The infant in the girl's arms was indeed Laura's son, Martin.
Barely five months old, the child was a delicate little thing. Even Isabella had to admit that she was entranced by him.
With skin so smooth, it almost appeared translucent under the slight spill of sunlight from the open doorway. And his tiny fists opening and closing were the most adorable, mindless gestures ever seen.
The baby was pearl white with puffy cheeks and wide, glassy sapphire eyes that wandered without focus.
Knowing how Ansel looked, Isabella knew that the child got those eyes from the mother and not the father. In that case, Laura must be facially stunning.
The girl carrying Martin didn't have sapphire eyes; they were more of an icy blue shade. So, Isabella concluded that she wasn't Laura. But that didn't stop them from developing an affinity for each other in that instant.
"He's very… he's just… beautiful."
Isabella remarked, withstanding the urge to squeeze Martin's cheeks.
