Page 270 of A Vicious Love

“I do not.”

“You do. Frogs hear feet.”

Sienna looked back at me, smiling. “She’s right. You need soft feet.”

“I have survived twenty-eight years without consulting frogs on my movement.”

Mila spun, clutching Honey to her chest. “Crow.”

I looked down at her.

She pointed one small finger at me. “Quiet.”

The child had nerve. Harlan men had lost property for less tone. Sienna bit her lip. I narrowed my eyes at the tiny tyrant.

Mila sighed with the weight of a woman who had suffered fools her entire life. “Please be quiet so the frogs don’t run away.”

“They hop.”

“Please be quiet so the frogs don’t hop away.”

I inclined my head.

Mila looked satisfied and marched onward.

Sienna moved beside me, her arm brushing mine. “That was very good.”

“I accepted a corrected order from a five-year-old.”

“She likes you.”

I looked toward Mila. She had stopped near the reeds and was whispering to Honey, apparently briefing him before battle.

Ridiculous little creature.

“I don’t hate her,” I said.

Sienna’s smile changed in a way that made the lake less offensive for one second.

The frog zone had been marked with little blue ribbons tied around wooden posts, because the Bellemeres decorated even the boundaries of mud. The reeds grew thick near the shallows. Dragonflies skimmed the water.

A low croak followed.

The children froze.

Mila lifted her hand.

Nell gasped. “Frog.”

Tomas whispered, “Maybe a toad.”

Sienna crouched near the reeds, wrap sliding high on one thigh.

My attention followed.

A man could be expected to tolerate family traditions. He could even tolerate frogs. He should not be expected to maintain public decency while his fiancée crouched in a bikini.

“Jamison,” Sienna said without looking back.