A Discovery of Witches - Deborah Harkness [260]
“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.
“We thought you might be thirsty,” I said, putting the tray on the table.
A multitude of eyes turned in our direction—vampires, witches, ghosts. My grandmother had a whole flock of Bishops at her back, all of them rustling and shifting as they tried to adjust to having vampires in the dining room.
“Whiskey, Sarah?” Matthew asked, picking up a tumbler from the tray.
She gave him a long look. “Miriam says that by accepting your relationship we invite war. My father fought in World War II.”
“So did mine,” Matthew said, pouring the whiskey. So had he, no doubt, but he was silent on that point.
“He always said whiskey made it possible to close your eyes at night without hating yourself for everything you’d been ordered to do that day.”
“It’s no guarantee, but it helps.” Matthew held out the glass.
Sarah took it. “Would you kill your own son if you thought he was a threat to Diana?”
He nodded. “Without hesitation.”
“That’s what he said.” Sarah nodded at Marcus. “Get him a drink, too. It can’t be easy, knowing your own father could kill you.”
Matthew got Marcus his whiskey and poured Miriam a glass of wine.