This version is an edit, so some of the Spanish is better. I don't have a program for the special notes, like the accents, but the "ñ" kinda works. Ok, so if anyone has any other problems, PM or review! Oh, also, sorry about Dolores, I derped... Promise I'm done and I will add a special chapter for all your support :)

It soon became apparent that John did not like ships, or rather, his stomach harboured a passionate hate for him and all that he was. It was not that the ship was particularly rocky, or that the seas did not behave, but, being thoroughly a landlocked person, John had never travelled on more than a fishing boat as a child, an ordeal that he shuddered to describe.

Margaret felt for her ill husband, handing him wet cloths and feeding him thin soup, but when he had begun to improve she took more time on the deck, delighting in the cool, wet air and the sound of the sea lapping against the hull. She had been to the continent as a girl, but had never taken a ship that far before, so the Dover packet was a small ferry ride compared to this 'harrowing' journey across the sea.

She smoothed her skirts and made her way to their cabin where John was lying on his back, hand across his eyes, asleep. He made such a striking figure, even in his thinner state, with his shock of black hair and those long legs. Careful not to wake him, she curled up at his side and closed her own eyes, simply for the fact that she could better feel his warmth without the sensory overload of sight. Her heart swelled, and he seemed to awake, sleepily taking her in his arms. He did not kiss her, but merely held her, head tucked under his chin. Finally, though, he looked down at her and said,

"I love you, Maggie."

"I know," Margaret replied, almost asleep, "and I love you."

...

The rest of the voyage was taken in stride, and when they finally arrived in Spain Margaret was more than a little glad to have her feet touch terra firma. The ocean had been beautiful but depressingly expansive, and every time she thought of her brother impatience burned at her stomach and she itched to see him, not to mention see his new wife and child. She could not remember his wife's name, nor that of his child, but was determined to make every effort to endear herself to this new woman so that she would not lose contact again with her brother.

It was selfish, she reflected, but she was more anxious to see her brother and introduce him to her husband than to see the baby, for now a strange and alien creature that only existed in correspondence, although the thought of its creation made her thoughtful and contemplative. She and John had never spoken of children, indeed, there had been no mention of it since their marriage, but she had become increasingly fixed on the notion after she had seen a sweet young child with her mother on the deck of the Santa Adela.

No doubt John had noticed the change in her, but she had not mentioned her thoughts to him, or even lain with him since they left their hotel in Dover on account of his being so sick. She had nursed him and sat with him, taking him for strolls above deck, but when they were together in their cabin she could not help but wish he would hold her like he did in England, and the wicked hope that he would recover so she may be with him again refused to budge. Now, however, they were in Spain, the hot, semi-tropical paradise, and Margaret was so full of sights and sounds her husband became but an accessory to her immediate adventure.

When they docked they were met by Fredrick himself, along with a stunning black haired Spaniard. The girl was clothed in a colorful sundress, her thick locks braided behind her back, and dark, Spanish eyes regarding Margaret with mild interest. She wore a smile when she glanced between John and his wife, and stood back as Fredrick rushed to gather his little sister in his arms. He hugged her for a time, and when they broke apart Margaret found that her eyes were wet and her cheeks red.

"Oh Fred," she cried, "how I have missed you!"

"And I you, little sister," He responded warmly. "So, now you are here, you should meet my wife, Dolores. Dolores, esta mi hermana, Margaret y su esposo Señor Thornton."

Dolores took Margaret's hand then John's, and the Fredrick spoke to John for the first time.

"I apologize, Dolores does not know English as well as she would like. Nice to meet you, Mr Thornton."

John took Fredrick's offered hand and nodded. "You as well, but please, call me John."

"Alright, John," Fredrick replied candidly, "come along, we live just along the coast. It isn't a long way."

Fredrick had a coach, and soon their luggage was piled on, and they were off. The drive was pleasant, and Margaret found herself quite lost in a conversation with Fred about life in this new place, while John watched the scenery with placid interest and Dolores listened to her husband, her sharp eyes intent on understanding.

Margaret was sure she knew some English, and so when they reached their home, a large but not imposing house set against the sea, she waited for Dolores to exit the coach and said,

"You have a beautiful home, Señora."

"Gracias," Dolores beamed, "I like it, and so Fredrick does too. Will you come and see mi bebe?"

"Of course!" Margaret said, assuming she meant that they were to see Fredrick's child.

She left her husband with a little kiss and followed Dolores through the house to a nursery just off the master bedroom. Inside a little pink and white lace crib stood in the middle of the room, a light wispy, mosquito net draping from the ceiling and onto the floor. The walls were a soft blush color, and when Margaret approached the crib she saw a beautiful child, small and perfectly formed, asleep with her cheek pressed against the mattress. Dolores was careful not to wake the child, but adjusted her little gown with a loving smile.

She then looked up at Margaret and beckoned her come. Margaret followed, and was just about to close the door when the baby began to cry. It was fortunate, that she had, for her aunt had been hoping that she could hold the baby.

Upon the sound of the infant squalling, a nurse bustled into the room and picked the child up, but, with a few words from Dolores, she was in her mother's arms and soon quieted.

"Bueno, Rosa," she cooed, "niña buena. Come," she gestured to Margaret, "see."

Margaret approached the tiny creature with caution this time, coming only close enough to see that the baby had dark black hair like cotton fluff under her bonnet and carried the blue eyes of the Hale's. She was immediately taken by her niece, and felt a little pang that her parent's could not see their granddaughter, the adorable Rosa.

She found herself staring wistfully at the child, imagining her as a young woman, for surely she would be a stunning creature, when Dolores glanced over and asked if she wished to hold the baby. Margaret, not sure how to decline without seeming rude, gently took Rosa from her mother. Dolores adjusted her hands under her daughter, and the two women left the nursery for the parlor, where the men would no doubt be, waiting for their wives before retreating to the study or drawing room. The house was humble, however, and the parlor was not hard to find, so when Margaret arrived with the little burbling bundle rocked carefully against her arm, she found both Fred and John sitting and holding glasses of brandy.

Upon seeing his wife, John stood and went to her, surveying her and the child with a sort of tenderness that, if she had not known her husband so well, she would have never expected. Fred got up a bit slower, and made his way to the small group, smile on his young face.

"Isn't she lovely?" he asked his sister.

"Yes," Margaret agreed, "she has your eyes."

"And her mother's hair," Fred added, going to his wife and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Margaret looked across to her husband, and he came closer to look at the small charge.

"She's so small, Maggie," he said in wonderment, gazing at the child.

"Yes," Fred answered for his sister, "she was born early but she is strong. We called her Rosa because when she was born she was as pink as a rose."

"Oh," Margaret looked over, "but aren't all babies?"

"No, no," Fred disagreed, "most are born red, but she was perfect."

"I see," Margaret replied, wondering what Fred knew about babies, if anything at all.

"Do you want to hold her?" Fred asked John.

John looked surprised, but put down his cup and carefully took the baby from Margaret. Rosa looked up at him with a funny little smile and flailed her arms about, as if asking to be held closer. John, not understanding this action, attempted to adjust her blankets, and she began to wail.

Afraid he had broken her, he hastily handed her back to her mother, and the nurse, who was standing quietly by the door, took the infant away, singing low lullaby.

"I must apologize," John said to Fred and Dolores, with a frown, "I did not mean any harm."

"No, no," Dolores waved her hand dismissively, "all is well."

"I think she was afraid of me," John insisted, glancing despairingly to his wife.

"No," Margaret shook her head, "you were wonderful. I am sure when we have our own children they will love you."

John's head snapped up so fast he was forced to rub a crick in his neck. "What?" he asked.

"I'm only saying," Margaret corrected herself, sure of how John had interpreted that, "when we decide we are ready."

John looked both relieved and profoundly disappointed. "Oh, I see," he said.

"Now come, lets go to the beach. I am sure we can get up to that later." She winked and John followed her onto the terrace like a lost puppy.