I fiddled a clear ruby bracelet against my son's crib. My lips tilted into a smile as I felt Tyson's velvety voice caress my cheeks. He tenderly brushed my chocolate locks across my forehead, tucking them gently behind my ear from behind me. "He's beautiful," Tyson spoke, referring to my child.
I lightly pressed my lips against Tyson's, as he brushed his shaking hand against my forehead. "I used to like to be on my own before my world traversed with yours," I whispered, intertwining my fingers with his as we leaned against the window sill.
"And I feel the same, dear Scarlett. Parting with you brings such sweet sorrow." He spoke against the pink skin on my palm.
"Then never leave, my dearest Tyson." I breathed.
"May I hold the child?" Tyson probed.
"Of course," I answered, gesturing towards the mahogany crib by my bedside.
Tyson was cautious, his arms shaking by his sides. When he finally dared to cradle our child in his arms, his brows curved in astonishment, as did his lips. "I have never seen an infant so small." He continued, "He's beautiful, obviously takes after his mother." He chuckled, stroking the fine brown hairs on my son's head.
"I believe he looks more like his father." I hinted.
Tyson's eyes slimmed in size, his head crooked; muddled. "I don't see a glimpse of Henry in this flawless child's beautiful face." Tyson paused for a moment. "Do all youngsters' eyes start greenish in colour, as your eyes are azure and Henry's are mud brown?"
"I told you he looked like his father."
An intensifying, ear-splitting waft of silence occupied my small room. "He is mine?" Tyson stuttered.
"If your mind occupies thoughts other than joy, give them no tongue," I warned.
"I am a father? He is mine, this beautiful boy is ours?" tears threatened to escape Tyson's emerald eyes. Placing his soft lips against the boy's forehead and then on mine. "You may doubt the radiance of the stars and doubt how the earth doth move or that truth is but a liar... but never doubt my love for you; and our new child."
No better words could fill my ears with such happiness. "I love you, Tyson."
"I love you most. Now we must escape as soon as possible before the King's creeping suspicions arise." Tyson said placing the child back into my arms.
A sudden vulgar thud on my bedroom door broke the silence. "It's too late," I whispered.
YOU ARE READING
Scarlett's Secret
RomansaBefore Anne Boyeln, there was another. This is her story. Scarlett, an orphaned, seventeen-year-old girl grew up on England's monarchy, tending the stables. Scarlett's gift of beauty soon becomes a curse as she catches the eye of the most powerful...