How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,83

eye. “I know I promised not to kiss you again, but…” Her voice trailed off. The look in her eyes, however, was more than explicit.

Nathanial nodded. “I know.” He swallowed. “You did nothing wrong. It was I who…” He gritted his teeth, the burden of holding her gaze becoming a crushing weight upon his heart. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”

She stepped toward him. “But—”

“No!” He held up a hand to keep her at bay. “You promised to be my friend, and I promised you the same.”

At his words, she stilled, her chest rising and falling slowly as she regarded him. “You kissed me.” She spoke softly, her eyes watchful. “And I kissed you back. We both crossed that line.” She swallowed. “Do you wish we hadn’t?”

Nathanial nodded. “I do,” he said before he could rethink his answer, afraid that anything less than a definite reply would forever ruin what they had come to mean to each other over the last few months. “I wish it had never happened.”

Swallowing, Charlaine exhaled a trembling breath and her arms rose to wrap around herself, hugging herself tightly. She looked vulnerable all of a sudden as though a mild breeze could knock her off her feet.

“I’m sorry,” Nathanial said yet again, wishing he could reach out and comfort her as he would have only the day before. However, he needed her to understand. “I never meant to hurt you, but I…I need you to be my friend.” Did that sound as selfish as it felt? “And I will be yours. I promise.”

A strained smile came to her face. “As though it never happened,” she whispered, her gaze holding his, something guarded hiding in those dark eyes of hers.

Nathanial nodded. “As though it never happened,” he echoed, praying that they were not fooling themselves, that they could recover from this, that they could return to how they had been before.

Friends.

Another shiver shook her, and her hands tightened upon her arms.

“You should get inside,” Nathanial told her, uncomfortable knowing that he had been the one to cause her chills. “You need to change into something dry.”

A long sigh escaped her lips. “I’m not cold,” she told him. Still, her feet moved and she turned around, heading back toward the house.

Stifling a frustrated growl, Nathanial began to pace between the trees, his hands moving about wildly, raking through his hair before once again rubbing across his face. He was at a loss, not knowing how to rid himself of this sense of inevitable loss for despite the words they had spoken, the promises they had made, Nathanial could not shake that choking fear that he had lost her.

His gaze strayed to her shrinking form again and again as she proceeded toward the house and then slipped inside, lost to his gaze.

Lost to him.

Again and again, the urge to follow her, to find her, to seek her out and mend the rift between them gripped him, sending him a few strides in her direction before he stopped yet again, remembering that he knew not how to do so.

The afternoon slowly drew to an end, and the air grew chilled, raising goosebumps upon his skin. Nathanial knew he ought to return to the house, however, the thought of seeing Charlaine terrified him. What if she did not dare look at him? What if the sight of him sent her fleeing from the room? What if they could no longer talk to each other?

In the end, he slunk into the house through a side entrance like a coward or a thief, someone unworthy and undeserving. It was an emotion he knew well, bringing with it an image of Abigail’s face as she had turned from him, her words cutting him to shreds.

With a sigh, Nathanial closed the door to his chamber behind him, his head rolling back and coming to rest against the sturdy wood. For a long moment, he remained as he was, immobile, locked in a moment, before he heard the soft sound of water dripping from his clothing and onto the parquet floor.

Looking down, he moved into the room, pulled his wet shirt off and flung it into a corner. Then he turned toward his armoire, his gaze drifting over the small table near the door. Upon it, he glimpsed a letter. Had Zach written to him? His brother’s last letter had arrived a while back for it seemed he had something better to do on his honeymoon than keep his twin