But Ana was pained to read that Peter still carried about the weight of San Sebastián, as if it were his too-heavy army knapsack.And sooner or later, the pain of the weight would build to a breaking point, particularly if he pursued the issue endlessly.Ana also wished for some sort of justice; it was not fair that the English army would brush over the great pain they had caused as if it had never happened.But surely Peter could not force a solution about the issue when he was practically the only one fighting for such things.
“Mrs.Ashmore?”
Ana jolted from her reverie at the warm voice of Mrs.Thompson.The housekeeper approached the desk where she sat, reaching out a hand to help her rise.
“There is a young lass here to see you.Insists she is the new maid, at Mr.Ashmore’s request.Calls herself Elain or something of the sort.”
Could it be Elena?Had she really arrived already?How had Peter arranged for such a thing?
“Cielos, he didn’t waste any time, did he, Mrs.Thompson?”
Ana rose, grateful for Mrs.Thompson’s assistance.Her figure had not expanded as much as it undoubtedly would, but the additional weight that she carried about her midsection had entirely messed up her equilibrium and sense of balance.She found herself stumbling more often than not these days.
“Let us meet Elena.Peter wrote me about her,” Ana said, waving the note in her hand.
Ana moved in careful steps toward the front drawing room, her arm still laced through Mrs.Thompson’s.The instant her eyes lit upon Elena, she knew they would get along more than well.The maid could be no more than sixteen, but she had a bright smile, an intellectual gaze, and creamy coffee skin, and she curtsied with the slightest hint of flair that was clearly indicative of her heritage.
“Hola, Señora Ana.Soy Elena.”
Ana nearly crumpled at Elena’s feet at hearing her native tongue.Had it really been so many months since she had been able to communicate so easily?Once she regained her composure and presented herself, she rushed to Elena’s side and pressed enthusiasticbesosto her cheeks.
“I am so grateful you are here,” she murmured in Spanish.“We will be the best offriends, I already know it.”
Chapter 19
January 7, 1814, Abbeygate, Surrey Hills, England
Finally, Peter could breathe.He shrugged his knapsack off his shoulders, dropping it to the stone floor with a thud, and took in the warmth of the familiar surroundings that greeted him: Tall, dated windows, framing the winter landscape outside.A steep, wooden staircase, worn with countless running footsteps of two young boys.The inviting scent of plum pudding baking in the kitchens, perfuming the air of the entire house.How he had longed for Abbeygate while he was away.
He was home.Home.That was a novel thought, one that he was not accustomed to.Even though he had many fond memories of staying at Abbeygate as a child, he had never thought of it as home, even with the escape from Father’s furies that it provided him.But somehow, in only the course of a few months, it had transformed into a haven, the place he felt most comfortable and peaceful in the whole world.What had changed?
“Pedro!” His name ended with an enthusiastic trill, a telltale sign of his wife.
That is what had changed.Peter was married.And Ana made this old estate a home.
Peter spun around and opened his arms wide, scooping up the giggling figure that rushed toward him.She smelled sweet and tangy.It was comforting, familiar, and strangely enticing.He tightened his grip on her adorably short frame, a frame that now had a delightful hint of roundness to it.A lump appeared in Peter’s throat unexpectedly.He was not yet truly a father.Was he already becoming so soft at the thought?How his comrades would laugh at him.Still, he planted a lingering kiss on Ana’s head as he fought to regain his voice and composure.
“How I missed you, Ana.Muchísimo.”
“I miss youtambién.”
Without warning, Ana stepped from his embrace.The excitement seeped from her voice, and she froze, desperation squeezing her features.“Younot be recalled, no?”
“No, not now.I can remain here with you.”
Ana breathed an audible sigh and pressed an enthusiastic kiss to his lips.Peter savored her touch as the reality of his own words seeped into his mind.The thought of returning to battle was the stuff of nightmares.But that was not his lot now, it appeared.And if his time with Ana was to be limited in the future, he needed to enjoy it to its very fullest.
Ana wiggled out of his embrace, only to grab his hand and pull him toward her favorite chairs by the fireplace.
“Come, sitaquí.I will call to Mrs.Thompson that shebring us some tea.”
Peter watched as she hurried from the room, a hand pressed to her slight roundness.The sight brought a rush of warmth to his chest, and for once, he did not try to ignore it or pound it away.
Soon Ana was at his side again, pouring a cup of tea in an entirely English manner and pressing said cup into his hands.
“Gracias,” he whispered, staring into her beautiful eyes.A blush warmed her cheeks, turning her olive skin to more of a copper.
“I am so happy that you be here at home with me again.”
