Shadow of Night (All Souls Trilogy, #2)(88)

“For a short time, perhaps. Then we’ll be going back to our present.” I stared at him, too startled to speak.

“We don’t know what to expect during the gestation period, and for

your safety—and the child’s—we need to monitor the baby. There are tests to run, and it would be a good idea to have a baseline ultrasound. Besides, you’ll want to be with Sarah and Emily.”

“But, Matthew,” I protested, “we can’t go home yet. I don’t know how.” His head swung around.

“Em explained it clearly before we left. To travel back in time, you need

three objects to take you where you want to go. To travel forward you need witchcraft, but I can’t do spells. It’s why we came.” “You can’t possibly carry the baby to term here,” Matthew said, shooting out of his chair.

“Women do have babies in the sixteenth century,” I said mildly. “Besides, I don’t feel any different. I can’t be more than a few weeks pregnant.”

“Will you be powerful enough to carry both her and me back to the future? No, we need to leave as soon as possible, and well before she’s born.” Matthew drew to a halt. “What if timewalking damages the fetus in some way? Magic is one thing, but this—” He sat down abruptly.

“Nothing has changed,” I said soothingly. “The baby can’t be much bigger than a grain of rice. Now that we’re in London, it shouldn’t be difficult to find someone to help me with my magic—not to mention one who understands timewalking better than Sarah and Em.”

“She’s the size of a lentil.” Matthew stopped. He thought for a few moments and came to a decision. “By six weeks all the most critical fetal developments will have taken place. That should give you plenty of time.” He sounded like a doctor, not a father. I was beginning to prefer Matthew’s premodern rages to his modern objectivity.

“And if I need seven?” Had Sarah been in the room, she would have warned him that my reasonableness was not a good sign.

“Seven weeks would be fine,” Matthew said, lost in his own thoughts.

“Oh, well, that’s good. I’d hate to feel rushed when it comes to something as important as figuring out who I am.” I strode toward him.

“Diana, that’s not—”

We were standing nose to nose now. “I don’t have a chance of being a good mother without knowing more about the power in my blood.”

“This isn’t good—”

“Don’t you dare say this isn’t good for the baby. I’m not some vessel.” My temper was at full boil now. “First it was my blood you wanted for your scientific experiments, and now it’s this baby.”

Matthew, damn him, stood quietly by, arms crossed and gray eyes hard.

“Well?” I demanded.

“Well what? Apparently my participation in this conversation isn’t required. You’re already finishing my sentences. You might as well start them, too.”

“This has nothing to do with my hormones,” I said. Belatedly it occurred to me that this statement alone was probably evidence to the contrary.

“That hadn’t occurred to me until you mentioned it.”

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

His eyebrow rose.

“I’m the same person I was three days ago. Pregnancy isn’t a pathological condition, and it doesn’t eliminate our reasons for being here. We haven’t even had a proper chance to look for Ashmole 782.”

“Ashmole 782?” Matthew made an impatient sound. “Everything has changed, and you are not the same person. We can’t keep this pregnancy a secret indefinitely. In a matter of days, every vampire will be able to smell the changes in your body. Kit will figure it out soon after, and he’ll be asking about the father—because it can’t be me, can it? A pregnant witch living with a wearh will raise the animosity of every creature in this city, even the ones who don’t care much for the covenant. Someone could complain to the Congregation. My father will demand we go back to Sept-Tours for your safety, and I can’t endure saying good-bye to him one more time.” His voice rose steadily with each problem.

“I didn’t think—”

“No,” Matthew interrupted, “you didn’t. You couldn’t have. Christ, Diana. Before, you and I were in a forbidden marriage. That’s hardly unique. Now you’re carrying my child. That’s not only unique—other creatures believe it’s impossible. Seven weeks, Diana. Not a moment more.” He was implacable.

“You might not be able to find a witch willing to help by then,” I persisted. “Not with what’s happening in Scotland.”

“Who said anything about willingness?” Matthew’s smile chilled me.

“I’m going to the parlor to read.” I turned toward the bedroom, wanting to be as far from him as possible. He was waiting for me in the doorway, his arm barring my passage.

“I will not lose you, Diana,” he said, emphatic but quiet. “Not to look for an alchemical manuscript and not for the sake of an unborn child.”

“And I will not lose myself,” I retorted. “Not to satisfy your need for control. Not before I find out who I am.”

On Monday, I was again sitting in the parlor, picking through The Faerie Queene and going out of my mind with boredom when the door opened. Visitors. I clapped the book shut eagerly.