Chapter 45

Tiny whimpers came from the white and blue wicker cradle that was set up near the window. Eugenia crossed the room and gazed down at the little boy.

Midnight dark fuzz covered his head, coming to a marked widow’s peak. He waved his hands and she caught one, admiring the way his grip tightened around one of her fingers. “Such a strong little man,” she praised. Something drew her attention, and she examined those fingers more closely.

The forefinger and middle finger were the same length. Interesting, but hardly important.

She kissed the perfect little fingers and released them, then bent down to pick him up and cradle him in her arms. She brushed a kiss over his cheek and rocked him gently. His eyes, still the vague blue of newborns, seemed to look into hers. “You will be loved, little one. I promise you.”

She placed him back in the cradle, giving a gasp as she straightened and her abdomen tightened.