Page 116 of The Viscount Who Vexed Me
But the loyal Santiavans had not shunned her—they had welcomed her. And, when she became pregnant, well...everyone was suddenly determined to pass legislation allowing the firstborn of the duke to succeed him so that the duchy would carry on. One day, Luisa would be the sovereign duchess of Santiava.
Hattie was learning Spanish. Mateo helped her, and even wrote things for her in Spanish so she would learn how to write it properly.
He was still talking. God in heaven, did her husband talk. Once the gates of trust had been opened, words spilled out of him. Story after story, observations, quips. It was mostly to her, however—he was still rather shy in public. But his siblings came often, and he was beginning to talk with them, too. He could make Roberto laugh like no one else.
Hattie helped herself to a Santiavan tart. She was gaining weight but she didn’t mind. This was what happiness did—it left you feeling full and satiated.
Mateo took Luisa out of her bassinet and laid her across his bare chest. “I wanted to name you Estrella,” he said to the baby as he stroked her head. “Your mother said it was confusing, Estrella of Castillo Estrella.”
“And Luisa is such a pretty name,” Hattie said.
“Do you see this sky, Luisa?” Mateo asked. “I give it all to you. I will make this sky your sky. You will never want.” He kissed the top of her head on a tuft of dark hair like her father’s. She had her mother’s blue eyes. Hattie leaned over and made sure the baby was covered, then curled against her husband.
“Do you know what I wish?” Mateo asked. “I wish that we will be like this, always. Just the three of us.”
She stared up at the night sky and smiled. “I don’t want it to be like this always.”
“Qué?Why would you say that?”
“Because I want there to be more of us. Children and dogs. Eventually, grandchildren.”
“All right. I will agree to it,” he said, and kissed her temple.
Luisa stirred and began to cry. “Your baby is hungry,mi amor,” he said, and handed their daughter to her. And as she nursed her child, Mateo fed Hattie pieces of tart and told her about his travel to the Sahara Desert. She didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d already told her this story. It didn’t matter—she’d listen to him tell the same story a thousand times and still be this content.
No, Hattie had never realized happiness could be this big and this wonderful.
