29. Jamison #2
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.
“What?”
“You’re staring again.”
“Yes.”
“At frogs?”
“No.”
Her shoulder shook with a laugh.
Mila looked between us. “Aunt Sienna, you said frogs like quiet.”
“So I did.” Sienna cleared her throat, cheeks pink. “Everyone quiet.”
Everyone obeyed.
Including me.
Disgusting.
Tomas lowered the magnifying glass toward a patch of mud.
“Other way,” I said.
“Oh.” He turned it. “Now everything is bigger.”
“That is generally the point.”
“What if the frog is too big?”
“Then we retreat and call men with nets.”
Nell’s eyes widened. “Do you own men with nets?”
“I can acquire them.”
Mila stepped closer to the water, one sandal sinking into the mud with a wet sound.
She stopped.
Her eyes dropped.
The mud had eaten half her foot. For one suspended second, her expression remained brave. Then her lower lip shifted.
No.
Absolutely not.
I had faced armed men with more optimism than I felt watching that lip tremble.
I moved before the tear formed, lifted her under the arms, and set her on my hip. Honey ended up crushed between us, his rabbit face against my chest.
“My shoe,” Mila said.
“It deserted.”
“Save it.” Her lip trembled harder.
I looked at Sienna.
Sienna looked at me. That gentle expectation she used when she wanted me to behave as if I had been raised near civilization.
Fucking hell.
I bent and retrieved the shoe.
Mud sucked at it. My fingers sank into cold sludge. The shoe came free with a revolting pop.
Mila clapped against my shoulder. “You saved it.”
“I compromised my dignity.”
Sienna took the shoe from me, laughing. “Very heroic.”
“It was a sandal. Heroism has standards.”
I kept carrying her because putting her down would restart the mud issue and because she had hooked one arm around my neck with the confidence of a child who had decided I belonged to her. Honey pressed between us. Her long curls brushed my jaw.
Nell crouched and pointed at the reeds. “There. Tiny one.”
Sienna lowered beside her. “Very slowly.”
A small green-brown frog sat beneath a leaf, nearly invisible against the mud. The children went reverent.
Mila leaned toward it from my arm. “Don’t scare him.”
Sienna smiled with too much warmth. That was the problem. Every time I did something ridiculous, she looked at me like I had done something worth keeping. No man could remain sensible under those conditions.
The frog hopped once.
Tomas gasped.
Nell clutched the bucket to her chest.
Mila grabbed my shoulder. “He moved.”
“I saw.”
“Can you catch him?”
“Yes.”
Sienna’s head snapped toward me. “No.”
“I said can. Not will.”
Mila frowned. “Why can’t you?”
“Because your aunt said no.”
“You do what Aunt Sienna says?”
The question was rude.
“No,” I said.
Mila narrowed her eyes. “You did with frogs.”
I looked at Sienna. “Your niece is becoming an enemy.”
Mila touched the tattooed script at the base of my throat with one fingertip. Her hand was clean enough. Mostly. “What does this one say?”
“Blood remembers.”
Her eyes widened. “Blood has a brain?”
“In Crow houses, yes.”
“That’s weird. What about the bird?” She tapped the dark wing near my collarbone where the open shirt had shifted.
“That one means house and war.”
“My house has dolls.”
“Lucky house.”
Mila studied me with unnerving seriousness. “Do you cry?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“Dad cries,” she said. “He cried when Nell was born. Mom said he cried when I was born too, but I don’t remember because I was busy.”
“Birth is demanding.”
“Yes.” Mila patted Honey. “Mama has a baby boy now.”
“Not now,” Sienna corrected gently. “Soon.”
“In her tummy,” Mila said. “He kicks. Dad talks to him. It’s silly because he can’t talk back.”
The frog search ended only because Mila got tired and Nell claimed the bucket needed a rest. Tomas protested, then slipped on the damp bank. I caught the back of his shirt before he went into the water.
He dangled for one second, arms out. I set him upright.
“You’re fast.” He stared at me. “Can you catch knives?”
“Yes.”
Sienna turned sharply. “No knife questions.”
Tomas looked disappointed. “Girls ruin things.”
By the time we returned to the lawn, I was carrying Mila, Honey, one rescued sandal, and the empty frog bucket. Sienna walked beside me, still smiling. Nell and Tomas ran ahead.
The Bellemere adults reacted with the restrained horror of people watching a myth behave incorrectly.
Sabine stood beneath a striped umbrella with one hand resting on her stomach, visibly pregnant. Her husband, Henri stood beside her with a towel sliding from one shoulder because he kept adjusting the umbrella over Sabine with his free hand.
“Mila,” Sabine said, looking between us. “Darling, have you made Jamison carry you the whole way?”
“No,” Mila said.
Sienna lifted the muddy sandal. “Most of the way.”
“I had a shoe emergency,” Mila said.
“Uncle Jamison saved the shoe,” Nell announced.
Henri’s mouth twitched as he reached for his daughter. “Come here, little commander. Let the man have his arms back.”
Mila clung to my neck. Sabine took the muddy sandal from Sienna. “She gets attached quickly.”
“She takes after Sabine,” Henri said.