“Come,” he whispered.
Goose pimples rose on her skin. His long, thin fingers traced the arch of her neck as he waited.
“My lecture isn’t finished.” She lifted her pretty face to look at him. “I don’t want to embarrass Professor Picton, especially when she invited me. I’m the youngest person on the program.”
“You won’t embarrass her. And you’ll have plenty of time to finish the lecture.”
“I need to get the house ready for your family. They’re arriving in two days.”
“They aren’t my family.” Gabriel gave her a blazing look. “They’re our family. And I’ll hire a maid. Come. Bring the blanket.”
Julia turned and saw a familiar-looking plaid blanket resting on the white overstuffed chair that sat under the window. She peered out into the woods that bordered the backyard. “It’s dark.”
“I’ll protect you.” He helped her to her feet, clasping his arms momentarily around her waist and bringing their chests together.
She felt his warmth through the thin material of her sundress, the temperature comforting and alluring.
“Why do you want to visit the orchard in the dark?” she teased, pulling his glasses from his face and placing them on the desk.
Gabriel fixed her with a look that would have melted snow. Then he brought his lips to her ear. “I want to see your naked skin glow in the moonlight while I’m inside you.”
He drew part of her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling it gently. He began to explore her neck, kissing and nipping as her heart rate increased.
“A declaration of desire,” he whispered.
Julia gave herself over to the sensations, finally becoming conscious of the music in the air. Gabriel’s scent, a mixture of peppermint and Aramis, filled her nostrils.
He released her, watching her the way a cat watches a mouse, as she picked up the blanket.
“I suppose Guido da Montefeltro can wait.” She glanced down at her notes.
“He’s been dead over seven hundred years. I’d say he’s practiced at waiting.”
Julia returned his smile, shifting the blanket so that she could take his proffered hand.
As they journeyed downstairs and across the yard, his expression grew playful.
“Have you ever made love in an orchard before?”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head.
“Then I’m glad I’m your first.”
She tightened her grip on his hand. “You’re my last, Gabriel. My only.”
He quickened his pace, switching on the flashlight as they entered the woods behind the house. He led the way, navigating over roots and uneven ground.
It was June in Pennsylvania and very warm. The woods were thick and the canopy of leaves blocked much of the light from the moon and the stars. The air was alive with the evening song of birds and the sound of katydids.
Soon they were entering the clearing. Wildflowers littered the expanse of green. At the far edge of the area stood several aged apple trees. Extending back into the remains of the old orchard, the new trees that Gabriel had planted were spreading their boughs toward the sky.
As they walked to the center of the clearing, his body relaxed. Something about this space, sacred or otherwise, always soothed him.
Julia watched as he spread the blanket carefully over the thick grass, then turned off the flashlight. Darkness wrapped around them like a velvet cloak.
Overhead, the full moon shone, its pale face occasionally muted by wisps of cloud. A clutch of stars twinkled above them.
Gabriel brushed his hands up and down her arms before tracing the modest neckline of her sundress.
“I like this,” he murmured.
He took his time admiring his wife’s beauty, visible even in the shadows: the arch of her cheekbones, the pout of her mouth, her large, expressive eyes. He lifted her chin and brought their lips together.
It was the kiss of an ardent lover, communicating with his mouth that he desired her. Gabriel pressed his tall body against her petite one, his fingers tangling in her soft brown hair.
“What if someone sees us?” she panted, before slipping her tongue into his mouth.
She explored him earnestly until he retreated.
“These woods are private. And as you mentioned, it’s dark.” His hands found her waist, spanning her lower back.
He traced the space where her dimples lay, as if they were landmarks that pleased him, before sliding up to her shoulders. Without ceremony, he slowly removed her dress, dropping it to the blanket. Then he unfastened her bra with a mere flick of his fingers.
She giggled at his practiced move, while holding the bra up to cover herself. It was made of black lace and was attractively transparent.
“You’re very good at that,” she observed.
“At what?” His large hands moved to cup her breasts over her bra.
“At removing bras in the dark.”
Gabriel’s silence echoed around them. He didn’t like being reminded of his past.
She reached up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his angular jaw.