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Chapter twenty-six
Now, he sat with Cristian on the terrace while Mamá was inside.
Antonio had offered to help, but she had all but whipped him out of the kitchen with the wet dishtowel, saying something about how he would find a way to burn the rice if she left him alone with it.
The delicious scent of pernil wafted out the open windows.
“Mmmm,” said Cristian, “I missed her cooking.”
“I need to come around more often,” Antonio answered. Even though the last few days had wrapped up well enough, a heavy burden weighed on his shoulders. There were still more loyalists. The Emperor would not stop. Monte Rico might have won today, but when would things escalate again?
“I’m sorry, hermano,” Cristian said, and Antonio’s gaze shot to him. “I didn’t listen to you. I should have—”
“It’s okay,” Antonio cut him off. “Enough of the ‘should have.’ Things worked out. That’s what matters.”
Cristian smiled. “Thanks to you.”
“Thanks to God.” Antonio let out a breath, pushing the errant worries from his mind. He was grateful that Sir Thomas had been captured and the kingdom retained its independence. He would do what he could to keep it that way in the years to come. Not by his strength, but by God’s might.
Peluche whined at the door, scratching to be let in at the smell of the roasting pork shoulder. Antonio chuckled. “Lorelle spoiled him,” he said. “He’ll be the best-fed wolf in all the island.”
“What’s his name again?” Cristian asked.
“That’s still up for debate.”
Cristian grinned. “Sure. I’m sure whatever name this Lorelle gives him will be permanent. I’d love to meet her sometime. I bet she’s a lot more fun than you most days. So serious.”
Antonio fought a sigh. He knew the teasing that would entail. “We’ll see.”
“Or maybe now.” Cristian stood and bowed.
Antonio glanced up and started to his feet. “Lorelle.” She’d snuck up on him again, and this time, she shot him a shy grin.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked, glancing between them.
Antonio looked to Cristian, but his brother had already slammed the kitchen door behind him. Peluche ran to Lorelle, and she scooped him up. She looked more at ease with the pup in her arms.
“My aunt and uncle tell me that you’re the one to thank for the inventor coming,” she said, not tearing her gaze away from Peluche. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”
His throat tightened. “I couldn’t think of a better use for the reward,” he said lamely.
Now she looked at him. “Oh, of course not.” She shot him a wry grin. “Though maybe it would be good to spend some of that fortune on a good oil for your knee.”
His knee creaked as he took a few steps closer to her, closing the distance so they were an arm’s length apart. “You got me there.”
“Anything else you need to get off your chest while I’m here?” she said, eyes shining with mischief. “Maybe what you said to my aunt and uncle to get you in their good graces? They don’t like just anybody.”
“Not that.” He lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overhead from the open windows. “But there is one more thing I must confess.” He offered a teasing grin.
“Oh?” Her eyes widened, and her cheeks pinked. “What’s that?”
He leaned closer, glancing about as if to check they were really alone. “Peluche is an Elevski wolf.”
Surprise and disappointment flickered in her green eyes. She blinked, shaking her head, and leaned back slightly. “Wh-what?”
He frowned. “Do you not like wolves? He’ll grow much bigger than a regular dog, but he’ll still be trainable. Is that—”
“Ay, tonto.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. His mouth snapped shut. She crossed her arms, flashing another wry grin. “I thought you were going to confess something else,” she said, though her cheeks flamed red.
He grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist. She relaxed into his embrace, even as Peluche squirmed for release. “Ah, that too,” he said. “I was just waiting for the right moment.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you waiting until we get washed down the river again?”
His smile widened. “Maybe we can make it an annual thing.”
“Estás loco.” She swatted his arm, stepping back to set Peluche down. “Maybe that’s why Tía invited you for dinner tonight. She’s a bit crazy herself sometimes.”
“Clarisa invited me? Not you?” He gave her a mock frown.
“No, but I might be persuaded yet.” Something silver flashed in her fingers and before he could protest, she pinned his medal onto his collar with as much careful determination as could be expected when she could only do it one-handed.
“You are a hero, after all,” she said. “Even if it takes a little mettle for people to see it.”
Her grin widened, and he couldn’t help but feel humbled at the admiration in her gaze. That this brave dancer, strong in both heart and spirit, would take the time to look at him.
She was made of finer stuff than tin—something quite like gold.