Perhaps today would finally reveal answers.
With a gentle hand, Lord Ashhaven urged her across the room, all but positioning her with her back against the wall, his tall body almost blocking her view of the door. He braced his hands beside her head, leaning closer, his dark gaze looking down into hers. “Do not worry,” he whispered in that unnervingly calm voice. “I shall not touch you.”
Charlaine drew in a shuddering breath. This was it! She could hear harsh footsteps echoing closer, moving toward the door. They screamed of anger barely held in check, of someone being driven mad by a fear that had all but manifested in front of him.
Could it be that the thought of her in Lord Ashhaven’s arms had done this to Nathanial? If so, what would he do once he came through the door?
That thought struck rather belatedly, and Charlaine raised worried eyes to her co-conspirator. “What if he…?”
Again, the right corner of Lord Ashhaven’s mouth twitched. “Then you have your answer.” His brows rose as he looked down at her. “Don’t let him get away.”
Charlaine smiled. “I won’t.”
In the next instant, the door was flung open.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Brutal Honesty
Nathanial had never been a rash or impulsive person. Neither had he ever acted in anger or without careful consideration. He barely recognized the man storming down the corridor, his gaze narrowed into slits as he stared at the closed door through which Charlaine and Lord Ashhaven had vanished.
A part of him knew he ought to stop or at least slow down. He ought to think and definitely rein in these wild, raging emotions that sent heat through his body and made his hands ball into fists. He knew he should.
But he could not.
Before he knew what was happening, Nathanial was already through the door, the muscles in his jaw as tight as he had ever known them to be. His gaze snapped to the couple at the opposite side of the room, standing in a close embrace, and he almost doubled over in pain.
If Nathanial had not known it before, he knew it now: he was in love with Charlaine!
Head over heels, over the moon, come hell or high water in love with her.
And there was nothing he could do.
A part of Nathanial cautioned that he had no right to interfere in Charlaine’s life. If she had chosen Lord Ashhaven, the truth was that she had chosen well for there was probably no man more decent in all of England.
Still, another part of him—a part that knew neither reason nor consideration—flat-out ignored his mind’s rationalization and immediately propelled him forward with the single-minded intent of destroying his rival and claiming her for himself. It was a barbaric notion, primitive and unsophisticated. It was also one utterly foreign to him.
Even when Abigail had left him for Lord Mortimer, Nathanial had not once felt this powerful surge of possessiveness and loss of control he experienced in this moment when he found Charlaine in Lord Ashhaven’s arms.
She was his! The pulse in his blood seemed to scream. Without another thought, Nathanial stormed across the room, yanked the other man away from her and planted his fist square on his jaw.
Pain radiated up Nathanial’s arm as Lord Ashhaven reeled backward, but quickly caught himself.
“Nathanial!”
Dimly, Nathanial heard Charlaine calling out to him. His gaze remained fixed on the other man, standing only a few paces away with his usual, calm demeanor, an odd gleam in his dark gaze. For a reason Nathanial did not know, the sight drove him mad.
Despite the dull pain in his arm, he once more started toward Lord Ashhaven. Before he could take more than a single step, Charlaine all but materialized in front of him. Her hands shoved against his chest as she blocked his path. “Stop!” she yelled, her eyes as wild as the pulse in his veins. “Stop, Nathanial!”
Dumbfounded, Nathanial did not know where to look, what to focus on. His gaze moved back and forth between the man he loathed and the woman he loved.
Then Lord Ashhaven cleared his throat, his hands moving to right his cravat. “You have your answer,” he said in that annoyingly calm voice of his. The ghost of a smile flitted over his face as his gaze moved from Nathanial to Charlaine. Then he turned and strode toward the door where Emma stood, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, staring at the scene before her in what one could only describe as utter shock.
Nathanial knew well how that felt.
“Emma,” Charlaine addressed her friend, her hands still lying on Nathanial’s chest, an unrelenting barrier he could not cross. “Would you see to Lord Ashhaven? He’s been…hurt.”
Emma swallowed, her pale cheeks flushing red before she dropped her gaze, but nodded. “Of course.”
A moment later, Emma and Lord Ashhaven had vanished, the door closed behind them, leaving Nathanial and Charlaine in a world where nothing and no one existed but them.
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, her hands no longer there to keep him at bay. Then his gaze fell to meet hers.
Charlaine stood before him, her hands on her hips and her chin raised. Fire rested in her dark eyes, and he could see that there was nothing gentle or restrained in the way she was looking at him. Indeed, she seemed furious, her pulse beating wildly in her neck.
An echo of his own.
“What happened here?” Nathanial barked, his hand flying outward to the door through which Lord Ashhaven had disappeared. “Explain yourself.”
Charlaine’s jaw dropped, and a look of utter annoyance came to her eyes. “Explain myself?” Her voice was calm, too calm, and Nathanial swallowed hard as she stepped toward him, her gaze fixed on his. “I might as well ask for the same.” Her brows rose in challenge. “What were you doing? You struck him. Why?”
Nathanial could have groaned for she had found the one question he knew not how to answer without baring his heart and soul to her. “I…I was concerned for you. He—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Charlaine snapped before a frustrated growl rose from her throat. “We promised each other brutal honesty, do you remember?”
He nodded.
“But lately, we’ve not spoken truthfully to each other, have we?” Her voice calmed. The pulse in her neck, however, continued to beat rapidly. “I have questions, so many questions I didn’t dare ask because I feared the answer.”
Nathanial closed his eyes. “I know what you mean.”
“Tell me why you kissed me that day at the lake.”
His gaze flew open.
*
Charlaine’s heart rejoiced when she saw the panicked expression upon Nathanial’s face. Indeed, the day at the lake had changed everything. While there had been moments before that had whispered of a deeper bond, of something that went beyond friendship, it had been that moment when all restraint had fallen from them and they had acted upon feelings thus far kept in check that had changed everything.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked again, stepping closer. Her gaze sought his, but found Nathanial’s averted, not daring to meet hers. “Why?” Again, her hands came to rest upon his chest, but gentle this time, seeking a connection he seemed determined to run from.
“It was a mistake,” he gritted out, his gaze darting to hers before returning to stare at something beyond the top of her head.