“Madame Ysabeau said she has standards to maintain, and I will have to do two extremely wicked things before she will let me call her Grandmother,” Jack said.
“And yet you’re still calling her Madame Ysabeau?” I looked at him in amazement. “What’s keeping you? You’ve been back in London for days.”
Jack looked down, his lips curved at the prospect of more delicious mischief to come. “Well, I’ve been on my best behavior, madame.”
“Madame?” I groaned and threw a pillow at him. “That’s worse than calling me ‘Grandmother.’”
Jack let the pillow hit him square in the face.
“Fernando’s right,” Matthew said. “Your heart knows what to call Diana, even if your thick head and vampire propriety are telling you different. Now, help me bring in your mother’s present.”
Under Lobero’s careful supervision, Matthew and Jack carried in first one, then another cloth-wrapped bundle. They were tall and seemingly rectangular in shape, rather like small bookcases. Matthew had sent me a picture of a stack of wood and some tools. The two must have worked on the items together. I smiled at the sudden image of them, dark head and light bowed over a common project.
As Matthew and Jack gradually unwrapped the two objects, it became clear that they were not bookcases but cradles: two beautiful, identically carved and painted, wooden cradles. Their curved bases hung inside sturdy wooden stands that sat on level feet. This way the cradles could be rocked gently in the air or removed from their supports and put on the floor to be nudged with a foot. My eyes filled.
“We made them out of rowan wood. Ransome couldn’t figure out where the hell we were going to find Scottish wood in Louisiana, but he obviously doesn’t know Matthew.” Jack ran his fingers along one of the smooth edges.
“The cradles are rowan, but the stand is made from oak—strong American white oak.” Matthew regarded me with a touch of anxiety. “Do you like them?”
“I love them.” I looked up at my husband, hoping my expression would tell him just how much. It must have, for he cupped the side of my face tenderly and his own expression was happier than I’d seen since we returned to the present.
“Matthew designed them. He said it’s how cradles used to be made, so you could get them up off the floor and out of the way of the chickens,” Jack explained.
“And the carving?” A tree had been incised into the wood at the foot of each cradle, its roots and branches intertwined. Carefully applied silver and gold paint highlighted the leaves and bark.
“That was Jack’s idea,” Matthew said, putting his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “He remembered the design on your spell box and thought the symbol was fitting for a baby’s bed.”
“Every part of the cradles has meaning,” Jack said. “The rowan is a magical tree, you know, and white oak symbolizes strength and immortality. The finials on the four corners are shaped like acorns—that’s for luck—and the rowanberries carved on the supports are supposed to protect them. Corra’s on the cradles, too. Dragons guard rowan trees to keep humans from eating their fruit.”
I looked more closely and saw that a firedrake’s curving tail provided the arc for the cradles’ rockers.
“These will be the two safest babies in all the world, then,” I said, “not to mention the luckiest, sleeping in such beautiful beds.”
His gifts having been given and gratefully received, Jack sat on the floor with Lobero and told animated tales about life in New Orleans. Matthew relaxed in one of the japanned easy chairs, watching the minutes tick by with Jack showing no sign of blood rage.
The clocks were striking ten when Jack left for Pickering Place, which he described as crowded but of good cheer.
“Is Gallowglass there?” I hadn’t seen him since Matthew returned.
“He left right after we arrived back in London. Said he had somewhere to go and would be back when he was able.” Jack shrugged.
Something must have flickered in my eyes, for Matthew was instantly watchful. He said nothing, however, until he’d seen Jack and Lobero downstairs and safely on their way.
“It’s probably for the best,” Matthew said when he returned. He arranged himself in the chaise longue behind me so that he could serve as my backrest. I settled into him with a sigh of contentment as he circled his arms around me.
“That all of our family and friends are at Marcus’s house?” I snorted. “Of course you think that’s for the best.”
“No. That Gallowglass has decided to go away for a little while.” Matthew pressed his lips against my hair. I stiffened.
“Matthew . . .” I needed to tell him about Gallowglass.
“I know, mon coeur. I’ve suspected it for some time, but when I saw him with you in New Haven, I was sure.” Matthew rocked one of the cradles with a gentle push of his finger.
“Since when?” I asked.
“Maybe from the beginning. Certainly from the night Rudolf touched you in Prague,” Matthew replied. The emperor had behaved so badly on Walpurgisnacht, the same night we’d seen the Book of Life whole and complete for the last time. “Even then it came as no surprise, simply a confirmation of something I already, on some level, understood.”
“Gallowglass didn’t do anything improper,” I said quickly.
“I know that, too. Gallowglass is Hugh’s son and incapable of dishonor.” Matthew’s throat moved as he cleared the emotion from his voice. “Perhaps once the babies are born, he will be able to move on with his life. I would like him to be happy.”
“Me, too,” I whispered, wondering how many knots and threads it would take to help Gallowglass find his mate.
* * *
“Where has Gallowglass gone?” Matthew glowered at Fernando, though they both knew that his nephew’s sudden disappearance wasn’t Fernando’s fault.
“Wherever it is, he’s better off there than here waiting for you and Diana to welcome your children into the world,” Fernando said.
“Diana doesn’t agree.” Matthew flipped through his e-mail. He’d taken to reading it downstairs, so that Diana didn’t know about the intelligence he was gathering on Benjamin. “She’s asking for him.”
“Philippe was wrong to make Gallowglass watch over her.” Fernando downed a cup of wine.
“You think so? It’s what I would have done,” Matthew said.
* * *
“Think, Matthew,” Dr. Garrett said impatiently. “Your children have vampire blood in them—though how that is possible, I will leave between you and God. That means they have some vampire immunity at least. Wouldn’t you rather your wife give birth at home, as women have done for centuries?”