How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,103
had noticed that Charlaine had all but avoided Abigail ever since her arrival a few days ago. Had he been wrong? Despite their similarities, did they not get along?
“Will you play with us?” Daphne asked Charlaine the moment she stepped onto the terrace. “We want to have a tea party.” A sly grin snuck onto her face. “With real tea and biscuits.”
Charlaine laughed, her gaze merely grazing his before it came to rest on Daphne. “What a delightful idea!” She leaned down and whispered, “I shall see what I can do.”
Daphne beamed up at her, then spun around and dashed back inside.
“Are you all right?” Nathanial asked as Charlaine made to follow.
Stopping, she met his gaze, her own strangely guarded. “Of course.” A small smile came to her lips. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” Although her smile never faltered, the expression upon her face remained strained. “I’ll see you later.” Then she left, and Nathanial could not shake the thought that she was all but fleeing his presence.
Closing his eyes, Nathanial inhaled a deep breath, the fresh air chasing a chill across his skin. Then he turned back to look at Abigail, who was slowly making her way up to the terrace. What had happened between them?
“Are you all right?” he asked her as he had asked Charlaine, wondering if Abigail would be more forthcoming.
A long sigh left her lips as she stepped toward him. “She does not want me here,” Abigail said without preamble, the look upon her face one of deep regret.
Nathanial frowned. “I do not believe that to be true.” Or did he simply not want to believe it? “She is so kind and compassionate and—”
Abigail stepped forward, her hand coming to rest on his arm. “Trust me, Nathanial. She does not want me here. She does her best to hide it, but…” She inhaled a deep breath as though gathering courage. “Is there something between the two of you? Something more than friendship?”
Nathanial tensed, and her gaze dropped to where her hand rested upon sleeve, no doubt feeling the tension in his arm. “Of course not,” he croaked, wondering if anyone had ever lied worse. “We are friends, close friends. She’s rather…protective of those she holds dear.” He remembered well her anger toward Abigail when he had shared the happenings of his past with her. Charlaine had been angered on his account, her loyalty to him unfailing. “I told her what happened between us. Perhaps it was wrong. Perhaps she only needs some time to see past it, to see that…” He sighed.
Abigail nodded. “Perhaps.” Then her gaze rose to meet his, her hand slipping into his, holding on. “And you?” she asked, a slight tremble in her jaw. “Can you truly forgive me? Can you see me as you once did? Can you look at me and not remember?” Tension lingered on her features, and Nathanial could see how much she feared his answer.
Giving her a warm smile, he moved to close his other hand over hers. “Of course,” he told her, nevertheless surprised how easily the words flowed from his tongue. Indeed, there was no lingering regret or anger. Nothing. “I understand now what happened, and I see that I, too, was at fault. We’ve both made mistakes and they led us down a path we came to regret.” He sighed. “But we are here now, and we can start over.”
A deep smile came to her face as she looked up at him, her blue eyes shining with tears. “Do you truly mean it?”
Nathanial nodded. “Who we are to each other is now in our hands. We make our own decisions, choose our own path.”
Her teeth sank into her lower lips as a beaming smile spread over her face. Then she suddenly reached for him, her hands brushing over his face and then snaked around his neck. Before Nathanial knew what was happening, her lips found his.
Stunned, Nathanial froze, momentarily wondering if this was a mere illusion or if Abigail was truly in his arms, if she was truly kissing him.
She felt warm and real.
So very familiar.
Without thought, his arms closed around her, holding her gently, as his mind drifted back to all the previous kisses they had shared. He remembered them well. The gentle pressure of her lips. The soft touch of her fingers upon his neck. The contentedness in his chest.
And then the moment at the lake surged to the forefront of his mind and shoved all else aside.