.
Julia’s mind was traveling at light speed. She didn’t know what Gabriel was going to say. She didn’t know how she would respond. It was quite possible that she would learn things that would make it impossible for their relationship to continue, and the thought crushed her. For no matter what he’d done or with whom, she loved him. The thought of losing him again, after the joy of reconnecting, was agonizing.
Gabriel sat in his red velvet chair staring vacantly into the fireplace. Dressed as he was and brooding, he looked very much like a character out of one of the Bront?s’ novels. As Julia approached him, she silently prayed to Charlotte that Gabriel would be one of her ilk and not of her sister Emily’s.
Pardon me, Miss Charlotte, but Heathcliff terrifies me. Please don’t let Gabriel be a Heathcliff. (No offense to you, Miss Emily.) Please.
From where Julia stood, he could not see her. She cleared her throat to alert him of her presence.