“Why are you so kind to me?”

His fingers stilled. “That’s an extraordinary question to ask your lover.”

“I mean it, Gabriel. Why?”

He moved his fingers through her hair again. “You’ve been kind to me since the first time I met you. Why wouldn’t I be? Don’t you think you deserve to be treated with kindness?”

Julia elected not to pursue her original question further. Despite the fact that she’d been overwrought the night before, she remembered confessing her love to him at the hospital. But her declaration had not been returned.

This is enough, she thought. His actions, his kindness, his protection. This is more than enough. I don’t need the words.

Julia loved him so much it hurt; she’d always loved him, and her love had burned so brightly that even during her darkest days its luminosity had not died. But Gabriel didn’t seem to return her love.

When he’d finished with her hair, he insisted on making her lunch.

Afterward, they sat together in the kitchen, making plans for the evening, until the telephone rang and Richard walked in, carrying the cordless phone.

“It’s your father,” he said, handing the phone to Julia.

Gabriel intercepted it and covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

“You don’t have to talk to him. I’ll take care of it.”

“We’ll have to talk eventually.” Julia slipped off the bar stool and hobbled on her crutches into the dining room.

Richard shook his head at his son. “You can’t get in between Julia and Tom.”

“He hasn’t been much of a father.”

“He’s the only father she has. And she is the light of his life.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “If he cared for her at all, he would have protected her.”

Richard placed a hand on his shoulder. “Parents make mistakes. And sometimes, it’s easier to place your head in the sand than to admit that your child is in trouble. And that it’s your fault. I know this from personal experience.”

Gabriel pursed his lips but said nothing.

Within ten minutes, Julia returned. Despite Richard’s continued presence in the kitchen, Gabriel drew her into a hug and kissed her cheek. “Is everything okay?”

“My dad wants to take me to dinner tonight,” she blurted.

Richard seemed to recognize her admission as his exit cue, so he retreated upstairs to his study.

“Do you want to see him?”

“It’s going to be uncomfortable. But I said I would go.”

“Julianne, you don’t have to do anything. I’l take you to dinner, instead.”

She shook her head. “He’s trying, Gabriel. He’s my father. I have to give him a chance.”

Gabriel shook his head in frustration but elected not to argue with her.

At six o’clock sharp, Tom Mitchell appeared on the Clark’s doorstep wearing a tie with a dress shirt and trousers. He tugged at his tie nervously.

He wasn’t used to wearing one. But for Julia…

Richard quickly welcomed him into the living room and entertained him while they waited for Julia to come downstairs.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Gabriel was reclining on his bed, watching Julia apply lipstick with the use of her compact.

“I’m not going to stand up my own father. Besides, Rachel is dragging Richard to see a chick flick, and you’re going out with the guys. I’d end up sitting here all alone.”

Gabriel pushed himself off the bed and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with me. And I do know how to keep a lady entertained.” He began pressing wet kisses behind her ear to try to persuade her. “You’re stunning,” he whispered.

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“Rachel found you a scarf.” He fingered the edge of a blue silk Hermès design that his sister had artful y wrapped around Julia’s neck to conceal her bite mark.

“It was Grace’s,” said Julia softly. “A gift from Richard.”

“Richard liked to spoil her. Especially in Paris.”

“You are very like him.” She stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Wait till we arrive in Florence.” He pulled her close and kissed her passionately before releasing her.

“So what will you be doing with the guys? Not a — strip club?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, looking a great deal too adorable.

Gabriel frowned. “Do you think I’d do that?”

“Isn’t that what boys do on their nights out?”

He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Do you think Rachel would approve of such an excursion?”

“No.”

“And what about me, do you think that’s what I want?”

Julia looked away and didn’t answer.

“Why would I go look at other women when the most beautiful woman in the world shares my bed every night?” he protested, kissing her lightly.

“The only woman I want to see naked is you.”

Julia giggled. “What was my question? I can’t remember what I was asking you.”

He smirked. “Good. Come here.”

Later that evening, when the house was dark and everyone had retired, Julia slipped into Gabriel’s room wearing a simple blue nightshirt. He was sitting in bed reading. He was shirtless and wearing his glasses, his knees bent up casually.

“Why, hello there.” He smiled, placing The End of the Affair on his nightstand. “You look lovely.”

She placed her crutches to one side and fingered her nightshirt gratefully. “Thanks for going to my dad’s to pick up my things.”

“You’re welcome.” He held out his hand, and she crawled into bed next to him.

He kissed her before he noticed that she was still wearing Grace’s Hermès scarf. He tugged on one of the ends of it. “Why are you still wearing this?”

Julia lowered her eyes. “I don’t want you to have to look at my scar.”

He lifted her chin. “You don’t need to hide from me.”

“It’s ugly. I don’t want to remind you.”

He stared deeply into her eyes, searchingly. Then he slowly undid the scarf. He pulled on it so that it gently brushed across the back of her neck and fell into his hand. She felt herself goose-pimple from the sensuous trail of silk across her skin, coupled with Gabriel’s blazing gaze. He placed the scarf on his nightstand and leaned over to press his lips against the mark repeatedly.

“We both have scars, Julianne. Mine just aren’t on the skin.”

“I wish we didn’t,” she whispered. “I wish I was perfect.”

Gabriel shook his head sadly. “Do you like Caravaggio?”

“Very much. His painting of The Sacrifice of Isaac is my favorite.”

He nodded. “I always preferred The Incredulity of St. Thomas. Richard has a copy of it in his study. I was looking at it today.”

“I always thought that painting was — strange.”

“It is strange. Jesus appears to St. Thomas after the resurrection, and Thomas places his finger in the spear wound in Jesus’ side. It’s quite profound.”

Julia did not see the profundity, so she remained quiet.

“If you want to wait until your scar disappears, Julianne, you’ll wait forever. Scars never disappear. Caravaggio’s painting made that point clear to me. Scars might heal and we might forget about them in time, but they’re permanent. Not even Jesus lost his scars.” Gabriel rubbed his hand across his chin thoughtfully.

“If I’d troubled myself to stop being selfish, I would have realized that.

And I would have treated Grace and my family with greater care. I would have treated you with greater care in September and October.” He cleared his throat. “I hope that you’ll forgive me for the scars I’ve given you. I know that they’re many.”

Julia crawled into his lap and kissed him forcefully. “You were forgiven a long time ago and for far more than leaving scars. Please, let’s not speak of this again.”

The two almost-lovers shared a quiet moment before Gabriel asked her how her evening went.

Julia squirmed. “He cried.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. Tom Mitchell cried? I don’t believe it.