How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,102

rushed away.

If only it were true.

Chapter Forty-Four

A Most Telling Kiss

Standing on the terrace, Nathanial watched as Abigail made her way down the small slope into the gardens where Charlaine was walking. The sky still hung with large, gray clouds, the threat of rain looming overhead, as the wind moved them onward like ships drifting down a river. Autumn lingered in everything around them, the season of change.

Where once the sun had shone on a clear, summer’s day, warm and comforting, now the world seemed lost in gray clouds, chilling and unsettling. Greens turned to orange, red and brown, warm colors in a cold world. The scent of rain lingered in the air, and the winds that blew in from the north, whispered of the approaching winter.

Abigail pulled her cloak tighter around herself as she approached Charlaine, curls of her blond hair pulled from her hood, a stark contrast to Charlaine’s darker tones.

Seeing them side by side, Nathanial wondered at the differences in their appearance, especially now that he had come to see how similar in character they were. Both were vivacious creatures, longing for adventure and love. Both possessed a kind heart and a daring spirit. Both had suffered, but had come out stronger for it.

Still, Nathanial could not deny that it was Charlaine who drew his gaze. That it was her dark brown eyes that stirred his heart. That it was her teasing, but utterly enchanting smile that made his knees grow weak.

Abigail was beautiful, and Nathanial sincerely hoped that the day would come that she would be his friend once again in every sense of the word.

Charlaine, however, was…the one.

Sighing, Nathanial hung his head, wondering why the world could not be simple for once. Was he forever doomed to lose his heart to women who did not love him in return? No matter what Abigail had told him, Nathanial did not believe that her love for him had been true, all-consuming, unbreakable; that it had only been the harshness of their circumstances that had stolen her from his side.

Soft footsteps reached him from behind, and Nathanial turned to find Daphne standing there, her large, brown eyes moving from the women down below to him. “Will you not ask her to marry you?” she asked him with that innocent and utterly bold curiosity Nathanial had come to expect from her.

“Marry her?” he gasped, nonetheless stunned to be confronted by such a question. Indeed, he knew well that his past with Abigail was no secret to the people of Markham Hall. Even before she had arrived, whispered words about his broken engagement had found their way to those who would listen. He had noted the occasional pitying glance or sorrowful sigh from those employed around the estate.

He had not cared for them for they made him feel lacking.

“Of course,” Daphne replied with enthusiasm. “You’re her prince.” Her gaze narrowed. “You do know that, don’t you? It’s so easy to see.”

Nathanial chuckled. “Are you saying I used to be a frog?” he asked, trying his best to dissuade the girl from her current line of inquiry.

Daphne laughed. “Perhaps not a green one,” she conceded. “But you’re happier when she is around, are you not?”

Nathanial swallowed. Was he? Sighing, he glanced down at the two women, speaking to one another. For a moment, his gaze lingered on Abigail before it was inevitably drawn to Charlaine…and a warm smile came to his face. “I do enjoy Abigail’s company,” he told Daphne when he turned back to look at her. “However, I do believe we’re merely friends now and—”

“Not her.” Daphne shook her head. “Charlaine.” Her little brows rose in a rather indulgent way. “Did you not know?”

Nathanial tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he stared at the little girl with the expressive face.

Daphne laughed. “You truly didn’t, did you?” She stepped forward, a hint of a conspiratorial look coming to her face as she waved him closer. Frowning, Nathanial bent down when she cupped her mouth and whispered, “When you marry her, can I be a flower girl?”

Completely caught off guard, Nathanial stared at her.

Daphne glanced over her shoulder to where little Susan stood half-hidden behind a curtain. “Susan wants to be one, too,” she told him. “I promise we’ll do it well. We’ll practice.”

Stammering something rather unintelligible, Nathanial all but flinched when he noticed Charlaine heading their way. She moved up the slope toward the house while Abigail remained down below in the gardens, looking after her. Indeed, Nathanial