Chapter 23
“Ana, dear, I’ve fetched your warmest cloak. Do come wear it. I will not have my wife catching a cold.”
There had been a blessed break in the heavy snowfall that had kept Ana cooped up for the past week, so Peter had been insistent that they take a walk about the gardens.
The snow had melted and seeped away almost completely on the gravel paths, although the same could not be said for the grass fields that could take them to newer destinations.
They would have to stick to the gardens for today.
Soon Ana was at his side, adorably wrapped in a ridiculous number of layers and prepared to embark as they stepped through the back door.
She felt the cold much more acutely than he did, having lived in a warm coastal town for much of her life.
So long as she was comfortable, Peter himself was content.
Leaving for London had been a risk. But since Peter had begun to open up about some of his concerns regarding the army and some of his difficult past, there had been a renewal of trust and openness between them.
Ana in turn had hinted at a unique understanding of some of the difficult feelings he had regarding his father and his own lack of a typical upbringing.
Somehow the pain of their pasts was beginning to mold them into better friends and spouses.
And he hoped that the same would be true when they would become parents.
“Peter!”
He froze, impossibly stuck between feelings of bliss and terror at hearing his wife use his Christian name in English for the first time. Gone was the teasing, overdramatic Pedro. She was calling him because she needed him.
“What is it? Are you all right?”
Ana’s hand clutched at his arm, the other pressed against her roundness.
Peter drew her in, his bliss quickly turning wholly to concern. He gently touched a hand to her torso as well, as if he could feel what had her so taken aback. “What is the matter?”
“The bebé! I feel her move!” Ana looked up at him, her cheeks rosy and rounded in an impossibly wide smile, while tears sparkled in her eyes.
“Truly?” Peter found it even harder to breathe than it had been a moment previous.
“Sí. I am certain.”
Peter dropped to his knees, not caring in the slightest about the wet gravel soiling his pants.
He cupped the roundness of Ana’s midsection with his hands.
What a miracle it would be to feel their child moving within her.
The thought brought an entirely new and heady rush of excitement to Peter’s mind.
“Querido, it is so early still. I feel her inside me. I don’t know if you can feel her too.”
Ana’s hand stroked Peter’s cheek as her smile softened into one that he hoped was affectionate of some sort.
“But I want to.”
“Lo sé. Soon, I am certain.”
Peter huffed out a heavy sigh, one that was visible in front of him in the crisp winter air. He pressed a hand to his knee, raising to his feet again, and resumed their walk. Beside him, Ana was quiet but glowing as she wrapped an arm around her round torso, basking in the tender surprise.
Once the initial excitement of the moment had resolved, Peter had to broach the topic of her using his English name. He could not resist it.
“You do realize you called me Peter, do you not?”
Ana pursed her lips in a pout and sighed heavily, a look of pretended disappointment written all over her lovely face.
“I so sorry. Lo siento mucho. In this my moment of excitement, I forget and call you in this lazy language. But Pedro is much better, you know—so very much romantic es Pedro.” She shrugged her shoulders, the same shoulders that were trembling with the laughter contained inside her.
Peter couldn’t resist chuckling as well.
“I do believe Peter can be just every bit as romantic as this Pedro, as you say. I also believe that you have insisted on calling me that in Spanish all these months just to tease me.”
“Bueno, you find me out, Pedro.” Ana laughed fully now, but the softening of her gaze seemed to indicate that perhaps there was an additional reason to her insisting upon calling him Pedro.
Perhaps it had been a protection or hesitation of sorts.
Because there was definitely a certain intimacy upon using one’s Christian name in one’s own language.
It implied an emotional nearness that they had not yet experienced.
Peter could not deny the thrill that had coursed through him at hearing his name upon her lips, even as it had trilled dramatically upon delivery.
It tightened his chest with breathlessness and caused the undeniable attraction that he felt for her for so many months to become cemented more deeply within him.
“And seeing as I have found you out, as you say, could you be persuaded to continue to call me Peter?”
“Quizás . . .” Ana said, tapping her chin with a finger, “but I would like to see how you do this persuasion, no?”
Peter did not need any more encouragement.
Her lips were entirely too flushed and becoming as it was.
“Well, if you insist.” Peter pulled Ana into his arms, dipping her dramatically, and kissed her soundly.
At least, that is, until she wriggled in protest and sent them both tumbling slowly into the snow, tangled up in each other’s embrace.