How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,71

could see into his heart.

For if she could, she would know that…that…

Gritting his teeth, Nathanial felt a frustrated growl rise from his throat.

Without thought, his right hand balled into a fist and was flying toward the nearest tree trunk a second later. Nathanial barely managed to regain control before it connected with the sturdy, old oak, his fingers grateful, for his careless action would surely have cost him a few broken bones.

“I need something to do,” he gritted out on a huffed breath as he stalked back toward the lake.

For the past few days, he had all but avoided Charlaine, riding out early in the morning, only returning when he knew she would be spending time with the children. It seemed Daphne and Susan had not given up on their plan of catching a frog or two. Indeed, they had used their second day of imprisonment—as the girls had called it—to interrogate Donahue and hatch a new plan.

Two days ago, they had dug holes near the lake, wide and deep enough to fit a large bucket, hoping a frog would find its way in there. It had been hard work, and Nathanial had seen their little faces grow a dark shade of red as they had labored over their task while he had watched from afar, not daring to venture closer.

Indeed, he was a coward. He could not even say what exactly it was that he feared. Was it that Charlaine no longer saw him as a friend? That he had crossed a line; something she could not forgive? Or that she now knew what lingered in his heart even though he himself did not dare give it a name?

As he stopped beside one of the buckets the girls had dug into the ground, Nathanial paused, for a moment too stunned to form a coherent thought as he stared down at the small green frog trapped at the bottom.

Then a wide smile spread over his face. “It worked!” he mumbled, feeling his heart starting to beat with excitement. In his mind’s eye, he saw the girls’ faces light up, and he knew he needed to tell them without delay. After all the hard work they had put into this project, they deserved to know.

Now.

Rushing back to the house, Nathanial called out to one of the stable boys, Henry, and asked for the girls’ whereabouts.

“They’re in the hay loft,” Henry replied, pointing in the direction of the stables. “With Miss Palmer.”

Nathanial’s feet pulled to a halt, and he groaned inwardly. Still, he knew he could not avoid her forever. He did not wish to avoid her forever. Somehow, they had to find a way back to the way things had been. Somehow, they had to get back to being friends.

Nothing more.

Perhaps today was the day to begin again.

Surging into the stables, Nathanial called for the girls. A moment later, Daphne’s head peeked down from the hay loft above. “What is it?” she asked, her eyes slightly narrowed. “The kittens are sleeping. You need to be quiet.”

Nathanial grinned at her. “I thought you’d like to know: there’s a frog in your trap.”

Daphne’s jaw dropped and, a second later, two other heads appeared beside hers.

“There is?” Susan exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief while Charlaine’s gaze met his with the same amused excitement twinkling in her eyes he would have expected.

Nathanial breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, there is. Are you coming?”

Eager squeals echoed down to his ears as the girls jumped up, then began scrambling down the ladder, all regard for the sleeping kittens shoved aside by this new adventure. Charlaine followed on their heels, then slipped her arm through Nathanial’s as she had done a thousand times before. A moment later, they followed the girls outside.

“You seemed busy the last few days,” Charlaine observed as they hurried to catch up with Daphne and Susan.

Nathanial swallowed. “I had…something to think about.”

She nodded. “Did you come to a conclusion?” she inquired, instead of asking what it was that had occupied his thoughts.

Nathanial stiffened. “I believe so.” Nothing could be further from the truth, though.

“Which bucket?” Daphne called from up ahead.

Nathanial pointed to the left side. “The one near the fallen oak.”

Again, the girls darted off.

“One or two?” Charlaine asked, looking up at him.

Nathanial frowned. “Pardon me?”

“One or two frogs?”

“Only one, I’m afraid.” He glanced down at her, grateful for the change of topic. “Do you think that’ll be a problem?”

Charlaine shrugged. “They’ll no doubt argue about who gets to kiss it first.” She