The creak of the front-door hinges and the soft scrape of wood against marble broke the silence.
Without thinking I shot to my feet, teetering on legs that had grown weaker during my enforced inactivity.
And then Matthew was there.
All that either of us could do for the first long moments was to drink in the sight of the other.
Matthew’s hair was tousled and slightly wavy from the damp London air, and he was wearing a gray sweater and black jeans. Fine lines around his eyes showed the stress he’d been under.
He stalked toward me. I wanted to jump up and run at him, but something in his expression kept me glued to the spot.
When at last Matthew reached me, he cradled my neck with his fingertips and searched my eyes.
His thumb brushed across my lips, bringing the blood to the surface. I saw the small changes in him: the firm set of his jaw, the unusual tightness of his mouth, the hooded expression caused by the lowering of his eyelids.
My lips parted as his thumb made another pass over my tingling mouth.
“I missed you, mon coeur,” Matthew said, his voice rough. He leaned down with the same deliberation as he had crossed the room, and he kissed me. My head spun. He was here. My hands gripped his sweater as though that could keep him from disappearing. A raspy catch in the back of his throat that was almost a growl kept me quiet when I prepared to rise up and meet him in his embrace. Matthew’s free hand roamed over my back, my hip, and settled on my belly. One of the babies gave a sharp, reproachful kick. He smiled against my mouth, the thumb that had first stroked my lip now feather-light on my pulse. Then he registered the books, flowers, and fruit.
“I’m absolutely fine. I was a bit nauseated and had a pain in my shoulder, that’s all,” I said quickly.
His medical education would send his mind racing toward all sorts of terrible diagnoses. “My blood pressure is fine, and so are the babies.”
“Fernando told me. I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he murmured, his fingers rubbing my tense neck muscles. For the first time since New Haven, I let myself relax.
“I missed you, too.” My heart was too full to let me to say more.
But Matthew didn’t want more words. The next thing I knew I was airborne, cradled in his arms with my feet dangling.
Upstairs, Matthew put me in the leafy surrounds of the bed we’d slept in so many lifetimes ago in the Blackfriars. Silently he undressed me, examining every inch of exposed flesh as though he had been given an unexpected glimpse of something rare and precious. He was utterly silent as he did so, letting his eyes and the gentleness of his touch speak for him.
Over the course of the next few hours, Matthew reclaimed me, his fingers erasing every trace of the other creatures I’d been in contact with since he departed. At some point he let me undress him, his body responding to mine with gratifying speed. Dr. Sharp had been absolutely clear on the risks associated with any contraction of my uterine muscles, however. There would be no release of sexual tension for me, but just because I had to deny my body’s needs, that didn’t mean Matthew did, too. When I reached for him, however, he stilled my hand and kissed me deeply.
Together, Matthew said without a word. Together, or not at all.
“Don’t tell me you can’t find him, Fernando,” Matthew said, not even trying to sound reasonable. He was in the kitchen of Clairmont House, scrambling eggs and making toast. Diana was upstairs resting, unaware of the conference taking place on the lower ground floor.
“I still think we should ask Jack,” Fernando said. “He could help us narrow down the options, at least.”
“No. I don’t want him involved.” Matthew turned to Marcus. “Is Phoebe all right?”
“It was too close for comfort, Matthew,” Marcus said grimly. “I know you don’t approve of Phoebe’s becoming a vampire, but—”