How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,56
am.”
“You never are,” he corrected, getting annoyed with her. “I’m not taking off my shoes!”
“Fine,” Charlaine relented. “Suit yourself.” Nevertheless, she came toward him and began to loosen his necktie. “But everything else is not optional. You’ll die of heat stroke if you wear all these layers.” She grinned up at him. “And then who would catch the frogs?”
“You want me to—?”
“It was your idea.”
Nathanial did his best to ignore the way her nimble fingers brushed against his skin as she worked to free him of the noose around his neck. “And it’s still early,” he argued simply to have something to say. “It wouldn’t be warm enough yet to—” His voice broke off as she pulled the necktie from around his neck, then moved to remove his jacket. She flung both items over the back of a chair. “The sleeves,” she said, pointing at him.
Again, Nathanial frowned. “What about them?”
“Up with them,” she ordered and then reached for his left arm before he had a chance to object. In a moment, she had the button undone and then rolled up the fabric all the way to his elbow. She then did the same with his right arm.
Nathanial stood stock-still, a hint of shock rooting him to the spot.
Although he had touched her before—while dancing or walking in the park; she had even thrown herself into his arms upon his arrival—Nathanial could not shake that nervous tingle he felt when her hands brushed over his skin, warm and soft. It felt strangely intimate—in a completely different way—that she was removing his clothes, even though it was only his jacket and necktie. His breath lodged in his throat, and he could not seem to bring himself to look at her, staring at something on the opposite wall he could not even identify.
“Is something wrong?”
Nathanial felt her gaze move to his face. Still, he did not dare meet her eyes. “I’m fine. Why?”
Charlaine chuckled. “You’re not breathing,” she observed, an amused tone in her voice. “Wait? Are you ticklish? Are you trying not to laugh?”
As she reached out—no doubt to test her theory—Nathanial caught her wrists in his hands. “Don’t you dare!” he warned. The warm glow upon her face teased a smile from his lips.
“Why not?”
“For the same reason I intend to keep on my shoes.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You’re a harder nut to crack than I thought.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes and no,” she replied with a shrug, then spun on her heel, her hands slipping through his, and marched toward the door. “Are you coming?” she called over her shoulder, waving him onward. “Do you think I should try to catch a frog for myself?”
Catching up to her, Nathanial frowned. “I’m not certain a frog would make a good pet.”
Charlaine laughed. “Not as a pet.” Her gaze swept the terrace as they stepped out into the sunshine. “To kiss.” She grinned at him. “Perhaps a prince of my own is precisely what I need.”
Laughing, she raced after Daphne and Susan, who were already halfway down the small slope that led to the grove and the lake behind. Daphne had a net with a long handle flung over her shoulder, which dwarfed the little girl in an odd way. Still, she held it proudly like a soldier riding into battle, brandishing his sword.
A prince of my own.
For a reason Nathanial could not name, Charlaine’s words continued to echo in his head.
And he could not say he liked them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A Gentleman Without Shoes
Charlaine tried not to laugh. She truly did. Honestly.
In the end, however, her good intentions were useless. Laughter spilled from her mouth, and her sides began to ache as tears streamed down her face. Not even when she closed her eyes could she shake the image of Nathanial all but tiptoeing his way down to the lake, trying not to get his shoes wet, as Daphne and Susan urged him on, making strangely high-pitched croaking sounds to lure their prey.
“Ribbit! Ribbit!” Susan sang as she twirled through the grass.
Daphne’s face scrunched into a frown. “You don’t sound like a frog.”
Susan stopped. “What does a frog sound like?”
“You don’t know?” Daphne asked with a shake of her head. Then she inhaled a deep breath and emitted a shockingly guttural sound that made Nathanial drop the net.
Charlaine’s legs could no longer hold her up and she dropped into the grass with a bit of thump. “Dear Daphne, how on earth do you manage to make such a sound?”