A Discovery of Witches(201)

“Always.” I looked at my vampire, his white skin gleaming in the dark, and pushed the red button to disconnect the line. The fields on either side of the driveway were frost-covered, the ice crystals catching the faint traces of moonlight coming through the clouds.

“Did you suspect, too? Is that why you won’t make love to me?” I asked Matthew.

“I told you my reasons. Making love should be about intimacy, not just physical need.” He sounded frustrated at having to repeat himself.

“If you don’t want to have children with me, I will understand,” I said firmly, though part of me quietly protested.

His hands were rough on my arms. “Christ, Diana, how can you think that I wouldn’t want our children? But it might be dangerous—for you, for them.”

“There’s always risk with pregnancy. Not even you control nature.”

“We have no idea what our children would be. What if they shared my need for blood?”

“All babies are vampires, Matthew. They’re all nourished with their mother’s blood.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it. I gave up all hope of children long ago.” Our eyes met, searching for reassurance that nothing between us had changed. “But it’s too soon for me to imagine losing you.”

And I couldn’t bear losing our children.

Matthew’s unspoken words were as clear to me as an owl hooting overhead. The pain of Lucas’s loss would never leave him. It cut deeper than the deaths of Blanca or Eleanor. When he lost Lucas, he lost part of himself that could never be recovered.

“So you’ve decided. No children. You’re sure.” I rested my hands on his chest, waiting for the next beat of his heart.

“I’m not sure of anything,” Matthew said. “We haven’t had time to discuss it.”

“Then we’ll take every precaution. I’ll drink Marthe’s tea.”

“You’ll do a damn sight more than that,” he said grimly. “That stuff is better than nothing, but it’s a far cry from modern medicine. Even so, no human form of contraception may be effective when it comes to witches and vampires.”

“I’ll take the pills anyway,” I assured him.

“And what about you?” he asked, his fingers on my chin to keep me from avoiding his eyes. “Do you want to carry my children?”

“I never imagined myself a mother.” A shadow flickered across his face. “But when I think of your children, it feels as though it was meant to be.”

He dropped my chin. We stood silently in the darkness, his arms around my waist and my head on his chest. The air felt heavy, and I recognized it as the weight of responsibility. Matthew was responsible for his family, his past, the Knights of Lazarus—and now for me.

“You’re worried that you couldn’t protect them,” I said, suddenly understanding.

“I can’t even protect you,” he said harshly, fingers playing over the crescent moon burned into my back.

“We don’t have to decide just yet. With or without children, we already have a family to keep together.” The heaviness in the air shifted, some of it settling on my shoulders. All my life I’d lived for myself alone, pushing away the obligations of family and tradition. Even now part of me wanted to return to the safety of independence and leave these new burdens behind.

His eyes traveled up the drive to the house. “What happened after I left?”

“Oh, what you’d expect. Miriam told us about Bertrand and Jerusalem—and let slip about Gillian. Marcus told us who broke in to my rooms. And then there’s the fact that we might have started some kind of war.”

“Dieu, why can’t they keep their mouths shut?” He ran his fingers through his hair, his regret at concealing all this from me clear in his eyes. “At first I was sure this was about the manuscript. Then I supposed it was all about you. Now I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it’s about. Some old, powerful secret is unraveling, and we’re caught up in it.”

“Is Miriam right to wonder how many other creatures are tangled in it, too?” I stared at the moon as if she might answer my question. Matthew did instead.

“It’s doubtful we’re the first creatures to love those we should not, and we surely won’t be the last.” He took my arm. “Let’s go inside. We have some explaining to do.”

On our way up the drive, Matthew observed that explanations, like medicines, go down easier when accompanied by liquid refreshment. We entered the house through the back door to pick up the necessary supplies. While I arranged a tray, Matthew’s eyes rested on me.

“What?” I looked up. “Did I forget something?”

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “No, ma lionne. I’m just trying to figure out how I acquired such a fierce wife. Even putting cups on a tray, you look formidable.”

“I’m not formidable,” I said, tightening my ponytail self-consciously.

“Yes, you are.” Matthew smiled. “Miriam wouldn’t be in such a state otherwise.”

When we reached the door between the dining room and the family room, we listened for sounds of a battle within, but there was nothing except quiet murmurs and low conversation. The house unlocked the door and opened it for us.