How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,109

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 echoing 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