Page 31 of Disenchanted
“S-sorry,” I gasped. “This has just been an unsettling afternoon.”
“It is all over now,” he said, wiping away the last of my tears with a gentleness I would never have imagined him capable of.
“Y-yes, thank you. I am fortunate you were around to come to my rescue, although you alarmed me, wearing that black cloak. I have never seen you dressed in such a fashion.” I was stillpuzzled by the absence of his uniform. “Are you taking a day of leave from your duties?”
“I never take leave, Miss Upton. I am sorry if I frightened you, but I have discovered it is better to dress this way when I am obliged to travel across the river.”
“There is nothing across the river, but the fenlands. Why would you ever have to go there?”
“Reconnaissance,” he replied. The clipped way he said it warned me that was all the answer he intended to give. His tone softened as he added, “I was just riding back from the ferry when I heard your cry, and you will never know how glad I am of that. If anything were to happen to you—” He checked himself, shaking his head at me. “You have had such a narrow escape. I told you to stay out of Misty Bottoms.”
I sniffed. “So, are you going to arrest me?”
“I wish I could for no other reason than to keep you out of trouble. But ignoring my advice is not against the law.” His mouth tipped upward in a reluctant half-smile. “However, I must insist upon escorting you home.”
Any other time, I would have proudly refused, but I was still shaken from the attack. “Thank you,” I said meekly. “I would be most grateful.”
Crushington bent down to retrieve my shawl, which had come off during the struggle. He tried to brush away some dirt from the fringe. “I am afraid your shawl has become soiled and torn.”
“It doesn’t matter. It is an old one and already stained from my younger sister borrowing it.”
He draped it awkwardly about my shoulders and then startled me by placing his fingers in his mouth and emitting a loud whistle. I was astonished when his horse ambled toward us out of the mist. It was a sign of how dazed I was that I hadnot realized the massive roan had been standing patiently within earshot.
“Does your horse always just wait for you like that?” I asked. “He never wanders off?”
“Not when I order him to stay. Loyal is very well trained.”
“You named your horse Loyal?”
“That was his name when I bought him. It suits him and he likes it,” Crushington said, patting the roan’s neck.
“Does he? How obliging of him to tell you,” I teased him, although I should not have. I knew the man had no sense of humor.
Crushington reddened and said gruffly, “What I mean is that he responds to ‘Loyal,’ and I have far more important things to do other than think up new names for horses.”
It was rather adorable how flustered the formidable commander looked as he swung himself up onto the saddle. Adorable? Now there was a word I never thought I would use to describe Crushington. I must have hit my head against the goblin man’s jaw harder than I realized.
The commander stretched his hand down to me and said simply, “Come.”
I paused to fasten my purse to my belt before reaching up to him. He hauled me onto the saddle in front of him as easily as if I weighed no more than one of the roses in my garden. With his arms banded around me, he urged his mount forward.
I have never been the sort of woman to swoon at the thought of a knight in shining armor swooping me up on his charger. But I did appreciate the feeling of the commander’s protective arms surrounding me. After my harrowing ordeal, I could not help melting a little against the solid security of his chest.
I had not expressed my gratitude enough for his rescue. But when I tried to do so, Crushington would have none of it.
“It is I who am grateful to have been of service, Miss—” He paused before asking diffidently. “May I call you Ella?”
“You have already done so without my permission,” I pointed out. “But you saved my life to say nothing of my money, so the answer is yes. You may call me whatever you wish, except for Prunella.”
“And you must call me Horatio.”
“Oh no, must I?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “Don’t you have some sort of nickname? What do your friends call you?”
“A Scutcheon commander does not have the luxury of friendship.”
“Oh.” I found that truly sad. It had never occurred to me what a lonely man Crushington must be.
“If you do not care for Horatio,” he continued, “I have other names to choose from. My full name is Horatio Alexander Samuel Edward Crushington.”
