down her cheeks. "Peri, I'm sorry for everything I said yesterday. And for everything I said just now. I didn't intend to lose my temper, but when I saw that overdressed quiche-eater with his hands on you, I just lost it. The thought of anyone but me touching you makes me furious." The fingers on her chin tightened. "Yesterday when you said that Fortunato was the baby's father, all I could see was him in bed with you, holding you, loving you." He let her go and walked to the window of the small room, staring out unseeing, his hands clenching and unclenching. "It was then," he continued, "that I realized exactly what I was up against. You're famous and beautiful and sexy and everyone wants you. I don't want to be Mr. Peregrine. I don't want to compete with your past. I want your future."
"What I said yesterday about jokers wasn't true. It was the first excuse that I could think of. I wanted to hurt you as bad as I was hurting." He ran a hand through his blond hair.
"It really hurt me when you told me about the baby, because it's not mine. I don't hate jokers. I like kids and I'll love yours and try to be a good father. If Fortunato shows up, well, I'll deal with it the best I can. Hell, Peri, I love you. Last night without you was terrible. It showed me what the future would be like if I let you go. I love you," he repeated, "and I want you to be my life."
Peregrine put her arms around him and leaned against his back. "I love you too. Last night was about the worst night of my life. I realized what you meant to me, and also what this baby means. If I can only have one of you, I want my baby. I'm sorry to say that, but I had to tell you. But I want you too."
McCoy turned and took her hands. He kissed them. "You sound awfully determined."
"I am."
McCoy laughed. "No matter what happens when the baby is born, we'll do the best we can." He smiled down at her. "I have a bunch of nieces and nephews, so I even know how to change diapers."
"Good. You can teach me."
"I will," he promised, his lips touching hers as he pulled her closer.
The door opened. A white-clad figure looked at them disapprovingly. After a moment Doctor Tachyon peered in. "Are you quite finished?" he asked icily. "They need this room."
"We're done with the room, but we're not finished. We're just starting," Peregrine said, smiling radiantly.
"Well, as long as you're happy," Tachyon said slowly. " I am," she assured him.
They left the hospital with Tachyon. He got into a cab by himself, while McCoy and Peregrine settled into the horsedrawn carriage waiting at the curb behind the taxi.
"We have to get back to the hotel," Peregrine said. "Are you propositioning me?"
"Of course not. I have to pack so we can rejoin the tour in Cairo."
"Today?"
"Yes."
"Then we'd better hurry"
"Why?"
"Why?" McCoy trailed kisses over her face and neck. "We have to make up for last night, of course."
"Oh." Peregrine spoke to the driver and the carriage picked up speed. "We don't want to waste any more time."
"Enough has already been wasted," McCoy agreed. "Are you happy?" he asked softly as she settled in his arms, her head on his chest.
"Happier than I've ever been!" But a little voice in the back of her mind kept reminding her of Fortunato.
His arms tightened around her. "I love you."
FROM THE JOURNAL OF XAVIER DESMOND
JANUARY 30/JERUSALEM:
The open city of Jerusalem, they call it. An international metropolis, jointly governed by commissioners from Israel, Jordan, Palestine, and Great Britain under a United Nations mandate, sacred to three of the world's great religions.
Alas, the apt phrase is not "open city" but "open sore." Jerusalem bleeds as it has for almost four decades. If this city is sacred, I should hate to visit one that was profane.
Senators Hartmann and Lyons and the other political delegates lunched with the city commissioners today, but the rest of us spent the afternoon touring this free international city in closed limousines with bulletproof windshields and special underbody armor to withstand bomb blasts. Jerusalem, it seems, likes to welcome distinguished international visitors by blowing them up. It does not seem to matter who the visitors are, where they come from, what religion they practice, how their politics lean-there are enough factions in