“I’m flattered,” I said diplomatically.
“If it was anyone else, I would doubt that, but you are so honest, I believe it.”
My honesty had always been viewed as my worst quality. Something everyone around me tried to change and condemn, but Nat almost made it sound like my best trait.
Those light eyes continued to stare at me. Child adoration was gone from her gaze and replaced with contained intensity. She was slowly maturing and learning the best way to walk through life is to hold her emotions close to her. But I rather missed the child adoration. I didn’t know what to do with this new Nathalie with knowing bright eyes framed with thick black lashes.
“Do you know that by third grade I was almost as tall as an average wingspan of an owl?” I uttered suddenly.
For the third time tonight, I had opened my mouth without thinking of the words about to come out. And for the third time, Nat hardly seemed surprised and merely widened her eyes ever so slightly.
“Is that so?”
I couldn’t abandon the conversation now. I owed her some sort of explanation. “At that time, I found a book about owls and did some readin’ and discovered the average owl’s wingspan is between ninety-one and one hundred and fifty-three centimeters. I decided to measure myself and discovered I was one hundred and twenty-seven centimeters.”
When I told the story out loud, it didn’t seem near as fascinating as it was when I was a child. I still remembered the pride and excitement I felt at my discovery and being so encouraged by what I learned that I read about birds, and anything else that was interesting to me. I was remarkably lonely and without any friends. Books and the words within them became the friends I never knew I had and while my father would typically find no fault in my reading, in his bouts of rage, he screamed at me, “Your fixation on topics is maddenin’! This is why you have no friends!”
The song ended. We separated and lingered on the ballroom floor. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” I asked.
Nat looked at me with nothing but happiness. The same way she always had. But tonight, with the moon highlighting her sharp cheekbones and her long lashes brushing against her cheeks, it was beguiling.
She shouldn’t be enticing. She should be how she was before… Nat.
“It was perfect. Everythin’ I wanted and more,” she confessed.
I nodded and looked away. “I’m happy to hear that.”
She sighed with a faraway look in her eyes as she wistfully gazed at the flowers adorning the ballroom. We both knew that by tomorrow, they would all be gone. I continued to stare at her.
My Lady Gouldian was ready to fly. This was the start of the life she deserved.
For me, this was the beginning of my demise. I felt it in my gut. The possession I felt for her at the beginning of the night hadn’t waned but grew stronger. It occurred to me I wanted her to fly, but around me because she was too beautiful to be set free.
“Nattie, I’m tired. I beg of you, let’s go to bed!” Rainey groaned as she heavily leaned on Nat.
Nathalie gave me an apologetic look as her friend began to half drag her across the floor. I watched her the same way she watched me. Tonight had been the most peculiar night of my life, and I was afraid if I stayed much longer, I’d find the answers I needed to know about Nathalie Lacroix.
“You’re starin’ at my little sister.”
I looked Livingston straight in the eye. “And you were starin’ at Rainey earlier.” I pushed him out of the way, and headed toward the door. “There’s a special place in Hell for men such as us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Nathalie
I can feel Asa behind me, quietly walking. For being so large, he’s graceful with every step, and doesn’t make a sound, but he’s there. I can feel his eyes on my back, moving down my spine and grazing across my body.
I quicken my steps, anxious to escape him. Wall sconces that once had to be manually lit, have been updated to electric. They dot the hallways and create my path with a warm, rich glow. But the farther I walk down the hall, into the private quarters of Belgrave, the sparser the lights become.
I wait for Asa to turn and walk away. But he doesn’t. His steps remain steady and sure.
I exhale and continue toward my room for the night. My heart begins to slow; I know this is the moment I should turn around and tell him to go. But how can do I that? I feel as powerless as him.
When I approach my room, I nearly break into a run. My dress billows around my ankles and swishes against the floor.
This is my final attempt to put distance between the two of us. After this, I can’t and won’t fight him. I’ll let free the words and anguish living inside of me.
I enter my room, and without a backwards glance, slam the door behind me. With my hands on my hips, I pant, waiting for him. He’s behind me. He’s coming.
All my life he’s been behind me.
Just as I expect, the door opens. Asa looms in the doorway, nostrils flared, and his eyes in thin slits. He slams the door so loudly I’m surprised the door doesn’t fall off the hinges.
In the ballroom, we were surrounded by guests, but the looks we gave one another were reckless. To be alone in my room is downright fatal. I know what happens when we’re alone. One of us will not make it out with their heart intact.
I point at the door he just slammed. “Go. You have no right bein’ in here!”
“I have every right,” he shoots back.
“The day you married your wife you lost any right to me.”
My words only serve to flare Asa’s anger. His hands curl into fists, and as he takes a step closer, I can feel how much control it’s taking him not to come any further.
“Were you tryin’ to make me jealous tonight?”
“I was tryin’ to enjoy myself. Am I allowed to do that, Asa?”
Asa has never understood that he’s someone who demands attention no matter where he’s at, and when he steps into the room, the space becomes a bit smaller. We’re the only ones in my bedroom, but I swear there’s only inches between us, not steps, and I have nowhere to go.
I feel my breath become clogged in my throat. Every interaction we’ve had since I’ve returned to Charleston has been leading up to this moment. Our souls have always been connected. The circumstances for our separation irrelevant.
“You hate when I’m happy.”
“Nathalie,” he warns.
“It’s the truth,” I persist. “When any man shows interest in me, you intervene. You push them away from me!”
A sardonic laugh slips from his lips. “Is that so?”
I nod.
He steps back and gestures for me to go forward. “Well, then go. Go back to Conrad.”
For a long moment, I stand there weighing my choices. I don’t want to go back to the reception. I don’t think of Conrad. I forgot of his existence until tonight. But to keep my pride intact, I’ll go back to that ballroom and dance until I can no longer see straight.
With my shoulders held high, I walk forward. “That sounds lovely.” As I walk past Asa, I say beneath my breath, “Perhaps he won’t abandon me.”
I open the door, only to have it immediately closed. Asa’s strong hands clamp down on my shoulders and whirl me around.