How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,69
carrying her as fast as they could.
“Are you all right?” Nathanial called to her from behind.
Turning around, Charlaine saw him fight to keep his own mount under control as the gelding pranced nervously, ears flattened upon its head. “Yes,” she called, then slowly approached the agitated animal, offering soft words of comfort.
Throwing his head up and down, the gelding eyed her warily, but then slowly began to calm, allowing her to grasp his reins. He rubbed his large head against her shoulders as she stroked his neck.
“Are you hurt?” Nathanial asked from atop the animal. “Can you ride?” He held out his hand to her.
Charlaine grasped it, and he pulled her up in front of him. One arm came around her, his hand settling on her belly, holding her tightly against him. The other held the reins as he urged his gelding homeward, a direction the animal approved of most ardently.
Within moments, they were thundering across the meadow sloping down toward Markham Hall. The rain fell in earnest now, and Charlaine could feel the fabric of her thin summer dress sticking to her skin as the rain ran in streams down her body. Nathanial’s body, however, kept her warm as the chilling wind brushed over her skin. His arm remained around her, holding her to him, and Charlaine smiled at the sense of security that came over her despite the approaching storm.
“We’re almost there,” Nathanial mumbled in her ear, and she wondered if he was even speaking to her or rather reassuring himself. Still, his movements remained steady, his mind clear as he guided the gelding through a cluster of trees and around to the stables near the back of the house where Charlaine’s mare stood waiting, prancing nervously in front of the closed door. The animal tossed its head up and down, eager to get out of the wind and rain.
Charlaine knew the feeling for the chill in the air began to raise goosebumps on her skin and send shivers down her back. Oh, a warm bath would be wonderful now!
Nathanial landed in a small puddle as he jumped off his mount and pulled the gelding forward. One hand held on to the reins while the other opened the stable door. Then he led them inside, the dim light and smell of dry hay enveloping them.
Charlaine’s mare needed no extra invitation, but charged ahead into her warm stall. Outside, the wind started to pick up and they could hear the heavy pattering of the rain as it hit the roof. Thunder crashed every now and then, and the horses flattened their ears in fear.
Nathanial tied his gelding’s reins to an iron ring in the wall, then turned to help Charlaine off his mount. His hands reached for her waist, and she let herself slide forward and into his arms.
Shivering from the cold, she was less than nimble, but Nathanial caught her, his hands warm even through the soaked fabric of her thin summer dress. Her own hands came to rest upon his arms, his sleeves as soaked as her dress, as she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said, meaning every word. “I’m sorry I teased you so. I did not mean to make you worry. You were right. We should have returned sooner.”
A warm smile teased his lips as he looked down at her. “Are my ears deceiving me?” he whispered. “Did the woman who knows how to live life to the fullest just admit to making a mistake?”
Charlaine chuckled, feeling her shivers subside as his warmth reached out to her. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I’m far from perfect.”
Nathanial stilled, the gaze locked on hers becoming thoughtful. “You could’ve fooled me,” he mumbled then and, again, Charlaine was not certain if he was speaking to her or simply muttering to himself.
He exhaled a deep breath, and his right hand reached out to touch a dark curl dancing down from her temple. He caught its tip and then slowly wound it around his forefinger, staring at it as though mesmerized.
Feeling the soft tug of his fingers, another shiver danced down Charlaine’s back and, this time, it was not from the cold. She drew in a shuddering breath and her hands tightened upon his arms, her fingers digging into his flesh as though she would fall if she did not hold on.