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“I don’t care,” I say, laughing as I turn my face up to it. “Go. We’ll catch you up.”

Then we are alone in the gorge, thunder breaking over our heads and lighting cracking the sky all around.

Dimitry’s arms tighten around my waist, drawing me close to him. “You know this isn’t exactly safe, Skip. Water, lightning, slippery pathways...”

“Oh no,” I say in mock horror, smiling up at him. “Not exactly safe? How on earth will I cope?”

He chuckles. “I guess we’re starting as we mean to go on, then, Mrs. Volkov?”

“In more ways than one.” I take his hand and pull it slowly around my waist, until his palm splays across my abdomen. I cover his hand with my own. “It’s a good thing you’ve already put a ring on my finger,” I say, “or my father might have had a reason to use his shotgun after all.”

Dimitry frowns, then his eyes widen in understanding. He looks down at my belly, then back up to me, shock and disbelief mingling with something else that makes my heart clench fiercely in my chest. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” I laugh softly. “Can you believe I don’t even get to have a drink at my own wedding?”

His mouth breaks into a grin, and then we’re laughing together, the rain running down our faces and plastering my dress to my skin in a way that undoes all of my mother’s careful preparations.

“I wanted to tell you here, in this place,” I say softly, “because even though our baby will grow up in Spain, I want him—or her—to know they belong here, too.”

Dimitry nods slowly, smoothing the water away from my face. “And you, Skip? Where do you belong?”

Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss him, the rain a sweet benediction between us.

“I belong with you,” I whisper against his mouth. “Now and forever, Dimitry—I belong with you.”