How to Turn a Frog into a Prince (Happy Ever Regency Book 5)

by Bree Wolf

  While he worried about Abigail, unable to forget the forlorn look upon her face when he had made it clear that they did not have a future together, he still could not stop wondering where Charlaine had gone. It was not like her to disappear and leave the girls without a word. Had something upset her?

  He tensed. Had she seen him and Abigail kiss on the terrace? After all, Daphne had said Charlaine had looked out the window and then run off. But why would it bother her to see him and Abigail together? Was she angry with him for forgiving Abigail after what had happened? There could be no other reason, could there? After all, Charlaine and he were merely friends.

  That word was beginning to feel like a curse, a swear word, an insult, and he gritted his teeth against a wave of annoyance that suddenly rushed through him.

  Without another word, Nathanial strode from the room, determined to find Charlaine and speak to her. He could no longer bear the distance that lingered between them. Yes, she still spoke to him, laughed and smiled, but there was something wrong in the way she met his gaze. She no longer spoke honestly, and he could almost see something hiding behind every word to leave her lips.

  Rushing from room to room, Nathanial grew more and more frustrated when he continued to come up empty. It seemed the world had opened up and swallowed her whole. Where on earth could she be?

  After at least half an hour of futile searching, Nathanial circled back to the drawing room, wondering if Charlaine had reappeared in his absence. His feet carried him toward the front hall in long strides when he suddenly stopped.

  Across the hall, Charlaine stood near the doors to the drawing room, her back to him and her hands slightly balled at her sides. She seemed tense, even annoyed perhaps, and he wondered yet again what had sent her running from the room earlier.

  Nathanial was just about to approach her when Lord Ashhaven stepped into the hall.

  Without so much as a glance in Nathanial’s direction, the other man moved toward Charlaine with what seemed like single-minded intent.

  Nathanial felt his insides tense. Something odd was going on. But what?

  Never had Lord Ashhaven paid any attention toward Charlaine beyond expected niceties. Now, however, he stepped close—too close for Nathanial’s liking—and addressed her in a hushed voice.

  Turning around, Charlaine looked up at the tall man suddenly towering above her. Her gaze never veered from his face. Her eyes took on a somewhat odd expression, one Nathanial didn’t understand. Then she suddenly smiled at the tall lord, a smile that made the blood boil in Nathanial’s veins.

  What sent him over the edge, though, was the way Lord Ashhaven reached for her in the next moment, drawing her arm through his, holding her close, before he led her away, the look in his gaze almost predatory.

  A moment of stunned paralysis passed agonizingly slowly before Nathanial found himself rushing after them. He knew not why, did not dare to wonder, but still could not bring himself to stop.

  *

  After speaking to Abigail, Charlaine had searched high and low, looking for Nathanial. However, the man seemed to have disappeared, and with each minute that ticked by, Charlaine’s annoyance grew.

  After the last few weeks tiptoeing around one another, never speaking their minds openly, always afraid of how their words would be understood, Charlaine wanted clarity above all else.

  No, she needed clarity above all else.

  “Don’t turn around.”

  Charlaine almost flinched at Lord Ashhaven’s deep voice right behind her. She had not even heard him approach. Had he always been this stealthy? “Why?” she inquired a little breathlessly, nonetheless doing as he had demanded.

  “I can help you if you do as I ask,” he replied ominously, inching closer until she could all but feel this broad chest brushing against her back.

  “This feels strange,” she said, not certain what he was up to. Still, the tone in his voice somehow reassured her.

  His hand touched her arm. “Now turn and look at me.”

  Doing as he had asked, Charlaine looked up into his guarded eyes. “What is going on?”

  His gaze held hers, the hint of a warning lingering there. “Mr. Caswell is currently standing across the room, staring holes into the back of my head. Don’t look!” he rushed to add when her gaze was inevitably drawn past his shoulder. “Now smile at me.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Charlaine inquired, an amused smile coming to her lips. “Are you…?” She paused. “Are you trying to help me?”

  His expression remained mostly unrevealing. Then the ghost of a smile teased his lips. “I admit I have grown annoyed with the way the two of you dance around one another.”

  Her smile deepened. “How did you know?”

  “It is rather obvious.”

  Charlaine swallowed. “Do you think he cares for me?” Only this morning, she would never even have imagined asking Lord Ashhaven such an intimate question. However, right here, right now, he all but felt like her most trusted confidante. There was something utterly trust-inspiring about him.

  Again, the corner of his mouth twitched. “That is an understatement. The man is utterly besotted with you.” The corner of his mouth twitched again. “As you are with him.”

  Charlaine felt a slight blush come to her cheeks. Lord Ashhaven’s words warmed her heart. “Then what now? How do you suggest I proceed?”

  “Simply do as I say.” Then he slipped her arm through the crook of his, pulled her close—too close to be considered appropriate—and then guided her out of the hall and toward another sitting room off the corridor that led to the back of the house.

  Charlaine went along, her heart beating faster and faster as her hopes rose higher with each step they took. However, when they passed the curved staircase leading to the upper floor, she almost cringed when she caught sight of Emma’s shocked face, staring down at them with wide, unblinking eyes.

  It would seem Daphne’s observation had been spot on!

  Charlaine, however, had no time to worry about her friend’s feelings in that moment for Lord Ashhaven opened the door to the nearest room and pulled her inside, closing the door behind them with a swift kick of his boot.

  A giggle escaped Charlaine, which she thought rather effective considering that this was meant to make Nathanial jealous, was it not? That was Lord Ashhaven’s plan. To confront Nathanial with the possibility of losing her to another if he didn’t act.

  Charlaine knew only too well how that felt for the moment she had seen him kiss Abigail had been devastating. She could only hope that Nathanial would respond as Lord Ashhaven assumed. What if he simply bowed his head and left?

  The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine.

  Charlaine detested fooling Nathanial. She knew well how deeply Abigail’s betrayal had cut him. It had been the reason she had promised him brutal honesty.

  To reassure him.

  To set his heart and mind at ease.

  To lure him out of the dark.

  Still, the thought that he might not care for her the same way she cared for him continued to linger in her blood. Despite Lord Ashhaven’s reassurances, a part of her wondered if Nathanial could truly love her.

  See her for who she was.

  Cherish her as she cherished him.

  Friends they had been, and it had felt like a perfect fit. As though they had been made for one another. As though they had been made to walk through life hand in hand. And then everything had changed. Who were they now to each other? Who could they be?

  Perhaps today would finally reveal answers.

  With a gentle hand, Lord Ashhaven urged her across the room, all but positioning her with her back against the wall, his tall body almost blocking her view of the door. He braced his hands beside her head, leaning closer, his dark gaze looking down into hers. “Do not worry,” he whispered in that unnervingly calm voice. “I shall not touch you.”

  Charlaine drew in a shuddering breath. This was it! She could hear harsh footsteps e
choing closer, moving toward the door. They screamed of anger barely held in check, of someone being driven mad by a fear that had all but manifested in front of him.

  Could it be that the thought of her in Lord Ashhaven’s arms had done this to Nathanial? If so, what would he do once he came through the door?

  That thought struck rather belatedly, and Charlaine raised worried eyes to her co-conspirator. “What if he…?”

  Again, the right corner of Lord Ashhaven’s mouth twitched. “Then you have your answer.” His brows rose as he looked down at her. “Don’t let him get away.”

  Charlaine smiled. “I won’t.”

  In the next instant, the door was flung open.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Brutal Honesty

  Nathanial had never been a rash or impulsive person. Neither had he ever acted in anger or without careful consideration. He barely recognized the man storming down the corridor, his gaze narrowed into slits as he stared at the closed door through which Charlaine and Lord Ashhaven had vanished.

  A part of him knew he ought to stop or at least slow down. He ought to think and definitely rein in these wild, raging emotions that sent heat through his body and made his hands ball into fists. He knew he should.

  But he could not.

  Before he knew what was happening, Nathanial was already through the door, the muscles in his jaw as tight as he had ever known them to be. His gaze snapped to the couple at the opposite side of the room, standing in a close embrace, and he almost doubled over in pain.

  If Nathanial had not known it before, he knew it now: he was in love with Charlaine!

  Head over heels, over the moon, come hell or high water in love with her.

  And there was nothing he could do.

  A part of Nathanial cautioned that he had no right to interfere in Charlaine’s life. If she had chosen Lord Ashhaven, the truth was that she had chosen well for there was probably no man more decent in all of England.

  Still, another part of him—a part that knew neither reason nor consideration—flat-out ignored his mind’s rationalization and immediately propelled him forward with the single-minded intent of destroying his rival and claiming her for himself. It was a barbaric notion, primitive and unsophisticated. It was also one utterly foreign to him.

  Even when Abigail had left him for Lord Mortimer, Nathanial had not once felt this powerful surge of possessiveness and loss of control he experienced in this moment when he found Charlaine in Lord Ashhaven’s arms.

  She was his! The pulse in his blood seemed to scream. Without another thought, Nathanial stormed across the room, yanked the other man away from her and planted his fist square on his jaw.

  Pain radiated up Nathanial’s arm as Lord Ashhaven reeled backward, but quickly caught himself.

  “Nathanial!”

  Dimly, Nathanial heard Charlaine calling out to him. His gaze remained fixed on the other man, standing only a few paces away with his usual, calm demeanor, an odd gleam in his dark gaze. For a reason Nathanial did not know, the sight drove him mad.

  Despite the dull pain in his arm, he once more started toward Lord Ashhaven. Before he could take more than a single step, Charlaine all but materialized in front of him. Her hands shoved against his chest as she blocked his path. “Stop!” she yelled, her eyes as wild as the pulse in his veins. “Stop, Nathanial!”

  Dumbfounded, Nathanial did not know where to look, what to focus on. His gaze moved back and forth between the man he loathed and the woman he loved.

  Then Lord Ashhaven cleared his throat, his hands moving to right his cravat. “You have your answer,” he said in that annoyingly calm voice of his. The ghost of a smile flitted over his face as his gaze moved from Nathanial to Charlaine. Then he turned and strode toward the door where Emma stood, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, staring at the scene before her in what one could only describe as utter shock.

  Nathanial knew well how that felt.

  “Emma,” Charlaine addressed her friend, her hands still lying on Nathanial’s chest, an unrelenting barrier he could not cross. “Would you see to Lord Ashhaven? He’s been…hurt.”

  Emma swallowed, her pale cheeks flushing red before she dropped her gaze, but nodded. “Of course.”

  A moment later, Emma and Lord Ashhaven had vanished, the door closed behind them, leaving Nathanial and Charlaine in a world where nothing and no one existed but them.

  His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, her hands no longer there to keep him at bay. Then his gaze fell to meet hers.

  Charlaine stood before him, her hands on her hips and her chin raised. Fire rested in her dark eyes, and he could see that there was nothing gentle or restrained in the way she was looking at him. Indeed, she seemed furious, her pulse beating wildly in her neck.

  An echo of his own.

  “What happened here?” Nathanial barked, his hand flying outward to the door through which Lord Ashhaven had disappeared. “Explain yourself.”

  Charlaine’s jaw dropped, and a look of utter annoyance came to her eyes. “Explain myself?” Her voice was calm, too calm, and Nathanial swallowed hard as she stepped toward him, her gaze fixed on his. “I might as well ask for the same.” Her brows rose in challenge. “What were you doing? You struck him. Why?”

  Nathanial could have groaned for she had found the one question he knew not how to answer without baring his heart and soul to her. “I…I was concerned for you. He—”

  “Don’t lie to me!” Charlaine snapped before a frustrated growl rose from her throat. “We promised each other brutal honesty, do you remember?”

  He nodded.

  “But lately, we’ve not spoken truthfully to each other, have we?” Her voice calmed. The pulse in her neck, however, continued to beat rapidly. “I have questions, so many questions I didn’t dare ask because I feared the answer.”

  Nathanial closed his eyes. “I know what you mean.”

  “Tell me why you kissed me that day at the lake.”

  His gaze flew open.

  *

  Charlaine’s heart rejoiced when she saw the panicked expression upon Nathanial’s face. Indeed, the day at the lake had changed everything. While there had been moments before that had whispered of a deeper bond, of something that went beyond friendship, it had been that moment when all restraint had fallen from them and they had acted upon feelings thus far kept in check that had changed everything.

  “Why did you kiss me?” she asked again, stepping closer. Her gaze sought his, but found Nathanial’s averted, not daring to meet hers. “Why?” Again, her hands came to rest upon his chest, but gentle this time, seeking a connection he seemed determined to run from.

  “It was a mistake,” he gritted out, his gaze darting to hers before returning to stare at something beyond the top of her head.

  “So you’ve said.” She inhaled a deep breath, watching him closely. “Nothing happened between me and Lord Ashhaven.”

  Instantly, his eyes dropped to hers. “But I saw…”

  “It was a test.”

  His gaze narrowed. “A test?”

  “I’m sorry,” she told him honestly, cherishing the feeling of finally revealing all that she felt to him. “I did not mean to deceive you. It was…the spur of the moment. But I needed to know.” She moved her hands across his chest, closer to his left side, to feel his heart beat frantically against her palms. “I wanted to know if it would affect you to see me with him, if it would affect you the same way seeing you with Abigail affected me.”

  Below her hands, his heart skipped a beat.

  “You see,” Charlaine began, willing her gaze to remain on his, to not look down and hide from him. “I love you.”

  Again, his heart seemed to pause for the barest of seconds as though it did not dare believe, his gaze drilling into hers, his breath lodged in his throat. “You…” He swallowed, and his jaw tensed. “You promised to be my friend.”

  Charlaine nodded. “I did, and I am your friend.” She sighed. “I mea
nt what I said, but I cannot help how I feel. Why does it frighten you so that I love you? Do you not believe me?”

  His gaze lingered on her face, the look in his eyes gentle, caring. “How can you be certain…?” His voice trailed off as his hand reached out to brush a curl behind her ear. The tips of his fingers trailed over her skin, and a shuddering breath left his lips, whispering of the deep emotions he seemed to fear like little else.

  Charlaine’s fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, holding him to her. “There is a fine line between friendship and love. Sometimes you stumble quite inexplicably from one into the other.” She sighed. “And sometimes you stumble back.”

  Gritting his teeth, Nathanial nodded. “What if…?” He seemed unable to finish the concerns that lingered, concerns that had seized him ever since Abigail’s betrayal. He no longer dared trust in forever. He no longer dared believe that all would be well.

  Instead, he feared that all that had happened might happen again.

  “I’m not Abigail,” Charlaine told him vehemently, her gaze hard and unyielding. “Look at me and know that I’m telling the truth.”

  “I know that,” he all but snapped back, one hand running through his hair, leaving it a disheveled mess. “But we started out the same way.” The muscle in his jaw twitched. “We were friends, and then we were…more than friends.” He inhaled a deep breath. “And then everything changed.” His gaze softened as he once more reached out a hand to brush a nonexistent curl behind her ear. Perhaps he simply wanted to feel her. “I lost her, and…” His gaze met hers and his jaw tightened. “I’d rather have your friendship than nothing at all.”

  “But that is a lie, is it not?” Charlaine demanded, unwilling to let him run from this. “When you look at me, you don’t see a friend, do you?”

  “Of course, I do!”

  “Is that so?” she dared him, noting the way his gaze couldn’t quite hold hers. “Would a friend have stormed in here and attacked Lord Ashhaven?”

  His shoulders tensed. “He was taking advantage of you. I merely intended to protect you. Is that not what friends do?”