“It is perfect.I love to see this happiness and celebration.”
“I do as well,” Peter said, his shoulder rubbing against hers, sending delightful tingles running down her arm.“How do you celebrateNavidadin Valencia?”
Again, that familiar pain speared Ana’s heart, but she steered her mind elsewhere.Instead of focusing on the lonely, too-quiet evenings at home or camp withPapá, she recalled the enchanting scene set each December in the town square.
“Oh, it was soespecial.Like here, we eat so much delicious food and many sweets as well.In Valencia, we also enjoyed a lot of fish.It was rather warm there duringla Navidad.There are always manyluceswith candles in the windows of the buildings, and it looks like the sparkling stars of the night.”
“I’m sure it is a marvelous sight to behold.”
“Indeed.One of the traditionsmás favoritasof myPapáwasel Día de los Inocentes.On this day, everyone celebrates the baby Jesus and the Mother Mary, how they trick King Herod and escape to Egypt.The peopleen Españacelebrate this day with play tricks and tellingchistesor jokes.Mi Papáwore a funny wig and coat and acted like apolicíato scare the children.It was so amusing!”
“Perhaps we should hold our own Día de los Inocentes.It sounds quite hilarious.”
“It is.But I do not think you be prepared for the jokes I play on you!”Ana chuckled and wiggled her eyebrows at Peter, who laughed in return.“But thecelebracionesdo not end in December.In January, theReyescome to bring gifts anddulcesto the little ones.”
“TheReyes...the king of Spain?”Peter’s eyebrows raised into his hairline.
“No,” Ana said with a laugh, placing a hand on the slight roundness of her growing belly.“The three wise kings of the time ofJesús.”
“Ah.That does seem much more likely.”Their laughs mingled.How Ana loved the ease that laughter set loose in his eyes, his face.
“We also have aRoscón de Reyes, a cake for the kings with a tinybebé Jesusinside.It has sweet cream and dried fruit and is sodelicioso.But the most delightful part of all is if you happen to find thebebé Jesúsinside your slice of cake, you get to have all the luck for the new coming year.I miss so much thesetradiciones.”
“They sound quite special indeed.If you wish, I suspect we could teach Cook to create one of these cakes for us.We could share it with the staff.Or we could keep it for ourselves.Perhaps I would have the greater chance of becoming lucky,” he chuckled.
“Truly,Pedro?I would be so delighted if we were to make one!”Ana could already imagine tasting the softness of the brioche cake, the sweetness of the cream, adorned with the gummy, tart fruit.Delighted indeed!
Peter wrapped his arm around Ana’s shoulders and pulled her toward a building echoing with light and laughter.“Come inside.Let’s warm ourselves for a minute with some drinking chocolate before we journey back to Abbeygate.”
Delightful tingles spread down Ana’s spine at his touch, and she did little to subdue them.They heated her chest delightfully and made her fingers ache to reach out for Peter and pull him closer.If his touching her had such irresistible results, Ana would begin finding every opportunity to invite such attentions.She ducked inside the doorway of the cozy tavern.Small tables were scattered about the room, each bustling with joyful guests.In the middle of the space hung a lovely sphere of evergreens, twisted twigs, bright berries, and shining, pink apples.What could it be?
She turned to Peter, “Qué es eso?”
“This is a kissing bough,” Peter said as amusement and embarrassment married on his face.
“Kissing...como un beso?”
“Precisely.”His lips were pursed as his eyes scanned the room, and his hands stayed hidden, deep in his pockets.
“Aye, Mr.Peter Ashmore!”a man called from the other side of the counter.“Ye ought to give yer sweet bride a kiss beneath the kissing bough.’Tis tradition.”
“Aye!”the townspeople agreed with hearty cheers and whistles.
Ana chuckled at the crowd’s reaction, but then her gaze slid over to Peter.His eyes were darting about nervously, his cheeks abnormally reddened, and not merely because of the crisp winter air.Clearly he was not comfortable with the prospect of kissing his wife.
“Estoy bien, Pedro,” she whispered.“You do not need to.”
But he waved a hand to the crowd and stepped closer to Ana, grabbing her hand and pulling her beneath the kissing bough.His face lowered closer and closer until she could nearly count the rough whiskers already budding on his jaw.Those light,celesteeyes met hers and then darted down to her lips.Ana’s breath choked in her throat and her shoulders jerked involuntarily as another man, another kiss, suddenly flashed in front of her.A whimper squeezed out of her, and she wobbled.
Peter’s eyes flashed, his brow folding in a familiar look of concern.But instead of pulling away, his ever-approaching lips darted to the side and brushed ever-so-slightly against her cheekbone.Ana’s heart ached but not with relief—with disappointment.
The pair waved to the crowd, quelling their laughter.Ana bowed her head and patted her chest, as if to signal that she was the shy one, that Peter was acquiescing to her wishes.Ana stepped away from the scene, but not before noticing Peter pluck a round, red berry from the bough and slip it into his pocket in a disguised, discreet manner.Whatever could he be saving a single berry for?
Soon another couple was beneath the kissing bough, and the crowd was caught up in its reverie again.
Ana’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.Peter’s hands tightened around hers, squeezing twice, and his eyes were locked on hers again.
“I’m sorry,” his voice rasped.
