Rated T. This is mostly fluff with a sprinkling of angst.

Content warnings: Suggestions of blood and injury (non-graphic) during childbirth.

Disclaimer: CJ Archer owns these characters, not me. Unfortunately.

Author's note: Thank you to my husband, who has read the first two books in the series, for serving as my beta reader for this story (after I prodded him a little).

-.-.-

I sat up in bed, cushioned by many pillows and attempting to read the morning's newspaper.

My watch lay on the nightstand, telling me it was nearly noon. The tall windows stood open on the wall behind me, one on either side of the bed. They let in a faint breeze of early fall. Except for a small gap, the curtains were drawn to keep the room darker, though I still had adequate light by which to read.

I was glad we'd decided to move to the country for part of the year. This small estate we'd been renting for the past six months was a lucky find. It provided our household with more space, fresh air, and recreation, especially for Willie and Duke. The two of them could run wild over the grounds as much as they pleased, riding, shooting, and fishing.

The estate also felt safer than the city. Matt and I had solved one mystery here just after we arrived in spring; it was a theft and not, thankfully, a murder.

Giving up trying to concentrate, I put the paper down and reclined drowsily on the pillows. I had just spent two sleepless nights—for a very good reason.

That reason currently lay in the bassinet near the bed: our son, barely two days old, whom we'd named James Matthew Glass. We'd talked about naming him after Matt's father or my own, yet neither name had suited him as well as this one.

I gazed at his tiny, perfect face. His features seemed less crumpled than yesterday. Then, of course, when the midwife had placed him in my arms, pink and squalling, I'd thought him the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

I admired him again now. The miniature eyebrows and nose above a small pink mouth. His round cheeks and delicate eyelids. Against the white bedding, fine tufts of his dark hair stuck out in different directions, looking as unruly as Matt's often did.

A moment later, Matt himself entered the bedroom.

I put a finger to my lips to warn him the baby was asleep. He nodded, closing the door softly behind him.

"I wasn't sure you'd be back in time for luncheon," I said quietly. "Did you and Willie gallop the horses the entire way?" I knew they liked to ride whenever they could, rather than taking a carriage.

Matt came alongside the bed, grinning. "Most of the way."

After moving here, I'd seen how much the countryside agreed with him. It was a joy to watch him acting as carefree as a child: frolicking among the flowering trees with me in spring, showing me how to fish in the pond, riding horses with Duke and Willie up and down the lane and over the grassy meadows.

Matt set a plate down on the nightstand, then leaned over to check his sleeping son. My midwife, Mrs. Franklin, had already praised our child's ability to sleep through sounds that might wake other babies, so we knew we could have a conversation without rousing him.

"What was this mysterious errand, anyway?" I sat up straighter, winced, and tried to adjust the pillows behind me.

Matt turned, helping me with the cushions, then sat on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle me.

"How are you feeling?" He frowned, touching my cheek. "You still look quite pale."

"I'm all right. Tired and sore, but very happy." I glanced at our son. Matt did, too. The baby wrinkled his nose as we watched. He twitched, waving one little fist before settling again.

"This was one of the errands I wanted to do." Matt handed me the plate. Arranged on it were petit fours and a selection of other pastries. He had clearly gone to my favorite confectioner's shop and bought all the sweets I loved most.

He chuckled to see my face light up.

"There are more in the kitchen. Mrs. Potter says luncheon is almost ready, and we didn't want to ruin your appetite. She's making beef stew with vegetables. Only the heartiest meals to help build your strength back."

While I bit into the pastries, Matt poured water into a glass from the pitcher on the nightstand. He offered it to me between bites.

I didn't say a word while I devoured the treats, licking powdered sugar from my fingers. Matt smiled indulgently. His body heat warmed the side of my leg where he sat next to me.

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked.

"Some."

"And did Siefert check on you while I was gone?"

"Yes, briefly. But you should take him home this afternoon, Matt. I doubt the hospital can spare him very much longer."

Gabe had stayed with us for the past several days. While he hadn't attended the actual birth, his conversation had been a welcome distraction for me during the early stages of labor.

"I'm paying him handsomely," Matt reminded me, "in wages and with Mrs. Potter's fine cooking." Then his gaze sharpened. "Why did he only see you briefly?"

"Because," I said, "I wanted to sleep and not be questioned or prodded." I sighed. Matt's overprotective nature had caused us to butt heads several times over the last months. Still, my words had had sounded more brusque than I'd intended.

He was frowning at me. As a peace offering, I held out the plate with the remaining pastry. He accepted it. But he didn't look nearly as happy as one should when eating a confection.

I rested my hand on his arm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. Jamie and I are fine, truly." (I wasn't sure whether Matt or my grandfather had started calling our son by the nickname, but it had stuck.)

He sighed, too, rubbing one hand over the back of his neck. "I'll ask Woodall to take Siefert home. But only if he checks on you, first. It would ease my mind, India."

"All right." My face heated a little as I went on, "I can't have Gabe inspecting me in unmentionable places, you know. He's my friend, and I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye again. Besides, that's the midwife's job. She will call on me every afternoon for several days."

Matt ran his hands through his hair. "I know. I realize Siefert was here more to provide me with moral support than to help you. He kept me company, staying awake after everyone else had retired. And he was patient, explaining the process, why it was taking so long..."

Matt gave me the last bite of petit four.

"Willie was glad of Siefert's presence, too," he continued. "Her only ideas were to get me drunk, then take me out riding and shooting to expend my nervous energy. I suppose that was the day before yesterday," he added. "It seems I lost all track of time."

The time had been a blur to me, too, although certain minutes and hours had felt like weeks. When Matt didn't go on, I raised my brows and asked, "Did you do all of those things?"

"We went riding. Willie did most of the shooting, but I was afraid the noise would disturb you if we hadn't gone far enough from the house. I did not get drunk, as tempting as it sounded at the time."

I studied him, noting the shadows under his eyes. He'd spent half the night pacing the hallway during the birth (so he'd told me), and last night, our infant needed care every few hours.

"Well," I said, "you must have been far enough away, because I didn't hear a thing." I gave him a half smile. "Though I did have a number of other sensations demanding my attention."

Matt took the plate of crumbs from me and placed it on the nightstand. Grasping my hand, he stroked the knuckles. His face had turned so grave that I began to worry.

"India…" He rotated my hand to examine the veins in my wrist. "You lost so much blood. I was beside myself with worry. For a while, I thought..." He looked away and scrubbed his free hand over his eyes.

I covered his hand with my other one. Then I pulled him into a hug. It was a little awkward; we both had to lean forward as he sat on the edge of the bed. His arms circled my shoulders, and I caressed his tousled hair, feeling his unshaven jaw pricking the skin near my eyebrow. I thought he was being very careful with me, not crushing me to his chest as I was sure he wanted to.

"It wasn't so much," I said. He drew back to look at me, and I leaned against the pillows once more. "Mrs. Franklin—she stopped the bleeding before much harm was done. It was only enough to make me tired, not enough to be dangerous. And Gabe agreed with her assessment."

Matt nodded, taking a deep breath. "I was waiting in the hall with Siefert," he said, "and Willie joined us sometime near dawn. We heard the baby cry and I was overjoyed, but then—the assistant midwife burst out of the room, asking for towels and water, saying something about bleeding… I think I would have passed out right there if Siefert hadn't grabbed me."

"I can't believe Willie didn't mention that." I smiled, but Matt didn't. I grasped his arm and held firmly. "We picked a capable midwife, Matt. She knew just what to do. And Gabe was there. The situation could have turned into something more dire, but it did not." I squeezed him, and he nodded again.

"Thank God you're both all right."

I touched his face, then, tracing the worry lines on his brow and the smudges under his eyes. "Why don't you come back to bed and rest with me?"

"Perhaps I will," he said, and I was glad to see his smile return. "After lunch."

He stood up and stretched, yawning.

James made a small noise, and we both looked to him. I noticed how soft Matt's gaze was, an expression of tenderness and pride that I'd never seen until he looked at his firstborn child.

The baby remained asleep. Matt said, "Speaking of lunch, I saw your grandfather when I returned. I think he's already posted himself in the dining room in anticipation of the meal."

Chronos had arrived sometime yesterday morning. Matt had shown the baby to everyone while I rested. Later, my grandfather had come in to see me. He'd hugged me, then held the baby, crowing over him with obvious pride. Sitting in an armchair in front of the fireplace, Chronos had talked to the boy, telling him about the Steele blood in his veins, and wondering what magic might be there as well.

I grumbled to Matt, "I wish the first sentence he uttered hadn't been about how much or little magic our child might possess."

"Give him some credit, India. I think it was only the third or fourth sentence." Matt's amused expression sobered. "It's not every day a man gets to hold his great-grandchild. He's very proud of you. As am I."

Matt stepped close to the bed again and brushed a strand of hair back from my face.

I shifted uncomfortably, and he frowned.

He touched my thigh under the blankets. "How are those unmentionable places?"

I grimaced. Thinking about them suddenly made the stinging and aching parts of me more apparent. "They are…tender. But it's all right if I don't move around too much."

Matt looked pained. "I don't find that very encouraging."

The midwife had explained to us that the birth had caused tearing, and I would be sore for some time. "Quite common with first-time mothers, you see," she'd said in her resolutely cheerful manner. "It's not bad in this case, but you'll certainly know it's there."

Matt shuddered. "I hate to think of such delicate areas suffering damage."

"I appreciate that. But they aren't so delicate," I pointed out, "if they can accomplish what they did yesterday."

His mouth moved wryly. "You are right, my love. And…" He placed a hand on the headboard and bent to kiss me, lightly. "You're remarkable."

I smiled against his mouth, then sighed. "Help me with the pillows, Matt. I've been sitting like this too long." He adjusted pillows for me, and I rolled onto my left side, which took pressure off sensitive places and let me keep the bassinet in view.

Curling into a ball, I watched Matt pull a straight-backed wood chair close to the bed. Someone, the midwife or Dr. Siefert, had placed it nearby.

"For my second mysterious errand…" Matt reached into his jacket pocket, smiling. "I went to Catherine and Ronny's shop. They were very glad for our news and send their sincere congratulations. Catherine promised to visit soon, with her mother, too. Cyclops stopped by the store during his patrol, and he plans to come see us this weekend."

Matt set a package on the bed next to me. When I glanced questioningly at him, he gave me his crooked smile. "I was so happy, I had to buy gifts. Open this first. It's for our son."

I lay on my side and unwrapped the package. Inside was a small silver pocket watch. Matt had had the case engraved, and I read the words aloud. "To JMG, from your loving parents, September 20, 1891."

I looked up at him. "I thought, when you asked me a few weeks ago about an appropriate watch for a child, that you meant in eight or ten years' time."

"Did I get the right one?"

"Yes. But he's only two days old, Matt." I couldn't help smiling as I said it. "He doesn't need a watch."

"How old were you when you started helping your father work on timepieces?" Matt asked.

I turned the silver case in my hands. "I don't know. I suppose about seven."

"Well, we can teach Jamie to tell the time before he's that age, can't we? In fact, he'll probably be proficient at fixing timepieces before we know it." Matt's voice softened. "I know how much you treasured the watch your parents gave you, India. I wanted to get our son one, too. And…" He grinned at me. "I simply couldn't wait."

I smiled at his exuberance. This watch was similar to the one my parents had given me. I opened and closed the case, inspecting the face and the strong, slender chain.

"You can work on it and start infusing it with your magic," Matt added. "Perhaps it will help keep him safe."

"He's your son, Matt. He doesn't need a watch to keep him safe. You'll keep him safe. And when he's old enough, you'll teach him to stand up to bullies, and how to fight, and Willie will teach him to shoot…"

I stopped and passed a hand over my eyes, suddenly overwhelmed.

"Not any time soon," he said, touching my arm. "And if little Jamie is anything like you, he'll come to appreciate this watch very much."

"I hope," I said quietly, "he isn't like me."

"India?"

I took an unsteady breath. "I hope he isn't magical. It can be more trouble than it's worth! People still fear and misunderstand it. There's been progress, but society on the whole is not welcoming for magicians…"

"Yes, but—"

"Do all new parents feel this way?" I demanded. "Whether you're magical or artless, the world is dangerous, and I had never felt that so keenly until I was holding a tiny, helpless infant." I heard my voice scratch and break. "It's not his fault if he has magic, it's mine, and—"

"India." Matt rose from the chair and crouched next to the bed.

I felt irrational, wild with protective impulses. The idea of anyone—like Abercrombie, who'd called me a witch and conspired against me many times—trying to exert power over my son filled me with fury. Although I lay in bed feeling weak and dizzy, I knew that if necessary, I would fight and bite and claw anyone who tried to hurt my child.

Matt folded his hands over mine as I held the silver watch. "It's not your fault if our son has magic. It's a skill, a gift you'll have given him."

I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. "I know we've already had this conversation several times. I know we have a good plan for keeping magicians safe, and that you would do anything to protect your family. But…it all feels different now that our child is finally here."

I gazed at Matt, seeing my own love and concern reflected in his dark eyes, and the same fierce protectiveness.

"You're right," he said. "It does feel different now."

I tried to blink the tears away. "I also know I haven't had any sleep and I'm not thinking clearly."

The baby made a little noise as though waking up, but I couldn't see him from this vantage point.

Matt didn't turn away from me to check. Kissing my forehead, he said, "We will handle whatever comes our way, India. We make an excellent team, you know."

I gave him a watery smile. "I know. We'll love and shelter our son no matter what. And when he's older, if he wants to learn about timepieces, I can teach him, whether he has magic or not."

James was awake now; he started fussing in a way that portended loud wails at any moment.

Matt still didn't move. Gently he opened my hand to reveal the new watch. "So, I haven't made a mistake in buying this for him?"

"No," I said. "No, it's perfect." I placed the new timepiece next to mine on the nightstand.

Matt kissed my hand, then stood up.

He leaned over the bassinet and said, "Did you hear us discussing you, my boy? Didn't want to be left out of the conversation?"

He picked up the baby, carefully supporting the head. Yesterday he had looked tentative, but I could see his actions gaining confidence the more he handled the infant.

"James will need to eat again," I said. I hoped he was hungry, in fact. My milk had started to come in, and I was adjusting to the new sensations.

Matt gallantly offered to take charge of the diaper-changing responsibilities. First, I asked him to help me out of bed so I could use the bathroom.

He cradled the squawking baby in one arm, holding his other out to me. Pushing back the covers, I straightened my nightgown before getting up. I had to cling to his arm for several seconds after I stood. Spots danced before my eyes and when they cleared, I saw Matt watching me with obvious distress.

He started to speak, but I told him, "Don't worry so much, please. I'm not going to faint." I smiled so he wouldn't feel scolded.

"It's my job to worry," he grumbled. "You're my wife."

But he did not insist that he (or one of the female servants) accompany me into the bathroom, as I'd feared he might.

Having an en-suite bathroom was still a luxury after six months here. The previous owner had installed the finest indoor plumbing, and it felt like we were living in a hotel.

When I emerged, Matt was still standing by the new changing table along the wall opposite the bed. (Once our son was older, we would move such items into the room we'd designated as the nursery.)

Matt had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The baby was kicking his bare legs in the air and making high-pitched squeals of displeasure. I saw that Matt had a safety pin in his mouth and a look of deep concentration on his face.

I leaned against the wall and bit my lip to hide a smile.

He caught sight of me. "Don't help me, India," he mumbled around the pin. "I am going to learn this…"

He frowned, trying to fold the cloth properly. Pinching it with one hand, he removed the pin from his mouth, then hovered it over the diaper with indecision.

"If I can just do it without stabbing our child…and without taking so long that he turns blue with cold." Matt looked truly anxious. His hands were not steady or sure.

I couldn't resist the smirk that tugged at my mouth. My tall and capable husband, who had coolly faced down armed murderers, was reduced to a trembling column of nerves when asked to wield a pin so near his newborn son's bare skin.

James began to wail more loudly. Should I go over to assist? No, Matt had nearly completed the task. As he fastened the last pin, he flinched and put his finger in his mouth.

"Did you jab yourself?"

"I did." He expelled a long breath. "But not him!" Matt rested his hand on our child's stomach, looking so relieved and victorious that I laughed, then grimaced.

"Don't make me laugh," I groaned. "It hurts."

He sobered, scooped Jamie up and strode over to me.

The baby's nightdress was still folded up, so I could review Matt's diapering skills. The cloth looked a bit crooked and wrinkled, but it seemed snug enough to get the job done. I pulled the nightdress back over the child's round belly and chubby legs.

Then I let Matt help me walk across the room to the fireplace.

I eased down onto the cushion of the new rocking chair. It was placed between the hearth and the window, so I could enjoy views of both the fire, in cold weather, and the trees outside.

While I unbuttoned the front of my nightgown, Matt swayed back and forth, trying to soothe the baby's screeching. Then he handed James to me, and the crying ceased abruptly as the infant latched onto my breast.

I winced at the pinch of that perfect, insistent mouth.

Matt saw me shiver and placed a shawl around my shoulders. He stood at my side, watching.

"Mrs. Franklin said he's already an expert," I told him. "It can take days for some mothers and babies to have a knack for this."

"He's my son." I heard the smile in Matt's voice. "He knows a good thing when he encounters it."

A minute later, he moved to the nearest armchair, dropping into it with evident relief.

I rocked gently. The chair creaked. Leaves rustled outside our window.

Looking up from my newborn's face, I met Matt's gaze. His eyes shone with tenderness as he watched us.

A breeze stirred the tall trees outside. Sunlight slanted through the branches, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow on the curtains.

The baby's small pink mouth sucked. This had been painful, yesterday. Now the tingling, pulling sensations were almost pleasing.

Matt smiled at me, with his mouth and his eyes. I noticed tired lines at the corners of them, but the lazy, satisfied curve of his lips warmed me.

I felt replete. Despite my lack of sleep, the tender parts of my body, and our worries for the future, this moment was utterly peaceful.

Matt slid off the chair. He knelt before me, resting his hands on my knees. He kissed the top of the baby's head, then touched my thigh through the nightgown. His hand moved with slow, lulling strokes.

I felt drowsy and half dreaming. I was aware of my breath, how it expanded my chest, then released. The smell of damp leaves wafted through the window, mingling with the baby's soft, milky scent.

Matt's eyes glistened. He stared at me as though I were the only thing he ever wanted to see.

I felt so full of love that I was aching with it, and surely it would start leaking out of me at any moment.

Then Jamie hiccupped, lost his grip and started to cry. I blinked, coming out of the trance. Carefully, I transferred him to my shoulder and rubbed his back. The cries quieted to whimpers. In a few minutes, I thought, I could move him to my other breast and encourage him to nurse again.

Matt got to his feet. He stretched and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "Can I get you anything? More herbal tea?"

"Yes. That would be lovely."

"I'll check the status of our lunch tray, as well." He gave me one more profound look, then departed.