“No, Pedro.Iam so sorry.The people, they wanted a kissde verdad.”
“It likely won’t surprise you to know that I don’t care in the slightest what they want.I only care whatyouwant.”He paused, then whispered under his breath, “Or in this particular case, what you donotwant.”
But shedidwant to be kissed by Peter.He was everything warm, safe, and comforting.He made her laugh, even when she felt oddly melancholy.And he was beyond thoughtful, despite his seemingly calloused exterior.Sí, Ana wanted to be kissed to dispel the dreadful memories of her previous kiss by that dark, wrongful man—if she could even call it a kiss.Would that memory forever keep her from happiness with her husband?
“The hour is getting late.We should return home.”
Ana sat silent for the remainder of the ride, trying to make sense of what had happened.They had enjoyed such a lovely day together, and at the end of it all, Ana had desired that closeness with Peter.She would not have protested if he had kissed her, despite her initial panicking.But how could she show him that she was beginning to heal?That she desired that entirely new type of trust and safeness between them?
Soon Abbeygate rolled into view.Once Ana stepped out of the carriage, something faintly touched her head.She turned toward the light of the house and was frozen in delight.
“Pedro!Mira!”she pointed, begging him to look.Small, lacy fluffs of white were meandering down from the sky in lazy patterns.“Es nieve?How you say?”
“Snow.Yes, that is snow, my dear,” Peter said, a broad, free smile warming his face as he tilted it upward to meet the falling flurries.
“I never seennieve en mi vida,” Ana exclaimed, her mouth hanging open in wonder and her eyes filling with tears.
“You have never seen snow?It can be quite magical on Christmas, so today is the perfect day to see it.Perfect indeed.But after December, it can get quite wearisome.Turns into sludgy stuff and sticks around far too long.”
“Oh, I will never grow weary of this beauty.Me encanta!I love it!”Ana reached her hands out to catch the snowflakes.Two large, velvety flakes alighted on her hand, momentarily pressing their cold into her palm before melting into the tiniest spots of water.
“It is beautiful,” Peter agreed.“And so quiet.”
“This is the noise of peace,” Ana whispered, her eyes closed, face still tilted upward.“No explosions.No muskets.No screams or yells.Justtodo el mundosilent, sleeping.”
When they arrived at the top steps, Ana reached for Peter’s hands and pulled him close to her until her rounded midsection brushed the front of his coat.For once, he did not stiffen or pull away.
“This is the most happiest dayde mi vidain England.I thank you so much.”
Peter smiled, “I wish to bring you many more happy days.You deserve all the happiness the world can possibly offer.”
Ana’s heart sped rapidly, her breath puffing out in small clouds before her.She stared into his blue eyes as they gleamed in the bright winter light.Could she be so brave to try to put to words the way he had made her feel today?
“You bring me thisfelicidad,Pedro.I have all the happiness when we are together.”She leaned closer to him, imagining how it would feel to have his lips pressed against hers.
A slight wave of nervous tension laced his face and then released as open honesty widened his eyes and curved his lips into a smile.
“Ana...”he said, his eyes traveling down her face to her mouth.Ana’s heart leapt to her throat, and she bit her bottom lip.Was this to be a blessed second chance at their disastrous kiss from earlier?Would he really kiss her?
True, they had never spoken of how to navigate such a circumstance.He had been so uncomfortable with their first kiss at their wedding that Ana assumed they might never share a kiss again.And then on their way to Ivybridge, he had a very jumbled, indirect manner of telling her that there would be no physical affection shown in their marriage.At the time, Ana had felt relieved—once she managed to sort through translating in her head and understand what he’d been trying to say.But now she wondered if such an agreement had been a huge mistake.
If Peter’s strict honor hadn’t required him to say such things, what sort of marriage would they have had?Would they have learned to find comfort and healing in one another’s arms instead of doing so much separate searching for the same conclusions?Was it too late to wish that she could change this marriage of convenience into a marriage of compassion?The warmth of Peter’s hand in hers, sending tingles up her arm, told her no.But as she looked into his eyes and saw wariness, she wavered.
But why wasn’t he moving?She leaned closer, hoping her posture would signify that she welcomed the moment.They were married, after all.Wasn’t it a sort of responsibility of hers to kiss her husband on Christmas Eve?Ana bit her lip to quell a nervous laugh from escaping her.
A loud creaking of the front door echoed through the cushioned silence of the snow-filled yard.“Ah, Mr.Ashmore and Mrs.Ashmore, you’ve returned!”Mr.Burnsey said.
Ana and Peter jumped apart, their faces heated.How she wished she could press snow against her cheeks to calm their high color.But should she really be embarrassed to be caught nearly embracing Peter?He was her husband, after all.
“Please, come in and warm yourselves,” Burnsey said.“Oh, and Mr.Ashmore, there’s a letter come for you from London.”
“Could it be your mother?”Ana asked, a friendly smile lighting her face, hoping to dispel the awkwardness lingering between them.
“No, I don’t believe so.”Peter’s eyes met hers, but they were glazed over, his mind clearly elsewhere.“I apologize, Ana, but I must remove myself to review this letter.I’ll meet you in your dressing room for spiced tea later, if you wish.”
“Sí, that would be lovely.”
And with that, Peter hurried away to his study.His shoulders were knitted together with tension, his fists clenched tight.What could be in this letter that he would anticipate with such distress?
