Charlaine chuckled. “Yes.”
Smirking, Nathanial looked down at her. “Should we not tell them?”
“Why? They’re having fun.”
“But they’ll never catch a frog like this.”
Charlaine grinned. “Did you truly think they were ever going to catch one?” She arched her brows.
Laughing, Nathanial shook his head. “Then what are we doing here?”
“This is not about accomplishing a task,” she told him, looking at the girls whispering back and forth, their eyes aglow as they waded through the water. “This is about living in the moment, about feeling your heart beat faster, about feeling the sun warm your skin, about…” She sighed, remembering the long beach where she had played as a child.
“About enjoying oneself,” Nathanial finished for her.
Charlaine looked up at him, surprised. “You may not be a lost cause after all, Mr. Caswell.”
Nathanial chuckled. “How kind of you to notice.”
The day passed quickly and pleasantly but, as expected, they returned to the house with empty hands. However, not even Daphne and Susan were disheartened by their lack of success. Instead, new plans were made for the next day.
And the one after that.
And the one after that.
And…
While Nathanial tried his best to keep his boots clean and his breeches and shirt from soaking through, he slowly came to realize that he was fighting a losing battle. With every day that passed, his attempts became less determined. His eyes were no longer glued to the tips of his boots in concern, but rested on the girls as they splashed through the water, a wide smile upon his face.
Charlaine loved to watch his transformation for it was only too obvious that he longed to break free of this persona he thought he needed to be.
And then one day it happened.
Daphne and Susan were once again wading through the water, the net leaning long-since forgotten against a tree trunk, when Charlaine almost slipped on a smooth rock below the surface and lost her footing. Her heart jumped into her throat a moment before two warm hands settled upon her arms, righting her before she tumbled into the water.
Looking up, she found Nathanial’s concerned gaze meeting hers. “Are you all right?” he asked before his eyes swept over her as though looking for injuries.
“I’m fine,” Charlaine exclaimed. “Thank you. You saved me.” She glanced down. “But not my hem.” Laughter spilled from her lips as she lifted her dripping skirts out of the water.
Nathanial frowned. “Or my boots.” Water sloshed over the rim, soaking them from the inside out.
“You should take them off,” Charlaine suggested, not for a second believing that he would.
To her utter shock, however, Nathanial nodded. “I suppose I better.” As he stalked back to shore, Charlaine stared after him, watching like a child on Christmas morning as he sat down in the tall grass and then pulled off his boots, poured out the water and then set them aside to dry.
A moment later, Nathanial came wading back into the lake. “What?” he asked as he found her staring at him.
Quickly, Charlaine shook her head. “Nothing.” A part of her worried that if she drew his attention to what he had just done, everything would be ruined.
From then on, Nathanial always removed his boots before going into the lake and, every once in a while, Charlaine caught him sighing contentedly as he wiggled his toes in the fresh grass.
“Mr. Caswell is a very patient man,” Emma remarked one day as they watched Nathanial teach the girls how to bounce a pebble across the lake. “Look how determined they are.”
Seated on a picnic blanket under a large tree, Charlaine and Emma observed the girls’ rather slow progress. “Oh, I believe he enjoys it as well.” She grinned at her friend, setting aside her charcoal drawing of the scene before her. “He simply prefers to pretend otherwise.”
Emma chuckled. “You seem to know him well.” Her gaze narrowed in thought. “May I ask—?”
“We’re friends,” Charlaine rushed to say, surprising herself with her eagerness to clarify their relationship. “I mean, I do care for him, but there’s nothing between us beyond friendship.” She grinned at her friend. “I can see what direction your thoughts are running.”
Emma chuckled. “How can they not?” She frowned, her gaze thoughtful as she looked at her. “Are you certain you’re not hoping for something more?” Once again, she glanced at Nathanial. “He seems quite taken with you.”
Charlaine could not deny that she had never felt more comfortable in a man’s company than she did in Nathanial’s. But…he was her friend, was he not? “When first we met, he made it very clear that he had no interest in any kind of romantic attachment.” She chuckled, remembering his attempts to rid himself of her presence. “He was quite rude, to tell you the truth. It took great effort to break through his defenses.”
Emma frowned. “And yet, you never gave u—”
“He wants a friend,” Charlaine interrupted, knowing where Emma’s thoughts were at. “More than that, he needs a friend. Someone who is open and honest with him. Someone who does not pursue a hidden agenda. He’s been hurt, and he needs to learn to trust again.”
“I think he trusts you.”
Charlaine smiled. “I hope so.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Nature of Men
Upon entering the house, Emma ushered the girls upstairs for a bath before supper. Nathanial grimaced for it seemed, despite his best efforts, some lake water had remained in his boots. The water squished loudly as he walked across the hardwood floor. “I have no idea how this can be,” he remarked, a deepening frown coming to his forehead. “They felt dry when I checked them only a little while ago.”
Charlaine bit her lower lip, trying her best to hide a grin. Still, the second Nathanial looked up at her, incredulity in his eyes, she was lost. She burst out laughing until her sides ached.
Nathanial huffed out an annoyed breath, fixing her with a dark glare. “Oh, you think this is funny?” Then he stilled, his eyes slowly narrowing as he watched her carefully. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Fanning her heated face, Charlaine met his gaze, breathing in slowly, trying to calm enough in order to speak. “Whatever do you mean?” As much as she tried, though, she could not quite keep a grin off her face.
Nathanial rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can see quite well that you were innocent in all of this.”
Charlaine lifted her hands in appeasement. “I did nothing!”
“But it was your idea, wasn’t it?” Nathanial asked, and a part of her loved how well he knew her. “You – let’s say – inspired the girls?”
Charlaine grinned at him. “I may have,” she admitted slowly, seeing how he fought the smile that inched onto his face. Then she sighed, stepped toward him and gave him an honest smile. “I’m sorry, Nathanial. I suppose I shouldn’t have.”
“Then why did you?”
Charlaine shrugged. “I’m not certain,” she admitted. “Perhaps I simply like to ruffle your feathers, has that never occurred to you? I like the way you roll your eyes at me, the way you try not to laugh, and the way you fight to be so very serious.”