by Bree Wolf
Nathanial chuckled. “I thought you liked it loud with lots of laughter and squealing.”
“I do,” she said on another sigh. “But sometimes, sometimes I like to be able to hear the wind stir the leaves, the chirps and trills of crickets and birds.” She closed her eyes, and a tranquil look fell over her face. “It’s like music, utterly beautiful. I find it soothing and hauntingly sweet.”
Nathanial watched her as she stood by the water’s edge, her eyes closed and her bare feet lost in the tall grass. She swayed slightly to the soft sounds drifting past them on a mild summer’s breeze.
His own toes curled into the soft ground beneath and, before he knew it, Nathanial found his lids closing as well, his ears listening, his breathing calming. He, too, began to sway and his shoulder brushed against hers ever so slightly, no more than the soft touch of a feather.
“Thank you,” Nathanial whispered into the stillness.
Charlaine inhaled a slow breath before she turned toward him. His eyes opened, and he found hers looking at him. “What for?”
Nathanial’s mouth opened, his mind searching for the right words to express how much her friendship meant to him, but he could not. He simply looked at her, but it was enough.
A small smile teased her lips. “I know,” she whispered. “For me as well.”
Nathanial felt the odd impulse to hug her. Instead, he held out his hand. “Would you care to dance?”
Charlaine’s eyes widened. “Here? Now?” She glanced down at their feet. “Without shoes?” Her brows arched up teasingly. “Would that not be scandalous? Inappropriate? Utterly—?”
“Yes or no?” Nathanial demanded on a laugh.
Grinning, she slid her hand into his. “Yes. Always yes.”
Pulling her into his arms, Nathanial led her around the small, grassy patch between the grove and the lake, their feet for once moving together as they ought to. Not once did she step on his toes, let alone stumble and lose her balance. She moved almost gracefully, her brown eyes holding his in a way that made Nathanial forget the world around them.
This was a perfect moment.
Here and now.
With her.
His friend.
A wistful look came to her dark eyes. “I remember watching Amancia and Peter dance together on the beach not long before…” Her voice trailed off, and sadness filled her gaze.
“What happened?” Nathanial asked gently.
Her feet stopped and her hands fell from his. “A sickness swept through our village,” she whispered, her eyes distant, no longer seeing him as she stepped away and then sank down into the tall grass. “Peter had always been sickly. His doctor said it had something to do with fluid collecting in his lungs. Sometimes he could barely breathe. His doctor said he wouldn’t live to see another year.”
Nathanial lowered himself down beside her, his skin crawling with the pain and suffering he felt linger behind her words.
A small smile came to her lips as she met his gaze. “But he did.” Triumph clung to her voice. “Each and every year, his doctor told him he wouldn’t survive.” She inhaled a deep breath, clinging to that sense of triumph. “But he did. He did.”
With a long sigh, Charlaine pulled up her knees, her arms wrapping around her legs as she stared out at the lake. “But Amancia was afraid for him. She always feared that he would fall ill and that his weakened body would not be strong enough to battle the sickness.” Her chin came to rest upon her knees. “And then people starting to get sick.”
Running a hand over his face, Nathanial wished that there was something he could do to ease her heartache. A part of him wished he had not asked. Still, it seemed a part of Charlaine wanted to speak of the moment when she had lost all those she had loved.
“When our parents fell ill, their bodies burning like a hot coal, Amancia sent Peter and me away.” Tears began to pool in her eyes, but she did not try to wipe them away. “There was a hut on the beach we sometimes slept in, and she took us there, ordering us not to return until she came for us.” Her eyes closed, and a tear spilled over, slowly snaking its way down her cheek. “Peter didn’t want to. He wanted to return with her. He wanted her to stay. He…” She sighed, and then her eyes opened and she looked at him. “He was as afraid for her as she was for him.”
“But he went back with her?”
Charlaine shook her head. “She made him promise to take care of me.” A shuddering breath escaped her lips. “I was not yet twelve years of age, and she told him they couldn’t leave me alone. Peter begged her to stay, but neither could she abandon our parents, not when they were sick, not when they needed her more than ever.”
Nathanial bowed his head at the impossible decision Charlaine’s sister had faced. Peter as well. How did one decide what was the right thing to do? How could one leave, not knowing if one would ever return?
“She never came back.” Charlaine’s voice was barely audible. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, and yet, her chest rose and fell with even breaths. “We stayed in the hut for as long as we could, but when we went back, they were all gone.”
Nathanial barely dared speak. “And Peter?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Those We Loved
Never had Charlaine spoken to another about losing her family.
Only Peter.
After their loss, they had clung to one another, desperate to have someone who understood, who gave them a reason to rise in the morning, to go on. “He died a little over a year ago,” Charlaine said, seeing the anguish on Nathanial’s face. He felt for her, and it hurt him to hear of her loss. Charlaine, too, disliked to see him saddened, to know that her words had brought sorrow to his heart. Still, she could not deny that sharing her pain with him felt good as well.
Soothing like the soft summer breeze drifting across the lake.
“He survived the sickness?” Nathanial asked, disbelief strengthening his voice.
Charlaine snorted. “Life does not always do what you expect,” she told him, knowing it was a lesson she would never forget. “It twists and turns in its own way. Despite everything, Peter lived.” Remembering his mischievous grin, Charlaine smiled. “He always said that there’d been a reason why he’d survived. But it wasn’t until years later, on the day he ultimately lost his battle with Fate, that he told me what that reason was.” Her vision blurred, and a thick lump settled in her throat as she remembered the last time Peter had looked at her, the mischief always lurking in his eyes never dimming. “He said it had been so he could hold my hand for as long as I needed him to, but now it was time for me to stand on my own. He told me I would be all right.” Wiping away her tears, Charlaine tried to smile. “And he was right.” She nodded, wishing Peter had not had to die to prove his point. “I don’t need him any longer, but I miss him all the same.”
Sadness stood in Nathanial’s eyes as he reached out a hand to place upon her own. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
“I am, too, but Peter taught me to look ahead, not back.” She remembered well the way Peter had always lived in the moment, enjoying life with every fiber of his being, knowing that tomorrow might never come for him. “He taught me to take the good with the bad. We cannot know what will happen tomorrow. We cannot know why we were set on a path. But we have to believe that there is good everywhere, that we can be happy again.” She smiled at him. “Hope is never lost. It travels with us wherever we go.” Her other hand settled on his. “It led me to you.”
Nathanial stilled at her words, but she could see that their meaning was not lost on him. The muscle in his jaw twitched almost furiously, whispering of a deep emotion lingering beneath his stoic exterior. One he could not admit to.
Not yet.
“Tell me about Abigail,” Charlaine said, curious to learn more about the man he had once been. The man she was beginning to see once again in the one before her. How had he lost himself? What had happened?
His jaw tightened, and rel
uctance stood in his guarded eyes. Still, he did not turn away. He did not run and hide. He held her gaze. “There’s not much to tell,” he finally said, and she could feel his hand wanting to slip from hers.
Charlaine held on though.
Sighing, Nathanial hung his head in defeat. “We knew each other for a long time before…I asked for her hand.”
“Were you in love?” Charlaine asked, knowing that it had been so. But was he still? Was it a question she dare ask?
“Of course.” A touch of incredulity came to his eyes.
Charlaine smiled at him. “Few people marry for love. You know that as well as I do.”
He nodded. “You’re right, but…but we…” a slight frown came to his face, “we were.” He did not sound convinced though. “At least, I was, I think.”
“What happened?” Now, it was Charlaine’s turn to ask, and his to answer.
Again, the muscle in his jaw twitched. His teeth ground together, and she could feel his hand tightening on hers. “A Lord Mortimer came to Boston,” he forced out. “He flirted with every woman who dared look at him, but in a way that they all thought he had singled them out to be his lady.” A long sigh left his lips. “Abigail was merely one of them.”
“She betrayed you,” Charlaine said so he would not have to. “She broke your engagement and…?” She frowned. “Is she here now? In England? Married to that lord?”
Nathanial shook his head. “The man never had honorable intentions toward her, toward any of the women he courted. He toyed with them and then cast them aside. Then he left Boston.”
Charlaine tried to picture the woman named Abigail, who had thought a rakish lord would be more desirable than a true and kind gentleman like Nathanial. She had to have been blind not to see his worth, not to realize how fortunate she had been to claim his heart for herself. “Did you see him?” Charlaine asked then. “This Lord Mortimer?”
Nathanial scoffed. “It seems the man was killed in a duel about a year ago.”
“He was?” Charlaine stared at him. “What happened?”
“I’m not certain. Zach said another lord called him out because he believed Lord Mortimer to have had…” He stopped, his gaze hesitant as he regarded her.
Charlaine laughed, amused by his attempt to shield her from the harshness of the world. “To have had an affair with his wife,” she finished for him.
Nathanial nodded.
“What about Abigail?”
“What about her?” he asked, and that muscle in his jaw twitched again.
“Have you spoken to her since?” Charlaine inquired. “Did she apologize for betraying you?”
“She did.” Sitting back, he pulled his hand from her grasp, then rubbed them both over his face, an exhausted huff leaving his lips. “Her apology was halfhearted at best. She was crying for herself, not for…” He met her gaze. “Her father sought me out later and suggested we could still proceed with…”
Shock chased a shiver down her spine. “He asked you to marry her?” she gasped. “After…?” Shaking her head, Charlaine placed a hand on his arm for comfort. “I’m glad you told him no. You deserve better, Nathanial.”
He swallowed. “Do I?”
Charlaine had half-expected this question. “Of course, you do,” she said vehemently, determined to fight the doubts that lingered in his mind and heart. “Aside from your brother, I like to believe that I’m the person who knows you best. I’m your friend, and I know the good man you are. You deserve better than Abigail. You deserve someone extraordinary. You deserve,” she grinned, “a princess!”
Nathanial laughed, an enchanting tinge of red darkening his face.
“Let’s go,” Charlaine said, then pushed to her feet, holding out her hand to help Nathanial up.
After a moment of hesitation, he took it. “Go where?”
“To catch you a frog.”
“Pardon me?” A deep frown came to his face.
“We’ll go and catch you a frog,” Charlaine told him, half-dragging him behind her as she proceeded along the water’s edge. “If it works for princes, why shouldn’t it work for princesses as well? We’ll find you a good one. I promise.”
With a tug, Nathanial spun her back around, catching her as she came all but sailing toward him. His arms closed around her as his gaze sought hers. “You’re extraordinary,” he whispered, awe in his voice. “I’ve never met anyone like you. Never.”
Touched by his words, Charlaine felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes. “I’m your friend,” she told him, willing them away, “and as your friend, it falls to me to protect you.”
The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. “To protect me?”
Charlaine nodded. “Yes, and I take it very seriously.” She stepped out of his embrace and once more took his hand. “Now, don’t dally and come along. We have a frog to catch and a princess to find.”
Laughing, Nathanial followed without another word of objection, and Charlaine could not help but wonder at the odd fluttering in her stomach.
Perhaps it was from the heat.
Perhaps not.
Chapter Thirty
A Father’s Legacy
That night, Nathanial dreamed of Abigail. He did not wake with the usual sense of regret and shame that normally came with a night lost in his dreaded past. Instead, he woke refreshed as though old chains had fallen from him.
Unfortunately, his smile died a quick death when he entered the breakfast parlor and saw Daphne’s and Susan’s faces pale and saddened as they slunk to their seats. After a day indoors and another one ahead of them, their spirits were low. They were constantly bickering, casting the occasional wistful glance out the window at the wide lawns, their vibrant green shimmering in the summer sun.
“I feel bad for them,” Charlaine exclaimed as they once again made their way to the lake. “They looked so very sad.”
For a reason Nathanial could not name, the lake had become their place. It drew them to its shores and the moment his eyes fell on its glistening surface, Nathanial felt at peace. “I know. But it’ll only be one more day. Perhaps it’ll teach them to treat Emma with more respect. Simply because you can outwit someone doesn’t mean you should.”
Charlaine smiled at him. “Well spoken.” She sighed and sat down in the grass, her toes playing with a tall blade of grass. “Emma is so very tender-hearted. She never speaks much about her past, but she seems so very fearful at each and every step she takes as though she is afraid that the world will open and swallow her whole.” She looked at him. “I wonder what happened to her.”
Seating himself beside her, Nathanial glanced out at the water. “Why do you think something happened? Perhaps she’s simply shy.”
Charlaine shook her head. “No. She’s not shy, she’s…worried, on edge, and no one feels like that day in and day out without having a good reason.” She leaned back on her elbows and stretched out her legs. “I’ll speak to her.”
Nathanial laughed. “Another soul in need of a friend?” he asked teasingly. Deep down, however, he knew from personal experience that the support of a friend in a time of need could be life-saving. Indeed, over the course of the past few weeks, Charlaine had become such an integral part of his life that Nathanial could no longer picture himself returning to Boston and his old life…without her. He could not imagine not seeing her every day, not hearing her laugh or see that warm, vivacious glow in her eyes. Who would he be without her?
A lot had changed in the past few weeks.
A small smile stole onto his face as Nathanial glanced at her bare toes, still toying with a blade of grass. Not long ago, he would have been shocked, scandalized and quite possibly run in the opposite direction, afraid to act without proper manners.
To compromise her.
To…
Frowning, he turned to look at her face, her eyes closed as she lay back in the grass. “May I ask you a question?” Oddly enough, it had not occurred to him before this very moment.
�
��What a coincidence!” Charlaine’s eyes opened and she smiled at him. “I have one of my own to ask. But you may go first.”
“Very well.” Nathanial cleared his throat. “I cannot help but wonder that…Pierce does not object to you and I coming here,” his brows rose meaningfully, “without a chaperone.” A dark suspicion gripped his heart. “He does know we’re here alone, does he not?”
Charlaine laughed. “Of course, he does.” Sitting up, she patted his arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Pierce always knows…somehow. But he trusts me, and he trusts you as well. He knows we’re friends.” Her nose crinkled as a frown came to her face. “Why should we not be alone?”
“Well,” Nathanial began tentatively, becoming more and more uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation, “as your guardian, I suppose he might be concerned for your reputation. Or he should be.”
Charlaine’s jaw dropped in feigned shock. “Why? Do you intend to take liberties?”
“Of course not!”
Again, Charlaine laughed as though the thought was, indeed, utterly ludicrous. “Then why on earth would he be concerned?”
Nathanial ran a hand through his hair, feeling slightly agitated. “Because people might talk and—”
“People always talk,” Charlaine corrected. “But their talk cannot touch me.” She sighed. “I never sought their approval, and even if I did, given who I am, there is nothing I could do to gain it.” A sad smile played across her lips. “You only need to look at me to see that I’m not one of them. They’ve been whispering about me from the start. Never will they see me as one of them.” She crossed her arms in mock outrage. Still, a hint of vulnerability lingered in her brown eyes. “Did you know that I’ve never been asked to dance? Not once!”
Nathanial frowned, remembering a similar conversation. “Never? That cannot be. I—”
