“You were the best at catching frogs. You did not have to sneak up on them.” Bonnie giggled. “I used to think they were transfixed by your beauty.”
“Maybe they were.” Tiffany wasn’t being vain; sheknewshe was beautiful. She’d been told so often enough. “But yes, I had forgotten how it felt to just be able to walk up to them and scoop them up.”
“And do you remember kissing them?”
Gasping again, Tiffany shifted on the well-stones to face her sister. “No! I had forgotten that too! We would…kissthem?”
“Yes!” Laughing, her sister closed the book. “In the hopes one might turn into a prince.”
“Lord help me, I remember now!” Tiffany whispered, wide-eyed. “I was certain it was only a matter of time. Look at this place! There were so many frogs, I just knew one of themhadto be a prince.”
Bonnie sighed. “That was before we knew about real princes, I suppose.”
Her expression souring once more, Tiffany peered down into the distant depths of the well. “Sometimes I suspect a frog would make a better prince than the ones we have met.”
A frog, at least, wouldn’t be offended when she said something cruel.
Well, at least you are recognizing what you said was cruel.
“Sometimes I suspect a frog would make a betterhusband,” Bonnie corrected.
Well,thatearned a surprised burst of laughter from Tiffany, who turned an incredulous look on her sister. “What do you mean?” she asked, with a hint of laughter in her tone.
Bonnie shrugged. “He would be easy to feed—no complaining about whatever menu you decided on.”
“Ha! Bugsaresimple, I suppose.” Tiffany was warming to the joke. “And I suppose he would not take up too much room in bed.”
Bonnie’s nose wrinkled. “Ew! But at least he would not mind a wife who spoke her mind.”
“Or a wife who monopolized a conversation!”
Giggling, Bonnie tilted her head to one side. “I supposeanyconversation would be monopolized by us in that scenario, right? It would be a bit one-sided.”
“Do not be silly! Our slimy green husbands would be able to say, ‘Ribbit-ribbit,’ whenever they had something to add to the discussion.”
“Hah! We would have to rely on each other and our friends for meaningful conversations, I suppose.” Bonnie was shaking her head.
“Yes, but there would becompensations.” Tiffany wiggled her brows lewdly, and her sister’s eyes opened wide.
“Oh, of course! Why did I not think of that? There is always…”
Together, they both finished that thought. “His tongue!”
Tiffany dissolved into giggles, while Bonnie wrinkled her nose again, as if she’d smelled something foul. But she couldn’t hide the small smile on her lips, and Tiffany took that as a win.
As her laughter subsided, Tiffany tilted her head back against the post and closed her eyes. Marriage to a frog might sound nice to Bonnie, for the reasons she’d mentioned—minus the tongue reference of course—but that wasn’t what Tiffany wanted from her husband. She didn’t want a marriage where she never spoke to her husband, or where she expected him to leave her alone to follow her own goals.
She wanted a partnership: someone who would support her and whom she could support in return. Someone with whom to discuss their goals and achievements, and plans for their future.
Until she’d met Lysander Oliphant and realized exactly how well the two of them fit together, she’d thought her dream highly unlikely. If Mother had her way, Tiffany would be married to the most eligible bachelor in Scotland, because she was the most beautiful maiden around.
She supposed she was just lucky the most eligible bachelor in ScotlandwasLysander.
Too bad she’d ruined her chances with him.
After a moment, she realized she’d been sitting there moping in silence, and Bonnie hadn’t said anything further. Tiffany peeked open one eye and glanced over to where her sister sat.
Bonnie was carefully removing the piece of correspondence she’d been using as a bookmark. There was something in her sister’s expression which made Tiffany pause, and she watched in silence as Bonnie unfolded the letter and began to read.
